page images generously made available by the kentuckiana digital library (http://kdl.kyvl.org/) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through the kentuckiana digital library. see http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;xc= &idno=b - - &view=toc the big brother a story of indian war by george cary eggleston author of "how to educate yourself," etc. illustrated [illustration: the dog charge.] new york g. p. putnam's sons fourth avenue and twenty-third street . copyright. g. p. putnam's sons. . contents. chapter i. page. sinquefield chapter ii. the storming of sinquefield chapter iii. sam's lecture chapter iv. sam finds it necessary to think chapter v. sam's fortress chapter vi. surprised chapter vii. confused chapter viii. weatherford chapter ix. weary waiting chapter x. fighting fire chapter xi. in the wilderness chapter xii. an alarm and a welcome chapter xiii. joe's plan chapter xiv. the canoe fight chapter xv. the boys are driven out of the root fortress chapter xvi. where is joe? chapter xvii. a famine chapter xviii. which ends the story list of illustrations. page. the dog charge _frontispiece._ sam's party "we's dun los'--dat's wha' we is" judie on the raft the perilous leap the big brother. chapter i. sinquefield. in the quiet days of peace and security in which we live it is difficult to imagine such a time of excitement as that at which our story opens, in the summer of . from the beginning of that year, the creek indians in alabama and mississippi had shown a decided disposition to become hostile. in addition to the usual incentives to war which always exist where the white settlements border closely upon indian territory, there were several special causes operating to bring about a struggle at that time. we were already at war with the british, and british agents were very active in stirring up trouble on our frontiers, knowing that nothing would so surely weaken the americans as a general outbreak of indian hostilities. tecumseh, the great chief, had visited the creeks, too, and had urged them to go on the war path, threatening them, in the event of their refusal, with the wrath of the great spirit. his appeals to their superstition were materially strengthened by the occurrence of an earthquake, which singularly enough, he had predicted, threatening that when he returned to his home he would stamp his foot and shake their houses down. their own prophets, francis and singuista, had preached war, too, telling the indians that their partial adoption of civilization, and their relations of friendship with the whites, were sorely displeasing to the great spirit, who would surely punish them if they did not immediately abandon the civilization and butcher the pale-faces. francis predicted, also, that in the coming struggle no indians would be killed, while the whites would be completely exterminated. all this was promised on condition that the indians should become complete savages again, quitting all the habits of industry and thrift which they had been learning for some years past, and fighting mercilessly against all whites, sparing none. all these things combined to bring on the war, and during the spring several raids were made by small bodies of the indians, in which they were pretty severely punished by the whites. finally a battle was fought at burnt-corn, in july , and this was the signal for the breaking out of the most terrible of all indian wars,--the most terrible, because the savages engaged in it had learned from the whites how to fight, and because many of their chiefs were educated half-breeds, familiar with the country and with all the points of weakness on the part of the settlers. stockade forts were built in various places, and in these the settlers took refuge, leaving their fields to grow as they might and their houses to be plundered and burned whenever the indians should choose to visit them. the stockades were so built as to enclose several acres each, and strong block houses inside, furnished additional protection. into these forts there came men, women, and children, from all parts of the country, each bringing as much food as possible, and each willing to lend a hand to the common defence and the common support. on the th of august, the indians attacked fort mims, one of the largest of the stockade stations, and after a desperate battle destroyed it, killing all but seventeen of the five hundred and fifty people who were living in it. the news of this terrible slaughter quickly spread over the country, and everybody knew now that a general war had begun, in which the indians meant to destroy the whites utterly, not sparing even the youngest children. those who had remained on their farms now flocked in great numbers to the forts, and every effort was made to strengthen the defences at all points. the men, including all the boys who were large enough to point a gun and pull a trigger, were organized into companies and assigned to port-holes, in order that each might know where to go to do his part of the fighting whenever the indians should come. even those of the women who knew how to shoot, insisted upon being provided with guns and assigned to posts of duty. there was not only no use in flinching, but every one of them knew that whenever the fort should be attacked the only question to be decided was, "shall we beat the savages off, or shall every man woman and child of us be butchered?" they could not run away, for there was nowhere to run, except into the hands of the merciless foe. the life of every one of them was involved in the defence of the forts, and each was, therefore, anxious to do all he could to make the defense a successful one. their only hope was in desperate courage, and, being americans, their courage was equal to the demand made upon it. it was not a civilized war, in which surrenders, and exchanges of prisoners, and treaties and flags of truce, or even neutrality offered any escape. it was a savage war, in which the indians intended to kill all the whites, old and young, wherever they could find them. the people in the forts knew this, and they made their arrangements accordingly. now if the boys and girls who read this story will get their atlases and turn to the map of alabama, they will find some points, the relative positions of which they must remember if they wish to understand fully the happenings with which we have to do. just below the junction of the alabama and tombigbee rivers, on the east side of the stream, they will find the little town of tensaw, and fort mims stood very near that place. the peninsula formed by the two rivers above their junction is now clarke county, and almost exactly in its centre stands the village of grove hill. a mile or two to the north-east stood fort sinquefield. fort white was several miles further west, and fort glass, afterwards called fort madison, stood fifteen miles south, at a point about three miles south of the present village of suggsville. on the eastern side of the alabama river is the town of claiborne, and at a point about three miles below claiborne the principal events of this story occurred. it will not hurt you, boys and girls, to learn a little accurate geography, by looking up these places before going on with the story, and if i were your schoolmaster, instead of your story teller, i should stop here to advise you always to look on the map for every town, river, lake, mountain or other geographical thing mentioned in any book or paper you read. i would advise you, too, if i were your schoolmaster, to add up all the figures given in books and newspapers, to see if the writers have made any mistakes; and it is a good plan too, to go at once to the dictionary when you meet a word you do not quite comprehend, or to the encyclopædia or history, or whatever else is handy, whenever you read about anything and would like to know more about it. i say i should stop here to give you some such advice as this, if i were your schoolmaster. as i am not, however, i must go on with my story instead. within a mile or two of fort sinquefield lived a gentleman named hardwicke. he was a widower with three children. sam, the oldest of the three, was nearly seventeen; tommy was eleven, and a little girl of seven years, named judith, but called judie, was the other. mr. hardwicke was a quiet, studious man, who had come to alabama from baltimore, not many years before, and since the death of his wife he had spent most of his time in his library, which was famous throughout the settlement on account of the wonderful number of books it contained. there were hardly any schools in alabama in those days, and mr. hardwicke, being a man of education and considerable wealth, gave up almost the whole of his time to his children, teaching them in doors and out, and directing them in their reading. it was understood that sam would be sent north to attend college the next year, and meantime he had become a voracious reader. he read all sorts of books, and as he remembered and applied the things he learned from them, it was a common saying in the country round about, that "sam hardwicke knows pretty nearly everything." of course that was not true, but he knew a good deal more than most of the men in the country, and better than all, he knew how very much there was for him yet to learn. a boy has learned the very best lesson of his life when he knows that he really does not know much; it is a lesson some people never learn at all. but books were not the only things sam hardwicke was familiar with. he could ride the worst horses in the country and shoot a rifle almost as well as tandy walker himself, and tandy, as every reader of history knows, was the most famous rifleman, as well as the best guide and most daring scout in the whole south-west. sam had hunted, too, over almost every inch of country within twenty miles around, trudging alone sometimes for a week or a fortnight before returning, and in this way he had learned to know the distances, the directions, and the nature of the country lying between different places,--a knowledge worth gaining by anybody, and especially valuable to a boy who lived in a frontier settlement. he was strong of limb and active as he was strong, and his "book knowledge," as the neighbors called it, served him many a good turn in the woods, when he was beset by difficulties. sam's father was one of the very last of the settlers to go into a fort. he remained at home as long as he could, and went to fort sinquefield at last, only when warned by an indian who for some reason liked him, that he and his children's lives were in imminent danger. that was on the first of september, and when the hardwicke family, black and white, were safely within the little fortress, there remained outside only two families, namely, those of abner james and ransom kimball, who determined to remain one more night at kimball's house, two miles from sinquefield. that very night the indians, under francis the prophet, burned the house, killing twelve of the inmates. five others escaped, and one of them, isham kimball, who was then a boy of sixteen, afterwards became clerk of clarke county, where he was still living in . chapter ii. the storming of sinquefield. when the news of the massacre at kimball's reached fort glass, a detachment of ten men was sent out to recover the bodies, which they brought to fort sinquefield for burial. the graves were dug in a little valley three or four hundred yards from the fort, and all the people went out to attend the funeral. the services had just come to an end when the cry of "indians! indians!" was raised, and a body of warriors, under the prophet francis, dashed down from behind a hill, upon the defenceless people, whose guns were inside the fort. the first impulse of every one was to catch up the little children and hasten inside the gates, but it was manifestly too late. the indians were already nearer the fort than they, and were running with all their might, brandishing their knives and tomahawks, and yelling like demons. there seemed no way of escape. sam hardwicke took little judie up in his arms, and, quick as thought calculated the chances of reaching the fort. clearly the only way in which he could possibly get there, was by leaving his little sister to her fate and running for his life. but sam hardwicke was not the sort of boy to do anything so cowardly as that. abandoning the thought of getting to the fort, he called to tom to follow him, and with judie in his arms, he ran into a neighboring thicket, where the three, with joe, a black boy of twelve or thirteen years who had followed them, concealed themselves in the bushes. whether they had been seen by the indians or not, they had no way of knowing, but their only hope of safety now lay in absolute stillness. they crouched down together and kept silence. "what's we gwine to do here, i wonder," whispered the black boy. "whar mus' we go, mas sam?" sam did not answer. he was too much absorbed in studying the situation to talk or even to listen. the indians were coming down upon the white people from every side, and the only wonder was that sam's little party had managed to find a gap in their line big enough to escape through. "be patient, joe," said little judie, in the calmest voice possible. "brother sam will take care of us. give him time. he always does know what to do." "be still, joe," said sam. "if you talk that indian'll see us," pointing to one not thirty steps distant, though joe had not yet seen him. a terrified "ugh!" was all the reply joe could make. meantime the situation of the fort people was terrible. cut off from the gates and unarmed, there seemed to be nothing for them to do except to meet death as bravely and calmly as they could. a young man named isaac harden happened to be near the gates, however, on horseback, and accompanied by a pack of about sixty hounds. and this young man, whose name has barely crept into a corner of history, was both a hero and a military genius, and he did right then and there, a deed as brilliant and as heroic as any other in history. seeing the perilous position of the fort people, he raised himself in his stirrups and waving his hat, charged the savages _with his pack of dogs_, whooping and yelling after the manner of a huntsman, and leading the fierce bloodhounds right into the ranks of the infuriated indians. the dogs being trained to chase and seize any living thing upon which their master might set them, attacked the indians furiously, harden encouraging them and riding down group after group of the bewildered savages. charging right and left with his dogs, he succeeded in putting the indians for a time upon the defensive, thus giving the white people time to escape into the fort. when all were in except sam's party and a mrs. phillips who was killed, harden began looking about him for a chance to secure his own safety. his impetuosity had carried him clear through the indian ranks, and the savages, having beaten the dogs off, turned their attention to the young cavalier who had balked them in the very moment of their victory. they were between him and the gates, hundreds against one. his dogs were killed or scattered, and he saw at a glance that there was little hope for him. the woods behind him were full of indians, and so retreat was impossible. turning his horse's head towards the gates, he plunged spurs into his side, and with a pistol in each hand, dashed through the savage ranks, firing as he went. blowing a blast upon his horn to recall those of his dogs which were still alive, he escaped on foot into the fort, just in time to let the gate shut in the face of the foremost indian. his horse, history tells us, was killed under him, and he had five bullet holes through his clothes, but his skin was unbroken. [illustration: sam's party.] francis and his followers were balked but not beaten. retiring for a few minutes behind the hill, they rallied and came again to the assault, more furiously than ever. their savage instincts were thoroughly aroused by the unexpected defeat they had sustained in the very moment of their victory, and they were determined now to take the fort at any cost. their plan of attack showed the skill of their leader, who was really a man of considerable ability in spite of his fanatical belief in his own prophetic gifts. he avoided both the errors usually committed by indian leaders in storming fortified places. he refused, on the one hand, to let his men waste their powder and their time in desultory firing, and, on the other, he decided not to risk everything on the hazard of a single assault. his plan was to take the fort by storm, but the storming was to be done systematically. dividing his force into two parts, he sent one to the attack, and held the other back in the hope that the first would gain a position so near the stockade as to make the assault of the second, led by himself, doubly sure of success. the plan was a good one, without doubt, and no man was better qualified than francis to carry it out. when the storming party came, the people in the fort were ready for it. counting out the women and children, their numbers were not large, but they were a brave and determined set of men and boys, who knew very well in what kind of a struggle they were engaged. they reserved their fire until the indians were within thirty yards of the fort, and then delivered it as rapidly as they could, taking care to waste none of it by random or careless shooting. the fort consisted, as all the border fortifications did, of a simple stockade, inside of which was a block-house for the protection of the women and children, and designed also as a sort of "last ditch," in which a desperate resistance could be made, even after the fort had been carried. the stockade was made of the trunks of pine-trees set on end in the ground, close together, but pierced at intervals with port-holes, through which the men of the garrison could fire. such a stockade afforded an excellent protection against the bullets and the arrows of the indians, and gave its defenders a great advantage over the assailing force, which must, of course, be exposed to a galling fire from the men behind the barriers. as the stockade was about fifteen feet high, climbing over it was almost wholly out of the question, and the only way to take the fort was to rush upon it with fence rails, stop up the port-holes immediately in front, and keep so close to the stockade as to escape the fire from points to the right and left, while engaged in cutting down the timber barrier. if the indians could do this, their superior numbers would enable them to rush in through the opening thus made, and then the block-house would be the only refuge left to the white people. the block-house was a building made of very large timbers, hewed square, laid close upon each other and notched to an exact fit at the ends. it had but one entrance, and that was near the top. this could be reached only by a ladder, and should the indians gain access to the fort, the whites would retire, fighting, to this building, and when all were in, the ladder would be drawn in after them. from the port-holes of the block-house a fierce fire could be delivered, and as the square timbers were not easily set on fire, a body of indians must be very determined indeed, if they succeeded in taking or destroying a block-house. at fort mims, however, they had done so, burning the house over the heads of the inmates. the reader will understand, from this description of the fort, how possible it was for the people within it to withstand a very determined attack, and to inflict heavy loss upon the savages, without suffering much in their turn. francis's men charged furiously upon the silent stockade, but were sent reeling back as soon as they had come near enough for the riflemen within to fire with absolute accuracy of aim. then the second body, under francis himself, charged, but with no better success. a pause followed, and another charge was made just before nightfall. this time some of the savages succeeded in reaching the stockade and stopping up some of the port-holes. they cut down a part of the pickets too, and had their friends charged again at once, the fort would undoubtedly have been carried. as it was, francis saw fit to draw off his men, for the time at least, and retire beyond the hill. what was now to be done? the attack had been repulsed, but it might be renewed at any moment. the indians had suffered considerably, while the casualties within the fort were limited to the loss of one man and one boy. but the obstinate determination of francis was well known, and it was certain that he had not finally abandoned his purpose of taking the little fort. he had already demonstrated his ability to carry the place, and it was, at the least, likely that he would come again within twenty-four hours, probably with a larger force, and should he do so, the little garrison was not in condition to repel his attack. to remain in the fort, therefore, was certain destruction; but the country was full of savages, and to attempt a march to fort glass, fifteen miles away, which was the nearest available place, the other forts being difficult to reach, was felt to be almost equally hazardous. a council was held, and it was finally determined that the perilous march to fort glass must be undertaken at all hazards. accordingly, not long after nightfall the whole garrison, men, women and children, stealthily left the fort and silently crept away to the south. sam had seen the dog charge and the escape of the whites into the fort. "what a fool i was!" he exclaimed, "not to stay where i was! we might have got in with the rest of them." "why can't we go to de fort now, or leastways, as soon as de injuns goes away?" asked joe. "they ain't going away," said sam. "they're going to storm the fort,--look, they're coming right here for a starting-point, and 'll be on top of us in a minute. come!--don't make any noise, but follow me. crawl on your hands and knees, and don't raise your heads. look out for sticks. if you break one, the indians 'll hear it." "mas' sam--dey's injuns ahead'n us an' a-comin right torge us too. look dar!" sam looked, and saw a body of indians just in front of him coming to reinforce the others. he and his friends were cut off between two bodies of savages. "lie down and be still," he whispered. "it's all we can do--and i'm to blame for it all!" chapter iii. sam's lecture. the people of the fort made no search for sam and his companions; not because they cared nothing for them, but simply because they believed them certainly dead. mr. hardwicke, himself, had seen sam start with little judie towards the fort, before the dog charge was made, and as neither the boys nor judie had ever reached the gates, he had no doubt whatever that his three children were slain, as was mrs. phillips, the only other person who had failed to get inside the stockade. mr. hardwicke wished to go out in search of their bodies, but was overruled by his companions, who, knowing that the savages were still in the immediate vicinity, thought it simply a reckless and unnecessary risk, to go hunting for the bodies of their friends hundreds of yards away, and immediately in front of the place at which the indians were last seen. the idea was abandoned, therefore, and the fort party marched away in the darkness of a cloudy night, towards fort glass. leaving them to find their way if they can, let us return to sam and his little band. seeing the indians coming towards them, they lay down in the high weeds. the savages hurrying forward to reinforce their friends, passed within a few feet of the young people, but did not see them. the storming of the fort then began, and after watching the evolutions of the indians for some time, sam said: "we mustn't stay here. those red skins are working around this way, and 'll find us. crawl on your hands and knees, all of you, and follow me." "whar's ye gwine to, mas' sam?" asked joe. "_sh, sh_," said judie. "don't talk joe, but do as brother sam tells you. don't you know he always knows what's best? besides, maybe he hasn't quite found out where he's going yet, himself." but joe was not as confident of sam's genius for doing the right thing as judie was, and so, after crawling for some distance, he again broke silence. "miss judie." "what do you want, joe?" "does _you_ know whar mas' sam's a-takin' us to, an' what he's gwine to do when he gits dar?" "no, of course i don't." "how you know den, dat he's doin' de bes' thing?" but the conversation was terminated by a word from sam, who said, in a whisper, "joe, i'll tell you _where we're going if you keep talking_." "whar, mas' sam?" "into the hands of the indians. keep your mouth shut, if you don't want your hair lifted off your head." as the black boy certainly did not want his hair cut indian fashion, he became silent at once. when they had travelled in this way until they could no longer hear the yells of the indians and the popping of guns at the fort, sam called a halt. it was now nearly midnight. "here is a good place to spend the rest of the night," he said, "and we must be as still as we can. we can stay here till to-morrow night, and then we must try to get to fort glass. it's about twelve or thirteen miles from here." "le's go on now, mas' sam; i'se afear'd to stay here," said the black boy. "we can't," said sam. "i got scratched in the foot with a stray bullet, just as we went into the thicket there at the fort, and i can't walk. i am a little faint and must lie down." at this little judie, who fairly idolized sam, and felt perfectly safe from indians and everything else when he was with her, was disposed to set up a wail of sorrow and fright. if poor sam were wounded, he might die, she thought, and the thought was too much for her. sam soothed her, however, and the poor, tired little girl was soon fast asleep in his arms. "bring some moss, boys," he said to his companions, "and make a bed for judie here by this log." when he had laid her down, he drew off his shoe and wrapped the wounded foot in some of the long gray moss which hangs in great festoons from the trees of that region. joe, with the true negro genius for sleeping, was already snoring at the foot of a tree. sam quietly called tom to his side. "tom," said he, "my foot is bleeding pretty badly, and i can't see till morning to do anything for it. i have wrapped it up in moss, stuffing the softest parts into the wound, and that may stop it after a while. but i may not be able to travel to-morrow night, and if i can't you must leave me here and try to find your way to fort glass, with judie. you must remember that her life will depend on you, and try to do your duty without flinching. don't try to travel in the daytime. go on to the south as fast as you can of nights, keeping in the woods and thickets, and as soon as you see a streak of gray in the sky find a good hiding-place and stop. you can get some corn and some sweet potatoes out of any field, but you must eat them raw, as it wont do to make a fire. now go to sleep. i may be able to travel myself, but if i shouldn't, remember you are a brave man's son, and must do your duty as a hardwicke should." and with that he shook the little fellow's hand. after a time tom, overcome by weariness, fell asleep, but sam remained awake all night, trying to staunch the flow of blood from his foot. he knew that if he could go on with the others their chance of safety would be vastly greater than without him, and so he was disposed to leave no effort untried to be in a fit condition to travel the next night. when morning came sam called tom and joe, and directed them to examine his wound, into which he could not see very well. "is the blood of a bright red, as it comes out, or a dark red?" he asked. "bright," they both said. "then it comes from an artery," he replied. "are you sure it is bright red?" the boys were not quite sure. "does it come in a steady stream or in spurts?" he asked. "it spurts, and stops and spurts again," said tom. "it is an artery, then," said sam. "look and see if you can find the place it comes from." the boys made a careful examination and at last found the artery, a small one, which was cut only about half way across. "all right," said sam. "if that's the case, i think i know how to stop the blood. put your finger in, and _break the artery clear in two_". "o sam, then you'll bleed to death," said tom. "no i won't. do as i tell you." "let me cut it, then. it wont hurt you so much." "no, no, no," cried sam, staying his hand. "don't cut it. tear it, i tell you, and be quick." tom tore it, and the blood stopped almost immediately. sam then bound the foot up with strips of cloth torn from his clothing, and as he did so said: "now i'll tell you both all about this so that you'll know what to do another time. if you know only _what_ to do, you may forget; but if you know _why_, you'll remember. the blood comes out from the heart to all parts of the body in arteries, and when it leaves the heart it is bright red, because it is clean and pure. your heart is a sort of force-pump, and every time it beats it forces the blood all over you. the arteries fork and branch out in every direction, until they terminate in millions of little veins smaller than the finest hairs, and these running together make bigger veins, through which the blood is carried to the lungs. in the veins it flows steadily, because the _capillary_ veins, the ones like hairs, are so small that the spurts can't be felt beyond them. the blood in the veins is thick and dark, because it has taken up all the impurities from the system; but when it gets to the lungs your breath takes up all these and carries them off, leaving the blood pure again for another round. now the arteries are long elastic tubes, that is to say, they will stretch a little, and fly back again, if you pull them, and when one is cut nearly but not quite off, the contraction keeps it wide open. if it is cut or torn entirely in two, the end draws back, and nine times in ten, if the artery is a small one, the drawing back shuts the end up entirely and the blood stops. but it is better to tear it than to cut it, because when torn the edges are jagged and it shrivels up more. i don't quite understand why, myself, but that is what the surgical books say. when anybody is hurt and bleeding badly, the first thing to do is to find out whether it is an artery or a vein that's cut. if the blood is bright and comes out in spurts, it's an artery. if it is dark, and flows steadily, it's a vein. if it's an artery and isn't cut quite in two, tear it in two. if that don't stop it, you must make a knot in a handkerchief and then press your finger above the cut in different places till you find where the artery is by the blood stopping. then put the knot on that place and tie the handkerchief around the limb. you can stop a vein in the same way and more easily, but if it's a vein you must tie the handkerchief so that the cut place will be between it and the heart. you see the blood comes from the heart in the arteries, and goes back towards the heart in the veins, and so to stop an artery you tie inside, and to stop a vein outside of the cut place." i think it altogether probable that master sam would have gone into quite a lecture on anatomy and minor surgery, if little judie had not waked up just then complaining of hunger. what he told the boys, however, is well worth remembering. he took little judie on his lap and sent the two boys out to find a field of potatoes or corn. when they came back all four made a breakfast of raw sweet potatoes, drinking water which tom brought in his wool hat from a creek not very far away. sam grew stronger during the day, and at night the party set out on their way to fort glass. sam's foot was not painful, but he was afraid of starting the blood again, and so he held it up, walking with a rude crutch which he had made during the day. chapter iv. sam finds it necessary to think. it was twelve miles from their first encampment to fort glass, and if sam had been strong and well, and the way open, they might easily have made the journey before morning, by carrying little judie a part of the way. as it was, they had to go through the thickest woods to avoid indians, and must move cautiously all the time, as they could never know when they might stumble upon a party of savages around a camp-fire, or sleeping under a tree. those of my readers who live in the far south know what thick woods are in that part of the country, but others may not. the trees grow as close together as they can, and the underbrush chokes up the space between them pretty effectually. then the great vines of various kinds wind themselves in and out until in many places they literally stop the way so that a strong man with an axe could not go forward a hundred feet in a week. in other places the thick cane makes an equally impenetrable barrier, and sam needed all his knowledge of the forest to enable him to work his way southward at night through such woods as those. the little party of wanderers sometimes found themselves apparently walled in in the pitchy darkness, with no possible way out but sam's instinct, as he called it, which was simply his ability to remember the things he had learned, and to put two facts together to find out a third, always extricated them. once they found themselves in a swamp, where the water was about eight inches deep. the underbrush, canes and vines made it impossible for them to see any great distance in any direction. "oh, i know we will never get out of here," whined poor little judie, ready to sink down in the water. "yes we will, lady bird," said sam cheerily. "what's the good of having a big brother if he can't take care of you? tell me that, will you? keep your courage up, little girl, i think i know where we are. let me think." "i know wha' we is. mas' sam," said joe. "where, joe," asked sam, incredulously. "we'se dun' los',--dat's wha' we is," replied joe. sam laughed. "i know more than that," said tom, "i know _where_ we're lost." "wha', mas' tom?" cried joe, eagerly. "in a swamp," said tom. "and i know what swamp," said sam, "which is better still. this swamp is the low grounds of a little creek, and i've been in it before to-night. i don't know just which way to go to get out, because i don't know just what part of the swamp we're in. but if my foot was well i'd soon find out." "how, mas' sam?" "i'd climb that sweet gum and look for landmarks." "lan' marks? what's dem, mas' sam? will dey bite?" "no, joe, i mean i would look around and find something or other to steer by,--a house an open field or something." "i kin climb, mas' sam," replied joe, "an' i'll be up dat dar tree in less'n no time." [illustration: "we 's dun los'--dats what we is."] and up the tree he went as nimbly as any squirrel might. as he went up, sam cautioned him to make no noise, and not to shout, but to look around carefully, and then to come down and tell what he had seen. "i see a big openin'," said joe, when he reached the ground again, "an' nigh de middle uv it dey's a big grove, wid a littler one jis' off to de left." "yes," said sam, "i thought you'd see that. that's where watkins's house stood: now which way is it?" "which-a-way's what, mas' sam?" "the opening with the groves in it." "i 'clar' i dunno, mas' sam." it had not entered joe's head to mark the direction, and so he had to climb the tree again. in going up and coming down, however, he wound around the tree two or three times and was no wiser when he returned to the ground than before he began his ascent. "look, joe," said sam. "do you see that bright star through the trees?" "de brightest one, mas' sam?" "yes." "yes, i sees it." "well, climb the tree, and when you get to the top, turn your face towards that star. then see which way the opening is, and remember whether it is straight ahead of you, behind you, or to the right or left." joe went up the tree again and this time managed to bring down the information that when he looked at the star the opening was on his left. with the knowledge of locality and direction thus gained, sam was not long in finding his way to firm ground again, and as soon as he did so he selected a hiding-place for the day, as the morning was now at hand. the next night they had fewer difficulties, the woods through which they had to pass being freer from undergrowth than those they had already traversed, and when the third morning broke they were within a mile or two of fort glass. sam thought at first of pushing on at once to the fort, but, seeing "indian sign" in the shape of some smouldering fires near a spring, he abandoned the undertaking until night should come again, and hid his little company in the woods. something to eat was the one immediate necessity. they were all nearly famished, and neither corn nor sweet potatoes were to be found anywhere in the vicinity. sam directed the boys to bring some rushes from the creek bottoms, and peeling these, he and his companions ate the pith, which is slightly succulent and in a small degree nourishing. sam had learned this fact by accident while out hunting one day, and sam took care never to forget anything which might be useful. towards night, when the rushes failed to satisfy their hunger, sam was puzzling himself over the problem of getting food, when tom asked him if he knew the name of a singular tree he had seen while out after rushes. "it has the biggest leaves i ever saw," he said, "and they all grow right out of its top. some of 'em are six feet long, and they've got folds in 'em. there ain't any limbs to the tree at all." "where did you see that?" asked sam eagerly. "right over there, about a hundred yards." "good! it's palmetto. i didn't know there was one this far from the sea though. here, take my big knife and you and joe go and cut out as much as you can of the soft part just where the leaves come out. it's what they call palmetto cabbage, and it's very good to eat too, i can tell you." the boys, after receiving minute instructions, went to the palmetto-tree and brought away several pounds of the terminal bud. on this the little company made a hearty meal, finding the "cabbage," as it is called, a well-flavored, juicy and tender kind of white vegetable substance, very nourishing and as palatable as cocoanut, which it closely resembles in flavor. storing what was left in their pockets, they began to prepare for their night's journey to the fort, which they hoped to reach within an hour or two. they were just on the point of starting when a party of indians, under weatherford, the great half-breed chief, who was the life and soul of the war, rode across a neighboring field, and settled themselves for supper within a dozen yards of sam's camp. the sky was overcast with clouds, and so night fell even more quickly than it usually does in southern latitudes, where there is almost no twilight at all. sam made his companions lie down at the approach of the savages, and as soon as it was fairly dark, the little party crept silently away. before leaving, however, sam had heard enough of the conversation between weatherford and peter mcqueen, the other great half-breed warrior, to know that he could not reach the fort that night. the two half-breeds talked most of the time in english, and sam learned that they had a large body of indians in the vicinity, who were scouring the country around fort glass. sam knew enough of indian warfare to know that there would be numerous small parties of savage scouts lurking immediately around the fort day and night, for the purpose of picking off any daring whites who might venture outside the gates, and especially any messenger who might attempt to pass from that to any other fortress. he knew, therefore, that for some time to come it would be impossible to reach fort glass, and penetrating the woods for a considerable distance he stopped and sat down on a log, burying his face in his hands, and telling his companions not to speak to him, as he wanted to think. chapter v. sam's fortress. sam's companions kept perfectly still. their reverence for sam had grown with every foot of their travels, and their confidence in his ability to get out of any difficulty, and ultimately to accomplish his purposes in the face of any obstacle, was now quite unbounded. and so, when he told them it was impossible to reach the fort and that he wanted to think, they patiently awaited the results of his thinking, confident that he would presently hit upon precisely the right thing to do. after a while he raised his head from his hands and said: "come on, we must get clear away from here before morning;" but he said not a word about where he was going. his course was now nearly south-east, and just as the day was breaking he stopped and said: "there is the river at last. now let's go to sleep." they obeyed him unquestioningly, though they had not the faintest idea where they were or what river it was which he had seen a little way ahead. when sam waked it was nearly noon, and he ate a little of the palmetto cabbage left in his pockets, while the others slept. his face was very pale, however, and he sat very still until his companions aroused themselves. then he explained. "when i found that we could not get to fort glass, the question was, where should we go? fort stoddart is probably surrounded by indians too, and so the only thing to do was to make our way down through the tensaw country to mobile; but that is about eighty or a hundred miles away, and the fact is i am a little sick from my wound. my foot and leg are all swelled up, and i've been having a fever, so that i can't travel much further. it seemed to me that the best thing to do, under the circumstances, was to find a good hiding-place where it will be easy to get something to eat, and to stay there till i get better, or something turns up, and so i thought of the alabama river as the very best place, because mussels and things of that kind are better than sweet potatoes, and here we are; now the next thing is to find a hiding-place, and i think i know where one is. it has a spring by it, too, which is a good thing, for drinking this swamp and creek water will make us all sick. i was all through here on a camp-hunt once, and i remember a place on the other side of the river where two big hollow trees stand right together on top of a sort of bluff. about fifty yards further down the river there is a spring, just under the bluff. we must find the place if we can, to-night, and to do it we must first get across the river. it's so low now we can easily wade it, i think, and judie can be pushed across on a log." as soon as night fell the plan was put into execution. the river was extremely low at the time, and sam was confident that by choosing a wide place for their crossing, they could wade the stream easily; but lest there might be a channel too deep for that, he fastened four logs together with grapevines, and putting judie on this raft bade the two boys tow it over, telling them that if they should find the water too deep for wading at any point, they could easily support themselves by clinging to the logs. they had no difficulty, however, and were soon on the east bank of the stream. sam's task was a much harder one. the current was very rapid and the bottom too soft for the easy use of his crutch, while his strength was almost gone. his spirit sustained him, however, and after a while he reached the shore. when all were landed, the search began for the hiding-place sam had described. it proved to be more than a mile higher up the river, and when they found it, the day was breaking. the trees were not hollow, as sam had supposed. the river bank in that place is in three terraces, and the two great trees stood almost alone on the second one of these. the sandy soil had been gradually washed out from under the great trunks, so that the trees proper began about fifteen feet from the ground, the space below being occupied by a great net-work of exposed roots, some of them a foot or two in thickness, and others varying in size all the way down to mere threads. the freshets which had washed the earth away from the roots, had piled a great mass of drift-wood against one side of them. sam made a careful examination of the place, and then all went to work. the two boys so disposed some of the drift-wood as to make a sort of covered passage from the edge of the bank to the two trees whose roots were interlaced with each other. sam cut away some of the roots with his jackknife so as to make an entrance, and once inside the circle of outer roots, he was not long in making a roomy hiding-place for the whole party, immediately under the great trees. [illustration: judie on the raft.] "we can enlarge our house with our knives whenever we choose," he said, "and if we stay here long enough, we must make judie a room for herself under the other tree, with a passage leading from this into it." sam said this to avoid saying something which would have alarmed and distressed the others. in truth he knew himself to be really ill, and believed that he would be much worse before being any better. for this reason he knew they must have more room than the present hiding-place afforded, and it was his plan to cut another room under the other tree, with a very narrow passage between. "then," thought he, "if the indians find us here, as i am afraid they will, they will find only poor sick sam here in the outer room, and won't think of hunting further." sam thought he was going to die at any rate, and his only care now was to save the lives of the others. he had made them gather some mussels at the river, and some green corn in a neighboring field, and he now said to the two boys, "these things must be cooked. it will not do for you to eat them raw any longer. they aren't wholesome that way, and so i've been thinking of a plan for cooking them. the spring is down under the lower bluff, and a fire down there won't make much smoke above the upper banks. we must make one out of drift-wood, but we mustn't use any pine. that smokes too much. the fire must be made in the daytime, because at night it would be seen too far. you boys must do the cooking, while i keep a look-out for indians, and if any come within sight you can both get in here before they discover you, or if they do see you, they can't find you after you run away from the fire, and they will look for you out in the woods somewhere. nobody would think of looking here. now let me tell you how to cook the things. i was at a 'clam bake' in new england once, and i know how to make these mussels and corn taste well. you must dig a sort of fireplace in the sand bank and build your fire in there. when it burns away until you have a good bank of coals, you must put down on them a layer of the corn, in the shuck, then a layer of mussels, then a layer of corn, and finally cover them all up with coals and hot ashes, and leave them there for an hour or two, when they will be cooked beautifully." "but mas' sam," said joe. "well, what is it, joe?" "how's we gwine to git de fire?" "well, how do you think, joe?" "i 'clare i dunno, mas' sam, 'thout you got some flints an' punk in your pockets." "no, i have no flints and no punk, joe, but i'm going to get you some fire when the sun gets straight overhead." "is you gwine to git it from de sun, mas' sam?" "yes." "what wid, mas' sam?" "with water, joe." "wid water, mas' sam! you'se foolin'. how you gwine to git fire wid water, _i'd_ like to know." "well, wait and see. i'm not fooling." to tell the truth, tom was quite as much at a loss as joe was, to know how sam could get fire with water; but his confidence in his "big brother," as he called sam, was too perfect to admit of a doubt or a question. as for judie, she would hardly have raised her eyebrows if sam had burned water, or whittled it into dolls' heads before her eyes. she believed in sam absolutely, and supposed, as a matter of course, that he knew everything and could do anything he liked. but joe was not yet satisfied that water could be made to assist in the kindling of a fire. he said nothing more, however, but carefully watched all of sam's preparations. that young gentleman began by tearing a strip of cotton cloth from his shirt, and picking it to pieces. he then gathered from the drift-wood a number of dry sticks, and broke and split them up very fine. "we must have a few splinters of light-wood," he said; "but after the fire is once started, we mustn't put any more pine on." so saying, he split off a few splinters from a piece of rich heart-pine, which southern people call "light-wood," because the negroes use it instead of lamps or candles. "come now," said sam, "its nearly noon, and i think i can get fire for you. go up on top of the drift-pile, tom, and look out for indians. if you don't see any we can all go down to the spring together long enough to start a fire. then i must come back to judie, and i'll keep a look-out for indians while you and joe get the corn on. when you get it on, come back here and wait until it has time to cook. stop a minute, tom. let's understand each other. if the one on the look-out sees indians, he must let the others know; but it won't do to holler. let me see. can you whistle like a kildee, tom?" "yes, or like any other bird." "can you, joe?" "i reckon i _kin_, mas' sam," said joe, who, to prove his powers straightway gave a shrill kildee whistle, which nearly deafened them all. "there, that'll do, joe. well, let's understand then, that if anyone of us sees indians, he must whistle like a kildee. if the indians hear it they'll think nothing of it." tom went to the look-out, and seeing no savages anywhere, returned, and the whole party, little judie excepted, proceeded to the spring. sam then laid his sticks down in a pile, and taking out his watch removed the crystal. this he filled with clear water from the spring, and holding it over the cotton ravellings, moved it up and down until the sunlight, passing through it, gathered itself into a small bright spot on the cotton. joe, eager to see, thrust his head over sam's shoulder, and directly between the glass and the sun. "take your head away, joe, or i'll have to draw the fire right through it," said sam, laughing. "mercy, mas' sam, don't do dat. i'se 'feard o' your witches' ways, anyhow," said joe, drawing back. the glass was again put in position and the spot of bright sunlight reappeared. presently a little cloud of smoke rose, and a moment afterwards, the cotton was fairly afire. it was not difficult now to get the light-wood and dry sticks to blazing, and a good fire was soon secured. "now boys," said sam, "i'll go back to the drift-pile and keep a look-out. if you hear the kildee call, run in as quickly as you can. when you get the corn and mussels on, and covered up, come back at once." no indians showing themselves anywhere in the neighborhood, the boys got their dinner on or rather _in_ the fire, and then returned to the root cavern to await the completion of the cooking process. when they were all safely stowed away in their places, tom gave voice to the curiosity with which he was almost bursting. "sam," he said, "how did you do that?" "how did i do what, tom?" "how did you make the sun set the cotton on fire?" "i don't know whether i can make you understand it or not," said sam, "but i'll try. you know light always goes in straight lines, if left to itself, don't you?" "no, i didn't know that! "yes you did, only you never thought of it. if you want to keep light out of your eyes, you always put your hand between them and the light, because you know the light goes straight and so will not go around your hand." "yes, that's true, and when i want to make a shadow anywhere, i put something right before the light." "certainly. well, the rays of the sun all come to us straight, and side by side. they are pretty hot, but not hot enough to set fire to anything that way. but if you can gather a good many of these rays together and make them all shine on one little spot, they will set fire to whatever they fall on. now a piece of glass or any other thing that you can see through easily,--that is, any _transparent_ thing, lets the sunlight through it, and if it is flat on both sides, it doesn't change the directions of the rays. but if both sides are rounded out, or if one side is rounded out and the other side is flat, it turns all the rays a little, and brings them right together in a point not far from the glass. if the sides are hollowed _in_ instead of bulging out, the rays scatter, and if one side bulges out and the other bulges in, as they do in a watch crystal, one side scatters and the other side collects the rays, and so it is the same as if the glass had been perfectly flat, one side undoes the other's work. now i have no glass which bulges out on both sides, and none that bulges out on one side and is flat on the other, but my watch crystal bulges out on one side and in on the other. but when i filled it with water, the water being as clear as the glass, it made it flat on top and bulging underneath, and so it gathered the sun's rays together in the light spot you saw, and set fire to the cotton." "yes, but why did you have to wait till noon?" asked tom. "because the glass must be held right across the rays of light, and as i couldn't turn the crystal to either side without spilling the water, i had to use it at noon, when the sun was almost exactly overhead, and its rays came nearly straight down. if i had had a glass rounded out on both sides i could have got fire any time after the sun was well up in the sky. now let me tell you what they call all these different kinds of glasses. one that is flat on one side and bulges out on the other is called a _convex lens_; if it bulges out on both sides it is a _double convex lens_; if it is hollowed in on one side and flat on the other it is a _concave lens_; if hollowed in on both sides we call it a _double concave lens_; and when it is hollowed in on one side and bulged out on the other, as any watch crystal does, it is a _concave convex lens_." "where did you learn all that, sam?" asked tom. "i learned part of it with father's spectacles, and part out of a book father lent me when i asked him why i couldn't make the bright, hot spot with a pair of near-sighted glasses that i found in one of mother's old work boxes. you see, when people begin to get old, their eyes flatten a little, and so everything they look at seems to be shaved off. they see well enough at a distance, but can't see small things close to them." "is that the reason pa always looks over his spectacles when he looks at me?" asked judie. "yes, little woman. he can't see to read without his glasses, but he can see you across the room without them, well enough. well, to remedy this defect, old people wear spectacles with double convex lenses in them. but near-sighted people have exactly the opposite trouble. they can't see things except by bringing them near their eyes, because their eyes are not flat enough, and so their spectacles are made with double concave lenses. when i asked father about it, he gave me a book that explained it all, and that is where i learned the little i know about it." "the _little_! i'd like to know what you call a good deal," said tom. "i never saw anybody that knew half as much as you do." "that is only because we live in a new country, tom, where there are no very well educated people, and because you don't know how much there is to learn in the world. if these indians ever get quiet, i hope to learn a good deal more every year than i know now. but it's time to see about our mussel bake. run to the look-out, tom, and then we can all go down and bring up the dinner." chapter vi. surprised. the baked corn and mussels made a savory dish, or one which would have been savory enough but for the absence of salt. the boys knew well enough that salt was not to be had, however, and so they made a joke of its absence, and even pretended that they did not like their food salted at any time. little judie was so hungry that she cared very little whether food tasted well or not, provided it satisfied her appetite. the rest and the more wholesome food seemed to restore sam to something like his customary strength during the first ten days of his stay in the "root fortress," as he had named their singular dwelling. his wounded foot got better, though it was still far from well, and, better than all, his fever left him. as he regained strength he began to lay plans again. to stay where they were was well enough as a temporary device for escaping the savages, but sam's main purpose now was to get the little people under his charge back to civilization somewhere, and then to do his part in the war between the indians and whites. he must first find a way to get tom and judie and joe into one of the forts or into some safe town, and how to do this was the problem. he was unwilling to take them away from their present pretty secure hiding-place until he could decide upon some definite plan offering a reasonable prospect of escape. if he could have known as much as we now know of the movements of the savages, he would have had little difficulty. the larger part of the indians had left the peninsula now forming clarke county, and crossed to the south-eastern shore of the alabama river,--the side on which sam's root fortress stood, and if he could have known this, he would have made an effort to cross the river again and reach fort glass. the chief difficulty in the way of this undertaking would have been that of crossing the river, which was now swollen by recent rains. he knew nothing about the matter, however, and as fort mims, the first point attacked by the savages, was on the south-east side of the river, he reasoned that having afterwards crossed to clarke county the indians would not again cross to the south-east side in any considerable force. in this, as we know, he was mistaken, and the error led him into some danger, as we shall see. thinking the matter over, he decided that his first plan of a march down through the tensaw country to the neighborhood of mobile would be the safest and best thing to undertake. he was unwilling, however, to begin it with his companions without making a preliminary reconnoissance. accordingly he explained the plan to tom and joe, and said: "i'm going to-night down towards old fort mims, to see if the country is pretty free from indians, and to find out what i can about the chance of getting away from here. i'll leave you here with judie, and you must be extra careful about exposing yourselves. you've corn and mussels and sweet potatoes enough already cooked, to last you a week, and i'll probably be back before that; if not you must eat them raw till i do come: it won't do to build a fire while i'm away." after giving minute directions for their guidance during his absence, sam put a sweet potato in one pocket and an ear of corn in the other, and set out on his journey, walking with a stout stick, having discarded his crutch as no longer necessary. how far he walked that night, i am unable to say, his course being a very circuitous one. the moon rose full, soon after dark, and shone so brightly that sam dared not cross the fields, but skirted around them keeping constantly in the woods and the edges of canebrakes. the next night and the next he continued his journey, though he found the country full of indians. he saw their "sign" everywhere, and now and then saw some of the indians themselves. the fourth evening found him so lame (his foot having swelled and become painful again) that he could not possibly go on. he had already gone far enough to discover that the country on that side of the river was too full of indians for him to carry his little party safely through it, and so he determined to work his way back to the root fortress, and try the other side. seeing a house in a field near by the place in which he had spent the day, he resolved to visit it for the purpose of bringing away any article he could find which might be useful to him in his effort to provide for his little band. in a grove near the house he found a horse,--a young and powerful animal, and as he feared his lameness would not permit him to reach his root fortress again on foot, he determined to ride the animal in spite of the fact that on horseback he would be in much greater danger of discovery by the indians than on foot. the horse had a bridle on, and had evidently escaped, probably during a skirmish, from its white or red master. sam tied him in the grove, and went on to the house, which had been sacked and partially burned. looking around in the moonlight, sam discovered a hatchet, and, in the corner of what had once been a store-house, the remains of a barrel of salt. these were two valuable discoveries. the hatchet would be of great service to him not only in the root fortress but even more in forcing a pathway through the canebrakes when he should again cross the river and try to reach one of the forts. the salt he must have at any cost, and as he had no bag he made one by ripping off the sleeve of his coat and tying its ends with strips of bark. he had just filled it, and tied up the ends when, hearing a noise, he turned, and saw two indians within six feet of him. chapter vii. confused. the two indians who had startled sam, were on the point of entering the old dwelling house, and seemingly were unaccompanied by any others. sam happened fortunately to be standing in shadow, and they passed without seeing him. but what was he now to do? he was at the back of the house, and a high picket fence around the place made it impossible for him to escape by the front-way, towards which the savages had gone. looking through the door-way, he saw that the pair had passed through the room nearest him and into the adjoining apartment. he knew that other indians were in the neighborhood, and that a dozen of them might wander into the enclosure at any moment. resolving upon a bold manoeuvre, he stepped lightly into the rear room of the house, and climbed up inside the wide mouthed chimney. whether the indians heard him or not he never knew, but at any rate he was none too soon in hiding, for he had hardly cleared the fireplace in his ascent when four or five savages came into the room and began to demolish the few articles of furniture left in the house. they had got whiskey somewhere, and having drank freely were even noisier than white men get under the influence of strong drink. they remained but a short time, when, setting fire again to the half-burned house, they left the place yelling as savages only can. sam escaped as soon as he could from his uncomfortable quarters and made his way to the grove. mounting his horse he rode away in the direction of the root fortress, keeping in the woods as well as he could and taking every precaution to avoid coming suddenly upon savages. as he rode only at night, the indians' almost universal habit of building camp-fires wherever they stop for the night, helped him to avoid them. when morning came he sought a place deep in the forest, when he turned his horse loose to graze all day, while he slept at some distance from the animal, so that the noise of the beast's stamping and browsing might not lead to the discovery of his own whereabouts. as the evening of the second day of his return came round, sam found himself genuinely sick. his foot and leg were much inflamed, and the excitement of the preceding night, together with his continued exposure to the drenching dews of the southern autumn, had brought back his fever with increased violence, and a very brief experiment convinced him that he could not go further that night. he mounted his horse, but had ridden less than a mile when he felt a giddiness coming over him and found it necessary to abandon the effort to ride that night. he could hardly see, and the pain in his head, neck, back and limbs was excruciating. he dismounted and threw himself down on the ground without taking the trouble even to separate himself from his horse. the truth is, sam had what they call in south carolina country fever, a high type of malarial fever, which stupefies and benumbs its victim almost as soon as it attacks him. the dews in the far south, especially in the fall, are so heavy that the water will drip and even stream off the foliage of the trees all night, and sam had been drenched every night during both his journeys, having no fire by which to warm himself or dry his clothes. even without this drenching the poisonous exhalations of the swamps and woods would doubtless have given him the fever, and as it was he had it very severely. he laid down again almost under his horse's feet and fell into a sort of stupor. he knew that his fever required treatment, and that it would rapidly sap his strength, and the thought came to him: what if he should die there and never get back to the tree fortress? he was too sick to care for himself, but the thought of little judie haunted his dreams, and he was seized with a semi-delirious impulse to remount his horse and ride straight away to the hiding-place in which he had left her, regardless of indians, and of everything else. he dreamed a dozen times that he was doing this, and finally, when morning came, he forgot all about the danger of travelling by daylight, and mounting his horse in a confused, half-delirious way, rode straight out of the woods towards the open country, which he had hitherto so carefully avoided. chapter viii. weatherford. the fiercest and most conspicuous leader of the indians in this war was william weatherford, or the red eagle, as the indians called him. he is commonly spoken of in history as a half-breed, but he was in reality almost a white man, with just enough of the indian in his composition to add savage emotions to scotch intellect and scotch perseverance. his father was a scotchman, and his mother a half-breed indian princess. he was brought up in the best civilization the border had, his father being wealthy. he became very rich himself, and, despite his savage instincts, which were always strong, his wealth, in land and slaves, made him a conservative. at first he favored a war with the whites, but a calmer afterthought led him to desire peace, and when he found that the tempest he had helped to stir up would not subside at his bidding, he began casting about for a way of escape. he was a man of unquestionable genius; a soldier of rare strategic ability; an orator of the truest sort, and his courage in danger was simply sublime. such a man was likely to be of great value to the indians in their approaching war, and when they began to suspect his loyalty to the nation, they watched him narrowly. finding it impossible to postpone the war, and not wishing to sacrifice his fine property near the holy ground, he made a secret journey to the residence of his half brother david tait and his brother john weatherford, who lived among what were known as the "peacefuls," namely, the indians disposed to remain at peace with the whites in any event. his brothers, hearing his story, advised him to bring his negroes, horses and movable property generally, together with his family, to their plantations, and to remain there, inactive and neutral, during the struggle. when he returned to his residence for the purpose of doing this, however, he found that the hostile indians had seized his family and his negroes as hostages, and, under the compulsion of their threat that they would kill his wife and children if he should dare to remain at peace, he joined in the war against the whites, becoming the fiercest of all the chieftains. he planned and led the assault upon fort mims, and was everywhere foremost in all the fighting. when the creeks were utterly routed at the battle of the holy ground a month or so after the time of which i am writing, general jackson issued a proclamation refusing terms of peace to the chiefs until weatherford, whom he had determined to put to death, should be brought to him, alive or dead. weatherford hearing of this, although he was safe beyond the borders and might have easily made his escape to florida, as his comrade peter mcqueen did, rode straightway to jackson's head-quarters, where he said to the commander who had set a price upon his head:-- "i am weatherford. i have come to ask peace for my people. i am in your power. do with me as you please. i am a soldier. i have done the white people all the harm i could. i have fought them and fought them bravely. if i yet had an army i would fight and contend to the last. but i have none. my people are all gone. i can now do no more than weep over the misfortunes of my nation." jackson was so impressed with the sublime courage and the dignity of the man upon whose head he had set a price, that he treated him at once with chivalrous consideration. he told him that the only terms upon which the indians could secure peace were unconditional submission and uniform good conduct; but "as for yourself," he said, "if you do not like the terms, no advantage shall be taken of your present surrender. you are at liberty to depart and resume hostilities when you please. but if you are taken then, your life shall pay the forfeit of your crimes." weatherford calmly folded his arms and replied; "i desire peace for no selfish reasons, but that my nation may be relieved from its sufferings; for independent of the other consequences of the war, my people's cattle are destroyed and their women and children destitute of provisions. i may well be addressed in such language now. there was a time when i had a choice and could have answered you. i have none now. even hope has ended. once i could animate my warriors to battle. but i cannot animate the dead. my warriors can no longer hear my voice. their bones are at talladega, tallashatche, emuckfaw and tohopeka. i have not surrendered myself thoughtlessly. while there were chances of success i never left my post nor supplicated peace. but my people are gone, and i now ask peace for my nation and myself. on the miseries and misfortunes brought upon my country, i look back with the deepest sorrow, and wish to avert still greater calamities. if i had been left to contend with the georgia army, i would have raised my corn on one bank of the river and fought them on the other. but your people have destroyed my nation. general jackson, you are a brave man,--i am another. i do not fear to die. but i rely upon your generosity. you will exact no terms of a conquered and helpless people but those to which they should accede. whatever they may be it would now be folly and madness to oppose them. if they are opposed, you shall find me among the sternest enforcers of obedience. those who would still hold out can only be influenced by a mean spirit of revenge. to this they must not and shall not sacrifice the last remnant of their country. you have told us what we may do and be safe. yours is a good talk, and my nation ought to listen to it. they _shall_ listen to it."[ ] [footnote : for these speeches of weatherford's and for other historical details i am indebted to a valuable and interesting book, "romantic passages in south western history," by a. b. mull, mobile, s. h. goetzsl & co. publishers, which is now, unfortunately out of print. the speeches are well authenticated i believe.] jackson was too generous and too brave a man to remain unmoved under such a speech from a man who thus placed his own life in jeopardy for the sake of his people. he bade the chieftain return home, and promised peace to his people, a promise faithfully kept to this day. all this however occurred nearly two months after the time of which i write, and it is introduced here merely by way of explaining the things which happened to sam on the morning of the rash resumption of his journey. this man weatherford, the fiercest enemy the whites had, with a party of about twenty-five indians, bivouacked, the night before, in the edge of the woods, and when sam mounted his horse that morning the indians were lying asleep immediately in his path as he rode blindly out of the thicket. the first intimation he had of their presence was a grunt from a big savage who lay almost under his horse's feet. coming to himself in an instant, sam took in the whole situation at a glance, and with the rapidity and precision which people who are accustomed to the dangers and difficulties of frontier life always acquire, he mentally weighed all the facts bearing upon the question of what to do, and decided. he saw before him the savages, rising from the ground at sight of him. he saw their horses browsing at some little distance from them. he saw a rifle, on which hung a powder-horn and a bullet-pouch, standing against a bush. he saw that he had already aroused the foe, and that he must stand a chase. his first impulse was to turn around and ride back, in the direction whence he had come; but in that direction lay the thicket through which he could not ride rapidly, and so if he should take that course, he would lose the advantage which he hoped to gain from the fleetness of his particularly good horse. besides, in the thicket he must of course leave a trail easily followed. just beyond the group of indians he saw the open fields, and he made up his mind at once that he would push his horse into a run, dash right through the camp of the savages, pick up the convenient rifle if possible, and reaching the open country make all the speed he could. in this he knew he would have an advantage, inasmuch as he would get a good many hundred yards away before the savages could catch and mount their horses for the purpose of pursuing him, and he even hoped that they, seeing how far he was in advance of them, would abandon the idea of pursuit altogether. all this thinking, and weighing of chances, and deciding was the work of a single half second, and the plan, once formed, was executed instantly. without pausing or turning he pushed his horse at a full run through the group of savages, receiving a glancing blow from a war club and dodging several others as he went. he succeeded in getting possession of the rifle which stood by the bush, and reached the field before a gun could be aimed at him. it was now his purpose to get so far ahead as to discourage pursuit, and with this object in view he continued to urge his horse forward at his best speed. this hope was a vain one, as he soon discovered. the indians, infuriated by his boldness, mounted their horses and gave chase immediately. sam had an excellent habit, as we know, of keeping his wits about him, and of preparing carefully for difficulties likely to come. the first thing to be done was to escape, if possible, and so he continued to press his high-spirited colt forward, while he debated the probabilities of being overtaken, and discussed with himself the resources at his command if the savages should come up with him. he was armed now, at any rate, and if running should prove of no avail, he could and would sell his life very dearly. indeed the possession of the rifle roused all the spirit of battle there was in him, and great as the odds were against him, he was sorely tempted to pause long enough to shoot once at least. he remembered tom and judie and joe, however, and their dependence upon him for guidance and protection, and for their sake more than for his own, suppressed the impulse and continued his flight. the indians were nearly half a mile behind him, and, as nearly as he could tell, were not gaining upon him very rapidly. his colt seemed equal to a long continued race, and as yet showed no sign of faltering or fatigue. the question had now resolved itself, sam thought, into one of endurance. how long the indians would continue a pursuit in which he had the advantage of half a mile the start, he had no way of determining, but that his horse's endurance was as great at least as their perseverance, he had every reason to hope. just as he had comforted himself with this thought, a new danger assailed him. one of the indians, it seemed, taking advantage of a minute knowledge of the country, had saved a considerable distance by riding through a strip of woods and cutting off an angle. when sam first caught sight of him, coming out of the woods, the savage was within a dozen yards of him, and evidently gaining upon him at every step. sam's horse was a fleet one, but that of the indian was apparently a thoroughbred, whose speed remained nearly as great after a mile's run as at the start. knowing the indians' skill in shooting while riding at full speed, sam leaned as far as he could to one side, so that as little as possible of his person should be exposed to his pursuer's aim. he continued to press his horse too, but the savage gained steadily. finding at last that he must shortly be overtaken, sam resolved upon a bold manoeuvre, by which to kill his foremost pursuer. seizing the hatchet he had brought away from the house, he suddenly stopped his horse, and, as the indian came along-side, aimed a savage blow at his head. "don't you know me, sam?" said the indian in good english, dodging the blow. "i'm weatherford. if i'd wanted to kill you i might have done so a dozen times in the last five minutes. you know i don't want to kill _you_, though you're the only white man on earth i'd let go. but the others will make an end of you if they catch you. ride on and i'll chase you. turn to the left there and ride to the bluff. i'll follow you. there's a gully through the top. ride down it as far as you can and jump your horse over the cliff. it's nearly fifty feet high, and may kill you, but it's the only way. the other warriors are coming up and they'll kill you sure if you don't jump. jump, and i'll tell 'em i chased you over." sam knew weatherford well, and he knew why the blood-thirsty chief wished to spare him if he could, for sam had rescued weatherford once from an imminent peril at great risk to himself, though the story is too long to be told here. whether or not there is nobleness enough in the indian character to make the savage remember a benefit received, i am sure i cannot say, but weatherford was _three-fourths white_, and with all his ferocity in war, history credits him with more than one generous impulse like that by which sam was now profiting. the two rode on, weatherford pretending to be in hot pursuit, shooting occasionally and yelling at every leap of his horse. the bluff towards which they rode was probably a hundred feet high, and was washed at its base by a deep but sluggish creek, on the other side of which lay a densely wooded swamp. through the top of the bluff, however, was a sort of fissure or ravine washed by the flow of water during the rainy season, and where it terminated the height of its mouth above the stream was not more than forty or fifty feet. down this gully sam rode furiously, so that his horse might not be able to refuse the leap, which was a frightful one. coming to the edge of the precipice with headlong speed, the animal could not draw back but plunged over with sam sitting bolt upright on his back. riding back to the top of the bank weatherford met his warriors. [illustration: the perilous leap.] "where is he?" asked the foremost. "his _body_ is down there in the creek. i drove him over the precipice," said the chief with well-feigned delight.[ ] [footnote : this incident of the leap over the precipice is strictly historical, else i should never have ventured to print it here. weatherford himself, on the d of december, , after the battle of tohopeka, escaped a body of dragoons in a precisely similar manner. a still more remarkable leap was that of major samuel mccullock, on the d of september , over a precipice fully feet high near wheeling, west virginia. he jumped over on horseback, thinking such a death preferable to savage torture, but singularly enough, both he and his horse escaped unhurt.] his purpose evidently, was to satisfy the warriors that sam was certainly killed, so that they might pursue him no further. whether he was yet alive or not, weatherford himself had no means of knowing. the last he had seen of him was as he went over the precipice, sitting bolt upright on his horse, grasping his rifle and looking straight ahead. he heard a splash in the water below, after which everything was still. chapter ix. weary waiting. the days seemed very long to tom and joe and little judie after sam left on his journey. they had nothing to do but to sit still in their corners among the roots all day, and time always drags very slowly when people are doing nothing. their provisions, as we know, were already cooked,--enough of them at least, to last a week, and before sam left he had made them bring more than a bushel of sweet potatoes and all the corn they could find which was still soft enough to eat, and store it away for use if his return should be delayed in any way. the result was that their legs got no stretching, and they became moody, dispirited and unhappy before the second day of sam's absence had come to an end. they found doing nothing the hardest and the dullest work they ever had done in their lives. joe managed to sleep most of the time, but tom was nervous, and poor little judie, without sam to depend upon, grew low-spirited and began to fear all sorts of evil things. finally sam's week was up and sam had not appeared. the little people were now fairly frightened. what had become of him? they wondered. had he fallen into the hands of the indians? and if so, what were they to do now? they had never before known how dependent they were upon him. even during his absence they had been regulating their lives by his minute instructions, and depending upon him for guidance after he should return. but what if he should never return? and why hadn't he come already? these thoughts were too much for them. judie sat in her corner brooding over her trouble, and crying a little now and then. joe was simply frightened, and his eyes grew bigger and rounder than ever. tom was sustained in part by the thought that the burden of responsibility was now on him, and so he suppressed all manifestations of uneasiness, as well as he could, and gave himself up to the duty of studying the situation, calculating his resources and trying to decide what was the best thing to be done if sam should not come back at all. he hit upon several excellent ideas, but made up his mind that before trying to put any of them into practice he would wait at least a fortnight longer for sam's return. their stock of provisions, eaten raw, would last much longer than that, and the fields were full of sweet potatoes, wherefore he wisely thought it best not to lose any chance of having sam to do the thinking and planning. he was so anxious for his brother's return that he spent the greater part of his time on the drift-pile where he had built himself a little observatory, so arranged that he could see in every direction without the possibility of being seen in his turn. sitting there in his look-out, watching for sam, he had time to think of many things. his thinking was not always wise, as a matter of course, but for a boy of his age it did very well, certainly, and one day he hit upon a really valuable idea. the way it came about was this. he fell into a reverie, and remembered the happy old days at home, and one day in particular, when he was busy all day making a little wagon in which to give judie a ride, and he remembered how very short that day seemed, although it was in june. just then it popped into his head to think that there was a reason for everything, and that that day had seemed so short only because he had been very busy as its hours went by. if he had known what "generalization" means, he would have generalized this truth as follows:-- "time passes rapidly with busy people." he did nothing of the kind, however. he only thought. "if poor little judie had something to keep her busy all the time, she wouldn't be so miserable." and so he cudgelled his brains to invent some plan or other by which to set judie at work and keep her at it all the time. when he returned to the fortress towards night, he said to the little woman; "judie, i reckon poor sam's foot is troubling him again, and that's the reason he hasn't got back yet. he'll work along slowly and get here after a while, but i'm afraid he'll be dreadfully tired and sick when he comes. we must have a good soft bed ready for him so that he can get a good rest." to this judie assented, though in her heart she feared she should never see sam again, as indeed tom did too, though neither would admit the fact to the other. "now i've been thinking," said tom, "that it wont do, if he comes back half sick, to let him lie on green moss with all the outside on. let me show you." and taking a strand of the long moss he scraped the greenish gray outside off, leaving a black strand like a horse hair. "there," he said, "sam told me once that it's the soft outside part that holds water, while the inside is dry almost always. now why can't we scrape the outside off of a great deal of moss and have the dry inside ready for sam to sleep on when he comes back? it'll surprise him and he'll be glad too. he never cared for himself much, but he'll be glad to see that we care for him." the plan pleased little judie wonderfully well. she was always delighted to do anything for sam, and now that she was uneasy about him, and kept thinking of him as dead or dying or sick somewhere, and could hardly keep her tears back, nothing could have pleased her so well as to work for his comfort. tom and joe went out after dark, and brought in a large lot of moss, and the next morning all went to work, judie made very little progress with her scraping, but she kept steadily at it, and it served its purpose in making her less miserable than before. the days passed more rapidly to tom and joe, too, and the whole party grew more cheerful under the influence of work. it was now ten days, however, since sam had gone away, and his non-appearance was really alarming. when work stopped for the night, the thought of sam was uppermost in the minds of all three, and for the first time they talked freely of the matter. tom was disposed to cheer himself by cheering the others, and so he explained: "it's about forty-five miles to where fort mims stood, so sam told me, and he said he might go nearly that far, if he didn't see indians. if he went only thirty-five miles it would take him four or five nights; say five nights, and five more to come back would make ten. but may be his foot got sore, or indians got in the way, and so it has taken him longer than he thought. i don't think we ought to be uneasy even if he should stay two weeks in all." that was all very well as a theory, and true enough too, but tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and so were joe and judie. the worst of it was that none of them could hide the fact. the eleventh day came, and with it came an excitement. tom was the first to wake, and without waiting for the others, he proceeded to make his breakfast off an ear of raw corn, which was almost hard enough to grind, and altogether too hard to be eaten as green corn at any well-regulated table. tom ate it, however, having nothing better, and when judie waked he offered her a softer ear, which he had carefully selected and laid aside. judie tried but couldn't eat it. she was faint and almost sick, and found it impossible to swallow the raw corn. "poor little sister," said tom. "if i had any fire i'd roast a potato for you to-day anyhow, but the fire's all out and i can't." "mas' tom!" said joe, "i'll tell you what! i dun see a heap o' fox grapes down dar by de creek, an' i'se gwine to git some for miss judie quicker'n you kin count ten." and so saying joe ran first to the look-out, to make a preliminary reconnoissance. the boys rarely ever left the trees during the daytime, and when they did so they were careful first to satisfy themselves that there were no savages in the neighborhood. the creek, of which joe spoke, emptied into the river a short distance above the root fortress, and, along its banks was a dense mass of undergrowth, which skirted the river below, all the way to the drift-pile. joe had seen the grapes from the look-out, and had planned an excursion after them. he could follow the river bank to the creek, keeping in the bushes and moving cautiously, and if any indians should appear he could retreat in the same way, without discovery. tired of raw corn and sweet potatoes, the grapes had tempted him sorely, and it only needed judie's longing for a change of diet to induce him, to make this foraging expedition. chapter x. fighting fire. before proceeding to relate the incidents which follows, it is necessary to explain a little more fully the arrangement of the root fortress and the drift-pile. the two trees, which were enormous ones, had originally grown as close together as they could, and their roots had interlaced beneath the soil. the sand in which they grew having been gradually washed away, their great masses of roots were exposed for about fifteen feet below the original level of the soil and as they spread out they made two circles (one running a foot or two into the other), of about twelve or fifteen feet in diameter. inside of this circle of great roots, the roots were mostly small, and the boys had cut them away with their knives, leaving just enough of them to stop up all the holes and obscure the view from without. the drift-pile, or hammock, as it is sometimes called at the south, had been years in forming, being drift-wood which had floated down the river during winter and spring freshets, and as it had lodged against the trees it lay only on their upper side, where it was piled up into a perpendicular wall nearly twenty feet high. thence it stretched away up the river for a hundred yards or more. now the only entrance big enough to admit a person into the root fortress was on the side next to the drift, and it opened only into an alley-way which the boys had partly found and partly made through the drift. this alley-way led past several little aisles running out to the right and left for a dozen yards or so,--aisles formed by the irregular piling of the logs on top of each other. in the fortress there were a dozen places at least, where the big roots were sufficiently wide apart to admit a grown man easily, but the boys had left the smaller roots which covered these gaps undisturbed, and cut only the one entrance. after cutting that on the side next the hammock, they had moved some of the drift so as to close up the sides of the entrance and make it open only into the alley-way. all this had been done under sam's supervision, and as a result of his prudence and fore thought. joe had been gone nearly half an hour when he burst suddenly into the chamber in which the others were. his hands were full of the wild grapes, but of those he was evidently not thinking. his face was of that peculiar hue which black faces assume when if they were white faces they would grow pale; and his lips, usually red, were of an ashy brown. his eyes were of the shape of saucers, and seemed not much smaller. he gasped for breath in an alarming way, and tom saw that the poor fellow was frightened almost out of his wits. "what's the matter joe? tell me quick," said the younger boy. "o mas' tom, we'se dun surrounded. i was jest a-gittin' de grapes when i seed a'most a thousand injuns a-comin,' an' i dun run my life a'most out a-gittin' here. dey did not see me, but i seed dem, an' i tell you dey's de biggest injuns you ever did see. i 'clar dey's mos' as tall as trees." "how many of 'em are there, joe?" asked tom standing up. "i couldn't count 'em e'zactly, mas' tom, but i reckon dey's not less'n a thousand of 'em,--maybe two thousan' for all i know." "where are they, and what were they doing?" asked tom; but before joe could answer, the voices of the indians themselves indicated their whereabouts, and tom discerned that they were disagreeably close to his elbow. seeking a place in which to cook their breakfast the savages had selected the corner formed by the root fortress and the drift-pile as a proper place for a fire, and were now breaking up sticks with which to start one. they were just outside the fortress, and either of the boys could have touched them by pushing his arm out between the roots. tom motioned the others to keep absolutely silent, and going a little way into the hammock, through the passage way he managed to find a place from which he could see the intruders. he soon discovered that joe's account of them was slightly exaggerated in two important particulars. they were only ordinary indians, neither larger nor smaller than grown indians usually are, and instead of a thousand there were but three of them in all. but three fully grown indians were enough to justify a good deal of apprehension, and if they should discover the party in the tree, tom knew very well they would make very short work of their destruction. he crept back to the tree therefore and again cautioned joe and judie, in a whisper, not to speak or make any other noise. then he returned to his place of observation and watched the indians. they soon made a crackling fire and proceeded to broil some game they had killed, this and the eating which followed occupied perhaps an hour, during which tom made frequent journeys to the little room, nominally for the purpose of cautioning the others to keep still, but really to work off some portion of his uneasiness, which was growing with every moment. he was terrified at first upon general principles, as any other boy of eleven years old would have been. then he was afraid that the indians would by some accident, lean something against the curtain of small roots between two other big trees, and that the curtain might not be strong enough to support it, in which event their hiding-place would be discovered at once. he was afraid, too, that some slight noise inside the fortress might catch the uncommonly quick ears of the indians. all these were dangers well worth considering; but now a new, and much greater danger began to show itself. the drift was largely composed of light wood, and from his hiding-place tom could see that the fire built by the trees had communicated itself to the hammock, and that the flames were rapidly spreading. the danger now was that the fire would burn into the alley-way and so cut off retreat from the fortress, and if so those inside would be burned alive. quitting his place of observation therefore, he established himself as a sentry in the alley-way, having determined, if the fire should approach the passage, to take joe and judie out of the fortress and into one of the aisles near the farther edge of the drift-pile. having begun to plan he saw all the possibilities of the case and tried to provide for all. he knew that if the wind should drive the flames into the drift the whole pile would be destroyed in a very brief time, but in that case, he reasoned, the black smoke of the resinous pine would make it impossible for the indians to see very far in that direction, and so he resolved, if the worst came, to lead his companions out of the upper end of the hammock, into the bushes and so escape to the creek, where he hoped to find a hiding-place of some sort. he had got this far in his planning when he heard judie cough, and stepping quickly into the room found it full of smoke. seeing that to stay there was to suffocate, he beckoned his companions to follow, and stepping lightly they passed down the alley-way and sat down in one of the aisles, behind a great sycamore log which ran across the pile. peeping over this log tom saw the three indians shoulder their guns and walk away. he ran at once to the look-out, and though the smoke almost blinded him he observed all their movements. he wanted them away speedily, so that he and joe might extinguish the fire if that were still possible, and as every minute served to increase the difficulty and lessen the chances of doing so, the loitering of the savages seemed interminable. they stopped first to drink at the spring. then they amused themselves by throwing sticks, and pebbles and shells at a turtle which was sunning himself on a log in the stream. then they stopped to examine the track of a turkey or of some animal, in the sand, and it really seemed to tom that they did not mean to go away at all. all things have an end, however, and even the stay of disagreeable visitors cannot last always. the three savages finally disappeared a mile down the river, and tom, after scanning the surrounding country and satisfying himself that there were no others in the immediate neighborhood, hurried to the place where joe and judie were hidden. "they've gone at least," he said, "and now joe, we must put this fire out, if we can. judie, you stay here, and if you find the smoke bothers you, go further down the alley that way. don't try to stay if the smoke comes." how to stop the fire was the problem. fortunately there was very little wind, and what there was blew chiefly from up the river. the flames had spread over a considerable space, however, and the boys had hardly anything with which to work. they carried water in their hats from the river, which was only a few yards away, now that it had risen to the bottom of the second bank. this was altogether too slow a way of working, however, and the fire was visibly gaining on the boys. but, slow as this process was, it served to teach tom a lesson or rather to remind him of one he had learned and forgotten. he found that a hatful of water thrown on the bottom of the fire did more good than two hatfuls thrown on top, and he remembered that when the soot in the chimney at home caught fire once, his father would not allow anybody to pour water down the chimney, but stood himself by the fireplace throwing a little water, not up the chimney but, on the blazing fire below. this water, turned into steam, went up the chimney and soon extinguished the fire there. in the same way tom now discovered that when he threw a hatful of water on a burning log at the bottom of the pile it had a perceptible effect all the way to the top. thinking of the chimney fire he remembered also that his father had said at the time that a plank laid over the top of a burning chimney, or a screen fastened over the fireplace would stop the burning of the soot by stopping the air, and so smothering the fire. this suggested a new plan of operations for present use. the long gray moss grew in great abundance all around the place, and gathering this he dipped it in the river and then threw it on top of the fire. a bunch of the moss held greatly more water than his hat, and it served also to smother the fire. he and joe repeated the operation, putting some of the moss on top and some against the sides of the burning pile of timber. the steam from these perceptibly checked the burning, and an hour's work covered the fire almost entirely up, so far at least as the exposed side of the drift-pile was concerned. but just as they were disposed to congratulate themselves upon their success in subduing the flames, they discovered that while they had been smothering the fire on one side it had been burning freely further in. the openness of the hammock gave free access to the air from the other side, and just beyond the line of moss they saw a blaze licking its tongue out from below. they were tired out, already, and this added discouragement to weariness. little judie, although the boys had urged her to remain quiet, had been hard at work bringing moss to them, insisting upon her right to work as well as they. she had discovered too that the sand, just below the surface was wet, and that this served almost as good a purpose as the moss itself when thrown on the fire. the poor little girl was utterly tired out at last, however, and when the fire seemed to be subsiding, she had yielded to tom's entreaties, and going into the drift-pile had laid down to rest. now that all their work promised to accomplish nothing, the boys were vexed with themselves for having permitted the frail little girl to wear herself out in so fruitless a task. this, with their disappointment, served to make them utterly wretched. chapter xi. in the wilderness. when sam went over the cliff, he thought of poor little judie, and tom and joe, and, for their sake more than his own, took every precaution which might give him an additional chance of life. he knew that he should fall into the creek, and that the blow, when he struck the water, would be a very severe one. if he could keep his horse under him all the way, however, the animal and not he would be the chief sufferer. fearing that the horse would hesitate at the cliff, blunder, and throw him a somersault, perhaps falling on him, he held the beast's head high and urged him forward at full speed, and so, as we have seen, the horse's back was almost level as he leaped from the top of the bank. sam had no saddle or stirrups in which to become entangled, and as the horse struck the water fairly, the blow was not nearly so severe a shock to the boy as he had expected. both went under the water, but rising again in a moment sam slid off the animal's back, to give the poor fellow a better chance of escape by swimming. striking out boldly sam reached the bank and crawling up looked for his horse. the poor beast was evidently too severely hurt to swim with ease, and so he drifted away, sam running along the bank, calling and encouraging him. he struck the shore at last, and sam examining him found that while he was stunned and bruised no serious damage had been done. "poor fellow," he said, stroking the colt's head, "you cannot serve me any further in this swamp, but you saved my life and i'm glad you're not killed anyhow." then taking the bridle off, he turned the horse loose, to graze and browse at will in the dense growth of the swamp. sam was feverish still, and very weak, but his anxiety to reach the root fortress again was an overmastering impulse. he had lost his bearings in the mad chase, and the sky was so overcast that he could make no use of the sun as a guide. he knew that his course lay nearly northward, and it was his purpose to travel only at night, as before; but unless he could get out of the swamp during the day, and ascertain in what direction he must travel, he could not go on during the night at all. if it should clear off by evening, the pole star would show him his way, but there was no promise of a clearing away. he must find the course during the day, and he set about it at once, after examining his salt bag which he had put around his body, under his shirt, on the night on which he got it. the salt was saturated with water, and sam's first impulse was to wring it out; but it occurred to him that the water he should squeeze out of it would be salt water, or in other words, that some of the salt would come away with the water and be lost. if he let it dry gradually, however, all the salt would remain, and he determined to let it dry, carrying it, with that in view, over his shoulder. how to find out which way was north was the question, and it puzzled him sorely. he knew the general course of all the creeks in that part of the country, but as they wind about in every direction it was impossible to get any information out of the one he was near. it was his habit, when he wanted to solve any difficult problem, to sit down and think of it in all its bearings, and a very excellent habit that is too. nearly half our blunders, all through life, might be avoided if we would think carefully before acting; and nearly half the useful things we know, have been found out simply by somebody's thinking. sam sat down on a log and said to himself;-- "now if there is anything in the woods which always or nearly always points in any one direction, i can find it by looking. then i can find out which way it points, by remembering how the woods look around home, where i know the points of the compass." this was an excellent beginning, and sam straightway began looking for something which should guide him. a patch of sunflowers grew by the creek, and he had heard that they always turn their heads to the sun, but upon examining them, he found some of them turned one way and some another, so that they were of no use whatever. presently he observed some beautiful green moss growing at the root and for a good many feet up the trunk of a tree, and looking around he saw that the moss at the roots of all the trees grew only or chiefly on one side, and that the covered side was the same with all of them. here was a uniform habit of vegetation, and sam knew enough to know that such a habit was not likely to be confined to one particular locality. he began thinking of the woods around home, and especially of a clump of trees in the yard at his father's house, the moss-covered roots of which were judie's favorite playing place. this moss, he remembered, was nearly all on the north side of the trees, whose southern roots were bare. all the other mossy trees he could remember taught the same lesson, namely, that the green moss which grows around the bases of trees, grows chiefly on the north side. he had no doubt that the law was a general, if not a universal one, and as the mossy trees were very numerous, he had a guide easily followed. striking out northwardly, therefore, he travelled several miles before stopping, coming then to a suitable resting-place he lay down to gather strength for the night's journey. when night came, however, it had been raining for some hours, and in addition to the darkness of a rainy night in a swamp, sam found the soft alluvial soil so saturated with water that he sank almost to his knees at every step. finding it impossible to go on he stopped again on the highest and dryest piece of ground he could find, and prepared to spend the night there. cutting down a number of thick-leaved bushes he arranged them against a fallen tree, as a shelter. he had been lying down but a short time when he discovered that pretty nearly all the rain that fell on his bush roof found its way through in great drops from the leaves. it then occurred to him that he had erred in placing the bushes with their tops up. this indeed, made them mere catchers and conductors of water to the space they covered. turning them, so that their drooping leaves pointed downward, he was not long in making a really comfortable shelter, through which very little water could find its way. towards morning he waked and found himself lying in water. he could see nothing in the darkness, but supposed that the rain had in some way made a pool where he was lying. on coming out from his tent, however, he found matters much worse than he had thought. in whatever direction he looked he could see nothing but water, and he knew what the trouble was. the rain had been very heavy all along the creek, and the stream having very little fall had spread out over the whole surface of the swamp. there was nothing to do except wait for daylight, and he climbed upon the trunk of the fallen tree to get out of the water while he waited. the rain had ceased to fall, and he had therefore no reason to fear any great increase in the depth of the surrounding water. when morning came, sam found that he was not the only occupant of the fallen tree. a fine large opossum had taken refuge in one of the upper branches, and sam used his rifle to good purpose in bringing him down. he was still suffering somewhat from the fever, though the excitement of his recent ride had done much to relieve him, as anything which occupies one's mind is apt to do in fevers of that sort, but he was nevertheless extremely hungry, not having tasted food of any kind for nearly two days, and having previously lived for a long time, as we know, upon an insufficient and not very wholesome diet. he was delighted therefore to get a fat young opossum for breakfast. the next thing was to cook it. sam was in no danger here from indians, who were not likely to be in such a swamp at any time, and were certainly not then, when the swamp was full of water. he had no objection therefore to a fire, but where and how to build one he was at some loss to determine. looking carefully around he discovered that in falling the great sycamore tree on which he stood had thrown up a large mound of earth at its roots, as big trees in blowing down nearly always do. this mound was well above the water, even at its base, and here sam determined to roast his opossum. he first dug a hole in the ground, making it about two feet long, one foot wide and eighteen inches deep. this was to be his fireplace and oven. he next collected dry bark from the under side of the fallen tree, and by breaking off its dead and well-seasoned limbs secured several large armfuls of wood. then taking from his leathern bullet-pouch a piece of greased rag, kept there to wrap bullets in before ramming them in the barrel, he placed it in the "pan" of his rifle. does the reader know what the "pan" of a rifle is? if not he knows nothing of flintlock guns, and i must explain. before the invention of percussion caps, guns were provided with a little groove-shaped trough by the side of the powder chamber. from this "pan" as it was called, a little hole led into the charge. over the pan fitted a piece of steel on a hinge, so that it could be opened and shut at pleasure. this piece of steel, after covering the pan, extended diagonally upward, and its surface was roughened like the face of a file. when the rifleman had loaded his gun he opened the pan, poured in a little powder and closed it again. in the hammer was a piece of flint, and when the trigger was pulled the flint came down with great force into the pan, scraping the roughened steel as it came, and raising the pan cover on its hinge. it thus deposited a shower of sparks in the pan, set fire to the powder there and through it to the charge in the gun. sam's object was merely to get fire, however,--not to discharge his rifle,--wherefore, without reloading it, after shooting the opossum, he merely filled the pan with powder, placed the greasy rag in it, and cocking the gun pulled the trigger. in a moment the rag was burning, and before many minutes had passed, sam had a good fire burning in and over the hole he had dug. he then skinned and dressed the opossum, stopping now and then to replenish the fire and to throw all the live coals into the hole as they formed. within an hour the hole was full of burning coals, and hot enough, sam thought, for his purpose. he cut a number of green twigs and collected a quantity of the long gray moss. he then removed all the fire from the hole, the sides and bottom of which were almost red hot, and passing a twig through the opossum, lowered it to the middle of the hole, where the twig rested on ledges provided for that purpose. this brought the dressed animal into the centre of the hole, without permitting it to touch either the sides or the bottom. he then laid twigs across the top of the hole, covered them with moss, and threw nearly a foot of loose earth over the moss. the sides and bottom of the hole, as i have said, were very hot, and sam's plan was to keep the heat in until it should roast the meat thoroughly. that his plan was a good one, i know from experience, having roasted more than one turkey in that way. it is, in fact, the very best way in which meat of any kind can possibly be roasted at all, as it lets none of the flavor escape in the form of gases. sam waited patiently for an hour, when, opening his earth oven, he found his opossum cooked to a rich, crisp brown. he ate a heartier and more wholesome breakfast that morning than he had eaten for weeks, and felt afterwards altogether better and stronger than before. the breakfast would have been an excellent one at any time, as the flesh of the opossum tastes almost exactly like that of a suckling pig, but it was doubly good to the poor half-famished boy. he stowed away the remains of his feast in his coat pockets to be eaten on his way back to the root fortress, resolving to kill some other game on the journey, for the use of the little garrison there. he was now, as he knew, not more than ten or twelve miles from his destination, but it was as yet impossible for him to travel. the swamp was full of cypresses, and it is a peculiar habit of these trees to turn their roots straight upward for any distance, from an inch to many feet, and then to bring them straight down again, making what are called cypress knees. these knees are very sharp on top, and sometimes stand not more than a foot apart. being of all heights, many of them, as sam knew, were under water now, and these made travelling impossible, even if there had been no quagmires to fall into, as there were. after studying the situation, sam determined to remain where he was until the water should subside, and then to travel by daylight, at least until he should be out of the swamp and upon high ground again. the waters of the creek subsided much more slowly than they had risen, and sam remained at the sycamore camp, as he called the place, for four days and nights before he thought travelling again practicable. he then resumed his march, beset by many difficulties. the ground was muddy everywhere, and impassably so in some places. there were many ponds and pools left in the swamp, and these had to be avoided, so that night had already come before he found himself fairly out of the swamp and on the bank of the river, about two miles below the root fortress. he now began to feel all sorts of apprehensions. he had been away eleven days, and he could not help imagining a variety of terrible things which might have happened to his little band during his absence. presently he saw a great light up the river, and at once the thought flashed into his mind that the indians had discovered and butchered the boys and judie, and were now burning the drift pile. "i'll hurry on," he said to himself, "and if the indians are really there, it's time for me to take part in this war. i can keep in the timber and pick off half a dozen of them there in the fire light. then if they scalp me, i don't care. i'll at least make them suffer for what they've done." a fierce storm was just breaking,--a storm of the violent and heroic type seen only in tropical and sub-tropical countries, but sam thought nothing of that. he pushed on almost unconsciously, with no thought except that with his rifle, hidden in the darkness, he could wage one sharp and terrible battle with the murderers of judie and tom and joe, before suffering death at their hands. the lightning struck a tree just ahead of him, but he seemed not to observe the fact. he was going into battle, and what was a thunderbolt more or less at such a time. the rain followed, drenching him instantly, but not dampening his determination in the least. chapter xii. an alarm and a welcome. when tom and joe made the disheartening discovery that in spite of all their efforts the fire was burning inside the hammock, they felt like giving up in despair, and seeking another refuge. "but then sam would never find us," said tom, "even if he gets back. he will find this place burned up and think the indians have killed us all. we _must_ put this fire out, joe, if it takes a week." and straightway the boys began again, saturating large armfuls of moss with water and laying them on top of the drift whenever the blaze showed itself. heart-pine burns rapidly with a great blaze and much smoke, but it makes no coals, and a gallon of water will sometimes stop the burning of a great log of it, instantly. every armful of wet moss therefore had an immediate and perceptible effect which greatly encouraged the boys. they worked hour after hour, not succeeding in putting the fire out, indeed, but managing to check it very decidedly, and better than all, to keep it away from the trees and from the alley-way leading to their hiding-place. just as night fell, joe called out, "i say, mas' tommy, it's gwine to rain bucketsful." "i wish it would," said tom, looking up to the black clouds which as yet he had hardly observed at all. just then a sharp flash followed by a sudden peal of thunder almost stunned the boys. "dat didn't strike fur from here," said joe. "no, it must have hit a tree down the river a little way," said tom. the rain followed in torrents, and little judie came out of her hiding-place to beg the boys to come in lest the lightning should strike them. they were encouraged by the rain, however, to continue fighting the fire, and resumed operations at once. "hush!" said tom presently, "there's indians about. i heard 'em walking in the brush. run around the hammock quick, and let's hide." all ran without a moment's hesitation, and secreting themselves in the drift awaited results. presently they heard footsteps in the alley-way, and the voice of their big brother called out. "where are all you, little people, and what do do you hide from me for?" the indian they had heard was sam creeping around to see who it was that was burning the drift. seeing the boys and judie, he walked out of the thicket, but before he could get to them they had taken refuge in the drift from the supposed danger. their joy at sam's return, and sam's joy at finding them safe and well instead of finding indians dancing around their burning dwelling, may be imagined. tom put his arm around his brother's neck, and could say nothing but, "dear old sam," which he said over again every ten seconds during half an hour at least. judie hugged and kissed sam, and cried over him and called him her "dear, best, big brother," and did all sorts of foolish things which didn't strike sam as foolish at all. joe would sit awhile and then get up and dance until he knocked his shins against some of the drift, and then set down again, and then get up and dance again, grinning with delight, i have no doubt, though it was too dark for anybody to see whether he grinned or not. after a little while sam went out and returning reported that the rain had completely extinguished the fire. they then retired to the root fortress which was unhurt, and sam said he thought they ought to hold prayers before going to sleep. sam prayed rather awkwardly perhaps, but he prayed because he felt like thanking the father who had watched over them all in so many dangers, and the awkwardness of such a prayer is a matter of no consequence. they all laid down, after prayers, and one after another fell asleep. the next morning a fire was started after the plan sam had adopted in the swamp, and some game which he had killed made a savory breakfast for all of them. judie thought salt, which she now tasted for the first time in many weeks, was altogether better than sugar,--an opinion which it seems she never before held. after breakfast explanations were in order. sam told the others all about his adventures, and they gave him a minute history of their life during his absence. then sam explained that from the number of savages he had seen on that side of the river, he thought the other side must now be comparatively free from them. "fort glass is just twelve miles away from here," he said, "and i mean now to go there, just as soon as i get a little rested and feel strong enough. the country along this part of the river is very bad to travel through, though, since the river rose, as all the creeks are up, and if we could get up the river about eight miles, we should be within six miles of the fort, with a good country to travel through. we can't get there, however, and so it's no use to talk about it. we must just strike out from here and make our way across the best way we can." but clearly sam was in no condition to travel yet. his fever had come back on him that morning, and it was necessary to postpone the journey to fort glass until he should get better. he went into the woods during the day, and shot two squirrels and a wild turkey, but upon his return found himself unable to sit up longer. the bed of scraped moss was very welcome to the weary and sick boy. the next day he was a little better, but the next found him very ill and partly delirious. the boys were frightened. they had seen enough of the fevers of that region to know that they require immediate and constant treatment, and they had good reason to fear that sam could never recover without medicine and a doctor. they ministered to him as well as they could, but they could do nothing to check the fever, which was now constant and very high. sam knew hardly anything, and rarely ever spoke at all except to talk incoherently in fits of delirium. chapter xiii. joe's plan. sam's illness continued day after day, and the boys were greatly troubled. little judie remained by her "big brother's" side almost constantly, while tom and joe provided food, cooked it, and attended to the wants of the little community to the very best of their ability. they were in the habit too, of retiring now and then, to a secluded spot in the drift-pile, to consult and discuss plans of procedure. one day tom went to the rendezvous and found joe there leaning against a log, with his feet on another, and his eyes closed. "are you asleep, joe?" he asked. "no, mas' tom, i'se not asleep," said joe, "i'se just thinkin'." "well, what were you thinking, joe?" "i'se been layin' plans, mas' tom, an' i's laid one good un anyhow." "what is it, joe?" "well, you see mas' sam ought to have a doctor, an' he's gwine to die if he don't, dat's sartain. but dey ain't no doctor here." joe said this as if it were a new truth just discovered, that there was no doctor there. "well, go on, joe," said tom, "and tell me your plan, maybe it's a good one." "course it's a good un. i dun tell you dat fust." "well, what is it?" "mas' tom, don't you know mas' sam always begins 'way back whar' he's been thinkin' an' tells all dat fust so you kin see all de why's and wharfores?" "yes; but what has that to do with your plan, joe?" "nothin', only dat's de way i'se gwine to 'splain my plan, i'se dun begun way back whar i'se dun been thinkin', an' i'se gwine to tell all 'bout dat fust. den you'll understan' de whys and wharfores. you mus'n't hurry me, mas' tom, dat's all." "all right, tell it your own way, joe," said tom, laughing. "no, i'se gwine to tell it mas' sam's way. well, you see dey ain't no doctor here an' we can't git one to come here neither. so we must take mas' sam to whar' dey is doctors, do you see?" "that's all very well," said tom, "but how are we to do that?" "now you'se hurryin' me again, mas' tom. dat's just what i'se a-comin' to. mas' sam said de other mornin' dat if we was up de river about eight miles furder, de fort would be only six miles away, an' de country would be easy 'nuff to cross. he dun say we couldn't git up de river, but we _kin_. you see mas' sam was sick, an' dat's de reason he say dat. now i dun bin thinkin' of a way to git up de river. dey's lots of cane here, an' you an' me kin twis' canes one over de other like de splits in a cha'r bottom, an' dat way, when we gits a dozen big squars of it made, as big both ways as the canes is long, we kin lay 'em on top o' one an' other, an' fasten 'em togedder wid bamboos, an' it'll be a fust-rate raft. den you an' me kin pole it up stream, keepin' close to de shore, wid mas' sam an' little miss judie on it. when we git up dar, i kin go over to de fort, leavin' you wid mas' sam till de folks comes after you all." this was joe's plan of operations, and upon thinking it over tom was disposed to think it the best plan possible under the circumstances. accordingly he and joe went to work at once. they could not make the raft inside the drift-pile, for want of room, but they found a place in the bushes near the mouth of the creek, where they could work unobserved. they cut down a large number of the flexible green canes, and wove them together into a square net work. repeating this operation several times they finally had enough of the squares to make, they thought, a secure raft, when laid one on top of the other. it would not do to join them in the bushes however, as that would make their weight so great that the boys could not lift them to the water. they determined, therefore, to get their pushing poles first, and then to carry the squares one by one to the river, and, arranging them there, to embark soon after nightfall. the work of construction had occupied many days, and it was now the th of november. the boys hoped to complete their undertaking the next day and embark the next night. after their return to the drift-pile, however, it occurred to tom to inquire whether or not joe knew the way from the river to the fort, after they should reach the end of their voyage. "i 'clar', mas' tom, i never thought o' dat at all!" said joe in consternation. "i dunno a foot of de way, an' i dunno whar' de fort is either." tom being equally ignorant, their long consultation held on the spot, ended in an enforced abandonment of the enterprise which had occupied their heads and hands for so long a time. "now dar' it is, mas' tom," said joe. "dat's always the way. mas' sam never makes no blunder, 'cause he thinks it all out careful fust. poor joe's head gets things all mixed up. i ain't no count anyhow, an' i jest wish i was dead or somethin'." poor joe! the disappointment was a sore one to him. he had been thinking all along of the glory he should reap as the saviour of the little party, and now his whole plan was found to be worthless. he slept little that night, and once tom heard him quietly sobbing in his corner. creeping over to him tom said: "don't cry, joe. you did your best anyhow, and it isn't your fault that you don't know the way to the fort," and passing his arm around the poor black boy's neck he gently drew his head to his shoulder, where it rested while the two slept. the next morning judie was the first to wake, and she quietly waked tom and joe. "boys, boys," she cried in a whisper, "the indians are all around us, there is a fight going on. get up quick, but don't make any noise." the little girl was right. rifles were cracking and indians yelling all around their little habitation. it at once occurred to tom that here was hope as well as danger. if the indians should be driven back by the whites, he could communicate with the latter and the little garrison of the root fortress would be rescued. at present, however, it was the savages and not the whites who surrounded the trees and the drift pile. tom determined lose no chance, however, and cautioning the others to keep still, he went to the look-out to watch for an opportunity to communicate with the white men whom these indians were evidently fighting. chapter xiv. the canoe fight. before going further with the story of what happened around the root fortress on that morning, it is necessary to explain how it came about that a battle was fought there. i gather the facts from authentic history. during all the time spent by the hardwickes in their wanderings and in the root fortress, the war had been going on vigorously. the occupants of fort sinquefield, when they abandoned that fort as described in the early chapters of this story, succeeded in making their way to fort glass, or fort madison, as it was properly named, though the people still used its original name fort glass in speaking of it, for which reason i have so called the place throughout this story. in july general floyd, who was in command of all the united states forces in the south-west, sent general claiborne, with his twelve months' mississippi volunteers to fort stoddart, with instructions to render such aid as he could to the forts in the surrounding country. his force consisted of seven hundred men, and of them he took five hundred to fort stoddart, sending the remaining two hundred, under col. joseph e. carson, a volunteer officer, to fort glass. the two hundred soldiers added greatly to the strength of the place, and with the settlers who had taken refuge inside, rendered it reasonably secure against attack. the refugees were under command of captain evan austill, himself a planter of the neighborhood. shortly after the storming of fort sinquefield, and almost immediately after the garrison of that place had reached fort glass, the indians appeared in great numbers in that neighborhood, burning houses, killing everybody who strayed even a few hundred yards outside the picket gates, and seriously threatening the fort itself. in view of these facts col. carson sent a young man of nineteen years of age named jerry austill, the son of capt. evan austill to general claiborne's head-quarters, with dispatches describing the situation and asking for reinforcements. young austill made the journey alone and at night, at terrible risk, as he had to pass through a country infested with savages, but on his return brought, instead of assistance, an order for col. carson to evacuate the fort and retire to fort stephens. when he did so, however, captain austill and about fifty other planters, with their families, determined to remain and defend fort glass at all hazards. among those who remained was mr. hardwicke, who, now that the indians had murdered his children, as he supposed, had little to live for, and was disposed to serve the common cause at the most dangerous posts, where every available man was needed. after a time col. carson was sent back to the fort with his mississippi volunteers, and this freed the daring spirits inside the fort from the necessity of remaining there. they went at once on scouting parties, tandy walker, the guide, being almost always one of the number going out on these perilous expeditions. they scoured the country far and near, in bodies ranging from two or three to twenty or thirty men, and fought the indians in many places, losing some valuable men but making the indians suffer in their turn. finally it was determined to send out a party larger than any that had yet gone, to operate against the savages on the south-east side of the river. this expedition numbered seventy-two men, thirty of whom were mississippi yauger men, under a captain jones, while the others were volunteers from private life. the expedition was under the command of sam dale, already celebrated as an indian fighter, and known among the creeks, with whom he had lived, as sam thlueco, or big sam, on account of his enormous size and strength. during this creek war he had performed some feats of strength, skill and daring, the memory of which is still preserved in history, together with that of the celebrated canoe fight, which we are now coming to. to tell of these deeds of prowess would lead us away from our proper business, namely, the telling of the present story; but the canoe fight comes properly into the story, being in fact one of its incidents. three only of dale's companions figured with him in the canoe fight, and they alone need mentioning by name. these were, first jerry austill, the young man already spoken of, who was six feet two inches high, slender but strong, and active as a cat; second, james smith, a man of firm frame and dauntless spirit; and third cæsar, a negro man, who conducted himself with a courage and coolness fairly entitling him to bear the name of the great roman warrior. the expedition left fort glass on the th of november, . tandy walker was its guide, and every man in the party knew that tandy was not likely to be long in leading them to a place where indians were plentiful. he knew every inch of country round about, and nothing pleased him so well as a battle in any shape. the day after they left fort glass, dale's men reached the river at a point eighteen miles below the present town of clairborne, and about fifteen miles below the root fortress. here they crossed, in two canoes, to the eastern shore of the river, and spent the night without sleep. the next morning austill, with six men, ascended the river in the canoes, while dale, with the rest of the party, marched up the bank. about a mile below the root fortress, dale who was marching some distance ahead of his men, came upon some indians at breakfast, and without waiting for his men to come up, shot their chief. the rest fled precipitately, leaving their provisions behind. pushing on, dale reached a point about two hundred yards below the root fortress, and there determined to recross the river. the canoes transported the men as rapidly as possible, but when all were over except dale and eight or nine men (among whom were smith, austill and cæsar), and only one canoe remained at the eastern side of the stream, a large party of indians, numbering, as was afterwards ascertained, nearly three hundred, attacked the handful of whites still remaining. these retreated from the field, where they were breakfasting, and keeping the indians in check by careful and well-aimed firing, were about to get into the canoe and escape to the opposite bank, about four hundred yards away, when they discovered that their retreat was cut off by a large canoe full of indians, eleven in all, which had come out of the mouth of the creek just above. the savages tried to approach the shore, but, in spite of the fact that by careening the canoe to one side and lying down they were able to conceal themselves, they were prevented from landing by austill and one or two other men. two of the indians jumped into the water and tried to swim to the shore, while the others, firing over the gunwale of the boat, were sorely annoying the whites. austill shot one of the swimmers but the other escaped to the shore, and joined the savages there, informing them, as dale supposed, of the weakness of his force, which they had not yet discovered. dale called to the men on the other side of the river to cross and assist him, but they, after making an abortive attempt to send a canoe load across, remained idle spectators of the terribly unequal conflict. dale, seeing that no help was to come from them, and knowing that the indians would shortly overcome him by sheer force of numbers, resolved upon a recklessly daring manoeuvre, namely, an attempt to capture the indian canoe! he called out to his comrades. "i'm going to fight the canoe with a canoe. who will go with me?" austill, smith and cæsar volunteered at once, and cæsar took his post as steersman, while the three stalwart soldiers were leaping into the canoe for the purpose of fighting hand to hand the nine indians opposed to them. as they shot out from the shore the savages on the bank delivered a fierce fire upon them, but fortunately without effect. the savages in the canoe had exhausted their powder, and dale's party would have had an advantage in this but for the fact that their own powder had become wet as they were getting into their canoe. the fight must be hand to hand, but they were not the men to shrink from it. when the boats struck, the indians leaped up and began using their rifles as clubs. austill, who was in the bow of dale's boat, received the first shock of the battle, but cæsar promptly swung his boat around, and grappling the other canoe held the two side by side during the whole fight. dale's boat was a very small one, and he to relieve it sprang into the indian canoe, thereby giving his comrades more room and crowding the indians so closely together as to embarrass their movements. the blows now fell thick and fast. austill was knocked down into the indian boat, and an indian was about to put him to death when smith saved him by braining the savage. austill then rose, and snatching a war club from one of the indians used that instead of his rifle. eight of the savages were slain, and dale found himself face to face with the solitary survivor, whom he recognized as a young muscogee with whom he had been for years on terms of the most intimate friendship, and whom he loved, as he declared, almost as a brother. he lowered his up-raised rifle to spare his friend, but the savage would not accept quarter. he cried out in the creek language, which dale understood as well as he did english. "big sam, you are a man, and i am another! now for it!" and with that the two joined in a struggle for life. a blow from dale's gun ended at once the canoe fight and the life of the young brave, who, even from his friend, would not accept the mercy which his nation was not ready to show to the whites. it is said that to the day of his death dale could not speak of this incident without shedding tears. dale and his comrades had still a duty to do and some danger yet to encounter. the party remaining on the bank was in imminent peril, and must be rescued at all hazards. the little canoe was not large enough to carry them all, and so the big one must be cleared of the dead indians in it, and the heroes of the canoe fight accomplished this under a severe fire from the bank. then jumping into the captured boat, they paddled to the shore, and taking their hard pressed comrades on board, crossed under fire to the other side, whence they marched to fort glass, twelve miles away, having dealt the savages a severe blow without losing a man. austill was hurt pretty badly on the head, and a permanent dent in his skull attested the narrowness of his escape. this battle was waged within sight of the root fortress, the drift pile being indeed the cover from which the indians fought. tom, as we know, went to the look-out at the beginning of the fight, and he remained there to the end in the hope that the fortune of battle might possibly bring the whites within call, and thus afford the little refugee band a chance of escape. no such chance came, however, and sadly enough the two boys, for joe was also in the look-out, watched the passage of the last of dale's men across the stream, half a mile below. "mas' tom," said joe, "dem folks gwine right straight to de fort." "yes, of course," said tom. "what of it?" "nothin', only i wish i could go wid 'em, and tell 'em mas' sam's here sick." "so do i, joe, but we can't go with them, and it's no use wishing." "i reckon 'tain't no use, but i can't help wishin' for all dat. when folk's got der own way dey don't wish for it. it's when you can't git your way dat you wish, ain't it?" tom was forced to admit that joe was right, and that in wishing to be with the retreating party he was not altogether unreasonable. the two boys sat there, looking and longing. the savages had disappeared almost as suddenly as they had come, and presently joe sprang up, saying. "dar's de little canoe lodged in the bushes, an' i'se gwine to fasten her to the bank anyhow, so's we'll have her if we want her." what possible use they could make of the canoe, it had not entered joe's head to ask perhaps, but he tied the boat in the bushes nevertheless and secreted the paddle in the drift pile. he then visited the place where dale's men had been surprised at breakfast, and brought off the pack of provisions which dale had captured that morning from the savages and had himself abandoned in his turn. the pack was a well-stored one, and its possession was a matter of no little moment to the boys, whose bill of fare had hitherto embraced no bread, of which there was here an abundance in the shape of ash cake. "mas' tom," said joe that evening, "do you know my master?" "mr. butler? yes, certainly." "well, if anything happens to poor joe, and if you ever gits to de fort an' if joe don't, an' if you sees my master dar you'll tell him joe never runned away anyhow, won't you." "yes, i'll tell him that joe." "even if the ingins ketches me an' you dunno whar' i'se gone to, you'll tell him anyhow dat joe never runned away from him or from you nuther, won't you, mas' tom?" "of course, joe. but there won't be any chance to tell him anything about it unless we all get back to the fort, and then you can tell him for yourself. he thinks you are dead, of course, and doesn't dream that you ever ran away. you'll get back safely if the indians don't catch you, and if they catch you they'll catch all of us, so i won't be there to tell your master about you." "dun no 'bout dat," replied joe. "dey mought catch joe 'thout catchin' anybody else, an' 'thout you nor nobody knowin' nothin' 'bout it, and joe wants you to promise anyway dat you'll stick to it to de las' dat poor joe was no runaway nigger, nohow at all. kin you do dat for me, mas' tom?" "certainly, joe," said tom laughing, "i promise you." "will you git mad if joe axes you to shake han's on dat, mas' tom? i wants to make sartain sure on it." tom laughed, but held out his hand, convinced that the poor black boy was out of spirits at least, if not out of his mind. chapter xv. the boys are driven out of the root fortress. sam was only partially conscious during the battle around his habitation. the fever, which now rose and fell at intervals, was usually highest during the forenoon, abating somewhat later in the day. when it was highest he was always in either an unconscious stupor, or a wild delirium. when the fever abated, however, his consciousness returned, and he was capable of talking and of understanding all that was said. in these lucid intervals, he insisted upon knowing all that had happened, so that he might tell the boys what was best to do. on this day tom had a story of more than ordinary interest to tell him, about the battle and the chance of rescue which had so narrowly passed them. sam was interested in it all as a matter of course, but he was still more deeply interested, it seemed, in the condition of the sand near the place where he was lying. he had dug a little hole with his hand, and feeling of the sand found it decidedly wet. turning to tom, he said: "the river is rising rapidly, isn't it?" "yes; but how did you find it out?" "by the sand. i've been watching it a good deal since the fall rains set in, as i'm afraid the river will drive us out of here. you see, the water works easily through the sand, and you can always tell what the level of the river is, if its banks are sandy, by digging down to where the sand is wet." "yes," said tom, "but the river isn't within a hundred feet of us yet." "you are mistaken. it is within six inches of us," said sam. "how's that?" "well, this bank is almost exactly level, and when the river gets above its edge it spreads at once all over it. now the sand is wet within six inches of the top, and the river is within six inches of the edge of the bank. when it rises six or eight inches more, it'll be in here, and i'm afraid it will rise that much before morning. at any rate we must be ready for it." "what can we do?" asked tom in alarm. "there's no place to hide on the upper bank." "we mustn't quit this bank, and we mustn't quit the drift-pile either," replied sam. "you must find a good place, high up in the drift where, by pulling out sticks, you and joe can make a place for us to stay in." "but, sam, what if the water gets to us there?" "it won't get to us there." "how do you know?" "because the biggest freshets always come in the spring, and the top of this drift-pile was put where it is by the biggest freshets, so the river won't go near the top in november. you see, as the drift _floated_ on top of the water to its present place, the top of the pile must be the highest point, or very nearly the highest, that the water ever reaches. if you can find a good place therefore in the upper part of the drift-pile, we shall be safe there. but you'd better see about it at once, as the water may be in here before morning, and at any rate we mustn't allow ourselves to be taken by surprise. you'd better go to the river and set a stake first so you can tell how fast the water rises and know when to move into the new place." tom set his stake at the water's edge and then selected the most available place he could find for the new abode. he and joe went diligently to work, rearranging the loose sticks of drift-wood and even carrying many of them clear out of the pile, so as to enlarge the hole they had found and make it as habitable as possible. "the trouble is," said tom when they had nearly completed their task, "that we can't make a smooth floor, and it's going to be rather uncomfortable lying on loose logs and big round sticks that run every which way." "that's my business," said judie looking in at the entrance. "i'm the housekeeper, you know, and i've thought of all that." and sure enough the little woman had brought a great pile of small, leafy, tree branches and bush tops, with which she speedily filled up the low places between the timbers, and covered the timbers themselves to a depth of three or four inches, making a soft as well as a level floor. she had foreseen the difficulty, and borrowing sam's knife, had worked with all her might to provide in advance against it. but the bushes and leaves were not all that she had brought. she had collected also a large quantity of gray moss with which to make a carpet for the springy floor. "now please don't tell brother sam," she said when the boys praised her thoughtfulness and ingenuity. "i want to surprise him when he comes." tom and joe promised, and tom said they would have to call her their "little housekeeper" hereafter. the river was still rising, but more slowly, it appeared, than it had done before. by tom's calculations it was coming up at the rate of an inch in three hours, wherefore sam thought they might safely remain where they were until morning at least, while if the water should come to a stand during the night, they would have no occasion to move at all, as a fall would rapidly follow, if the weather should remain clear. joe had worked faithfully at the task of preparing the new place of refuge, but he was not at all satisfied with the arrangement. "i tell you, mas' tom," he said, "wood'll float, 'thout 'tis live oak, an' dis here drif'-pile 'll jest raise up an' float away, you'll see if it don't." "why hasn't it floated away long ago, then, joe?" asked tom. "may be it has. how you know dis drif' didn't all on it come here las' time de river was up?" "well, there's too much of it for that, and besides, sam says this place is safe, and you know he is always right about things when he speaks positively about them." "mas' tom, don' you know mas' sam done been a-talkin' nonsense for two weeks now?" "yes; but that's only when he's out of his head." "how you know when he's outen his head an' when he ain't?" "we know he's out of his head when he talks nonsense." "well, maybe dis here 's nonsense. i jest knows it is, and dat's how i know mas' sam was outen his head when he said it." tom saw that joe was not to be convinced, and so he contented himself with saying, "well, we'll see." "yes, dat's jest it. we _will_ see, and feel too, when we all gets drownded in de water." the water came to a stand about midnight, and was falling slowly the next morning. but when morning came it was raining hard, and the rain was evidently not a local but a general one, wherefore, tom feared that the fall would shortly be changed into a rise, and that the bank would soon be covered. he watched his stake carefully, visiting it every half hour. at nine o'clock the river had fallen three inches, and was about eight inches below the bank. from nine to ten it fell only about half an inch. between ten and eleven the fall was not more than a quarter of an inch. between eleven and twelve no fall at all was perceptible. from twelve to one there was a slight rise. between one and two it rose nearly an inch. the next hour brought with it a rise of two inches. by five o'clock the level of the water was barely two inches below the edge of the bank, and as it was rising at the rate of two or three inches an hour, sam thought it time to remove from their old to their new quarters. the change was of advantage to the sick boy, who was now getting somewhat better at any rate, and when he found himself in the new place the interest he showed in examining all the details of its arrangements, was the best possible evidence of improvement. "come here, little woman," he said to judie, "and give an account of yourself. you borrowed my knife yesterday, and somebody has been using it in cutting bush tops to make a smooth floor with, and the idea was a very good one. can you tell me who it was?" "maybe it was tom," she replied mischievously. "no, it was not tom," sam answered. "he's too much of a great awkward boy to think of anything so comfortable. you must guess again." "joe, then," she said. "no, it wasn't joe, either," said sam. "joe can sleep on the edge of a fence rail as well as anywhere else, and he never would have thought of making our floor soft and smooth. guess again." "maybe it was brother sam," said judie. "oh, certainly. it must have been i," replied sam. "i must have done it. i'm so strong and active now-a-days. yes, on reflection, i presume i did it, and the man in the moon helped me. now i think it was a very thoughtful and helpful thing for anybody to do, so you ought to kiss me for doing it, and when the weather gets clear you must throw a kiss to the man in the moon, too, for his share." and with that he kissed the little housekeeper, and she felt herself abundantly repaid for her work and for the thoughtfulness she had shown. she was never so happy as when sam praised her, "because he's such a splendid big brother," she would explain. tom, seeing that sam was getting better at last, began to hope for his complete recovery, and the hope made him buoyant of spirit again. judie, too, who watched and weighed every symptom in sam's case, discovered to her delight that he was decidedly better, and the discovery made her as happy as a healthy girl well can be. poor joe seemed to be the only miserable one in the party. he said almost nothing, answering questions with a simple "yes" or "no," and sitting moodily in his corner, when he stayed inside the "drift cavern"--which was sam's name for the new abode--at all. he spent most of his time, however, on top of the pile, where he watched the water and the clouds. the rain had ceased, but the river, which was now creeping over the broad bank, continued to rise. "what is the matter with joe?" asked sam after the boy had gone out for the twentieth time. "i think he's afraid we're all going to be drowned," said tom. "drowned? how?" "well, he says wood will float, and so he thinks when the water comes up under the drift-pile, it will all float away." "what nonsense!" exclaimed sam. "why didn't you tell him better, tom?" "i did; but he sticks to it, and--" "well, couldn't you explain it so that he would understand it and not have to trust to your judgment for it?" "no, i couldn't. the fact is, i don't quite understand it myself. there isn't a stick in this whole pile that won't float, and i don't quite understand why the pile won't. but i don't doubt you're right about it, sam. you always are right whether i understand how things are or not." "let me explain it to you, then. do you know why some things float and others don't?" "yes, of course. because the things that float are lighter than the things that sink." "not exactly. that log there is too heavy for you to lift, while you can carry a bullet between your thumb and finger. the log is many hundred times heavier than a bullet, but the log will float while the bullet will sink always." "that's so," said tom, "and i don't know what does make some things float and other things sink." "did you ever set a teacup in the water and see it float?" "yes, many a time." "but if you fill it with water it will sink, won't it?" "yes, of course." "well, now i can explain the thing to you, i think. if a thing is heavier,--the whole thing i mean, than the amount of water it displaces,--that is, if it is heavier than exactly its own bulk of water, it will sink; but if it is lighter than its own bulk of water it will float." "oh, yes, i see." "now a bullet weighs a good deal more than its own bulk of water, and so it sinks. a log weighs less than its own bulk of water, and so it floats. an empty teacup weighs less than a solid body of water equal to it in size, and it therefore floats. if you fill it with water, however, you increase its weight without adding anything to the amount of water it displaces,--or rather, as you let water into all the hollow space, you lessen by that much the amount of water it must displace in sinking without taking away anything from its weight, and so it sinks; or, if you break the teacup you lessen the amount of water it must displace without lessening its weight, and so it sinks in that case, too. do you understand that?" "yes, i think i do," said tom; "but i don't exactly see how it applies to the drift-pile." "i'll explain that presently. i want to make it plain first that the ability of a thing to float depends not on its weight, but on its weight as compared with that of a like bulk of water. this comparative or relative weight is called _specific gravity_, and in measuring the specific gravity of substances water is taken as the standard usually, though sometimes gold is used for that purpose. now to come to the drift-pile. when the water rises say two or three feet, it will be above the level of the lower logs, and these would float away, if they were free, because their specific gravity is less than that of water. but there is twenty feet of other timber on top of them, and its weight must be added to theirs. the water displaced is exactly equal to their bulk, while the weight is many hundred times greater than theirs. do you understand?" "yes, i think i do. you mean that the water must come high enough to pretty nearly cover the whole drift-pile before any of it can float." "yes. the pile must be considered as a whole, and it won't float until there is water enough to float the whole. the bottom logs can't float while those above them are clear out of water, if their weight rests on the bottom logs, as it does in the drift-pile. you see when you put anything into the water, it sinks until it has displaced a bulk of water equal to its own weight, and then stops sinking. in other words, that part of the floating thing which goes under the water is exactly the size of a body of water equal in weight to the whole thing. if a log floats with just half of itself above water, you know that the log weighs exactly the same as half its own bulk of water, or, in other words, that its specific gravity is just half that of water. water two inches deep won't float a great saw-log, because a great saw-log weighs more than the amount of water it takes to cover its lower part two or three inches deep; and water two or three feet deep won't float a drift-pile twenty feet high, because such a drift-pile weighs a good deal more than a body of water two or three feet deep, of its own length and width. but even if the water were to rise to the top of the hammock, the pile wouldn't float away. it would float, of course, and some of the wood near its edges would be carried away, but the main pile would remain here, because it is all tangled together and can't go away except in one great mass. it is so firmly lodged against the trees as to prevent that, and as a freshet big enough to cover, or nearly cover it, would bring down a great quantity of new drift and deposit it here, the pile would grow bigger rather than smaller. but the river won't get very high at this season, or at any rate it won't rise to anywhere near the top of the hammock, as i have already explained to you, because it is evidently only the biggest freshets that ever come near the top, and the biggest freshets never come in the fall, but always in the spring. it isn't rising fast enough either. it isn't rising nearly so fast now as it was before it got over the bank." "why, how do you know that, sam? you haven't been to look." "no, but i know it, nevertheless, simply because i know that water, left to itself, will find its level." "i don't see what that's got to do with it," said tom. "perhaps not, but it has something to do with it for all that," replied sam; "and i can make you see how, too." he paused, to think the matter over and determine how to present it to tom's comprehension. "you see," he then resumed, "that the river inside its banks is about four hundred yards wide. when it rises above the banks, however, it spreads out over the level ground, and becomes, in some places, many miles wide, averaging a mile at least in width. now there is only a certain amount of water coming into the river every hour. the rain has stopped, but the soil is full of water, and so there is about as much running into the river now as there was while the rain lasted. but the surface of the stream is now many times greater than it was, and as water finds its level, all that comes into the river spreads out over its whole surface, and of course doesn't raise its level nearly so much as the same quantity did while the stream was still within its banks. do you understand now?" "what a great big brother you are, sam, anyhow!" was all the reply tom made. chapter xvi. where is joe? it was now getting late, and sam knew that it was not well for him to talk longer. he felt so much better, however, that he knew he would continue to talk in spite of himself unless the whole party should go to sleep at once. joe had not been in the drift cavern for more than two hours, and sam, observing his prolonged absence, said: "tom, i'm afraid some of us have hurt poor joe's feelings. go and look at your water-mark, and while you are out, find the poor fellow and find out what's the matter with him. he's a good boy, and has done his part faithfully ever since we started. i can't bear to think of him moping." tom went out and examined his stake, which showed that the water was not more than an inch or two over the bank, and was not rising very rapidly now; but he could see nothing of joe anywhere. he went to the look-out, but the boy was not there, and a diligent search through the drift-pile, showed that he was nowhere in the neighborhood of the fortress. tom was now fairly alarmed, and returning, was about to report the facts to sam, when little judie, in a whisper, informed him that the big brother was asleep. as his fever had risen somewhat, judie rightly thought it better not to disturb him, as he certainly could not aid in any way in finding joe. "i must just think," tom said to himself, "as sam does, and then i can do all there is to be done. now i know joe isn't anywhere in the hammock, because i knew every place he could squeeze himself into, and i've looked in every one of them. it's no use then to waste time looking there any more. he must have left here, either accidentally or on purpose. he couldn't have slipped off the drift and drowned, because he can swim pretty well and would have swam out in a minute. there is no other way in which he can have left here by accident, unless an indian has killed him on the drift-pile somewhere, and if that were so i would have found his body. he must have run away on purpose." but just as tom reached this point in his thinking he remembered the earnestness with which poor joe had begged him to bear witness in any and every event that he was not "a runaway nigger." and this reminded tom of all the queer ways he had noticed in joe of late. the boy must have had a premonition, he thought, that something was going to happen to him. only two theories remained. one was that joe had gone crazy under his long exile from civilized life and had madly put an end to himself by jumping into the river; and the other that, persisting in his belief in the instability of the drift-pile, he had gone to the upper bank for safety and had fallen asleep there. in that event he must be found, lest an indian should discover him in the morning and put him to death. tom went ashore after explaining his purpose to judie, so that she might not be alarmed at his absence, and literally spent the entire night in hunting for the black boy. joe was nowhere to be found, and when daylight came, tom saw that a further search was of no use whatever, and he therefore returned sadly to the drift cavern. the water was now going down again, and the bank was free from it, but the sand in the root fortress was still too wet to sit or lie upon, and so tom made no immediate preparation for their return. sam's fever was very slight that morning, and his first question was about joe. tom told him of his night's search, and sam's deduction from all the facts was that the poor boy had committed suicide, had been killed by an indian and thrown into the river, or had fallen in accidentally and drowned. "he would never have left us in any case," said sam, "and even had he been less faithful, he would have been afraid to run away, not knowing where to run or how to take care of himself in the woods." they were too much grieved for joe's loss, to relish their breakfast, and that meal was dispatched very quickly. tom watched the falling of the water all day, and at night reported that the river was well inside its banks again. chapter xvii. a famine. the river having gone down until no water remained on the sandy bank, tom reported the fact and added, "now let's move back again to the root-fortress. it's a safer place than this, by a good deal, if it isn't quite so big or quite so comfortable." "no, we mustn't go back yet," said judie, who had visited the fortress before tom had, "because the sand in there is as wet as can be, and i can't let my big sick brother lie on it." "there, tom," said sam, "my doctor forbids my return yet awhile, and a sick man always must obey the doctor you know. besides, judie is right. it won't do for any of us to lie on wet sand; we must wait till it dries; but that won't be very long if the river continues to go down." accordingly they spent one more night in the drift cavern. early the next morning judie went to the fortress, and returning said, playing doctor. "now, then, mr. hardwicke, the floor of your lower house is quite dry, and i think it will be safe to move back again. will you have your breakfast first, or will you wait until you get back home again before eating anything?" "oh, let's wait, by all means, and eat breakfast in the dear old root-fortress," said tom, and as sam made no objection, it was so arranged. by nine o'clock the moss carpet was laid in the root-fortress and the little party was back in its old quarters again. the vacant corner which had been joe's, reminded them sadly of his disappearance. poor fellow! they had learned to love him almost as a brother, and they could not think of him now without tears. when three people sit down with a silent grief, their conversation is very apt to be lively, or, if they cannot quite accomplish that, they are sure to talk only of indifferent matters, and so it was in the present case. judie was the first to break the silence which had fallen upon all. "tom," she said playfully, "i'm afraid you're not a good provider. here we are, hungry as wolves, and you haven't brought us a mite of anything to eat. you've moved everything but the provisions, and you've forgotten them entirely." master tom admitted the grievousness of his fault and returned at once to the drift cavern after the forgotten provision pack. the bread, as they all knew, was long ago exhausted, but plenty of meat remained, and this tom presently brought. when he opened the pack a disagreeable odor spread itself at once over the little room. "phew! what's that?" said tom, and putting his nose to the meat, he looked up in blank consternation, saying: "the meat is spoiled, sam! what on earth shall we do?" the case was an alarming one certainly. they were hungry, and sam, whose returning health had brought with it a ravenous appetite, was particularly so. he needed wholesome, nourishing food now more than anything else, as he knew. "well," he said, after thinking the matter over, "it can't be helped. there's nothing for it but to fall back on sweet potatoes till i get strong enough to go hunting. you must go to the potato field tom, and bring some." there had been but one field of corn in the neighborhood at first, and the various parties of indians who had camped in its vicinity had long ago carried away the last ear of corn from that, as the boys knew very well. the river was altogether too high now for mussels to be got, and so the sweet potatoes in a field half a mile away, were their only resource. tom set out at once in quest of them, carefully looking out for lurking savages. he was gone more than an hour, and just as sam was growing really uneasy on his account, he returned, _empty handed_! "there isn't a potato in the field," he said as he sat down in utter dejection. "the indians have dug every one of them." this announcement was indeed an alarming one to the whole party. they were without an ounce of food of any sort within their utmost reach, and it was plain that they must starve, unless they could hit upon some new device, by which to get a supply. "i must go hunting, sick or well," said sam rising; but he had no sooner got upon his feet, than he felt the utter impossibility of doing anything of the kind. "it's of no use," he said sadly. "i can't make my legs carry me, tom, and so we must depend upon you. go into the woods there by the creek, and sit down or stand still till you see something in the way of game, and then take good aim before you shoot, for we mustn't waste any of our powder." with this he shook the horn to ascertain how much remained in it, and was horrified to find it empty! tom remembered that the last time he had loaded the gun he had used the last grain of powder in the horn. "well, then," said sam, "we have only one charge of powder between us and starvation, and it won't do to waste that, tom. you can shoot pretty well when you have time enough to take good aim, and i suppose, if you make up your mind beforehand that you won't shoot till you know you can kill what you shoot at, it is safe enough. at any rate we must risk it. remember, however, that you mustn't run the risk of wasting this load in your anxiety to kill the first thing you see to shoot at. there is plenty of game in the woods, so if you can't get a sure shot at one thing, wait for another. get a sure shot anyhow, if it takes you all day. it must be something big enough to last us awhile, too. you mustn't shoot at anything less than a turkey or a 'possum, and you mustn't shoot at all till you get _very_ close, because if you miss, we will starve. better take all day to-day and all day to-morrow than to miss when you fire." and after many instructions and cautionings, tom sallied forth in search of game. going into the woods for a considerable distance, he sat down on a log in the thick undergrowth and waited patiently for the appearance of some animal which could be eaten. hour after hour passed, and tom fell asleep. how long he slept he did not know, but waking suddenly he saw a flock of wild turkeys within a few yards of him. raising his gun and taking a very deliberate aim he pulled the trigger. no explosion followed, but the clicking of the hammer was enough to put the game to flight. poor tom was disheartened, but it would not do to give up, and so he carefully picked the edge of his flint with his knife and walked further into the woods. he had not walked very far, with cautious steps, when he heard a rustling in the bushes just ahead of him. at first he thought it must be an indian, and drawing back he waited for further developments. a grunt soon enlightened him as to the character of the game, and creeping through the bushes he found himself close to a fat young hog, one of the many running wild in those woods and thickets. that was something worth having. levelling his gun again, he again pulled the trigger, but without effect, and opening the pan he discovered that during the rain, while in the drift cavern, the "priming," as the powder in the pan is called, had been reduced to a paste by water. to fire the gun was out of the question, and so clubbing it, tom ran at the hog and dealt him a blow on the head, hoping in that way to secure the game which he could not shoot. the blow fell upon the nose of the animal, however, and while it brought a squeal of pain from him, it produced no beneficial result. the hog ran rapidly away, and tom was left with nothing better than a broken gun to carry back to the fortress. arriving there about three o'clock in the afternoon he told the doleful story of his failure, and sitting down burst into tears. "come, come!" said sam. "this will never do, old fellow. it's bad enough as it is without crying about it. we'll come all right if you'll only keep your courage up, and give me a chance to think. i'm getting better every day now, and if we can only hold out a few days longer, i'll be on my feet again, and then we'll go straight to fort glass. just as soon as i can walk at all, we'll start, meantime we must get something to eat, and to do that i must think. let me see. the gun is of no use now, but there are other ways of getting game besides shooting it. we must set some traps. this spoiled meat will do for bait. get me a good piece of poplar wood, tom, or cypress, or some other sort, that i can whittle easily, and i'll make some figure-four triggers. then i'll tell you how to make dead-falls, and you must set as many of them as you can to make sure of getting something to eat by to-morrow morning." tom brought the wood and sam soon whittled out several sets of triggers. "now do you know how to set a trap with these triggers, tom?" he asked. "yes, i've set many a partridge trap with figure fours." "very well then. now you must set dead-falls in the same way. that is, instead of a trap you must set a log. you see i've made the triggers big and strong, and you must put them under one end of as heavy a log as you can lift. then you must lay other logs on top to make it as heavy as possible, and bait it with a piece of the spoilt meat. if anything undertakes to eat the meat to-night, the dead-fall will break its neck or back, sure. here are six sets of triggers and you must set six dead-falls. we can go hungry till to-morrow, can't we, little woman?" chucking judie under the chin. "we can try, anyhow," answered the little woman as cheerfully as she could, though she was by no means confident that she could do anything of the sort. she was already faint and almost sick, and whether she could live till morning or not was an undetermined question in her mind. to tell the truth, sam himself felt but little confidence in his device. the spoiled meat, he knew, would attract only the larger animals, and such dead-falls as tom could set were by no means certain to kill these in their fall. it was the very best thing he could do, however, and he must trust to it in the absence of any better reliance. he concealed his anxiety therefore, and after receiving tom's report of his operations in dead-fall setting, he drew judie to his side and told her a fairy story, as night fell. all went to sleep at last, and when morning came sam aroused tom very early and sent him to examine the traps. the boy was gone for an hour or more, when he returned with downcast countenance. two of the traps had been thrown, but there was no game under them, while the four others remained undisturbed. here was a bad out-look certainly, and they had not tasted food now for more than thirty hours! chapter xviii. which ends the story. "something must be done," said sam, as soon as he had heard tom's report, "and quickly too. let me think a few minutes. we are beginning now to be hungry enough to eat anything, and when people get that hungry there are a good many things that can be eaten. i'll tell you what we must do, tom--" but what it was that sam had hit upon, tom never knew. just as this point in the conversation was reached _joe_ came running in through the alley-way, his face flattened out into a broad grin of delight, his teeth and eyes shining, while he danced all over the fortress, shaking hands over and over again, and saying, "hi! miss judie! hi! mas' tom! hi! mas' sam! how does ye all do now? did you think joe had runned away? joe tell ye he never runned away. joe ain't no runaway nigger, nohow at all, and de ingins ain't ketched joe nuther. joe's back all safe an' sound, sartin sure! hi!" "what on earth ails you, joe? you're out of your wits, poor fellow," said sam, convinced that the black boy was demented. "no i ain't nuther, mas' sam," he replied. "joe ain't crazy one bit, but he's glad _sure_." "where have you been, joe, since you left us?" "whar? why to de fort, an' i'se dun brung back a rescue too, didn't i tell you? laws a massy, dat's what i comed in fust for to tell you. i'se done been to fort glass and brung a big rescue party, and de white folks dey said, long as joe brung us he's 'titled to tell de good news fust, an' dat's how i'm here while de rest is outside de drif'." "go and see, tom," said sam, afraid to believe this story of the seemingly insane boy, who, he thought, had become crazed from long brooding over the chances of rescue. tom got up to go, but as he started mr. hardwicke himself met him in the door way and caught him in his arms. tandy walker was just behind. "well, this beats all," said tandy. "i've done a good many jobs o' rescuin' in my time, but i never yit found the rescued hid in the roots of a tree an' fortified with a drift-pile. an' if i'm a jedge o' sich things, this here party's a'most starved. i've seed hungry people afore now, an' i say le's have a breakfast sot right away for these here little ones." tandy was right, as we know, and it was not long before an abundant breakfast was spread for sam and tom and little judie. the rescue party consisted of twenty stout fellows from the fort, and after breakfast a rude litter was provided for sam, and crossing the river in the little canoe the party began its homeward march. tom was glad to walk, the walk being in that direction. judie was carried, part of the time in her father's arms, part of it in tandy walker's, and part on the broad shoulders of cæsar, the negro man who had participated in the canoe fight. sam was stretched on a litter, carried by four of the men, and joe insisted on walking always by his side, though he fell behind now and then for the purpose of dancing a little jig of delight. he would execute this movement, and then running, catch up with the litter again. "tell me, joe," said sam after the black boy had become somewhat quiet again, "tell me all about this thing." "'bout what thing, mas' sam?" "about your going to the fort and all that. how did you manage it, and how came you to think of it?" "well, you see, mas' sam, when you was at your wust, i got a thinkin', an' i thought out a plan dat mas' tom said was a good un. him an' me was to make a raf' out'n cane, an' pole it up de river wid you an' little miss judie on it, an' den i was to go cross de country to de fort an' bring help. jes' as we got de raf' ready, howsomever, mas' tom he axed me if i know de way to de fort, an' as i didn't know nothin' 'bout it, i jis' sot down an' gived up. but i kep' a thinkin' all de time, an' i said to myself, 'joe, you're a fool anyhow, an' you mustn't tell your plans till you know dey're good uns, an' you ain't got sense enough to know dat till you try 'em.' an' so i sot my head to work to git up a new plan, meanin' to try it all by myself. when de big fight took place an' i seed the white folks marchin' away, i said out 'loud, 'dem dare folks is gwine right straight to de fort,' an' i said to myself, 'i means to go dere too if i kin.' it took me two days 'n more to git de thing fixed up right in my min'. "i was willin' enough to risk injuns, but i was afear'd you'n mas' tom 'ud think joe was a runaway nigger if i never comed back, an' dat troubled me. i fixed dat at las' by makin' mas' tom mos' swar he'd stick to it dat i wasn't no runaway nigger, an' den i sot out. i crossed de river in de little canoe an' hid her in de bushes. i found de place whar de white folks started from, an' i jes' follered dere trail. dat was my plan. i know'd dey would make a big easy trail, dere was so many of 'em, an i meant to follow 'em. it took me more'n two whole nights to git to de fort, dough, 'cause de creeks was all high an' de brush very tangley. when i tole de folks about you'n miss judie an' mas' tom, dey didn't more'n half believe me, an' when i tole 'em i'd lead 'em straight to whar you was, an' dey said dey'd sculp me if i didn't, i jest said all right, 'cause if we don' find mas' sam an' little miss judie an' mas' tom no more, den i'd rather be sculped'n not, anyhow. but we did fin' you, didn't we mas' sam?" and at this joe had to drop behind again and execute a rapid jig movement, as a relief to his feelings. * * * * * the government forces under general jackson, together with the settlers themselves, were now pressing the savages very hard. battles were fought almost every day, and every battle weakened the indians. in december, general claiborne invaded the holy ground, and utterly destroyed weatherford's command, as a result of which that chief surrendered to jackson and the war was practically at an end. a few more battles were necessary before a final peace could be made, and the last of them was fought on the th of march, , at horseshoe bend; but after the battle of december d a little more than a month after sam's party was rescued, the country north and west of the alabama river was comparatively free from savages, who no longer dared wander about in small bands, plundering and burning houses, and the planters began to return to their homes to get ready for spring work. when mr. hardwicke was about to go home with his children, he sent for joe. when the boy came, little judie handed him a carefully folded document, saying, "here's a present for you, joe. "what's dis?" asked joe, unable to guess what possible use he could have for such a paper as that, inasmuch as he couldn't read it to save his life. "these are your _free papers_, joe," said sam. "father has bought you from mr. butler, for the purpose of setting you free, as a reward for your good conduct." joe evidently wanted to say something, but did not know how. "are you glad to be free, joe?" asked mr. hardwicke. "ain't i though?" and joe's feet began to shuffle as if a jig were coming in spite of his desire to behave well. "well, joe," said mr. hardwicke, "i mean to give you a fair chance in life, and i've thought the matter over carefully. you are free now to do precisely as you please, and you can live where you like. but i've a proposition to make--a plan for you. do you know my cypress farm,--the little one down in the fork of the two creeks?" "de one whar' ole uncle peter dun lived so long?" "yes, the one uncle peter manages for me." "yes, master, i knows dat place mighty well." "well, how would you like to buy it, joe?" "buy the farm, master? what's joe got to buy wid? i ain't got no money, 'thout it's a quarter mas' tandy walker dun gim me fur to clean his boots sence we comed back to de fort, an' i jest know that a quarter won't buy no sich low grounds as dem dar down twix' dem dar creeks is. dat's de very bes' lan' in alabama. leastways i dun hear de folks say 'tis heaps o' times. you's jokin' wid joe, master." "no, i am not, joe. you can buy the land if you want it, and there are a hundred and ten acres in the tract, besides the strip of woods along both creeks." "how's i gwine to buy it, master?" "well, let me see. you're about thirteen now. it will be nine years yet before you will be a man, and if you choose to live with me until you are twenty-one, i'll feed and clothe you till then, and the day you are twenty-one the farm shall be yours in payment of wages." "how you mean, master?" "i mean, that besides feeding and clothing you as i feed and clothe my people, i will give you the farm for your nine years' work. if you like the place, i will have all the papers made out, so that the farm will be yours, even if i should die before the time is up. i have more land than i care to keep, and you see i want to sell that one farm to you, if you'll buy it." "looks to me, heap more like's if you was gwine to give it to me, master; dis on'y your fun to say i buy's it." "no, the bargain is a fair one, joe. i could give you the farm now, but i think it will be better for you to work for it, and then you'll feel that it's yours by right and not by favor. i want to make a man of you, joe, and my children shall always think of you as one of their best friends. go out of doors if you want to dance, joe," seeing the feet beginning to shuffle, and understanding the mingled joy and embarrassment of the boy. joe hesitated a moment, and then with a sudden straightening of his shoulders, as if the future manliness were already beginning to assert itself in him, he advanced to mr. hardwicke, and shaking his hand, said: "joe ain't got no learnin' an' no manners nuther, master, but joe's _grateful_ anyhow," and bursting into tears the boy left the room. the end capital books for boys. published by g. p. putnam's sons. th ave. and d street, new york. i. the boy with an idea; by mrs. eiloart, author of "chris fairlie's boyhood," &c. illustrated, cloth extra, $ . . ii. the young mechanic; practical carpentry. containing directions for the use of tools, and for the construction of steam-engines and mechanical models, including the art of turning in wood and metal. illustrated, octavo, cloth extra, $ . . 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[transcriber's note: the spelling of westmoreland has been modernized to westmorland, and employes (with an acute accent over the second e) has been changed to employees. variant spellings of macintoshes and mackintoshes have been retained as printed.] through canal-land in a canadian canoe by vincent hughes. the boy's own paper. october , & , . bearing in mind that variety is the spice of existence, i determined that i would temporarily desert the dear old thames, with whose waters i had become so familiar, and try fresh fields and pastures new during my approaching holidays. accordingly, i took a friend (who had been my boon companion on many a previous trip by land and water) into my confidence, and after due deliberations, befitting an enterprise likely to be of a novel character, we determined to explore the comparatively un-known canals that commence from the thames, at brentford, and thread their way through england from south to north, and end at kendal in westmorland. one thing that largely influenced us in deciding upon this route was that we had recently become possessed of a light and well-built canadian canoe that had been sent us by an english resident in france, where he had been using it in exploring the picturesque portions of the seine. we fortunately had a friend connected with the grand junction canal company, and through his kindly offices were enabled without much difficulty to obtain passes allowing us to journey over the different canals which we had mapped out as the waterway to follow. this part of the undertaking having been successfully disposed of, we turned to and overhauled our craft, and saw to the getting of the outfit which we should require in order to make the trip a success. by the time that all our arrangements were in a complete state, the day fixed for the start arrived, and it found us brimming over with cheerful anticipation of the good time in store for us during the next three weeks, and in the best of health and spirits. we were "up betimes in the morning," as quaint old samuel pepys has it, and journeying down to the boat-house at kew, where we had left our canoe overnight, soon got afloat and on our way, without mishap or delay of any kind. what a glorious august day it was! the sun shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky overhead, the birds singing blithely in the trees upon the banks, and the water sparkling and lapping beneath our bows; no wonder we took it all as a good omen for the success of our trip. heading up-stream, we soon shot beneath the railway bridge at kew, and pass through dirty, straggling old brentford, entered the brent, where a short paddle brought us to the first lock. getting through in our turn, after a short delay caused by a string of canal barges coming through to catch the morning tide, we entered upon the grand junction canal, which extends form here to braunston, a distance of some hundred and six miles. an enjoyable paddle through fairly pretty and diversified scenery brought us to hanwell, where we had to negotiate a cluster of five or six locks, all grouped together within a short distance, for the purpose of carrying the water over a sharp rise in the ground. we had a brief chat here with an old bargee, from whom we got some useful advice, not wholly free from chaff, and proceeded upon our way, arriving about midday at west drayton, where an _al fresco_ lunch on the bar was much appreciated. resuming our journey after refreshing the inner man, we passed uxbridge and harefield, and so out of middlesex into hertfordshire. the town of rickmansworth being passed, watford, about a mile from the canal, was settled upon as our first stopping place; and evening approaching, we went ashore to seek our well-earned repose for the night. early to bed and early to rise was the programme, so after a light supper and a brief stroll around the outskirts of the town, we turned into bed and were not long in seeking the sleep that is said to be the reward of an easy conscience. the sun shining through our window in the morning got us out of bed at an early hour, and we were soon splashing about in the sunlit waters of the canal. a delightful dip ended, we returned to our quarters for breakfast, and from the looks of genuine admiration expressed upon the countenance of our landlady, i should judge that our appetites did us full credit. afloat once more, we paddled by easy stages past cassiobury house, surrounded by a glorious well-wooded park, and then reached king's langley, to which an interest attached as having been the birthplace of edward iii. we found the scenery all along this portion of the canal typical of rural england, the various inns by the wayside recalling the delightful types made familiar by the brushes of dendy sadler and yeend king. we soon found to our cost that the tropical summer weather was responsible for the presence of numerous wasps, whose attentions were rather too pressing to be altogether pleasant. while engaged in trying to allay the burning pains of a bad sting upon jacky's arm, we were advised by a rustic on the bank (whose sympathetic grins upset my chum almost as much as the wasps) to try some clay from the canal-side as a remedy. we were sceptical at first, but were subsequently astonished at the soothing effects of this novel panacea for wasp-stings. here is a wrinkle for any of my readers who should happen to get stung by the ferocious little pests. at boxmoor, where we next arrived, we observed, during a saunter around the village, a curious stone erected to the memory of a highwayman rejoicing in the most un-romantic name of snooks, who was hanged here at the beginning of the century for robbing the king's mail. paddling on farther, we passed berkhampstead (a corruption of berg-ham-sted, the home on the hill), with its picturesque castle, much in request by picnic parties, and duly arrived at bulborn, near tring, and during a stroll around the latter town we observed a column erect to commemorate the completion (in ) of the canal along which we were journeying. we stopped for the night at bulborn, a typical bargee's village, and after our usual morning dip proceeded on our way in good time. as the day wore on, we got well into buckinghamshire, and shortly after came to stony stratford, remarkable in history as being the place where the ill-fated young edward v was seized by richard duke of gloucester. a paddle of some length brought us to the stoke entrance of the well-known blisworth tunnel, which is a mile and a-half in length, and forms the first of a series along the route. seeing one of the curious little tug-boats about to proceed through the tunnel, we obtained permission from one of the very grimy crew to place our canoe aboard, and, this safely accomplished, the tug puffed and snorted up to the entrance, hitched on to a string of barges, and with a deal of fuss and smoke entered the tunnel. the journey through this subterranean passage was a most novel one to us who had never been through a tunnel of this description before. the intense darkness, only illuminated by the light from the boiler fire, was most uncanny, while the wonderful reverberations and echoes occurring in the tunnel quite startled us until we became used to the situation. the roof seemed so low that we instinctively stooped our heads to avoid getting them removed from our shoulders, an action which caused immense amusement to the skipper, who, in the manner of his kind, accentuated the eerie feeling of the place by spinning all sorts of creepy yarns about canal boatmen who had mysteriously gone overboard in the pitch dark, and never been seen again. we drew a long breath when we emerged into the welcome blinking daylight at the other end of the tunnel, and soon after bade good-bye to our whilom friend the skipper. i can imagine no place more calculated to quickly shatter the nerves and break the health of a human being than one of those foul, suffocating tunnels under the hills. on this occasion we stopped for the night at blisworth and put up at a wayside inn possessing the curious sign of the "sun, moon, and seven stars" (the only one in england we were told), where we met with quite a reception, the news of our approach having gone ahead of us, we afterwards discovered. before proceeding next day, we had to clear the canoe of the dirt and rubbish collected during the passage of the tunnel. upon this day we passed through six locks in close succession, as well as another tunnel, and skirted the village of ansley, once the property of lady godiva, of the uncomfortable ride fame, soon after which we left the waters of the grand junction at braunston (warwickshire), and entered upon those of the oxford canal. a hard day's paddle, of no particular interest, brought us to willoughby, where we put up for the night. we awoke next morning to find the weather damp and misty, so we dispensed, for the first time, with our morning dip, and lingered somewhat over breakfast to make up for it. _a propose_ of eating, i should mention that all along the way we had come fruit was in abundance, and as for apples--well, we fairly revelled in them. to my mind a good english apple, fresh picked from the tree, and with the dew upon its sun-kissed cheeks, cannot be beaten the whole world over. during a portion of this day we had to face a strong head-wind, which made the travelling rather hard, and severely taxed the patience and skill of the steerer. happening to chaff him once or twice when the wind got the upper hand and nearly slewed the canoe round, he challenged me to try my hand and do better. accepting the challenge, and in the rashness of youthful confidence, i ventured to wager him that i could take the canoe, single-handed and empty, up to a certain point and back again, during which i should, of course, have to turn broadside on to the full force of the wind. the outcome of it was that we quickly landed and emptied the canoe of all impedimenta in case of mishap, and then i started off--not so confidently, though, i may add--on my uncertain way. all went well until i attempted to turn, and then the full force of the wind catching me suddenly, over i went, after a vain attempt to steady the canoe, souse into the canal. coming to the surface, i called out (when i had emptied my mouth of as much canal-water as i could) to jacky that i was all right, and then, amid his uproarious mirth, i struck out for shore, pushing the canoe in front of me. a brisk rub down and a change of flannels (we were in a secluded spot, fortunately) soon mended matters, and by the time jacky had emptied the canoe of water and stowed away our belongings, i was ready to start again, thoroughly cured for the time being of over-confidence in my canoeing powers. after a stiff paddle through charming woodland scenery, and passing _en route_ bedworth, the most active part of the warwickshire coal-fields, we reached nuneaton, where we went ashore and engaged a room for the night under the hospitable roof of the white horse. a stroll around nuneaton before bedtime afforded us much delight, as the old town is full of antiquity, and is also known to fame as the birthplace of george eliot. in the morning we took mine host's little son and daughter with us in the canoe as far as atherston, where we sent them safely back by train, thoroughly delighted with their novel experience, ours being the only craft of the kind that they had ever seen in those parts. when we arrived at caldecote we went ashore to explore the place, and noticed with much interest a monument erected to the memory of one george abbott, who in days gone by defended caldecote hall against a royalist attack led by prince rupert. so stubborn was the defence that the defenders melted down the pewter dishes and plate to cast bullets. we noted with pleasure that the lives of those gallant roundheads were spared when the garrison finally had to surrender. we proceeded on through the birmingham canal, passing close by coventry, and arrived at fradley, where we obtained a charming view of lichfleld cathedral in the distance. we rested for the night at fradley (our bill for an excellent supper, bed, and breakfast coming to the modest sum of _s_. _d_. for the two of us), and early next morning got afloat. we were now on the north staffordshire canal, having covered about miles since the commencement of our journey. we shortly after began to get in the heart of the pottery district, and the scenery for some distance assumed the aspect peculiar to manufacturing centres. past armitage, rugeley, colwich, and several other towns and villages we paddled, until we reached little heyward, where we stopped about midday for lunch. re-starting after a rest, we were overtaken by a monkey-barge, the skipper of which kindly gave us a tow for some miles, until we arrived, in the afternoon, at stone, where we went ashore for tea and a look round the town. on several occasions we took advantage of the good-nature of the bargees and their wives, and obtained a tow behind their barges when we wanted a rest. on the whole, we found them a most interesting and sociable lot of people, and on more than one occasion we were invited on board, as honoured guests, to partake of tea with the skipper and his family. life on board one of these slow-moving canal barges appeared to me to possess many charms. the barge people seem to pass a sort of amphibious existence, belonging neither to the land nor to the water, but having a human interest in each. the women and children almost wholly live aboard their floating homes, often never stepping ashore from one day to the other and going about their domestic duties, as well as those connected with their calling, with all the precision and cheerfulness in the world, as if there were nothing strange or out-of-the-way in their surroundings. then the scenery through which they pass. to anyone who is capable of appreciating the beauties of nature in the slightest degree, there must be something soothing and elevating in constantly being brought face to face with nature in all her varying charms. now gliding calmly past a water-side village, with the children running out to give you a greeting; then through a waving, poppy-starred cornfield, or past low-lying meadows, with the meditative cattle standing knee-deep in the sweet pasturage, and anon a bend in the canal carries you past wood-lands where the trees meet overhead and form a cool canopy through which the rays of the sun can only penetrate here and there in slanting beams. when my thoughts wander in this groove, i often marvel at people electing to live in stuffy, smoky towns, when the charms of the country are at their bidding. proceeding on our journey after tea, we eventually arrived at stoke-on-trent, and went ashore to seek shelter for the night at a wayside cottage. we got afloat in the morning after our swim and a hearty breakfast, and proceeded past the outskirts of the town, which we were not sorry to leave behind. it came on to rain soon after we left stoke-on-treat; but as we were well prepared with macintoshes to face the elements, we proceeded cheerily on our way. after paddling for about four miles we came to the entrance of another long tunnel, which we entered, after taking the precaution to provide ourselves with candles. we had a nasty experience in navigating through this tunnel, which i should not much care to encounter again. after proceeding cautiously for some distance, during which we had to avoid a ducking, and possibly a swamping, from the numerous "weep-holes" that let showers of land water descend from the roof, our candle suddenly went out and left us in total darkness. to make matters worse, a lot of land-water was coming through the tunnel, which, together with the backwash of a tug some little way ahead of us, tried us considerably, and finally wedged our canoe between the two walls of the tunnel. we did not relish the situation at all, i can assure you, especially as we could not take stock of our whereabouts; but after a deal of rocking and shoving (during which we had a narrow escape from capsizing), we managed to get the canoe clear of the walls, and worked our way backwards, hand-over-hand, to the mouth of the tunnel. after this experience we were strangely unanimous as to the desirability of going through in some less risky manner (we accused each other of "funking" afterwards), and accordingly sought the aid of a man, a boy, and a wheelbarrow, and in this unconventional manner conveyed our goods and chattels overland to the other end of the tunnel. in the course of our journey along the canals we passed through a number of these tunnels, including the one that starts close to chatterby station, and goes under yield and golden hills. the passage of barges through some of these tunnels is performed in a very curious manner, as owing to the roofs being too low to admit of tugs passing through, the heavily laden canal barges have to be "footed" along by men and boys lying on their backs and pushing against the roof or walls of the tunnel. as may be imagined, but slow progress is made in this manner, the passage of some of the tunnels occupying upwards of an hour. in some cases, however, the tunnels are provided with a narrow tow-path running through them, which, of course, greatly facilitates the passage, as when once momentum is obtained, a man and a boy can tow a barge through without much difficulty. we next reached harecastle, in cheshire, where we landed for lunch. re-starting, after doing justice to a good feed, we soon encountered a cluster of thirty-five locks (think of it) all grouped together within a distance of six miles. finding the negotiating of two or three a weariness of the flesh, we cast around for help, and fortunately came across a "locked-out" coal-miner, who for two shillings cheerfully trotted on ahead, and opened each of the remaining locks ready for us by the time we arrived, thus giving us a welcome rest after a spell of hard work. after getting through the locks we had a straight-away paddle of some nine miles, which was a pleasant change after the slow and tedious progress we had lately been making, and passing by alleyfield and sandbach station, brought our day's journey to an end at middlewich, where we are glad to leave the canoe at the lock-house, and make preparations for passing the night. proceeding next morning, with the sun shining and everything looking fresh and lovely after the rain of the previous day, we got into the picturesque, country peculiar to the salt district. some distance out of the town we obtained a pleasant tow of a few miles behind a barge going in our direction, and from an old lady in a picturesque sun-bonnet; who came out of the cabin to chat with us, we got the welcome information that we should pass through a wonderful nut-grove on the banks of the canal, where she prophesied that we should have a real royal time. and she was about right! such a profusion of filberts i never have seen before. the trees literally were interlaced across the canal, and being in a perfectly out-of-the-way spot, where scarcely anyone but the canal-boat people passed, the branches were simply weighed down with the toothsome nuts. we were told by our informant that the filberts were anybody's property; so when we came to where the trees were heaviest laden we paddled beneath the bough and soon had picked enough to fill the bows of the canoe. you may be sure we never wanted for filberts upon the rest of the day's journey. i pictured with what delight the average schoolboy would have hailed that nut-grove, especially as the gathering of the nuts from the bank would have entailed torn clothes, many tumbles, and unlimited scratches. after passing through lovely country, we arrived at preston brook, where we joined the duke of bridgewater canal (now the property of the manchester ship canal company). here we decided to stop for tea, after which we once more proceeded on our way, and after an uneventful paddle, brought our day's journey to a close at grappenhall, where we obtained comfortable quarters for the night at a cottage on the canal side. up at six-thirty next morning, and after cleaning out the canoe and indulging in our morning swim, sat down to a good breakfast, to which we did ample justice. once more afloat, we made good progress towards manchester, but after about an hour's paddle it came on to rain in torrents, and continued so until we reached cottonopois, which we fetched at about one o'clock. i have always been given to understand that it does little else but rain at manchester, and certainly on this occasion the much-maligned city did not belie its reputation. however, we did not trouble ourselves much, about the rain, as we had mackintoshes and sou'-westers on. presenting much the appearance of a pair of ancient mariners in our get-up, we entered hulme dockyard, safely berthed our canoe there, and prepared to spend the next two days with friends in the city. after passing two very pleasant days, during which we saw all that could be seen during such a brief stay, we said good-bye to our hospitable manchester friends and pushed on towards our destination and in due time reached booth town, close to barton moss, passing _en route_ old trafford park. near by here we arrived at the famous swivel bridge by which the bridgewater canal is carried over the manchester ship canal. we happened to get to this point just as the bridge was opened to traffic for the first time, and as we paddled across in state we were hailed and told that ours was the very first canoe to have the distinction of crossing the new waterway. during the rest of the day's paddle we were in the very heart of the coal-mining district, and our progress caused no little comment and wonder to the crowds of "locked-out" miners and their families. so embarrassing became their attentions at length that we had to abandon our original intention of landing at wigan, owing to the numerous crowd awaiting our approach at that place. twice we essayed to get ashore, but finally, not appreciating the appearance of the motley crowd, we pushed on until we reached plank lane, where, the crowd of idlers being a little less dense, we summoned up pluck enough to venture ashore. even here we found ourselves the centre of attraction to the people; rough miners crowding around as we lifted our canoe from the water, to stare in amazement at our appearance, some even going so far in their admiration of our little craft as to pass their hands along its polished sides, all the while expressing their opinions in such a broad vernacular as to be almost unintelligible to our southern ears. they thought it was a joke upon our part when we told them that we had paddled all the way from london in the canoe. the way they nudged each other and winked solemnly was most expressive. their attentions at last became so overwhelming that we were compelled to give the craft into the care of the friendly lock-keeper and beat a hasty retreat. our host at leigh very kindly afforded us a much-wished-for opportunity of exploring a coal-mine. getting up early in the morning, we proceeded to the mouth of the pit, entered the cage, and soon were speeding downward at a most alarming pace, accomplishing the distance of yards in forty-five seconds. the sensation accompanying this rapid descent into the bowels of the earth was far from pleasant, but we quickly recovered when we reached _terra firma_, and, when we had become accustomed to the intense darkness, were soon able to follow our guide through the almost deserted workings. the miners were on strike, and only the engineers and others necessary to attend to the machinery for keeping the shafts and workings ventilated and free from water were on duty, so that the desolate stillness of the place impressed us more profoundly, perhaps, than if we had been surrounded by busy toilers. after going all over the mine, each with davy lamp in hand--during which we had several times to chase our head-gear, which was blown off by the strong draught from the ventilating fans--we once more entered the cage and were quickly whirled upwards to the light of day. next day we embarked rather later than was our usual custom, and paddled on towards preston, having to traverse a portion of the river ribble before we reached this town. nothing very interesting or exciting occurred upon this day, except for a rather narrow shave we had of getting smashed up by a barge. it happened that one of us was towing, while the other remained in the canoe to steer. just as we got to a very narrow strip of the canal near the entrance to a lock, we met some barges coming down in tow of a tug, and, as luck would have it, our tow-line fouled a tree stump just at the moment when the tail barge began to swing ominously over towards our bank. for a moment or two it looked as if the canoe must be crushed like an egg-shell between the bank and the barge, but fortunately at the critical moment an extra strong jerk on the tow-line got it clear, and with a run jacky whisked the canoe through the narrow streak of open water, and we were safe. we stayed with friends at preston for the next three days, and managed to put in a highly enjoyable round of sight-seeing, during which we paid a flying visit to southport. our stay at an end, we embarked once more, taking three of our friends with us in the canoe as far as garstang. five people (in addition to luggage) in a small craft of this description was an exceedingly tight pack, and we had to strictly taboo any skylarking, else we should very quickly have got a ducking. at garstang we left our friends, after a high tea; and after passing several towns and villages, at eventide reached lancaster, which we made our headquarters for the night. i may mention that we met with great kindness and consideration from the officials during the whole of our journey along the lancaster canal, one of the employees being told off to clear all barges out of our way, and see us safely, and with the least trouble to ourselves, to its end at kendal; this thoughtfulness saving us much delay and inconvenience, and rendering this portion of our trip one of the most delightful experiences throughout the whole of our journey. getting afloat in good time next morning, we bade farewell to lancaster, and pushed on towards crooklands, passing nately and ashton on the way. for a great portion of this part of our journey the surroundings were truly beautiful, the trees meeting overheard in many places, and forming a cool leafy canopy, while the water was so clear that we could distinguish objects lying upon the bottom quite distinctly, although the water averaged a depth of seven or eight feet. our silent approach allowed us to come upon shoals of fish, which only darted away when our bows cleared the water immediately above them, a sight that roused all our angling instincts. at other spots along the canal the towering hills, with their crests enshrouded in mist, combined to make up as impressive a picture as can be conjured up by the imagination. wild-flowers, blackberries, and sloes dotted the banks in profusion, and the occasional starting of a hare or the putting up of a rocketing pheasant from out of the woods, through which we passed at intervals conveyed to us a charming impression of nature in all the glorious wealth of an early english autumn. at hest bank the canal approached the coast, which we followed for some distance allowing us to obtain an interesting view of morecambe bay. arriving at crooklands about seven in the evening, we left our canoe in charge there and walked into milnethorpe, a distance of some three miles, and sought shelter for the night, with the consciousness that next day would see us at the end of our canal journey. early next morning we are out and about and, breakfast despatched, we get afloat once more, with the sun shining, the birds singing, and a soft wind blowing from the south, making the last part of our trip every respect. we paddled along past the varied scenery on the banks, dotted here and there with villages and hamlets and occasionally a town. the last day on the canal we made a regular picnic of, landing on the grassy banks when we wanted to rest and eat, and pushing onward again when we were so inclined. in this manner we progressed past hincaster, sedgwick, and natland, and at about three o'clock in the afternoon reached kendal, where the canal system curiously ends in a sheer wall. we were now practically of our destination, and after carefully bumping the nose of the canoe against the headwall of the canal, we landed at the steps. obtaining the assistance of a man with a horse and cart, we conveyed our craft to kendal railway station, and after tea took the train (with the canoe stowed away in the guard's brake) to windermere station. now a difficulty arose as to how to get the canoe safely to bowness-on-windermere, a distance of about a mile and a-half. we were nearly at our wits' ends for want of a suitable conveyance, when a kindly disposed 'bus-driver offered to take the canoe inside the 'bus, which offer, needless to say, we literally jumped at; and seated outside with our craft stowed away inside the vehicle, we proceeded to our journey's end in this novel fashion, much to the amusement and edification of the numerous onlookers. after a short stay by the lakeside, we took our canoe by train back to london, and so brought to a close one of the most health-giving and enjoyable holidays it has ever been my lot to spend, and which i shall always recall with the liveliest feelings of delight. transcriberâ��s note obvious typographical errors have been corrected in this text. for a complete list, please see the bottom of this document. canoeing in the wilderness henry d. thoreau by clifton johnson battleground adventures. illustrated. a book of fairy-tale foxes. illustrated. a book of fairy-tale bears. illustrated. houghton mifflin company boston and new york canoeing in the wilderness [illustration: _the indian guideâ��s evening prayer_ (_page _)] canoeing in the wilderness by henry d. thoreau edited by clifton johnson illustrated by will hammell boston and new york houghton mifflin company the riverside press cambridge copyright, , by houghton, mifflin & co. copyright, , by houghton mifflin company all rights reserved _published april _ illustrations the indian guideâ��s evening prayer _frontispiece_ the stage on the road to moosehead lake making a camp in the streamside woodland fishing the red squirrel coming down the rapids shooting the moose carrying round the falls introduction thoreau was born at concord, massachusetts, july , , and at the time he made this wilderness canoe trip he was forty years old. the record of the journey is the latter half of his _the maine woods_, which is perhaps the finest idyl of the forest ever written. it is particularly charming in its blending of meditative and poetic fancies with the minute description of the voyagerâ��s experiences. the chief attraction that inspired thoreau to make the trip was the primitiveness of the region. here was a vast tract of almost virgin woodland, peopled only with a few loggers and pioneer farmers, indians, and wild animals. no one could have been better fitted than thoreau to enjoy such a region and to transmit his enjoyment of it to others. for though he was a person of culture and refinement, with a college education, and had for an intimate friend so rare a man as ralph waldo emerson, he was half wild in many of his tastes and impatient of the restraints and artificiality of the ordinary social life of the towns and cities. he liked especially the companionship of men who were in close contact with nature, and in this book we find him deeply interested in his indian guide and lingering fondly over the manâ��s characteristics and casual remarks. the indian retained many of his aboriginal instincts and ways, though his tribe was in most respects civilized. his home was in an indian village on an island in the penobscot river at oldtown, a few miles above bangor. thoreau was one of the worldâ��s greatest nature writers, and as the years pass, his fame steadily increases. he was a careful and accurate observer, more at home in the fields and woods than in village and town, and with a gift of piquant originality in recording his impressions. the play of his imagination is keen and nimble, yet his fancy is so well balanced by his native common sense that it does not run away with him. there is never any doubt about his genuineness, or that what he states is free from bias and romantic exaggeration. it is to be noted that he was no hunter. his inquisitiveness into the ways of the wild creatures carried with it no desire to shoot them, and to his mind the killing of game for mere sport was akin to butchery. the kindly and sympathetic spirit constantly manifest in his pages is very attractive, and the fellowship one gains with him through his written words is both delightful and wholesome. he stimulates not only a love for nature, but a love for simple ways of living, and for all that is sincere and unaffected in human life, wherever found. in the present volume various details and digressions that are not of interest to most readers have been omitted, but except for such elimination thoreauâ��s text has been retained throughout. it is believed that nothing essential has been sacrificed, and that the narrative in this form will be found lively, informing, and thoroughly enjoyable. clifton johnson. hadley, massachusetts. canoeing in the wilderness canoeing in the wilderness i monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday july - , i started on my third excursion to the maine woods monday, july , , with one companion, arriving at bangor the next day at noon. the succeeding morning, a relative of mine who is well acquainted with the penobscot indians took me in his wagon to oldtown to assist me in obtaining an indian for this expedition. we were ferried across to the indian island in a bateau. the ferrymanâ��s boy had the key to it, but the father, who was a blacksmith, after a little hesitation, cut the chain with a cold chisel on the rock. he told me that the indians were nearly all gone to the seaboard and to massachusetts, partly on account of the smallpox, of which they are very much afraid, having broken out in oldtown. the old chief neptune, however, was there still. the first man we saw on the island was an indian named joseph polis, whom my relative addressed familiarly as â��joe.â�� he was dressing a deerskin in his yard. the skin was spread over a slanting log, and he was scraping it with a stick held by both hands. he was stoutly built, perhaps a little above the middle height, with a broad face, and, as others said, perfect indian features and complexion. his house was a two-story white one with blinds, the best-looking that i noticed there, and as good as an average one on a new england village street. it was surrounded by a garden and fruit trees, single cornstalks standing thinly amid the beans. we asked him if he knew any good indian who would like to go into the woods with us, that is, to the allegash lakes by way of moosehead, and return by the east branch of the penobscot. to which he answered out of that strange remoteness in which the indian ever dwells to the white man, â��me like to go myself; me want to get some mooseâ��; and kept on scraping the skin. the ferryman had told us that all the best indians were gone except polis, who was one of the aristocracy. he, to be sure, would be the best man we could have, but if he went at all would want a great price. polis asked at first two dollars a day but agreed to go for a dollar and a half, and fifty cents a week for his canoe. he would come to bangor with his canoe by the seven oâ��clock train that evening--we might depend on him. we thought ourselves lucky to secure the services of this man, who was known to be particularly steady and trustworthy. i spent the afternoon with my companion, who had remained in bangor, in preparing for our expedition, purchasing provisions, hard-bread,[ ] pork, coffee, sugar, etc., and some india-rubber clothing. at evening the indian arrived in the cars, and i led the way, while he followed me, three quarters of a mile to my friendâ��s house, with the canoe on his head. i did not know the exact route, but steered by the lay of the land, as i do in boston. i tried to enter into conversation with him, but as he was puffing under the weight of his canoe, not having the usual apparatus for carrying it, but, above all, as he was an indian, i might as well have been thumping on the bottom of his birch the while. in answer to the various observations that i made he only grunted vaguely from beneath his canoe once or twice, so that i knew he was there. early the next morning the stage called for us. my companion and i had each a large knapsack as full as it would hold, and we had two large rubber bags which held our provisions and utensils. as for the indian, all the baggage he had, beside his axe and gun, was a blanket, which he brought loose in his hand. however, he had laid in a store of tobacco and a new pipe for the excursion. the canoe was securely lashed diagonally across the top of the stage, with bits of carpet tucked under the edge to prevent its chafing. the driver appeared as much accustomed to carrying canoes in this way as bandboxes. at the bangor house we took in four men bound on a hunting excursion, one of the men going as cook. they had a dog, a middling-sized brindled cur, which ran by the side of the stage, his master showing his head and whistling from time to time. but after we had gone about three miles the dog was suddenly missing, and two of the party went back for him, while the stage, which was full of passengers, waited. at length one man came back, while the other kept on. this whole party of hunters declared their intention to stop till the dog was found, but the very obliging driver was ready to wait a spell longer. he was evidently unwilling to lose so many passengers, who would have taken a private conveyance, or perhaps the other line of stages, the next day. such progress did we make, with a journey of over sixty miles to be accomplished that day, and a rainstorm just setting in. we discussed the subject of dogs and their instincts till it was threadbare, while we waited there, and the scenery of the suburbs of bangor is still distinctly impressed on my memory. [illustration: _the stage on the road to moosehead lake_] after full half an hour the man returned, leading the dog by a rope. he had overtaken him just as he was entering the bangor house. he was then tied on the top of the stage, but, being wet and cold, several times in the course of the journey he jumped off, and i saw him dangling by his neck. this dog was depended on to stop bears. he had already stopped one somewhere in new hampshire, and i can testify that he stopped a stage in maine. this party of four probably paid nothing for the dogâ��s ride, nor for his run, while our party of three paid two dollars--and were charged four--for the light canoe which lay still on the top. the stage was crowded all the way. if you had looked inside you would have thought that we were prepared to run the gantlet of a band of robbers, for there were four or five guns on the front seat and one or two on the back one, each man holding his darling in his arms. it appeared that this party of hunters was going our way, but much farther. their leader was a handsome man about thirty years old, of good height, but not apparently robust, of gentlemanly address and faultless toilet. he had a fair white complexion as if he had always lived in the shade, and an intellectual face, and with his quiet manners might have passed for a divinity student who had seen something of the world. i was surprised to find that he was probably the chief white hunter of maine and was known all along the road. i afterwards heard him spoken of as one who could endure a great deal of exposure and fatigue without showing the effect of it; and he could not only use guns, but make them, being himself a gunsmith. in the spring he had saved a stage-driver and two passengers from drowning in the backwater of the piscataquis on this road, having swum ashore in the freezing water and made a raft and got them off--though the horses were drowned--at great risk to himself, while the only other man who could swim withdrew to the nearest house to prevent freezing. he knew our man, and remarked that we had a good indian there, a good hunter; adding that he was said to be worth six thousand dollars. the indian also knew him, and said to me, â��the great hunter.â�� the indian sat on the front seat with a stolid expression of face as if barely awake to what was going on. again i was struck by the peculiar vagueness of his replies when addressed in the stage or at the taverns. he really never said anything on such occasions. he was merely stirred up like a wild beast, and passively muttered some insignificant response. his answer, in such cases, was vague as a puff of smoke, suggesting no _responsibility_, and if you considered it you would find that you had got nothing out of him. this was instead of the conventional palaver and smartness of the white man, and equally profitable. most get no more than this out of the indian, and pronounce him stolid accordingly. i was surprised to see what a foolish and impertinent style a maine man, a passenger, used in addressing him, as if he were a child, which only made his eyes glisten a little. a tipsy canadian asked him at a tavern, in a drawling tone, if he smoked, to which he answered with an indefinite â��yes.â�� â��wonâ��t you lend me your pipe a little while?â�� asked the other. he replied, looking straight by the manâ��s head, with a face singularly vacant to all neighboring interests, â��me got no pipeâ��; yet i had seen him put a new one, with a supply of tobacco, into his pocket that morning. our little canoe, so neat and strong, drew a favorable criticism from all the wiseacres among the tavern loungers along the road. by the roadside, close to the wheels, i noticed a splendid great purple fringed orchis which i would fain have stopped the stage to pluck, but as this had never been known to stop a bear, like the cur on the stage, the driver would probably have thought it a waste of time. when we reached the lake, about half past eight in the evening, it was still steadily raining, and in that fresh, cool atmosphere the hylas were peeping and the toads ringing about the lake. it was as if the season had revolved backward two or three months, or i had arrived at the abode of perpetual spring. we had expected to go upon the lake at once, and, after paddling up two or three miles, to camp on one of its islands, but on account of the rain we decided to go to one of the taverns for the night. footnotes: [ ] hard-bread or ship-bread is a kind of hard biscuit commonly baked in large cakes and much used by sailors and soldiers. ii friday, july . about four oâ��clock the next morning, though it was quite cloudy, accompanied by the landlord to the waterâ��s edge, in the twilight, we launched our canoe from a rock on moosehead lake. we had a rather small canoe for three persons, eighteen and one fourth feet long by two feet six and one half inches wide in the middle, and one foot deep within. i judged that it would weigh not far from eighty pounds. the indian had recently made it himself, and its smallness was partly compensated for by its newness, as well as stanchness and solidity, it being made of very thick bark and ribs. our baggage weighed about one hundred and sixty-six pounds. the principal part of the baggage was, as usual, placed in the middle of the broadest part, while we stowed ourselves in the chinks and crannies that were left before and behind it, where there was no room to extend our legs, the loose articles being tucked into the ends. the canoe was thus as closely packed as a market basket. the indian sat on a crossbar in the stern, but we flat on the bottom with a splint or chip behind our backs to protect them from the crossbar, and one of us commonly paddled with the indian. paddling along the eastern side of the lake in the still of the morning, we soon saw a few sheldrakes, which the indian called _shecorways_, and some peetweets on the rocky shore. we also saw and heard loons. it was inspiriting to hear the regular dip of the paddles, as if they were our fins or flippers, and to realize that we were at length fairly embarked. having passed the small rocky isles within two or three miles of the foot of the lake, we had a short consultation respecting our course, and inclined to the western shore for the sake of its lee; for otherwise, if the wind should rise, it would be impossible for us to reach mount kineo, which is about midway up the lake on the east side, but at its narrowest part, where probably we could recross if we took the western side. the wind is the chief obstacle to crossing the lakes, especially in so small a canoe. the indian remarked several times that he did not like to cross the lakes â��in littlum canoe,â�� but nevertheless, â��just as we say, it made no odds to him.â�� moosehead lake is twelve miles wide at the widest place, and thirty miles long in a direct line, but longer as it lies. paddling near the shore, we frequently heard the _pe-pe_ of the olive-sided flycatcher, also the wood pewee and the kingfisher. the indian reminding us that he could not work without eating, we stopped to breakfast on the main shore southwest of deer island. we took out our bags, and the indian made a fire under a very large bleached log, using white pine bark from a stump, though he said that hemlock was better, and kindling with canoe birch bark. our table was a large piece of freshly peeled birch bark, laid wrong side up, and our breakfast consisted of hard-bread, fried pork, and strong coffee well sweetened, in which we did not miss the milk. while we were getting breakfast a brood of twelve black dippers,[ ] half grown, came paddling by within three or four rods, not at all alarmed; and they loitered about as long as we stayed, now huddled close together, now moving off in a long line, very cunningly. looking northward from this place it appeared as if we were entering a large bay, and we did not know whether we should be obliged to diverge from our course and keep outside a point which we saw, or should find a passage between this and the mainland. it was misty dog-day weather, and we had already penetrated a smaller bay of the same kind, and knocked the bottom out of it, though we had been obliged to pass over a bar between an island and the shore, where there was but just breadth and depth enough to float the canoe, and the indian had observed, â��very easy makum bridge here,â�� but now it seemed that if we held on we should be fairly embayed. presently, however, the mist lifted somewhat and revealed a break in the shore northward. the indian immediately remarked, â��i guess you and i go there.â�� this was his common expression instead of saying â��we.â�� he never addressed us by our names, though curious to know how they were spelled and what they meant. we called him polis. he had already guessed very accurately at our ages, and said that he was forty-eight. after breakfast i emptied the melted pork that was left into the lake, making what the sailors call a â��slick,â�� and watching to see how much it spread over and smoothed the agitated surface. the indian looked at it a moment and said, â��that make hard paddlum through; hold â��em canoe. so say old times.â�� we hastily reloaded, putting the dishes loose in the bows, that they might be at hand when wanted, and set out again. the western shore, near which we paddled along, rose gently to a considerable height and was everywhere densely covered with the forest, in which was a large proportion of hard wood to enliven and relieve the fir and spruce. the indian said that the lichen which we saw hanging from the trees was called _chorchorque_. we asked him the names of several birds which we heard this morning. the thrush, which was quite common, and whose note he imitated, he said was called _adelungquamooktum_; but sometimes he could not tell the name of some small bird which i heard and knew, but he said, â��i tell all the birds about here; canâ��t tell littlum noise, but i see â��em, then i can tell.â�� i observed that i should like to go to school to him to learn his language, living on the indian island the while; could not that be done? â��oh, yer,â�� he replied, â��good many do so.â�� i asked how long he thought it would take. he said one week. i told him that in this voyage i would tell him all i knew, and he should tell me all he knew, to which he readily agreed. mount kineo, which was generally visible, though occasionally concealed by islands or the mainland in front, had a level bar of cloud concealing its summit, and all the mountain-tops about the lake were cut off at the same height. ducks of various kinds were quite common, and ran over the water before us as fast as a horse trots. the indian asked the meaning of _reality_, as near as i could make out the word, which he said one of us had used; also of _interrent_, that is, intelligent. i observed that he could rarely sound the letter r, but used l, as also r for l sometimes; as _load_ for road, _pickelel_ for pickerel, _soogle_ island for sugar island. he generally added the syllable _um_ to his words, as _paddlum_, etc. on a point on the mainland where we landed to stretch our legs and look at the vegetation, going inland a few steps, i discovered a fire still glowing beneath its ashes, where somebody had breakfasted, and a bed of twigs prepared for the following night. so i knew not only that they had just left, but that they designed to return, and by the breadth of the bed that there was more than one in the party. you might have gone within six feet of these signs without seeing them. there grew the beaked hazel, rue seven feet high, and red osier, whose bark the indian said was good to smoke, â��tobacco before white people came to this country, indian tobacco.â�� the indian was always very careful in approaching the shore, lest he should injure his canoe on the rocks, letting it swing round slowly sidewise, and was still more particular that we should not step into it on shore, nor till it floated free, and then should step gently lest we should open its seams, or make a hole in the bottom. after passing deer island we saw the little steamer from greenville, far east in the middle of the lake. sometimes we could hardly tell her from an island which had a few trees on it. here we were exposed to the wind from over the whole breadth of the lake, and ran a little risk of being swamped. while i had my eye fixed on the spot where a large fish had leaped, we took in a gallon or two of water; but we soon reached the shore and took the canoe over the bar at sand-bar island, a few feet wide only, and so saved a considerable distance. we crossed a broad bay and found the water quite rough. a very little wind on these broad lakes raises a sea which will swamp a canoe. looking off from the shore, the surface may appear to be almost smooth a mile distant, or if you see a few white crests they appear nearly level with the rest of the lake, but when you get out so far, you may find quite a sea running, and ere long, before you think of it, a wave will gently creep up the side of the canoe and fill your lap, like a monster deliberately covering you with its slime before it swallows you, or it will strike the canoe violently and break into it. the same thing may happen when the wind rises suddenly, though it were perfectly calm and smooth there a few minutes before; so that nothing can save you, unless you can swim ashore, for it is impossible to get into a canoe when it is upset. since you sit flat on the bottom, though the danger should not be imminent, a little water is a great inconvenience, not to mention the wetting of your provisions. we rarely crossed even a bay directly, from point to point, when there was wind, but made a slight curve corresponding somewhat to the shore, that we might the sooner reach it if the wind increased. when the wind is aft, and not too strong, the indian makes a spritsail of his blanket. he thus easily skims over the whole length of this lake in a day. the indian paddled on one side, and one of us on the other, to keep the canoe steady, and when he wanted to change hands he would say, â��tâ�� other side.â�� he asserted, in answer to our questions, that he had never upset a canoe himself, though he may have been upset by others. think of our little eggshell of a canoe tossing across that great lake, a mere black speck to the eagle soaring above it! my companion trailed for trout as we paddled along, but, the indian warning him that a big fish might upset us, for there are some very large ones there, he agreed to pass the line quickly to the stern if he had a bite. while we were crossing this bay, where mount kineo rose dark before us within two or three miles, the indian repeated the tradition respecting this mountainâ��s having anciently been a cow moose--how a mighty indian hunter succeeded in killing this queen of the moose tribe with great difficulty, while her calf was killed somewhere among the islands in penobscot bay, and, to his eyes, this mountain had still the form of the moose in a reclining posture. he told this at some length and with apparent good faith, and asked us how we supposed the hunter could have killed such a mighty moose as that. an indian tells such a story as if he thought it deserved to have a good deal said about it, only he has not got it to say, and so he makes up for the deficiency by a drawling tone, long-windedness, and a dumb wonder which he hopes will be contagious. we approached the land again through pretty rough water, and then steered directly across the lake at its narrowest part to the eastern side, and were soon partly under the lee of the mountain, having paddled about twenty miles. it was now about noon. we designed to stop there that afternoon and night, and spent half an hour looking along the shore northward for a suitable place to camp. at length, by going half a dozen rods into the dense spruce and fir wood on the side of the mountain almost as dark as a cellar, we found a place sufficiently clear and level to lie down on, after cutting away a few bushes. the indian cleared a path to it from the shore with his axe, and we then carried up all our baggage, pitched our tent, and made our bed, in order to be ready for foul weather, which then threatened us, and for the night. he gathered a large armful of fir twigs, breaking them off, which he said were the best for our bed, partly, i thought, because they were the largest and could be most rapidly collected. it had been raining more or less for four or five days, and the wood was even damper than usual, but he got dry bark from the under side of a dead leaning hemlock, which he said he could always do. this noon his mind was occupied with a law question, and i referred him to my companion, who was a lawyer. it appeared that he had been buying land lately--i think it was a hundred acres--but there was probably an incumbrance to it, somebody else claiming to have bought some grass on it for this year. he wished to know to whom the grass belonged, and was told that if the other man could prove that he bought the grass before he, polis, bought the land, the former could take it whether the latter knew it or not. to which he only answered, â��strange!â�� he went over this several times, fairly sat down to it, with his back to a tree, as if he meant to confine us to this topic henceforth; but as he made no headway, only reached the jumping-off place of his wonder at white menâ��s institutions after each explanation, we let the subject die. he said that he had fifty acres of grass, potatoes, etc., somewhere above oldtown, besides some about his house; that he hired a good deal of his work, hoeing, etc., and preferred white men to indians because â��they keep steady and know how.â�� after dinner we returned southward along the shore, in the canoe, on account of the difficulty of climbing over the rocks and fallen trees, and began to ascend the mountain along the edge of the precipice. but, a smart shower coming up just then, the indian crept under his canoe, while we, protected by our rubber coats, proceeded to botanize. so we sent him back to the camp for shelter, agreeing that he should come for us with his canoe toward night. it had rained a little in the forenoon, and we trusted that this would be the clearing-up shower, which it proved; but our feet and legs were thoroughly wet by the bushes. the clouds breaking away a little, we had a glorious wild view, as we ascended, of the broad lake with its numerous forest-clad islands extending beyond our sight both north and south, and the boundless forest undulating away from its shores on every side, as densely packed as a rye-field and enveloping nameless mountains in succession. it was a perfect lake of the woods. looking southward, the heavens were completely overcast, the mountains capped with clouds, and the lake generally wore a dark and stormy appearance, but from its surface six or eight miles distant there was reflected upward through the misty air a bright blue tinge from the unseen sky of another latitude beyond. they probably had a clear sky then at the south end of the lake. again we mistook a little rocky islet seen through the â��drisk,â�� with some taller bare trunks or stumps on it, for the steamer with its smoke-pipes, but as it had not changed its position after half an hour we were undeceived. so much do the works of man resemble the works of nature. a moose might mistake a steamer for a floating isle, and not be scared till he heard its puffing or its whistle. if i wished to see a mountain or other scenery under the most favorable auspices, i would go to it in foul weather so as to be there when it cleared up. we are then in the most suitable mood, and nature is most fresh and inspiring. there is no serenity so fair as that which is just established in a tearful eye. jackson, in his â��report on the geology of maine,â�� says: â��hornstone, which will answer for flints, occurs in various parts of the state. the largest mass of this stone known in the world is mount kineo, upon moosehead lake, which appears to be entirely composed of it, and rises seven hundred feet above the lake level. this variety of hornstone i have seen in every part of new england in the form of indian arrow-heads, hatchets, chisels, etc., which were probably obtained from this mountain by the aboriginal inhabitants of the country.â�� i have myself found hundreds of arrow-heads made of the same material. it is generally slate-colored, with white specks, becoming a uniform white where exposed to the light and air. i picked up a small thin piece which had so sharp an edge that i used it as a knife, and, to see what i could do, fairly cut off an aspen one inch thick with it, by bending it and making many cuts; though i cut my fingers badly with the back of it in the meanwhile. from the summit of the precipice which forms the southern and eastern sides of this mountain peninsula, five or six hundred feet high, we probably might have jumped down to the water, or to the seemingly dwarfish trees on the narrow neck of land which connects it with the main. it is a dangerous place to try the steadiness of your nerves. the plants which attracted our attention on this mountain were the mountain cinquefoil, abundant and in bloom still at the very base by the waterside, very beautiful harebells overhanging the precipice, bearberry, the canada blueberry, wild holly, the great round-leafed orchis, bunchberry, reddening as we ascended, green at the base of the mountain, red at the top, and the small fern _woodsia ilvensis_, growing in tufts, now in fruit. having explored the wonders of the mountain, and the weather being now cleared up, we commenced the descent. we met the indian, puffing and panting, about one third of the way up, but thinking that he must be near the top. on reaching the canoe we found that he had caught a lake trout weighing about three pounds, while we were on the mountain. when we got to the camp, the canoe was taken out and turned over, and a log laid across it to prevent its being blown away. the indian cut some large logs of damp and rotten wood to smoulder and keep fire through the night. the trout was fried for supper. our tent was of thin cotton cloth and quite small, forming with the ground a triangular prism closed at the rear end, six feet long, seven wide, and four high, so that we could barely sit up in the middle. it required two forked stakes, a smooth ridgepole, and a dozen or more pins to pitch it. it kept off dew and wind and an ordinary rain, and answered our purpose well enough. we reclined within it till bedtime, each with his baggage at his head, or else sat about the fire, having hung our wet clothes on a pole before the fire for the night. as we sat there, just before night, looking out through the dusky wood, the indian heard a noise which he said was made by a snake. he imitated it at my request, making a low whistling note--_pheet_--_pheet_--two or three times repeated, somewhat like the peep of the hyla, but not so loud. he said that he had never seen them while making it, but going to the spot he finds the snake. this, he said, was a sign of rain. when i had selected this place for our camp he had remarked that there were snakes there. â��but they wonâ��t do any hurt,â�� i said. â��oh, no,â�� he answered, â��just as you say; it makes no difference to me.â�� he lay on the right side of the tent, because, as he said, he was partly deaf in one ear, and he wanted to lie with his good ear up. as we lay there he inquired if i ever heard â��indian sing.â�� i replied that i had not often, and asked him if he would not favor us with a song. he readily assented, and, lying on his back, with his blanket wrapped around him, he commenced a slow, somewhat nasal, yet musical chant, in his own language, which probably was taught his tribe long ago by the catholic missionaries. he translated it to us, sentence by sentence, afterward. it proved to be a very simple religious exercise or hymn, the burden of which was that there was only one god who ruled all the world. his singing carried me back to the period of the discovery of america, when europeans first encountered the simple faith of the indian. there was, indeed, a beautiful simplicity about it; nothing of the dark and savage, only the mild and infantile. the sentiments of humility and reverence chiefly were expressed. it was a dense and damp spruce and fir wood in which we lay, and, except for our fire, perfectly dark; and when i awoke in the night, i either heard an owl from deeper in the forest behind us, or a loon from a distance over the lake. getting up some time after midnight to collect the scattered brands together, while my companions were sound asleep, i observed, partly in the fire, which had ceased to blaze, a perfectly regular elliptical ring of light, about five inches in its shortest diameter, six or seven in its longer, and from one eighth to one quarter of an inch wide. it was fully as bright as the fire, but not reddish or scarlet like a coal, but a white and slumbering light, like the glowwormâ��s. i saw at once that it must be phosphorescent wood, which i had often heard of, but never chanced to see. putting my finger on it, with a little hesitation, i found that it was a piece of dead moosewood which the indian had cut off in a slanting direction the evening before. using my knife, i discovered that the light proceeded from that portion of the sapwood immediately under the bark, and thus presented a regular ring at the end, and when i pared off the bark and cut into the sap, it was all aglow along the log. i was surprised to find the wood quite hard and apparently sound, though probably decay had commenced in the sap, and i cut out some little triangular chips, and, placing them in the hollow of my hand, carried them into the camp, waked my companion, and showed them to him. they lit up the inside of my hand, revealing the lines and wrinkles, and appearing exactly like coals of fire raised to a white heat. i noticed that part of a decayed stump within four or five feet of the fire, an inch wide and six inches long, soft and shaking wood, shone with equal brightness. i neglected to ascertain whether our fire had anything to do with this, but the previous dayâ��s rain and long-continued wet weather undoubtedly had. i was exceedingly interested by this phenomenon. it could hardly have thrilled me more if it had taken the form of letters, or of the human face. i little thought that there was such a light shining in the darkness of the wilderness for me. the next day the indian told me their name for the light--_artoosoquâ��_--and on my inquiring concerning the will-oâ��-the-wisp he said that his â��folksâ�� sometimes saw fires passing along at various heights, even as high as the trees, and making a noise. i was prepared after this to hear of the most startling and unimagined phenomena witnessed by â��his folks,â�� they are abroad at all hours and seasons in scenes so unfrequented by white men. nature must have made a thousand revelations to them which are still secrets to us. i did not regret my not having seen this before, since i now saw it under circumstances so favorable. i was in just the frame of mind to see something wonderful, and this was a phenomenon adequate to my circumstances and expectation, and it put me on the alert to see more like it. i let science slide, and rejoiced in that light as if it had been a fellow creature. a scientific _explanation_, as it is called, would have been altogether out of place there. that is for pale daylight. science with its retorts would have put me to sleep; it was the opportunity to be ignorant that i improved. it made a believer of me more than before. i believed that the woods were not tenantless, but choke-full of honest spirits as good as myself any day--not an empty chamber in which chemistry was left to work alone, but an inhabited house. it suggested, too, that the same experience always gives birth to the same sort of belief or religion. one revelation has been made to the indian, another to the white man. i have much to learn of the indian, nothing of the missionary. i am not sure but all that would tempt me to teach the indian my religion would be his promise to teach me _his_. long enough i had heard of irrelevant things; now at length i was glad to make acquaintance with the light that dwells in rotten wood. i kept those little chips and wet them again the next night, but they emitted no light. footnotes: [ ] the name dipper is applied to several species of water-birds that are notable for their skill in diving. iii saturday, july at breakfast, the indian, evidently curious to know what would be expected of him the next day, asked me how i spent the sunday when at home. i told him that i commonly sat in my chamber reading, etc., in the forenoon, and went to walk in the afternoon. at which he shook his head and said, â��er, that is verâ�� bad.â�� â��how do you spend it?â�� i asked. he said that he did no work, that he went to church at oldtown when he was at home; in short, he did as he had been taught by the whites. when we were washing the dishes in the lakes, many fishes came close up to us to get the particles of grease. the weather seemed to be more settled this morning, and we set out early in order to finish our voyage up the lake before the wind arose. soon after starting, the indian directed our attention to the northeast carry, which we could plainly see, about thirteen miles distant. this carry is a rude wooden railroad running north and south about two miles, perfectly straight, from the lake to the penobscot through a low tract, with a clearing three or four rods wide. this opening appeared as a clear bright, or light, point in the horizon, resting on the edge of the lake. we should not have suspected it to be visible if the indian had not drawn our attention to it. it was a remarkable kind of light to steer for--daylight seen through a vista in the forest--but visible as far as an ordinary beacon by night. we crossed a deep wide bay north of kineo, leaving an island on our left and keeping up the eastern side of the lake. we then crossed another broad bay, which, as we could no longer observe the shore particularly, afforded ample time for conversation. the indian said that he had got his money by hunting, mostly high up the west branch of the penobscot, and toward the head of the st. john. he had hunted there from a boy, and knew all about that region. his game had been beaver, otter, black cat (or fisher), sable, moose, etc. canada lynx were plenty yet in burnt grounds. for food in the woods he uses partridges, ducks, dried moose meat, hedgehog, etc. loons, too, were good, only â��bile â��em good.â�� pointing into the bay he said that it was the way to various lakes which he knew. only solemn bear-haunted mountains with their great wooded slopes were visible. the indian said that he had been along there several times. i asked him how he guided himself in the woods. â��oh,â�� said he, â��i can tell good many ways.â�� when i pressed him further he answered, â��sometimes i lookum sidehill,â�� and he glanced toward a high hill or mountain on the eastern shore; â��great difference between the north and south; see where the sun has shone most. so trees--the large limbs bend toward south. sometimes i lookum locksâ�� (rocks). i asked what he saw on the rocks, but he did not describe anything in particular, answering vaguely, in a mysterious or drawling tone, â��bare locks on lake shore--great difference between north, south, east, west side--can tell what the sun has shone on.â�� â��suppose,â�� said i, â��that i should take you in a dark night right up here into the middle of the woods a hundred miles, set you down, and turn you round quickly twenty times, could you steer straight to oldtown?â�� â��oh, yer,â�� said he, â��have done pretty much same thing. i will tell you. some years ago i met an old white hunter at millinocket; very good hunter. he said he could go anywhere in the woods. he wanted to hunt with me that day, so we start. we chase a moose all the forenoon, round and round, till middle of afternoon, when we kill him. then i said to him, â��now you go straight to camp.â�� â��he said, â��i canâ��t do that. i donâ��t know where i am.â�� â��â��where you think camp?â�� i asked. â��he pointed so. then i laugh at him. i take the lead and go right off the other way, cross our tracks many times, straight camp.â�� â��how do you do that?â�� asked i. â��oh, i canâ��t tell _you_,â�� he replied. â��great difference between me and white man.â�� it appeared as if the sources of information were so various that he did not give a distinct conscious attention to any one, and so could not readily refer to any when questioned about it, but he found his way very much as an animal does. perhaps what is commonly called instinct in the animal in this case is merely a sharpened and educated sense. often, when an indian says, â��i donâ��t know,â�� in regard to the route he is to take, he does not mean what a white man would by those words, for his indian instinct may tell him still as much as the most confident white man knows. he does not carry things in his head, nor remember the route exactly, like a white man, but relies on himself at the moment. not having experienced the need of the other sort of knowledge--all labeled and arranged--he has not acquired it. the hunter with whom i talked in the stage knew some of the resources of the indian. he said that he steered by the wind, or by the limbs of the hemlocks, which were largest on the south side; also sometimes, when he knew that there was a lake near, by firing his gun and listening to hear the direction and distance of the echo from over it. as the forenoon advanced the wind increased. the last bay which we crossed before reaching the desolate pier at the northeast carry, was two or three miles over, and the wind was southwesterly. after going a third of the way, the waves had increased so as occasionally to wash into the canoe, and we saw that it was worse ahead. at first we might have turned about, but were not willing to. it would have been of no use to follow the course of the shore, for the waves ran still higher there on account of the greater sweep the wind had. at any rate it would have been dangerous now to alter our course, because the waves would have struck us at an advantage. it will not do to meet them at right angles, for then they will wash in both sides, but you must take them quartering. so the indian stood up in the canoe and exerted all his skill and strength for a mile or two, while i paddled right along in order to give him more steerage-way. for more than a mile he did not allow a single wave to strike the canoe as it would, but turned it quickly from this side to that, so that it would always be on or near the crest of a wave when it broke, where all its force was spent, and we merely settled down with it. at length i jumped out onto the end of the pier against which the waves were dashing violently, in order to lighten the canoe and catch it at the landing, which was not much sheltered, but just as i jumped we took in two or three gallons of water. i remarked to the indian, â��you managed that well,â�� to which he replied: â��verâ�� few men do that. great many waves; when i look out for one, another come quick.â�� while the indian went to get cedar bark, etc., to carry his canoe with, we cooked the dinner on the shore in the midst of a sprinkling rain. he prepared his canoe for carrying in this wise. he took a cedar shingle or splint eighteen inches long and four or five wide, rounded at one end, that the corners might not be in the way, and tied it with cedar bark by two holes made midway, near the edge on each side, to the middle crossbar of the canoe. when the canoe was lifted upon his head bottom up, this shingle, with its rounded end uppermost, distributed the weight over his shoulders and head, while a band of cedar bark, tied to the crossbar on each side of the shingle, passed round his breast, and another longer one, outside of the last, round his forehead; also a hand on each side rail served to steer the canoe and keep it from rocking. he thus carried it with his shoulders, head, breast, forehead, and both hands, as if the upper part of his body were all one hand to clasp and hold it. a cedar tree furnished all the gear in this case, as it had the woodwork of the canoe. one of the paddles rested on the crossbars in the bows. i took the canoe upon my head and found that i could carry it with ease, but i let him carry it, not caring to establish a different precedent. this shingle remained tied to the crossbar throughout the voyage, was always ready for the carries, and also served to protect the back of one passenger. we were obliged to go over this carry twice, our load was so great. but the carries were an agreeable variety, and we improved the opportunity to gather the rare plants which we had seen, when we returned empty-handed. we reached the penobscot about four oâ��clock, and found there some st. francis indians encamped on the bank. they were making a canoe and drying moose meat. their camp was covered with spruce bark. they had a young moose, taken in the river a fortnight before, confined in a sort of cage of logs piled up cob-fashion, seven or eight feet high. it was quite tame, about four feet high, and covered with moose flies. there was a large quantity of cornel, red maple, and also willow and aspen boughs, stuck through between the logs on all sides, butt ends out, and on their leaves it was browsing. it looked at first as if it were in a bower rather than a pen. our indian said that _he_ used _black_ spruce roots to sew canoes with, obtaining it from high lands or mountains. the st. francis indians thought that _white_ spruce roots might be best. but the former said, â��no good, break, canâ��t split â��em.â�� i told him i thought that i could make a canoe, but he expressed great doubt of it; at any rate he thought that my work would not be â��neatâ�� the first time. having reloaded, we paddled down the penobscot. we saw a splendid yellow lily by the shore, which i plucked. it was six feet high and had twelve flowers, in two whorls, forming a pyramid. we afterward saw many more thus tall along this stream, and on the east branch. the indian said that the roots were good for soup, that is, to cook with meat, to thicken it, taking the place of flour. they get them in the fall. i dug some, and found a mass of bulbs pretty deep in the earth, two inches in diameter, looking, and even tasting, somewhat like raw green corn on the ear. when we had gone about three miles down the penobscot, we saw through the tree-tops a thunder-shower coming up in the west, and we looked out a camping-place in good season, about five oâ��clock. i will describe the routine of camping. we generally told the indian that we would stop at the first suitable place, so that he might be on the lookout for it. having observed a clear, hard, and flat beach to land on, free from mud, and from stones which would injure the canoe, one would run up the bank to see if there were open and level space enough for the camp between the trees, or if it could be easily cleared, preferring at the same time a cool place, on account of insects. sometimes we paddled a mile or more before finding one to our minds, for where the shore was suitable the bank would often be too steep, or else too low and grassy, and therefore mosquitoey. we then took out the baggage and drew up the canoe. the indian cut a path to the spot we had selected, which was usually within two or three rods of the water, and we carried up our baggage. one, perhaps, takes birch bark, always at hand, and dead dry wood, and kindles a fire five or six feet in front of where we intend to lie. it matters not, commonly, on which side this is, because there is little or no wind in so dense a wood at that season; and then he gets a kettle of water from the river, and takes out the pork, bread, coffee, etc., from their several packages. another, meanwhile, having the axe, cuts down the nearest dead rock maple or other dry hard wood, collecting several large logs to last through the night, also a green stake, with a notch or fork to it, which is slanted over the fire, perhaps resting on a rock or forked stake, to hang the kettle on, and two forked stakes and a pole for the tent. [illustration: _making a camp in the streamside woodland_] the third man pitches the tent, cuts a dozen or more pins with his knife to fasten it down with, and then collects an armful or two of fir twigs, arbor-vitæ, spruce, or hemlock, whichever is at hand, and makes the bed, beginning at either end, and laying the twigs wrong side up, in regular rows, covering the stub ends of the last row; first, however, filling the hollows, if there are any, with coarser material. commonly, by the time the bed is made, or within fifteen or twenty minutes, the water boils, the pork is fried, and supper is ready. we eat this sitting on the ground, or a stump, around a large piece of birch bark for a table, each holding a dipper in one hand and a piece of ship-bread or fried pork in the other, frequently making a pass with his hand, or thrusting his head into the smoke, to avoid the mosquitoes. next, pipes are lit by those who smoke, and veils are donned by those who have them, and we hastily examine and dry our plants, anoint our faces and hands, and go to bed. though you have nothing to do but see the country, thereâ��s rarely any time to spare, hardly enough to examine a plant, before the night or drowsiness is upon you. such was the ordinary experience, but this evening we had camped earlier on account of the rain, and had more time. we found that our camp was on an old indistinct supply-road, running along the river. what is called a road there shows no ruts or trace of wheels, for they are not used; nor, indeed, of runners, since they are used only in the winter when the snow is several feet deep. it is only an indistinct vista through the wood, which it takes an experienced eye to detect. we had no sooner pitched our tent than the thunder-shower burst on us, and we hastily crept under it, drawing our bags after us, curious to see how much of a shelter our thin cotton roof was going to be in this excursion. though the violence of the rain forced a fine shower through the cloth before it was fairly wetted and shrunk, with which we were well bedewed, we managed to keep pretty dry, only a box of matches having been left out and spoiled, and before we were aware of it the shower was over, and only the dripping trees imprisoned us. wishing to see what fishes were in the river there, we cast our lines over the wet bushes on the shore, but they were repeatedly swept down the swift stream in vain. so, leaving the indian, we took the canoe, just before dark, and dropped down the river a few rods to fish at the mouth of a sluggish brook. we pushed up this a rod or two, but were soon driven off by the mosquitoes. while there we heard the indian fire his gun twice in rapid succession. his object was to clean out and dry it after the rain, and he then loaded it with ball, being now on ground where he expected to meet with large game. this sudden loud crashing noise in the still aisles of the forest affected me like an insult to nature, or ill manners at any rate, as if you were to fire a gun in a hall or temple. it was not heard far, however, except along the river, the sound being rapidly hushed up or absorbed by the damp trees and mossy ground. the indian made a little smothered fire of damp leaves close to the back of the camp, that the smoke might drive through and keep out the mosquitoes, but just before we fell asleep this suddenly blazed up and came near setting fire to the tent. iv sunday, july the note of the white-throated sparrow was the first heard in the morning, and with this all the woods rang. though commonly unseen, their simple _ah, te-te-te, te-te-te, te-te-te_, so sharp and piercing, was as distinct to the ear as the passage of a spark of fire shot into the darkest of the forest would be to the eye. we were commonly aroused by their lively strain very early. what a glorious time they must have in that wilderness, far from mankind! i told the indian that we would go to church to chesuncook this morning, some fifteen miles. it was settled weather at last. a few swallows flitted over the water, we heard maryland yellow-throats along the shore, the notes of the chickadee, and, i believe, redstarts. moose-flies of large size pursued us in midstream. the indian thought that we should lie by on sunday. said he, â��we come here lookum things, look all round, but come sunday look up all that, and then monday look again.â�� he spoke of an indian of his acquaintance who had been with some ministers to katahdin and had told him how they conducted. this he described in a low and solemn voice. â��they make a long prayer every morning and night, and at every meal. come sunday, they stop â��em, no go at all that day--keep still--preach all day--first one, then another, just like church. oh, verâ�� good men. one day going along a river, they came to the body of a man in the water, drowned good while. they go right ashore--stop there, go no farther that day--they have meeting there, preach and pray just like sunday. then they go back and carry the body with them. oh, they verâ�� good men.â�� i judged from this account that their every camp was a camp-meeting, and that they wanted an opportunity to preach somewhere more than to see katahdin. however, the indian added, plying the paddle all the while, that if we would go along he must go with us, he our man, and he suppose that if he no takum pay for what he do sunday then therâ��s no harm, but if he takum pay then wrong. i told him that he was stricter than white men. nevertheless, i noticed that he did not forget to reckon in the sundays at last. he appeared to be a very religious man, and said his prayers in a loud voice, in indian, kneeling before the camp, morning and evening--sometimes scrambling up in haste when he had forgotten this, and saying them with great rapidity. in the course of the day he remarked, â��poor man rememberum god more than rich.â�� we soon passed the island where i had camped four years before. the deadwater, a mile or two below it, the indian said was â��a great place for moose.â�� we saw the grass bent where a moose came out the night before, and the indian said that he could smell one as far as he could see him, but he added that if he should see five or six to-day close by canoe he no shoot â��em. accordingly, as he was the only one of the party who had a gun, or had come a-hunting, the moose were safe. just below this a cat owl flew heavily over the stream, and he, asking if i knew what it was, imitated very well the common _hoo, hoo, hoo, hoorer, hoo_, of our woods. we carried a part of the baggage about pine stream falls, while the indian went down in the canoe. a bangor merchant had told us that two men in his employ were drowned some time ago while passing these falls in a bateau, and a third clung to a rock all night and was taken off in the morning. there were magnificent great purple fringed orchises on this carry and the neighboring shores. i measured the largest canoe birch which i saw in this journey near the end of the carry. it was fourteen and one half feet in circumference at two feet from the ground, but at five feet divided into three parts. the indian cut a small woody knob as big as a filbert from the trunk of a fir, apparently an old balsam vesicle filled with wood, which he said was good medicine. after we had embarked and gone half a mile, my companion remembered that he had left his knife, and we paddled back to get it, against the strong and swift current. this taught us the difference between going up and down the stream, for while we were working our way back a quarter of a mile, we should have gone down a mile and half at least. so we landed, and while he and the indian were gone back for it, i watched the motions of the foam, a kind of white waterfowl near the shore, forty or fifty rods below. it alternately appeared and disappeared behind the rock, being carried round by an eddy. immediately below these falls was the chesuncook deadwater, caused by the flowing back of the lake. as we paddled slowly over this, the indian told us a story of his hunting thereabouts, and something more interesting about himself. it appeared that he had represented his tribe at augusta, and once at washington. he had a great idea of education, and would occasionally break out into such expressions as this, â��kademy--good thing--i suppose they usum fifth reader there. you been college?â�� we steered across the northwest end of the lake. it is an agreeable change to cross a lake after you have been shut up in the woods, not only on account of the greater expanse of water, but also of sky. it is one of the surprises which nature has in store for the traveler in the forest. to look down, in this case, over eighteen miles of water was liberating and civilizing even. the lakes also reveal the mountains, and give ample scope and range to our thought. already there were half a dozen log huts about this end of the lake, though so far from a road. in these woods the earliest settlements are clustering about the lakes, partly, i think, for the sake of the neighborhood as the oldest clearings. water is a pioneer which the settler follows, taking advantage of its improvements. about noon we turned northward up a broad kind of estuary, and at its northeast corner found the caucomgomoc river, and after going about a mile from the lake reached the umbazookskus. our course was up the umbazookskus, but as the indian knew of a good camping-place, that is, a cool place where there were few mosquitoes, about half a mile farther up the caucomgomoc, we went thither. so quickly we changed the civilizing sky of chesuncook for the dark wood of the caucomgomoc. on reaching the indianâ��s camping-ground on the south side, where the bank was about a dozen feet high, i read on the trunk of a fir tree blazed by an axe an inscription in charcoal which had been left by him. it was surmounted by a drawing of a bear paddling a canoe, which he said was the sign used by his family always. the drawing, though rude, could not be mistaken for anything but a bear, and he doubted my ability to copy it. the inscription ran thus. i interline the english of his indian as he gave it to me. (the figure of a bear in a boat.) july _niasoseb_ we alone joseph _polis elioi_ polis start _sia olta_ for oldtown _onke ni_ right away _quambi_ july _niasoseb_ he added now below:-- july jo. polis this was one of his homes. i saw where he had sometimes stretched his moose-hides on the sunny north side of the river where there was a narrow meadow. after we had selected a place for our camp, and kindled our fire, almost exactly on the site of the indianâ��s last camp here, he, looking up, observed, â��that tree danger.â�� it was a dead part, more than a foot in diameter, of a large canoe birch, which branched at the ground. this branch, rising thirty feet or more, slanted directly over the spot which we had chosen for our bed. i told him to try it with his axe, but he could not shake it perceptibly, and, therefore, seemed inclined to disregard it, and my companion expressed his willingness to run the risk. but it seemed to me that we should be fools to lie under it, for though the lower part was firm, the top, for aught we knew, might be just ready to fall, and we should at any rate be very uneasy if the wind arose in the night. it is a common accident for men camping in the woods to be killed by a falling tree. so the camp was moved to the other side of the fire. the indian said that the umbazookskus, being a dead stream with broad meadows, was a good place for moose, and he frequently came a-hunting here, being out alone three weeks or more from oldtown. he sometimes, also, went a-hunting to the seboois lakes, taking the stage, with his gun and ammunition, axe and blankets, hard-bread and pork, perhaps for a hundred miles of the way, and jumped off at the wildest place on the road, where he was at once at home, and every rod was a tavern-site for him. then, after a short journey through the woods, he would build a spruce-bark canoe in one day, putting but few ribs into it, that it might be light, and, after doing his hunting with it on the lakes, would return with his furs the same way he had come. thus you have an indian availing himself of the advantages of civilization, without losing any of his woodcraft, but proving himself the more successful hunter for it. this man was very clever and quick to learn anything in his line. our tent was of a kind new to him, but when he had once seen it pitched it was surprising how quickly he would find and prepare the pole and forked stakes to pitch it with, cutting and placing them right the first time, though i am sure that the majority of white men would have blundered several times. now i thought i would observe how he spent his sunday. while i and my companion were looking about at the trees and river he went to sleep. indeed, he improved every opportunity to get a nap, whatever the day. rambling about the woods at this camp, i noticed that they consisted chiefly of firs, spruce, red maple, birch, and, along the river, the hoary alder. i could trace the outlines of large birches that had fallen long ago, collapsed and rotted and turned to soil, by faint yellowish-green lines of featherlike moss, eighteen inches wide and twenty or thirty feet long, crossed by other similar lines. wild as it was, it was hard for me to get rid of the associations of the settlements. any steady and monotonous sound, to which i did not distinctly attend, passed for a sound of human industry. the waterfalls which i heard were not without their dams and mills to my imagination; and several times i found that i had been regarding the steady rushing sound of the wind from over the woods beyond the rivers as that of a train of cars. our minds anywhere, when left to themselves, are always thus busily drawing conclusions from false premises. i asked the indian to make us a sugar-bowl of birch bark, which he did, using the great knife which dangled in a sheath from his belt; but the bark broke at the corners when he bent it up, and he said it was not good--that there was a great difference in this respect between the bark of one canoe birch and that of another. my companion, wishing to distinguish between the black and white spruce, asked polis to show him a twig of the latter, which he did at once, together with the black; indeed, he could distinguish them about as far as he could see them. as the two twigs appeared very much alike, my companion asked the indian to point out the difference; whereupon the latter, taking the twigs, instantly remarked, as he passed his hand over them successively in a stroking manner, that the white was rough, that is, the needles stood up nearly perpendicular, but the black smooth, that is, as if bent down. this was an obvious difference, both to sight and touch. i asked him to get some black spruce root and make some thread. whereupon, without looking up at the trees overhead, he began to grub in the ground, instantly distinguishing the black spruce roots, and cutting off a slender one, three or four feet long, and as big as a pipestem, he split the end with his knife, and taking a half between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, rapidly separated its whole length into two equal semi-cylindrical halves. then, giving me another root, he said, â��you try.â�� but in my hands it immediately ran off one side, and i got only a very short piece. though it looked easy, i found that there was a great art in splitting these roots. the split is skillfully humored by bending short with this hand or that, and so kept in the middle. he then took off the bark from each half, pressing a short piece of cedar bark against the convex side with both hands, while he drew the root upward with his teeth. an indianâ��s teeth are strong, and i noticed that he used his often where we should have used a hand. they amounted to a third hand. he thus obtained in a moment a very neat, tough, and flexible string, which he could tie into a knot, or make into a fishline even. he said that you would be obliged to give half a dollar for spruce root enough for a canoe, thus prepared. he had discovered the day before that his canoe leaked a little, and said that it was owing to stepping into it violently. i asked him where he would get pitch to mend it with, for they commonly use hard pitch, obtained of the whites at oldtown. he said that he could make something very similar, and equally good, of material which we had with us; and he wished me to guess what. but i could not, and he would not tell me, though he showed me a ball of it when made, as big as a pea and like black pitch, saying, at last, that there were some things which a man did not tell even his wife. being curious to see what kind of fishes there were in this dark, deep, sluggish river, i cast in my line just before night, and caught several small sucker-like fishes, which the indian at once rejected, saying that they were good for nothing. also, he would not touch a pout, which i caught, and said that neither indians nor whites thereabouts ever ate them. but he said that some small silvery fishes, which i called white chivin, were the best fish in the penobscot waters, and if i would toss them up the bank to him, he would cook them for me. after cleaning them, not very carefully, leaving the heads on, he laid them on the coals and so broiled them. [illustration: _fishing_] returning from a short walk, he brought a vine in his hand, saying that it made the best tea of anything in the woods. it was the creeping snowberry, which was quite common there, its berries just grown. so we determined to have some tea made of this. it had a slight checkerberry flavor, and we both agreed that it was really better than the black tea which we had brought. we thought it quite a discovery, and that it might well be dried and sold in the shops. i for one, however, am not an old tea-drinker and cannot speak with authority to others. the indian said that they also used for tea a certain herb which grew in low ground, which he did not find there, and labrador tea; also hemlock leaves, the last especially in winter when the other plants were covered with snow; and various other things. we could have had a new kind of tea every night. just before night we saw a _musquash_, the only one we saw in this voyage, swimming downward on the opposite side of the stream. the indian, wishing to get one to eat, hushed us, saying, â��stop, me call â��emâ��; and, sitting flat on the bank, he began to make a curious squeaking, wiry sound with his lips, exerting himself considerably. i was greatly surprised--thought that i had at last got into the wilderness, and that he was a wild man indeed, to be talking to a musquash! i did not know which of the two was the strangest to me. he seemed suddenly to have quite forsaken humanity, and gone over to the musquash side. the musquash, however, as near as i could see, did not turn aside, and the indian said that he saw our fire; but it was evident that he was in the habit of calling the musquash to him, as he said. an acquaintance of mine who was hunting moose in these woods a month after this, tells me that his indian in this way repeatedly called the musquash within reach of his paddle in the moonlight, and struck at them. the indian said a particularly long prayer this sunday evening, as if to atone for working in the morning. v monday, july having rapidly loaded the canoe, which the indian always carefully attended to, that it might be well trimmed, and each having taken a look, as usual, to see that nothing was left, we set out again, descending the caucomgomoc, and turning northeasterly up the umbazookskus. this name, the indian said, meant _much meadow river_. we found it now very wide on account of the rains. the space between the woods, chiefly bare meadow, was from fifty to two hundred rods in breadth. in the water on the meadows grew sedges, wool-grass, the common blue flag abundantly, its flower just showing itself above the high water, as if it were a blue water-lily, and higher in the meadows a great many clumps of a peculiar narrow-leaved willow. here also grew the red osier, its large fruit now whitish. it was unusual for the woods to be so distant from the shore, and there was quite an echo from them, but when i was shouting in order to awake it, the indian reminded me that i should scare the moose, which he was looking out for, and which we all wanted to see. having paddled several miles up the umbazookskus, it suddenly contracted to a mere brook, narrow and swift, the larches and other trees approaching the bank and leaving no open meadow. we landed to get a black spruce pole for pushing against the stream. the one selected was quite slender, cut about ten feet long, merely whittled to a point, and the bark shaved off. while we were thus employed, two indians in a canoe hove in sight round the bushes, coming down stream. our indian knew one of them, an old man, and fell into conversation with him. he belonged at the foot of moosehead. the other was of another tribe. they were returning from hunting. i asked the younger if they had seen any moose, to which he said â��noâ��; but i, seeing the moose-hides sticking out from a great bundle made with their blankets in the middle of the canoe, added, â��only their hides.â�� as he was a foreigner, he may have wished to deceive me, for it is against the law for white men and foreigners to kill moose in maine at this season. but perhaps he need not have been alarmed, for the moose-wardens are not very particular. i heard of one who, being asked by a white man going into the woods what he would say if he killed a moose, answered, â��if you bring me a quarter of it i guess you wonâ��t be troubled.â�� his duty being, as he said, only to prevent the â��indiscriminateâ�� slaughter of them for their hides. i suppose that he would consider it an _indiscriminate_ slaughter when a quarter was not reserved for himself. we continued along through the most extensive larch wood which i had seen--tall and slender trees with fantastic branches. you do not find straggling trees of this species here and there throughout the wood, but rather a little forest of them. the same is the case with the white and red pines and some other trees, greatly to the convenience of the lumberer. they are of a social habit, growing in â��veins,â�� â��clumps,â�� â��groups,â�� or â��communities,â�� as the explorers call them, distinguishing them far away, from the top of a hill or a tree, the white pines towering above the surrounding forest, or else they form extensive forests by themselves. i should have liked to come across a large community of pines which had never been invaded by the lumbering army. [illustration: _the red squirrel_] we saw some fresh moose-tracks along the shore. the stream was only from one and one half to three rods wide, quite winding, with occasional small islands, meadows, and some very swift and shallow places. when we came to an island the indian never hesitated which side to take, as if the current told him which was the shortest and deepest. it was lucky for us that the water was so high. we had to walk but once on this stream, carrying a part of the load, at a swift and shallow reach, while he got up with the canoe, not being obliged to take out, though he said it was very strong water. once or twice we passed the red wreck of a bateau which had been stove some spring. while making this portage i saw many splendid specimens of the great purple fringed orchis, three feet high. it is remarkable that such delicate flowers should here adorn these wilderness paths. the umbazookskus is called ten miles long. having poled up the narrowest part some three or four miles, the next opening in the sky was over umbazookskus lake, which we suddenly entered about eleven oâ��clock in the forenoon. it stretches north-westerly four or five miles. we crossed the southeast end to the carry into mud pond. hodge, who went through this way to the st. lawrence in the service of the state, calls the portage here a mile and three quarters long. the indian said this was the wettest carry in the state, and as the season was a very wet one we anticipated an unpleasant walk. as usual he made one large bundle of the pork-keg, cooking-utensils, and other loose traps, by tying them up in his blanket. we should be obliged to go over the carry twice, and our method was to carry one half part way, and then go back for the rest. our path ran close by the door of a log hut in a clearing at this end of the carry, which the indian, who alone entered it, found to be occupied by a canadian and his family, and that the man had been blind for a year. this was the first house above chesuncook, and was built here, no doubt, because it was the route of the lumberers in the winter and spring. after a slight ascent from the lake through the springy soil of the canadianâ��s clearing, we entered on a level and very wet and rocky path through the dense evergreen forest, a loosely paved gutter merely, where we went leaping from rock to rock and from side to side in the vain attempt to keep out of the water and mud. it was on this carry that the white hunter whom i met in the stage, as he told me, had shot two bears a few months before. they stood directly in the path and did not turn out for him. he said that at this season bears were found on the mountains and hillsides in search of berries and were apt to be saucy. here commences what was called, twenty years ago, the best timber land in the state. this very spot was described as â��covered with the greatest abundance of pine,â�� but now this appeared to me, comparatively, an uncommon tree there--and yet you did not see where any more could have stood, amid the dense growth of cedar, fir, etc. the indian with his canoe soon disappeared before us, but ere long he came back and told us to take a path which turned off westward, it being better walking, and, at my suggestion, he agreed to leave a bough in the regular carry at that place that we might not pass it by mistake. thereafter, he said, we were to keep the main path, and he added, â��you see â��em my tracks.â�� but i had not much faith that we could distinguish his tracks, since others had passed over the carry within a few days. we turned off at the right place, but were soon confused by numerous logging-paths coming into the one we were on. however, we kept what we considered the main path, though it was a winding one, and in this, at long intervals, we distinguished a faint trace of a footstep. this, though comparatively unworn, was at first a better, or, at least, a dryer road than the regular carry which we had left. it led through an arbor-vitæ wilderness of the grimmest character. the great fallen and rotting trees had been cut through and rolled aside, and their huge trunks abutted on the path on each side, while others still lay across it two or three feet high. it was impossible for us to discern the indianâ��s trail in the elastic moss, which, like a thick carpet, covered every rock and fallen tree, as well as the earth. nevertheless, i did occasionally detect the track of a man, and i gave myself some credit for it. i carried my whole load at once, a heavy knapsack, and a large rubber bag containing our bread and a blanket, swung on a paddle, in all about sixty pounds; but my companion preferred to make two journeys by short stages while i waited for him. we could not be sure that we were not depositing our loads each time farther off from the true path. as i sat waiting for my companion, he would seem to be gone a long time, and i had ample opportunity to make observations on the forest. i now first began to be seriously molested by the black fly, a very small but perfectly formed fly of that color, about one tenth of an inch long, which i felt, and then saw, in swarms about me, as i sat by a wider and more than usually doubtful fork in this dark forest path. remembering that i had a wash in my knapsack, prepared by a thoughtful hand in bangor, i made haste to apply it to my face and hands, and was glad to find it effectual, as long as it was fresh, or for twenty minutes, not only against black flies, but all the insects that molested us. they would not alight on the part thus defended. it was composed of sweet oil and oil of turpentine, with a little oil of spearmint, and camphor. however, i finally concluded that the remedy was worse than the disease, it was so disagreeable and inconvenient to have your face and hands covered with such a mixture. three large slate-colored birds of the jay genus, the canada jay, came flitting silently and by degrees toward me, and hopped down the limbs inquisitively to within seven or eight feet. fish hawks from the lake uttered their sharp whistling notes low over the top of the forest near me, as if they were anxious about a nest there. after i had sat there some time i noticed at this fork in the path a tree which had been blazed, and the letters â��chamb. l.â�� written on it with red chalk. this i knew to mean chamberlain lake. so i concluded that on the whole we were on the right course. my companion having returned with his bag, we set forward again. the walking rapidly grew worse and the path more indistinct, and at length we found ourselves in a more open and regular swamp made less passable than ordinary by the unusual wetness of the season. we sank a foot deep in water and mud at every step, and sometimes up to our knees. the trail was almost obliterated, being no more than a musquash leaves in similar places when he parts the floating sedge. in fact, it probably was a musquash trail in some places. we concluded that if mud pond was as muddy as the approach to it was wet, it certainly deserved its name. it would have been amusing to behold the dogged and deliberate pace at which we entered that swamp, without interchanging a word, as if determined to go through it, though it should come up to our necks. having penetrated a considerable distance into this and found a tussock on which we could deposit our loads, though there was no place to sit, my companion went back for the rest of his pack. after a long while my companion came back, and the indian with him. we had taken the wrong road, and the indian had lost us. he had gone back to the canadianâ��s camp and asked him which way we had probably gone, since he could better understand the ways of white men, and he told him correctly that we had undoubtedly taken the supply road to chamberlain lake. the indian was greatly surprised that we should have taken what he called a â��tow,â�� that is, tote, toting, or supply, road instead of a carry path,--that we had not followed his tracks,--said it was â��strange,â�� and evidently thought little of our woodcraft. having held a consultation and eaten a mouthful of bread, we concluded that it would perhaps be nearer for us two now to keep on to chamberlain lake, omitting mud pond, than to go back and start anew for the last place, though the indian had never been through this way and knew nothing about it. in the meanwhile he would go back and finish carrying over his canoe and bundle to mud pond, cross that, and go down its outlet and up chamberlain lake, and trust to meet us there before night. it was now a little after noon. he supposed that the water in which we stood had flowed back from mud pond, which could not be far off eastward, but was unapproachable through the dense cedar swamp. keeping on, we were ere long agreeably disappointed by reaching firmer ground, and we crossed a ridge where the path was more distinct, but there was never any outlook over the forest. at one place i heard a very clear and piercing note from a small hawk as he dashed through the tree-tops over my head. we also saw and heard several times the red squirrel. this, according to the indian, is the only squirrel found in those woods, except a very few striped ones. it must have a solitary time in that dark evergreen forest, where there is so little life, seventy-five miles from a road as we had come. i wondered how he could call any particular tree there his home, and yet he would run up the stem of one out of the myriads, as if it were an old road to him. i fancied that he must be glad to see us, though he did seem to chide us. one of those somber fir and spruce woods is not complete unless you hear from out its cavernous mossy and twiggy recesses his fine alarum--his spruce voice, like the working of the sap through some crack in a tree. such an impertinent fellow would occasionally try to alarm the wood about me. â��oh,â�� said i, â��i am well acquainted with your family. i know your cousins in concord very well.â�� but my overtures were vain, for he would withdraw by his aerial turnpikes into a more distant cedar-top, and spring his rattle again. we entered another swamp, at a necessarily slow pace, where the walking was worse than ever, not only on account of the water, but the fallen timber, which often obliterated the indistinct trail entirely. the fallen trees were so numerous that for long distances the route was through a succession of small yards, where we climbed over fences as high as our heads, down into water often up to our knees, and then over another fence into a second yard, and so on. in many places the canoe would have run if it had not been for the fallen timber. again it would be more open, but equally wet, too wet for trees to grow. it was a mossy swamp, which it required the long legs of a moose to traverse, and it is very likely that we scared some of them in our transit, though we saw none. it was ready to echo the growl of a bear, the howl of a wolf, or the scream of a panther; but when you get fairly into the middle of one of these grim forests you are surprised to find that the larger inhabitants are not at home commonly, but have left only a puny red squirrel to bark at you. generally speaking, a howling wilderness does not howl; it is the imagination of the traveler that does the howling. i did, however, see one dead porcupine. perhaps he had succumbed to the difficulties of the way. these bristly fellows are a very suitable small fruit of such unkempt wildernesses. making a logging-road in the maine woods is called â��swampingâ�� it, and they who do the work are called â��swampers.â�� i now perceived the fitness of the term. this was the most perfectly swamped of all the roads i ever saw. nature must have coöperated with art here. however, i suppose they would tell you that this name took its origin from the fact that the chief work of roadmakers in those woods is to make the swamps passable. we came to a stream where the bridge, which had been made of logs tied together with cedar bark, had been broken up, and we got over as we could. such as it was, this ruined bridge was the chief evidence that we were on a path of any kind. we then crossed another low rising ground, and i, who wore shoes, had an opportunity to wring out my stockings, but my companion, who used boots, had found that this was not a safe experiment for him, for he might not be able to get his wet boots on again. he went over the whole ground, or water, three times, for which reason our progress was very slow. beside that, the water softened our feet, and to some extent unfitted them for walking. as i sat waiting for him it would naturally seem an unaccountable time that he was gone. therefore, as i could see through the woods that the sun was getting low, and it was uncertain how far the lake might be, even if we were on the right course, and in what part of the world we should find ourselves at nightfall, i proposed that i should push through with what speed i could, leaving boughs to mark my path, and find the lake and the indian, if possible, before night, and send the latter back to carry my companionâ��s bag. having gone about a mile i heard a noise like the note of an owl, which i soon discovered to be made by the indian, and answering him, we soon came together. he had reached the lake after crossing mud pond and running some rapids below it, and had come up about a mile and a half on our path. if he had not come back to meet us, we probably should not have found him that night, for the path branched once or twice before reaching this particular part of the lake. so he went back for my companion and his bag. having waded through another stream, where the bridge of logs had been broken up and half floated away, we continued on through alternate mud and water to the shores of apmoojenegamook lake, which we reached in season for a late supper, instead of dining there, as we had expected, having gone without our dinner. it was at least five miles by the way we had come, and as my companion had gone over most of it three times he had walked full a dozen miles. in the winter, when the water is frozen and the snow is four feet deep, it is no doubt a tolerable path to a footman. if you want an exact recipe for making such a road, take one part mud pond, and dilute it with equal parts of umbazookskus and apmoojenegamook; then send a family of musquash through to locate it, look after the grades and culverts, and finish it to their minds, and let a hurricane follow to do the fencing. we had come out on a point extending into apmoojenegamook, or chamberlain lake, where there was a broad, gravelly, and rocky shore, encumbered with bleached logs and trees. we were rejoiced to see such dry things in that part of the world. but at first we did not attend to dryness so much as to mud and wetness. we all three walked into the lake up to our middle to wash our clothes. this was another noble lake, twelve miles long; if you add telos lake, which, since the dam was built, has been connected with it by dead water, it will be twenty; and it is apparently from a mile and a half to two miles wide. we were about midway its length on the south side. we could see the only clearing in these parts, called the â��chamberlain farm,â�� with two or three log buildings close together, on the opposite shore, some two and a half miles distant. the smoke of our fire on the shore brought over two men in a canoe from the farm, that being a common signal agreed on when one wishes to cross. it took them about half an hour to come over, and they had their labor for their pains this time. after putting on such dry clothes as we had, and hanging the others to dry on the pole which the indian arranged over the fire, we ate our supper, and lay down on the pebbly shore with our feet to the fire without pitching our tent, making a thin bed of grass to cover the stones. here first i was molested by the little midge called the no-see-em, especially over the sand at the waterâ��s edge, for it is a kind of sand-fly. you would not observe them but for their light-colored wings. they are said to get under your clothes and produce a feverish heat, which i suppose was what i felt that night. our insect foes in this excursion were, first, mosquitoes, only troublesome at night, or when we sat still on shore by day; second, black flies (_simulium molestum_), which molested us more or less on the carries by day, and sometimes in narrower parts of the stream; third, moose-flies, stout brown flies much like a horsefly. they can bite smartly, according to polis, but are easily avoided or killed. fourth, the no-see-ems. of all these, the mosquitoes are the only ones that troubled me seriously, but as i was provided with a wash and a veil, they have not made any deep impression. the indian would not use our wash to protect his face and hands, for fear that it would hurt his skin, nor had he any veil. he, therefore, suffered from insects throughout this journey more than either of us. he regularly tied up his face in his handkerchief, and buried it in his blanket, and he now finally lay down on the sand between us and the fire for the sake of the smoke, which he tried to make enter his blanket about his face, and for the same purpose he lit his pipe and breathed the smoke into his blanket. in the middle of the night we heard the voice of the loon, loud and distinct, from far over the lake. it is a very wild sound, quite in keeping with the place and the circumstances of the traveler, and very unlike the voice of a bird. i could lie awake for hours listening to it, it is so thrilling. when camping in such a wilderness as this, you are prepared to hear sounds from some of its inhabitants which will give voice to its wildness. some idea of bears, wolves, or panthers runs in your head naturally, and when this note is first heard very far off at midnight, as you lie with your ear to the ground,--the forest being perfectly still about you, you take it for granted that it is the voice of a wolf or some other wild beast,--you conclude that it is a pack of wolves baying the moon, or, perchance, cantering after a moose. it was the unfailing and characteristic sound of those lakes. some friends of mine, who two years ago went up the caucomgomoc river, were serenaded by wolves while moose-hunting by moonlight. it was a sudden burst, as if a hundred demons had broke loose,--a startling sound enough, which, if any, would make your hair stand on end,--and all was still again. it lasted but a moment, and youâ��d have thought there were twenty of them, when probably there were only two or three. they heard it twice only, and they said that it gave expression to the wilderness which it lacked before. i heard of some men, who, while skinning a moose lately in those woods, were driven off from the carcass by a pack of wolves, which ate it up. this of the loon--i do not mean its laugh, but its looning--is a long-drawn call, as it were, sometimes singularly human to my ear--_hoo-hoo-ooooo_, like the hallooing of a man on a very high key, having thrown his voice into his head. i have heard a sound exactly like it when breathing heavily through my own nostrils, half awake at ten at night, suggesting my affinity to the loon; as if its language were but a dialect of my own, after all. formerly, when lying awake at midnight in those woods, i had listened to hear some words or syllables of their language, but it chanced that i listened in vain until i heard the cry of the loon. i have heard it occasionally on the ponds of my native town, but there its wildness is not enhanced by the surrounding scenery. i was awakened at midnight by some heavy, low-flying bird, probably a loon, flapping by close over my head along the shore. so, turning the other side of my half-clad body to the fire, i sought slumber again. vi tuesday, july when we awoke we found a heavy dew on our blankets. i lay awake very early and listened to the clear, shrill _ah, te te, te te, te_ of the white-throated sparrow, repeated at short intervals, without the least variation, for half an hour, as if it could not enough express its happiness. we did some more washing in the lake this morning, and, with our clothes hung about on the dead trees and rocks, the shore looked like washing-day at home. the indian, taking the hint, borrowed the soap, and, walking into the lake, washed his only cotton shirt on his person, then put on his pants and let it dry on him. i observed that he wore a cotton shirt, originally white, a greenish flannel one over it, but no waistcoat, flannel drawers, and strong linen or duck pants, which also had been white, blue woolen stockings, cowhide boots, and a kossuth hat.[ ] he carried no change of clothing, but, putting on a stout, thick jacket, which he laid aside in the canoe, and seizing a full-sized axe, his gun and ammunition, and a blanket, which would do for a sail or knapsack, if wanted, and strapping on his belt, which contained a large sheath-knife, he walked off at once, ready to be gone all summer. this looked very independent--a few simple and effective tools, and no rubber clothing. he was always the first ready to start in the morning. instead of carrying a large bundle of his own extra clothing, etc., he brought back the greatcoats of moose tied up in his blanket. i found that his outfit was the result of a long experience, and in the main hardly to be improved on, unless by washing and an extra shirt. wanting a button here, he walked off to a place where some indians had recently encamped, and searched for one, but i believe in vain. having softened our stiffened boots and shoes with the pork fat, the usual disposition of what was left at breakfast, we crossed the lake, steering in a diagonal direction northeastly about four miles to the outlet. the indian name, apmoojenegamook, means lake that is crossed, because the usual course lies across and not along it. we did not intend to go far down the allegash, but merely to get a view of the lakes which are its source, and then return this way to the east branch of the penobscot. after reaching the middle of the lake, we found the waves pretty high, and the indian warned my companion, who was nodding, that he must not allow himself to fall asleep in the canoe lest he should upset us; adding, that when indians want to sleep in a canoe, they lie down straight on the bottom. but in this crowded one that was impossible. however, he said that he would nudge him if he saw him nodding. a belt of dead trees stood all around the lake, some far out in the water, with others prostrate behind them, and they made the shore, for the most part, almost inaccessible. this is the effect of the dam at the outlet. thus the natural sandy or rocky shore, with its green fringe, was concealed and destroyed. we coasted westward along the north side, searching for the outlet, about quarter of a mile distant from this savage-looking shore, on which the waves were breaking violently, knowing that it might easily be concealed amid this rubbish, or by the overlapping of the shore. it is remarkable how little these important gates to a lake are blazoned. there is no triumphal arch over the modest inlet or outlet, but at some undistinguished point it trickles in or out through the uninterrupted forest, almost as through a sponge. we reached the outlet in about an hour, and carried over the dam there, which is quite a solid structure, and about one quarter of a mile farther there was a second dam. the result of this particular damming about chamberlain lake is that the headwaters of the st. john are made to flow by bangor. they have thus dammed all the larger lakes, raising their broad surfaces many feet, thus turning the forces of nature against herself, that they might float their spoils out of the country. they rapidly run out of these immense forests all the finer and more accessible pine timber, and then leave the bears to watch the decaying dams, not clearing nor cultivating the land, nor making roads, nor building houses, but leaving it a wilderness, as they found it. in many parts only these dams remain, like deserted beaver dams. think how much land they have flowed without asking natureâ��s leave. the wilderness experiences a sudden rise of all her streams and lakes. she feels ten thousand vermin gnawing at the base of her noblest trees. many combining drag them off, jarring over the roots of the survivors, and tumble them into the nearest stream, till, the fairest having fallen, they scamper off to ransack some new wilderness, and all is still again. it is as when a migrating army of mice girdles a forest of pines. the chopper fells trees from the same motive that the mouse gnaws them--to get his living. you tell me that he has a more interesting family than the mouse. that is as it happens. he speaks of a â��berthâ�� of timber, a good place for him to get into, just as a worm might. when the chopper would praise a pine he will commonly tell you that the one he cut was so big that a yoke of oxen stood on its stump; as if that were what the pine had grown for, to become the footstool of oxen. in my mindâ��s eye i can see these unwieldy tame deer, with a yoke binding them together, the brazen-tipped horns betraying their servitude, taking their stand on the stump of each giant pine in succession throughout this whole forest, and chewing their cud there, until it is nothing but an ox-pasture, and run out at that. as if it were good for the oxen, and some medicinal quality ascended into their nostrils. or is their elevated position intended merely as a symbol of the fact that the pastoral comes next in order to the sylvan or hunter life? the character of the loggerâ��s admiration is betrayed by his very mode of expressing it. if he told all that was in his mind, he would say, â��it was so big that i cut it down, and then a yoke of oxen could stand on its stump.â�� he admires the log, the carcass or corpse, more than the tree. why, my dear sir, the tree might have stood on its own stump, and a great deal more comfortably and firmly than a yoke of oxen can, if you had not cut it down. the anglo-american can indeed cut down and grub up all this waving forest, and make a stump speech on its ruins, but he cannot converse with the spirit of the tree he fells, he cannot read the poetry and mythology which retire as he advances. he ignorantly erases mythological tablets in order to print his handbills and town-meeting warrants on them. before he has learned his a b c in the beautiful but mystic lore of the wilderness he cuts it down, puts up a â��deestrictâ�� schoolhouse, and introduces websterâ��s spelling-book. below the last dam, the river being swift and shallow, we two walked about half a mile to lighten the canoe. i made it a rule to carry my knapsack when i walked, and also to keep it tied to a crossbar when in the canoe, that it might be found with the canoe if we should upset. i heard the dog-day locust here, a sound which i had associated only with more open, if not settled countries. we were now fairly on the allegash river. after perhaps two miles of river we entered heron lake, scaring up forty or fifty young sheldrakes, at the entrance, which ran over the water with great rapidity, as usual in a long line. this lake, judging from the map, is about ten miles long. we had entered it on the southwest side, and saw a dark mountain northeast over the lake which the indian said was called peaked mountain, and used by explorers to look for timber from. the shores were in the same ragged and unsightly condition, encumbered with dead timber, both fallen and standing, as in the last lake, owing to the dam on the allegash below. some low points or islands were almost drowned. i saw something white a mile off on the water, which turned out to be a great gull on a rock, which the indian would have been glad to kill and eat. but it flew away long before we were near; and also a flock of summer ducks that were about the rock with it. i asking him about herons, since this was heron lake, he said that he found the blue heronâ��s nests in the hard-wood trees. rounding a point, we stood across a bay toward a large island three or four miles down the lake. we met with shadflies midway, about a mile from the shore, and they evidently fly over the whole lake. on moosehead i had seen a large devilâ��s-needle half a mile from the shore, coming from the middle of the lake, where it was three or four miles wide at least. it had probably crossed. we landed on the southeast side of the island, which was rather elevated, and densely wooded, with a rocky shore, in season for an early dinner. somebody had camped there not long before and left the frame on which they stretched a moose-hide. the indian proceeded at once to cut a canoe birch, slanted it up against another tree on the shore, tying it with a withe, and lay down to sleep in its shade. we made this island the limit of our excursion in this direction. the next dam was about fifteen miles farther north down the allegash. we had been told in bangor of a man who lived alone, a sort of hermit, at that dam, to take care of it, who spent his time tossing a bullet from one hand to the other, for want of employment. this sort of tit-for-tat intercourse between his two hands, bandying to and fro a leaden subject, seems to have been his symbol for society. there was another island visible toward the north end of the lake, with an elevated clearing on it; but we learned afterward that it was not inhabited, had only been used as a pasture for cattle which summered in these woods. this unnaturally smooth-shaven, squarish spot, in the midst of the otherwise uninterrupted forest, only reminded us how uninhabited the country was. you would sooner expect to meet a bear than an ox in such a clearing. at any rate, it must have been a surprise to the bears when they came across it. such, seen far or near, you know at once to be manâ��s work, for nature never does it. in order to let in the light to the earth he clears off the forest on the hillsides and plains, and sprinkles fine grass seed like an enchanter, and so carpets the earth with a firm sward. polis had evidently more curiosity respecting the few settlers in those woods than we. if nothing was said, he took it for granted that we wanted to go straight to the next log hut. having observed that we came by the log huts at chesuncook, and the blind canadianâ��s at the mud pond carry, without stopping to communicate with the inhabitants, he took occasion now to suggest that the usual way was, when you came near a house, to go to it, and tell the inhabitants what you had seen or heard, and then they told you what they had seen; but we laughed and said that we had had enough of houses for the present, and had come here partly to avoid them. in the meanwhile, the wind, increasing, blew down the indianâ��s birch and created such a sea that we found ourselves prisoners on the island, the nearest shore being perhaps a mile distant, and we took the canoe out to prevent its drifting away. we did not know but we should be compelled to spend the rest of the day and the night there. at any rate, the indian went to sleep again, my companion busied himself drying his plants, and i rambled along the shore westward, which was quite stony, and obstructed with fallen bleached or drifted trees for four or five rods in width. our indian said that he was a doctor, and could tell me some medicinal use for every plant i could show him. i immediately tried him. he said that the inner bark of the aspen was good for sore eyes; and so with various other plants, proving himself as good as his word. according to his account, he had acquired such knowledge in his youth from a wise old indian with whom he associated, and he lamented that the present generation of indians â��had lost a great deal.â�� he said that the caribou was a â��very great runner,â�� that there were none about this lake now, though there used to be many, and, pointing to the belt of dead trees caused by the dams, he added: â��no likum stump. when he sees that he scared.â�� pointing southeasterly over the lake and distant forest, he observed, â��me go oldtown in three days.â�� i asked how he would get over the swamps and fallen trees. â��oh,â�� said he, â��in winter all covered, go anywhere on snowshoes, right across lakes.â�� what a wilderness walk for a man to take alone! none of your half-mile swamps, none of your mile-wide woods merely, as on the skirts of our towns, without hotels, only a dark mountain or a lake for guide-board and station, over ground much of it impassable in summer! here was traveling of the old heroic kind over the unaltered face of nature. from the allegash river, across great apmoojenegamook, he takes his way under the bear-haunted slopes of katahdin to pamadumcook and millinocketâ��s inland seas, and so to the forks of the nicketow, ever pushing the boughs of the fir and spruce aside, with his load of furs, contending day and night, night and day, with the shaggy demon vegetation, traveling through the mossy graveyard of trees. or he could go by â��that rough tooth of the seaâ�� kineo, great source of arrows and of spears to the ancients, when weapons of stone were used. seeing and hearing moose, caribou, bears, porcupines, lynxes, wolves, and panthers. places where he might live and die and never hear of the united states--never hear of america. there is a lumbererâ��s road called the eagle lake road from the seboois to the east side of this lake. it may seem strange that any road through such a wilderness should be passable, even in winter, but at that season, wherever lumbering operations are actively carried on, teams are continually passing on the single track, and it becomes as smooth almost as a railway. i am told that in the aroostook country the sleds are required by law to be of one width, four feet, and sleighs must be altered to fit the track, so that one runner may go in one rut and the other follow the horse. yet it is very bad turning out. we had for some time seen a thunder-shower coming up from the west over the woods of the island, and heard the muttering of the thunder, though we were in doubt whether it would reach us; but now the darkness rapidly increasing, and a fresh breeze rustling the forest, we hastily put up the plants which we had been drying, and with one consent made a rush for the tent material and set about pitching it. a place was selected and stakes and pins cut in the shortest possible time, and we were pinning it down lest it should be blown away, when the storm suddenly burst over us. as we lay huddled together under the tent, which leaked considerably about the sides, with our baggage at our feet, we listened to some of the grandest thunder which i ever heard--rapid peals, round and plump, bang, bang, bang, in succession, like artillery from some fortress in the sky; and the lightning was proportionally brilliant. the indian said, â��it must be good powder.â�� all for the benefit of the moose and us, echoing far over the concealed lakes. i thought it must be a place which the thunder loved, where the lightning practiced to keep its hand in, and it would do no harm to shatter a few pines. looking out, i perceived that the violent shower falling on the lake had almost instantaneously flattened the waves, and, it clearing off, we resolved to start immediately, before the wind raised them again. getting outside, i said that i saw clouds still in the southwest, and heard thunder there. we embarked, nevertheless, and paddled rapidly back toward the dams. at the outlet of chamberlain lake we were overtaken by another gusty rainstorm, which compelled us to take shelter, the indian under his canoe on the bank, and we under the edge of the dam. however, we were more scared than wet. from my covert i could see the indian peeping out from beneath his canoe to see what had become of the rain. when we had taken our respective places thus once or twice, the rain not coming down in earnest, we commenced rambling about the neighborhood, for the wind had by this time raised such waves on the lake that we could not stir, and we feared that we should be obliged to camp there. we got an early supper on the dam and tried for fish, while waiting for the tumult to subside. the fishes were not only few, but small and worthless. at length, just before sunset, we set out again. it was a wild evening when we coasted up the north side of this apmoojenegamook lake. one thunder-storm was just over, and the waves which it had raised still running with violence, and another storm was now seen coming up in the southwest, far over the lake; but it might be worse in the morning, and we wished to get as far as possible on our way while we might. it blew hard against the shore, which was as dreary and harborless as you can conceive. for half a dozen rods in width it was a perfect maze of submerged trees, all dead and bare and bleaching, some standing half their original height, others prostrate, and criss-across, above or beneath the surface, and mingled with them were loose trees and limbs and stumps, beating about. we could not have landed if we would, without the greatest danger of being swamped; so blow as it might, we must depend on coasting. it was twilight, too, and that stormy cloud was advancing rapidly in our rear. it was a pleasant excitement, yet we were glad to reach, at length, the cleared shore of the chamberlain farm. we landed on a low and thinly wooded point, and while my companions were pitching the tent, i ran up to the house to get some sugar, our six pounds being gone. it was no wonder they were, for polis had a sweet tooth. he would first fill his dipper nearly a third full of sugar, and then add the coffee to it. here was a clearing extending back from the lake to a hilltop, with some dark-colored log buildings and a storehouse in it, and half a dozen men standing in front of the principal hut, greedy for news. among them was the man who tended the dam on the allegash and tossed the bullet. he, having charge of the dams, and learning that we were going to webster stream the next day, told me that some of their men, who were haying at telos lake, had shut the dam at the canal there in order to catch trout, and if we wanted more water to take us through the canal we might raise the gate. they were unwilling to spare more than four pounds of brown sugar,--unlocking the storehouse to get it,--since they only kept a little for such cases as this, and they charged twenty cents a pound for it, which certainly it was worth to get it up there. when i returned to the shore it was quite dark, but we had a rousing fire to warm and dry us by, and a snug apartment behind it. the indian went up to the house to inquire after a brother who had been absent hunting a year or two, and while another shower was beginning, i groped about cutting spruce and arbor-vitæ twigs for a bed. i preferred the arbor-vitæ on account of its fragrance, and spread it particularly thick about the shoulders. it is remarkable with what pure satisfaction the traveler in those woods will reach his camping-ground on the eve of a tempestuous night like this, as if he had got to his inn, and, rolling himself in his blanket, stretch himself on his six-feet-by-two bed of dripping fir twigs, with a thin sheet of cotton for roof, snug as a meadow mouse in its nest. invariably our best nights were those when it rained, for then we were not troubled with mosquitoes. you soon come to disregard rain on such excursions, at least in the summer, it is so easy to dry yourself, supposing a dry change of clothing is not to be had. you can much sooner dry you by such a fire as you can make in the woods than in anybodyâ��s kitchen, the fireplace is so much larger, and wood so much more abundant. a shed-shaped tent will catch and reflect the heat, and you may be drying while you are sleeping. some who have leaky roofs in the towns may have been kept awake, but we were soon lulled asleep by a steady, soaking rain, which lasted all night. footnotes: [ ] a soft felt hat of the kind worn by the hungarian patriot, kossuth, on his visit to this country in - . vii wednesday, july when we awoke it had done raining, though it was still cloudy. the fire was put out, and the indianâ��s boots, which stood under the eaves of the tent, were half full of water. he was much more improvident in such respects than either of us, and he had to thank us for keeping his powder dry. we decided to cross the lake at once, before breakfast; and before starting i took the bearing of the shore which we wished to strike, about three miles distant, lest a sudden misty rain should conceal it when we were midway. though the bay in which we were was perfectly quiet and smooth, we found the lake already wide awake outside, but not dangerously or unpleasantly so. nevertheless, when you get out on one of those lakes in a canoe like this, you do not forget that you are completely at the mercy of the wind, and a fickle power it is. the playful waves may at any time become too rude for you in their sport, and play right on over you. after much steady paddling and dancing over the dark waves we found ourselves in the neighborhood of the southern land. we breakfasted on a rocky point, the first convenient place that offered. it was well enough that we crossed thus early, for the waves now ran quite high, but beyond this point we had comparatively smooth water. you can commonly go along one side or the other of a lake, when you cannot cross it. my companion and i, having a discussion on some point of ancient history, were amused by the attitude which the indian, who could not tell what we were talking about, assumed. he constituted himself umpire, and, judging by our air and gesture, he very seriously remarked from time to time, â��you beat,â�� or â��he beat.â�� leaving a spacious bay on our left, we entered through a short strait into a small lake a couple of miles over, and thence into telos lake. this curved round toward the northeast, and may have been three or four miles long as we paddled. the outlet from the lake into the east branch of the penobscot is an artificial one, and it was not very apparent where it was exactly, but the lake ran curving far up northeasterly into two narrow valleys or ravines, as if it had for a long time been groping its way toward the penobscot waters. by observing where the horizon was lowest, and following the longest of these, we at length reached the dam, having come about a dozen miles from the last camp. somebody had left a line set for trout, and the jackknife with which the bait had been cut on the dam beside it, and, on a log close by, a loaf of bread. these proved the property of a solitary hunter, whom we soon met, and canoe and gun and traps were not far off. he told us that it was twenty miles to the foot of grand lake, and that the first house below the foot of the lake, on the east branch, was huntâ��s, about forty-five miles farther. this hunter, who was a quite small, sunburnt man, having already carried his canoe over, had nothing so interesting and pressing to do as to observe our transit. he had been out a month or more alone. how much more respectable is the life of the solitary pioneer or settler in these, or any woods--having real difficulties, not of his own creation, drawing his subsistence directly from nature--than that of the helpless multitudes in the towns who depend on gratifying the extremely artificial wants of society and are thrown out of employment by hard times! telos lake, the head of the st. john on this side, and webster pond, the head of the east branch of the penobscot, are only about a mile apart, and they are connected by a ravine, in which but little digging was required to make the water of the former, which is the highest, flow into the latter. this canal is something less than a mile long and about four rods wide. the rush of the water has produced such changes in the canal that it has now the appearance of a very rapid mountain stream flowing through a ravine, and you would not suspect that any digging had been required to persuade the waters of the st. john to flow into the penobscot here. it was so winding that one could see but a little way down. it is wonderful how well watered this country is. as you paddle across a lake, bays will be pointed out to you, by following up which, and perhaps the tributary stream which empties in, you may, after a short portage, or possibly, at some seasons, none at all, get into another river, which empties far away from the one you are on. generally, you may go in any direction in a canoe, by making frequent but not very long portages. it seems as if the more youthful and impressionable streams can hardly resist the numerous invitations and temptations to leave their native beds and run down their neighborsâ�� channels. wherever there is a channel for water there is a road for the canoe. it is said that some western steamers can run on a heavy dew, whence we can imagine what a canoe may do. this canal, so called, was a considerable and extremely rapid and rocky river. the indian decided that there was water enough in it without raising the dam, which would only make it more violent, and that he would run down it alone, while we carried the greater part of the baggage. our provisions being about half consumed, there was the less left in the canoe. we had thrown away the pork-keg and wrapped its contents in birch bark. following a moist trail through the forest, we reached the head of webster pond about the same time with the indian, notwithstanding the velocity with which he moved, our route being the most direct. the pond was two or three miles long. at the outlet was another dam, at which we stopped and picked raspberries, while the indian went down the stream a half-mile through the forest, to see what he had got to contend with. there was a deserted log camp here, apparently used the previous winter, with its â��hovelâ�� or barn for cattle. in the hut was a large fir-twig bed, raised two feet from the floor, occupying a large part of the single apartment, a long narrow table against the wall, with a stout log bench before it, and above the table a small window, the only one there was, which admitted a feeble light. it was a simple and strong fort erected against the cold. we got our dinner on the shore, on the upper side of the dam. as we were sitting by our fire, concealed by the earth bank of the dam, a long line of sheldrakes, half grown, came waddling over it from the water below, passing within about a rod of us, so that we could almost have caught them in our hands. they were very abundant on all the streams and lakes which we visited, and every two or three hours they would rush away in a long string over the water before us, twenty to fifty of them at once, rarely ever flying, but running with great rapidity up or down the stream, even in the midst of the most violent rapids, and apparently as fast up as down. an indian at oldtown had told us that we should be obliged to carry ten miles between telos lake on the st. john and second lake on the east branch of the penobscot; but the lumberers whom we met assured us that there would not be more than a mile of carry. it turned out that the indian was nearest right, as far as we were concerned. however, if one of us could have assisted the indian in managing the canoe in the rapids, we might have run the greater part of the way; but as he was alone in the management of the canoe in such places we were obliged to walk the greater part. my companion and i carried a good part of the baggage on our shoulders, while the indian took that which would be least injured by wet in the canoe. we did not know when we should see him again, for he had not been this way since the canal was cut. he agreed to stop when he got to smooth water, come up and find our path if he could, and halloo for us, and after waiting a reasonable time go on and try again--and we were to look out in like manner for him. he commenced by running through the sluiceway and over the dam, as usual, standing up in his tossing canoe, and was soon out of sight behind a point in a wild gorge. this webster stream is well known to lumbermen as a difficult one. it is exceedingly rapid and rocky, and also shallow, and can hardly be considered navigable, unless that may mean that what is launched in it is sure to be carried swiftly down it, though it may be dashed to pieces by the way. it is somewhat like navigating a thunder-spout. with commonly an irresistible force urging you on, you have got to choose your own course each moment between the rocks and shallows, and to get into it, moving forward always with the utmost possible moderation, and often holding on, if you can, that you may inspect the rapids before you. by the indianâ��s direction we took an old path on the south side, which appeared to keep down the stream. it was a wild wood-path, with a few tracks of oxen which had been driven over it, probably to some old camp clearing for pasturage, mingled with the tracks of moose which had lately used it. we kept on steadily for about an hour without putting down our packs, occasionally winding around or climbing over a fallen tree, for the most part far out of sight and hearing of the river; till, after walking about three miles, we were glad to find that the path came to the river again at an old camp-ground, where there was a small opening in the forest, at which we paused. swiftly as the shallow and rocky river ran here, a continuous rapid with dancing waves, i saw, as i sat on the shore, a long string of sheldrakes, which something scared, run up the opposite side of the stream by me, just touching the surface of the waves, and getting an impulse from them as they flowed from under them; but they soon came back, driven by the indian, who had fallen a little behind us on account of the windings. he shot round a point just above, and came to land by us with considerable water in his canoe. he had found it, as he said, â��very strong water,â�� and had been obliged to land once before to empty out what he had taken in. [illustration: _coming down the rapids_] he complained that it strained him to paddle so hard in order to keep his canoe straight in its course, having no one in the bows to aid him, and, shallow as it was, said that it would be no joke to upset there, for the force of the water was such that he had as lief i would strike him over the head with a paddle as have that water strike him. seeing him come out of that gap was as if you should pour water down an inclined and zigzag trough, then drop a nutshell into it, and, taking a short cut to the bottom, get there in time to see it come out, notwithstanding the rush and tumult, right side up, and only partly full of water. after a momentâ��s breathing-space, while i held his canoe, he was soon out of sight again around another bend, and we, shouldering our packs, resumed our course. before going a mile we heard the indian calling to us. he had come up through the woods and along the path to find us, having reached sufficiently smooth water to warrant his taking us in. the shore was about one fourth of a mile distant through a dense, dark forest, and as he led us back to it, winding rapidly about to the right and left, i had the curiosity to look down carefully and found that he was following his steps backward. i could only occasionally perceive his trail in the moss, and yet he did not appear to look down nor hesitate an instant, but led us out exactly to his canoe. this surprised me, for without a compass, or the sight or noise of the river to guide us, we could not have kept our course many minutes, and could have retraced our steps but a short distance, with a great deal of pains and very slowly, using a laborious circumspection. but it was evident that he could go back through the forest wherever he had been during the day. after this rough walking in the dark woods it was an agreeable change to glide down the rapid river in the canoe once more. this river, though still very swift, was almost perfectly smooth here, and showed a very visible declivity, a regularly inclined plane, for several miles, like a mirror set a little aslant, on which we coasted down. it was very exhilarating, and the perfection of traveling, the coasting down this inclined mirror between two evergreen forests edged with lofty dead white pines, sometimes slanted half-way over the stream. i saw some monsters there, nearly destitute of branches, and scarcely diminishing in diameter for eighty or ninety feet. as we were thus swept along, our indian repeated in a deliberate and drawling tone the words, â��daniel webster, great lawyer,â�� apparently reminded of him by the name of the stream, and he described his calling on him once in boston at what he supposed was his boarding-house. he had no business with him but merely went to pay his respects, as we should say. it was on the day after webster delivered his bunker hill oration. the first time he called he waited till he was tired without seeing him, and then went away. the next time he saw him go by the door of the room in which he was waiting several times, in his shirt-sleeves, without noticing him. he thought that if he had come to see indians they would not have treated him so. at length, after very long delay, he came in, walked toward him, and asked in a loud voice, gruffly, â��what do you want?â�� and he, thinking at first, by the motion of his hand, that he was going to strike him, said to himself, â��youâ��d better take care; if you try that i shall know what to do.â�� he did not like him, and declared that all he said â��was not worth talk about a musquash.â�� coming to falls and rapids, our easy progress was suddenly terminated. the indian went alongshore to inspect the water, while we climbed over the rocks, picking berries. when the indian came back, he remarked, â��you got to walk; verâ�� strong water.â�� so, taking out his canoe, he launched it again below the falls, and was soon out of sight. at such times he would step into the canoe, take up his paddle, and start off, looking far down-stream as if absorbing all the intelligence of forest and stream into himself. we meanwhile scrambled along the shore with our packs, without any path. this was the last of _our_ boating for the day. the indian now got along much faster than we, and waited for us from time to time. i found here the only cool spring that i drank at anywhere on this excursion, a little water filling a hollow in the sandy bank. it was a quite memorable event, and due to the elevation of the country, for wherever else we had been the water in the rivers and the streams emptying in was dead and warm, compared with that of a mountainous region. it was very bad walking along the shore over fallen and drifted trees and bushes, and rocks, from time to time swinging ourselves round over the water, or else taking to a gravel bar or going inland. at one place, the indian being ahead, i was obliged to take off all my clothes in order to ford a small but deep stream emptying in, while my companion, who was inland, found a rude bridge, high up in the woods, and i saw no more of him for some time. i saw there very fresh moose tracks, and i passed one white pine log, lodged in the forest near the edge of the stream, which was quite five feet in diameter at the butt. shortly after this i overtook the indian at the edge of some burnt land, which extended three or four miles at least, beginning about three miles above second lake, which we were expecting to reach that night. this burnt region was still more rocky than before, but, though comparatively open, we could not yet see the lake. not having seen my companion for some time, i climbed with the indian a high rock on the edge of the river forming a narrow ridge only a foot or two wide at top, in order to look for him. after calling many times i at length heard him answer from a considerable distance inland, he having taken a trail which led off from the river, and being now in search of the river again. seeing a much higher rock of the same character about one third of a mile farther down-stream, i proceeded toward it through the burnt land, in order to look for the lake from its summit, and hallooing all the while that my companion might join me on the way. before we came together i noticed where a moose, which possibly i had scared by my shouting, had apparently just run along a large rotten trunk of a pine, which made a bridge thirty or forty feet long over a hollow, as convenient for him as for me. the tracks were as large as those of an ox, but an ox could not have crossed there. this burnt land was an exceedingly wild and desolate region. judging by the weeds and sprouts, it appeared to have been burnt about two years before. it was covered with charred trunks, either prostrate or standing, which crocked our clothes and hands. great shells of trees, sometimes unburnt without, or burnt on one side only, but black within, stood twenty or forty feet high. the fire had run up inside, as in a chimney, leaving the sapwood. there were great fields of fireweed, which presented masses of pink. intermixed with these were blueberry and raspberry bushes. having crossed a second rocky ridge, when i was beginning to ascend the third, the indian, whom i had left on the shore, beckoned to me to come to him, but i made sign that i would first ascend the rock before me. my companion accompanied me to the top. there was a remarkable series of these great rock-waves revealed by the burning; breakers, as it were. no wonder that the river that found its way through them was rapid and obstructed by falls. we could see the lake over the woods, and that the river made an abrupt turn southward around the end of the cliff on which we stood, and that there was an important fall in it a short distance below us. i could see the canoe a hundred rods behind, but now on the opposite shore, and supposed that the indian had concluded to take out and carry round some bad rapids on that side, but after waiting a while i could still see nothing of him, and i began to suspect that he had gone inland to look for the lake from some hilltop on that side. this proved to be the case, for after i had started to return to the canoe i heard a faint halloo, and descried him on the top of a distant rocky hill. i began to return along the ridge toward the angle in the river. my companion inquired where i was going; to which i answered that i was going far enough back to communicate with the indian. when we reached the shore the indian appeared from out the woods on the opposite side, but on account of the roar of the water it was difficult to communicate with him. he kept along the shore westward to his canoe, while we stopped at the angle where the stream turned southward around the precipice. i said to my companion that we would keep along the shore and keep the indian in sight. we started to do so, being close together, the indian behind us having launched his canoe again, but i saw the latter beckoning to me, and i called to my companion, who had just disappeared behind large rocks at the point of the precipice on his way down the stream, that i was going to help the indian. i did so--helped get the canoe over a fall, lying with my breast over a rock, and holding one end while he received it below--and within ten or fifteen minutes i was back at the point where the river turned southward, while polis glided down the river alone, parallel with me. but to my surprise, when i rounded the precipice, though the shore was bare of trees, without rocks, for a quarter of a mile at least, my companion was not to be seen. it was as if he had sunk into the earth. this was the more unaccountable to me, because i knew that his feet were very sore, and that he wished to keep with the party. i hastened along, hallooing and searching for him, thinking he might be concealed behind a rock, but the indian had got along faster in his canoe, till he was arrested by the falls, about a quarter of a mile below. he then landed, and said that we could go no farther that night. the sun was setting, and on account of falls and rapids we should be obliged to leave this river and carry a good way into another farther east. the first thing then was to find my companion, for i was now very much alarmed about him, and i sent the indian along the shore down-stream, which began to be covered with unburnt wood again just below the falls, while i searched backward about the precipice which we had passed. the indian showed some unwillingness to exert himself, complaining that he was very tired in consequence of his dayâ��s work, that it had strained him getting down so many rapids alone; but he went off calling somewhat like an owl. i remembered that my companion was nearsighted, and i feared that he had either fallen from the precipice, or fainted and sunk down amid the rocks beneath it. i shouted and searched above and below this precipice in the twilight till i could not see, expecting nothing less than to find his body beneath it. for half an hour i anticipated and believed only the worst. i thought what i should do the next day if i did not find him, and how his relatives would feel if i should return without him. i felt that if he were really lost away from the river there, it would be a desperate undertaking to find him; and where were they who could help you? what would it be to raise the country, where there were only two or three camps, twenty or thirty miles apart, and no road, and perhaps nobody at home? i rushed down from this precipice to the canoe in order to fire the indianâ��s gun, but found that my companion had the caps. when the indian returned he said that he had seen his tracks once or twice along the shore. this encouraged me very much. he objected to firing the gun, saying that if my companion heard it, which was not likely, on account of the roar of the stream, it would tempt him to come toward us, and he might break his neck in the dark. for the same reason we refrained from lighting a fire on the highest rock. i proposed that we should both keep down the stream to the lake, or that i should go at any rate, but the indian said: â��no use, canâ��t do anything in the dark. come morning, then we find â��em. no harm--he make â��em camp. no bad animals here--warm night--he well off as you and i.â�� the darkness in the woods was by this so thick that it decided the question. we must camp where we were. i knew that he had his knapsack, with blankets and matches, and, if well, would fare no worse than we, except that he would have no supper nor society. this side of the river being so encumbered with rocks, we crossed to the eastern or smoother shore, and proceeded to camp there, within two or three rods of the falls. we pitched no tent, but lay on the sand, putting a few handfuls of grass and twigs under us, there being no evergreen at hand. for fuel we had some of the charred stumps. our various bags of provisions had got quite wet in the rapids, and i arranged them about the fire to dry. the fall close by was the principal one on this stream, and it shook the earth under us. it was a cool, dewy night. i lay awake a good deal from anxiety. from time to time i fancied that i heard his voice calling through the roar of the falls from the opposite side of the river; but it is doubtful if we could have heard him across the stream there. sometimes i doubted whether the indian had really seen his tracks, since he manifested an unwillingness to make much of a search. it was the most wild and desolate region we had camped in, where, if anywhere, one might expect to meet with befitting inhabitants, but i heard only the squeak of a nighthawk flitting over. the moon in her first quarter, in the fore part of the night, setting over the bare rocky hills garnished with tall, charred, and hollow stumps or shells of trees, served to reveal the desolation. viii thursday, july i aroused the indian early to go in search of our companion, expecting to find him within a mile or two, farther down the stream. the indian wanted his breakfast first, but i reminded him that my companion had had neither breakfast nor supper. we were obliged first to carry our canoe and baggage over into another stream, the main east branch, about three fourths of a mile distant, for webster stream was no farther navigable. we went twice over this carry, and the dewy bushes wet us through like water up to the middle. i hallooed from time to time, though i had little expectation that i could be heard over the roar of the rapids. in going over this portage the last time, the indian, who was before me with the canoe on his head, stumbled and fell heavily once, and lay for a moment silent as if in pain. i hastily stepped forward to help him, asking if he was much hurt, but after a momentâ��s pause, without replying, he sprang up and went forward. we had launched our canoe and gone but little way down the east branch, when i heard an answering shout from my companion, and soon after saw him standing on a point where there was a clearing a quarter of a mile below, and the smoke of his fire was rising near by. before i saw him i naturally shouted again and again, but the indian curtly remarked, â��he hears you,â�� as if once was enough. it was just below the mouth of webster stream. when we arrived he was smoking his pipe, and said that he had passed a pretty comfortable night, though it was rather cold, on account of the dew. it appeared that when we stood together the previous evening, and i was shouting to the indian across the river, he, being nearsighted, had not seen the indian nor his canoe, and when i went back to the indianâ��s assistance, did not see which way i went, and supposed that we were below and not above him, and so, making haste to catch up, he ran away from us. having reached this clearing, a mile or more below our camp, the night overtook him, and he made a fire in a little hollow, and lay down by it in his blanket, still thinking that we were ahead of him. he had stuck up the remnant of a lumbererâ��s shirt, found on the point, on a pole by the waterside for a signal, and attached a note to it to inform us that he had gone on to the lake, and that if he did not find us there he would be back in a couple of hours. if he had not found us soon he had some thoughts of going back in search of the solitary hunter whom we had met at telos lake, ten miles behind, and, if successful, hire him to take him to bangor. but if this hunter had moved as fast as we, he would have been twenty miles off by this time, and who could guess in what direction? it would have been like looking for a needle in a haymow to search for him in these woods. he had been considering how long he could live on berries alone. we all had good appetites for the breakfast which we made haste to cook here, and then, having partially dried our clothes, we glided swiftly down the winding stream toward second lake. as the shores became flatter with frequent sandbars, and the stream more winding in the lower land near the lake, elms and ash trees made their appearance; also the wild yellow lily, some of whose bulbs i collected for a soup. on some ridges the burnt land extended as far as the lake. this was a very beautiful lake, two or three miles long, with high mountains on the southwest side. the morning was a bright one, and perfectly still, the lake as smooth as glass, we making the only ripple as we paddled into it. the dark mountains about it were seen through a glaucous mist, and the white stems of canoe birches mingled with the other woods around it. the thrush sang on the distant shore, and the laugh of some loons, sporting in a concealed western bay, as if inspired by the morning, came distinct over the lake to us. the beauty of the scene may have been enhanced to our eyes by the fact that we had just come together after a night of some anxiety. having paddled down three quarters of the lake, we came to a standstill while my companion let down for fish. in the midst of our dreams of giant lake trout, even then supposed to be nibbling, our fisherman drew up a diminutive red perch, and we took up our paddles. it was not apparent where the outlet of the lake was, and while the indian thought it was in one direction, i thought it was in another. he said, â��i bet you fourpence it is there,â�� but he still held on in my direction, which proved to be the right one. as we were approaching the outlet he suddenly exclaimed, â��moose! moose!â�� and told us to be still. he put a cap on his gun, and, standing up in the stern, rapidly pushed the canoe straight toward the shore and the moose. it was a cow moose, about thirty rods off, standing in the water by the side of the outlet, partly behind some fallen timber and bushes, and at that distance she did not look very large. she was flapping her large ears, and from time to time poking off the flies with her nose from some part of her body. she did not appear much alarmed by our neighborhood, only occasionally turned her head and looked straight at us, and then gave her attention to the flies again. as we approached nearer she got out of the water, stood higher, and regarded us more suspiciously. polis pushed the canoe steadily forward in the shallow water, but the canoe soon grounded in the mud eight or ten rods distant from the moose, and the indian seized his gun. after standing still a moment she turned so as to expose her side, and he improved this moment to fire, over our heads. she thereupon moved off eight or ten rods at a moderate pace across a shallow bay to the opposite shore, and she stood still again while the indian hastily loaded and fired twice at her, without her moving. my companion, who passed him his caps and bullets, said that polis was as excited as a boy of fifteen, that his hand trembled, and he once put his ramrod back upside down. the indian now pushed quickly and quietly back, and a long distance round, in order to get into the outlet,--for he had fired over the neck of a peninsula between it and the lake,--till we approached the place where the moose had stood, when he exclaimed, â��she is a goner!â�� [illustration: _shooting the moose_] there, to be sure, she lay perfectly dead, just where she had stood to receive the last shots. using a tape, i found that the moose measured six feet from the shoulder to the tip of the hoof, and was eight feet long. polis, preparing to skin the moose, asked me to help him find a stone on which to sharpen his large knife. it being flat alluvial ground, covered with red maples, etc., this was no easy matter. we searched far and wide a long time till at length i found a flat kind of slate stone, on which he soon made his knife very sharp. while he was skinning the moose i proceeded to ascertain what kind of fishes were to be found in the sluggish and muddy outlet. the greatest difficulty was to find a pole. it was almost impossible to find a slender, straight pole ten or twelve feet long in those woods. you might search half an hour in vain. they are commonly spruce, arbor-vitæ, fir, etc., short, stout, and branchy, and do not make good fishpoles, even after you have patiently cut off all their tough and scraggy branches. the fishes were red perch and chivin. the indian, having cut off a large piece of sirloin, the upper lip, and the tongue, wrapped them in the hide, and placed them in the bottom of the canoe, observing that there was â��one man,â�� meaning the weight of one. our load had previously been reduced some thirty pounds, but a hundred pounds were now added, which made our quarters still more narrow, and considerably increased the danger on the lakes and rapids as well as the labor of the carries. the skin was ours according to custom, since the indian was in our employ, but we did not think of claiming it. he being a skillful dresser of moose-hides would make it worth seven or eight dollars to him, as i was told. he said that he sometimes earned fifty or sixty dollars in a day at them; he had killed ten moose in one day, though the skinning and all took two days. this was the way he had got his property. we continued along the outlet through a swampy region, by a long, winding deadwater, very much choked up by wood, where we were obliged to land sometimes in order to get the canoe over a log. it was hard to find any channel, and we did not know but we should be lost in the swamp. it abounded in ducks, as usual. at length we reached grand lake. we stopped to dine on an interesting rocky island, securing our canoe to the cliffy shore. here was a good opportunity to dry our dewy blankets on the open sunny rock. indians had recently camped here, and accidentally burned over the western end of the island. polis picked up a gun-case of blue broadcloth, and said that he knew the indian it belonged to and would carry it to him. his tribe is not so large but he may know all its effects. we proceeded to make a fire and cook our dinner amid some pines. i saw where the indians had made canoes in a little secluded hollow in the woods, on the top of the rock, where they were out of the wind, and large piles of whittlings remained. this must have been a favorite resort of their ancestors, and, indeed, we found here the point of an arrow-head, such as they have not used for two centuries and now know not how to make. the indian picked up a yellowish curved bone by the side of our fireplace and asked me to guess what it was. it was one of the upper incisors of a beaver, on which some party had feasted within a year or two. i found also most of the teeth and the skull. we here dined on fried moose meat. our blankets being dry, we set out again, the indian, as usual, having left his gazette on a tree. we paddled southward, keeping near the western shore. the indian did not know exactly where the outlet was, and he went feeling his way by a middle course between two probable points, from which he could diverge either way at last without losing much distance. in approaching the south shore, as the clouds looked gusty and the waves ran pretty high, we so steered as to get partly under the lee of an island, though at a great distance from it. i could not distinguish the outlet till we were almost in it, and heard the water falling over the dam there. here was a considerable fall, and a very substantial dam, but no sign of a cabin or camp. while we loitered here polis took occasion to cut with his big knife some of the hair from his moose-hide, and so lightened and prepared it for drying. i noticed at several old indian camps in the woods the pile of hair which they had cut from their hides. having carried over the dam, he darted down the rapids, leaving us to walk for a mile or more, where for the most part there was no path, but very thick and difficult traveling near the stream. he would call to let us know where he was waiting for us with his canoe, when, on account of the windings of the stream, we did not know where the shore was, but he did not call often enough, forgetting that we were not indians. he seemed to be very saving of his breath--yet he would be surprised if we went by, or did not strike the right spot. this was not because he was unaccommodating, but a proof of superior manners. indians like to get along with the least possible communication and ado. he was really paying us a great compliment all the while, thinking that we preferred a hint to a kick. at length, climbing over the willows and fallen trees, when this was easier than to go round or under them, we overtook the canoe, and glided down the stream in smooth but swift water for several miles. i here observed, as at webster stream, that the river was a smooth and regularly inclined plane down which we coasted. we decided to camp early that we might have ample time before dark. so we stopped at the first favorable shore, where there was a narrow gravelly beach, some five miles below the outlet of the lake. two steps from the water on either side, and you come to the abrupt, bushy, and rooty, if not turfy, edge of the bank, four or five feet high, where the interminable forest begins, as if the stream had but just cut its way through it. it is surprising on stepping ashore anywhere into this unbroken wilderness to see so often, at least within a few rods of the river, the marks of the axe, made by lumberers who have either camped here or driven logs past in previous springs. you will see perchance where they have cut large chips from a tall white pine stump for their fire. while we were pitching the camp and getting supper, the indian cut the rest of the hair from his moose-hide, and proceeded to extend it vertically on a temporary frame between two small trees, half a dozen feet from the opposite side of the fire, lashing and stretching it with arbor-vitæ bark. asking for a new kind of tea, he made us some pretty good of the checkerberry, which covered the ground, dropping a little bunch of it tied up with cedar bark into the kettle. after supper he put on the moose tongue and lips to boil. he showed me how to write on the under side of birch bark with a black spruce twig, which is hard and tough and can be brought to a point. the indian wandered off into the woods a short distance just before night, and, coming back, said, â��me found great treasure.â�� â��whatâ��s that?â�� we asked. â��steel traps, under a log, thirty or forty, i didnâ��t count â��em. i guess indian work--worth three dollars apiece.â�� it was a singular coincidence that he should have chanced to walk to and look under that particular log in that trackless forest. i saw chivin and chub in the stream when washing my hands, but my companion tried in vain to catch them. i heard the sound of bullfrogs from a swamp on the opposite side. you commonly make your camp just at sundown, and are collecting wood, getting your supper, or pitching your tent while the shades of night are gathering around and adding to the already dense gloom of the forest. you have no time to explore or look around you before it is dark. you may penetrate half a dozen rods farther into that twilight wilderness after some dry bark to kindle your fire with, and wonder what mysteries lie hidden still deeper in it, or you may run down to the shore for a dipper of water, and get a clearer view for a short distance up or down the stream, and while you stand there, see a fish leap, or duck alight in the river, or hear a thrush or robin sing in the woods. but there is no sauntering off to see the country. ten or fifteen rods seems a great way from your companions, and you come back with the air of a much traveled man, as from a long journey, with adventures to relate, though you may have heard the crackling of the fire all the while--and at a hundred rods you might be lost past recovery and have to camp out. it is all mossy and _moosey_. in some of those dense fir and spruce woods there is hardly room for the smoke to go up. the trees are a _standing_ night, and every fir and spruce which you fell is a plume plucked from nightâ��s raven wing. then at night the general stillness is more impressive than any sound, but occasionally you hear the note of an owl farther or nearer in the woods, and if near a lake, the semihuman cry of the loons at their unearthly revels. to-night the indian lay between the fire and his stretched moose-hide, to avoid mosquitoes. indeed, he also made a small smoky fire of damp leaves at his head and feet, and then as usual rolled up his head in his blanket. we with our veils and our wash were tolerably comfortable, but it would be difficult to pursue any sedentary occupation in the woods at this season; you cannot see to read much by the light of a fire through a veil in the evening, nor handle pencil and paper well with gloves or anointed fingers. ix friday, july we had smooth but swift water for a considerable distance, where we glided rapidly along, scaring up ducks and kingfishers. but, as usual, our smooth progress ere long come to an end, and we were obliged to carry canoe and all about half a mile down the right bank around some rapids or falls. it required sharp eyes sometimes to tell which side was the carry, before you went over the falls, but polis never failed to land us rightly. the raspberries were particularly abundant and large here, and all hands went to eating them, the indian remarking on their size. often on bare rocky carries the trail was so indistinct that i repeatedly lost it, but when i walked behind him i observed that he could keep it almost like a hound, and rarely hesitated, or, if he paused a moment on a bare rock, his eye immediately detected some sign which would have escaped me. frequently _we_ found no path at all at these places, and were to him unaccountably delayed. he would only say it was â��verâ�� strange.â�� we had heard of a grand fall on this stream, and thought that each fall we came to must be it, but after christening several in succession with this name we gave up the search. there were more grand or petty falls than i can remember. i cannot tell how many times we had to walk on account of falls or rapids. we were expecting all the while that the river would take a final leap and get to smooth water, but there was no improvement this forenoon. however, the carries were an agreeable variety. so surely as we stepped out of the canoe and stretched our legs we found ourselves in a blueberry and raspberry garden, each side of our rocky trail being lined with one or both. there was not a carry on the main east branch where we did not find an abundance of both these berries, for these were the rockiest places and partially cleared, such as these plants prefer, and there had been none to gather the finest before us. we bathed and dined at the foot of one of these carries. it was the indian who commonly reminded us that it was dinner-time, sometimes even by turning the prow to the shore. he once made an indirect, but lengthy apology, by saying that we might think it strange, but that one who worked hard all day was very particular to have his dinner in good season. at the most considerable fall on this stream, when i was walking over the carry close behind the indian, he observed a track on the rock, which was but slightly covered with soil, and, stooping, muttered, â��caribou.â�� when we returned, he observed a much larger track near the same place, where some animalâ��s foot had sunk into a small hollow in the rock, partly filled with grass and earth, and he exclaimed with surprise, â��what that?â�� â��well, what is it?â�� i asked. stooping and laying his hand in it, he answered with a mysterious air, and in a half-whisper, â��devil [that is, indian devil, or cougar]--ledges about here--very bad animal--pull â��em rocks all to pieces.â�� â��how long since it was made?â�� i asked. â��to-day or yesterday,â�� said he. we spent at least half the time in walking to-day. the indian, being alone, commonly ran down far below the foot of the carries before he waited for us. the carry-paths themselves were more than usually indistinct, often the route being revealed only by the countless small holes in the fallen timber made by the tacks in the driversâ�� boots. it was a tangled and perplexing thicket, through which we stumbled and threaded our way, and when we had finished a mile of it, our starting-point seemed far away. we were glad that we had not got to walk to bangor along the banks of this river, which would be a journey of more than a hundred miles. think of the denseness of the forest, the fallen trees and rocks, the windings of the river, the streams emptying in, and the frequent swamps to be crossed. it made you shudder. yet the indian from time to time pointed out to us where he had thus crept along day after day when he was a boy of ten, and in a starving condition. he had been hunting far north of this with two grown indians. the winter came on unexpectedly early, and the ice compelled them to leave their canoe at grand lake, and walk down the bank. they shouldered their furs and started for oldtown. the snow was not deep enough for snowshoes, or to cover the inequalities of the ground. polis was soon too weak to carry any burden, but he managed to catch one otter. this was the most they all had to eat on this journey, and he remembered how good the yellow lily roots were, made into a soup with the otter oil. he shared this food equally with the other two, but being so small he suffered much more than they. he waded through the mattawamkeag at its mouth, when it was freezing cold and came up to his chin, and he, being very weak and emaciated, expected to be swept away. the first house which they reached was at lincoln, and thereabouts they met a white teamster with supplies, who, seeing their condition, gave them as much as they could eat. for six months after getting home he was very low and did not expect to live, and was perhaps always the worse for it. for seven or eight miles below that succession of â��grandâ�� falls the aspect of the banks as well as the character of the stream was changed. after passing a tributary from the northeast we had swift smooth water. low grassy banks and muddy shores began. many elms as well as maples and more ash trees overhung the stream and supplanted the spruce. mosquitoes, black flies, etc., pursued us in mid-channel, and we were glad sometimes to get into violent rapids, for then we escaped them. as we glided swiftly down the inclined plane of the river, a great cat owl launched itself away from a stump on the bank, and flew heavily across the stream, and the indian, as usual, imitated its note. soon afterward a white-headed eagle sailed down the stream before us. we drove him several miles, while we were looking for a good place to camp,--for we expected to be overtaken by a shower,--and still we could distinguish him by his white tail, sailing away from time to time from some tree by the shore still farther down the stream. some _she-corways_ being surprised by us, a part of them dived, and we passed directly over them, and could trace their course here and there by a bubble on the surface, but we did not see them come up. it was some time before we found a camping-place, for the shore was either too grassy and muddy, where mosquitoes abounded, or too steep a hillside. we at length found a place to our minds, where, in a very dense spruce wood above a gravelly shore, there seemed to be but few insects. the trees were so thick that we were obliged to clear a space to build our fire and lie down in, and the young spruce trees that were left were like the wall of an apartment rising around us. we were obliged to pull ourselves up a steep bank to get there. but the place which you have selected for your camp, though never so rough and grim, begins at once to have its attractions, and becomes a very center of civilization to you: â��home is home, be it never so homely.â�� the mosquitoes were numerous, and the indian complained a good deal, though he lay, as the night before, between three fires and his stretched hide. as i sat on a stump by the fire with a veil and gloves on, trying to read, he observed, â��i make you candle,â�� and in a minute he took a piece of birch bark about two inches wide and rolled it hard, like an allumette[ ] fifteen inches long, lit it, fixed it by the other end horizontally in a split stick three feet high, and stuck it in the ground, turning the blazing end to the wind, and telling me to snuff it from time to time. it answered the purpose of a candle pretty well. i noticed, as i had before, that there was a lull among the mosquitoes about midnight, and that they began again in the morning. apparently they need rest as well as we. few, if any, creatures are equally active all night. as soon as it was light i saw, through my veil, that the inside of the tent about our heads was quite blackened with myriads, and their combined hum was almost as bad to endure as their stings. i had an uncomfortable night on this account, though i am not sure that one succeeded in his attempt to sting me. footnotes: [ ] a match. in this case an old-fashioned â��spill,â�� or lamplighter, made by twisting a piece of paper, into a long, tight spiral roll. x saturday, sunday, monday august - i caught two or three large red chivin within twenty feet of the camp, which, added to the moose tongue that had been left in the kettle boiling over night, and to our other stores, made a sumptuous breakfast. the indian made us some hemlock tea instead of coffee. this was tolerable, though he said it was not strong enough. it was interesting to see so simple a dish as a kettle of water with a handful of green hemlock sprigs in it boiling over the huge fire in the open air, the leaves fast losing their lively green color, and know that it was for our breakfast. we were glad to embark once more and leave some of the mosquitoes behind. we found that we had camped about a mile above huntâ��s, which is the last house for those who ascend katahdin on this side. we had expected to ascend it from this point, but my companion was obliged to give up this on account of sore feet. the indian, however, suggested that perhaps he might get a pair of moccasins at this place, and that he could walk very easily in them without hurting his feet, wearing several pairs of stockings, and he said beside that they were so porous that when you had taken in water it all drained out in a little while. we stopped to get some sugar, but found that the family had moved away, and the house was unoccupied, except temporarily by some men who were getting the hay. i noticed a seine here stretched on the bank, which probably had been used to catch salmon. just below this, on the west bank, we saw a moose-hide stretched, and with it a bearskin. the indian said they belonged to joe aitteon,[ ] but how he told i do not know. he was probably hunting near and had left them for the day. finding that we were going directly to oldtown, he regretted that he had not taken more of the moose meat to his family, saying that in a short time, by drying it, he could have made it so light as to have brought away the greater part, leaving the bones. we once or twice inquired after the lip, which is a famous tidbit, but he said, â��that go oldtown for my old woman; donâ��t get it every day.â�� maples grew more and more numerous. it rained a little during the forenoon, and, as we expected a wetting, we stopped early and dined just above whetstone falls, about a dozen miles below huntâ��s. my companion, having lost his pipe, asked the indian if he could make him one. â��oh, yer,â�� said he, and in a minute rolled up one of birch bark, telling him to wet the bowl from time to time. we carried round the falls. the distance was about three fourths of a mile. when we had carried over one load, the indian returned by the shore, and i by the path; and though i made no particular haste i was nevertheless surprised to find him at the other end as soon as i. it was remarkable how easily he got over the worst ground. he said to me, â��i take canoe and you take the rest, suppose you can keep along with me?â�� i thought he meant that while he ran down the rapids i should keep along the shore, and be ready to assist him from time to time, as i had done before; but as the walking would be very bad, i answered, â��i suppose you will go too fast for me, but i will try.â�� but i was to go by the path, he said. this i thought would not help the matter, i should have so far to go to get to the riverside when he wanted me. but neither was this what he meant. he was proposing a race over the carry, and asked me if i thought i could keep along with him by the same path, adding that i must be pretty smart to do it. as his load, the canoe, would be much the heaviest and bulkiest, i thought that i ought to be able to do it, and said that i would try. so i proceeded to gather up the gun, axe, paddle, kettle, frying-pan, plates, dippers, carpets, etc., and while i was thus engaged he threw me his cowhide boots. â��what, are these in the bargain?â�� i asked. â��oh, yer,â�� said he; but before i could make a bundle of my load i saw him disappearing over a hill with the canoe on his head. hastily scraping the various articles together, i started on the run, and immediately went by him in the bushes, but i had no sooner left him out of sight in a rocky hollow than the greasy plates, dippers, etc., took to themselves wings, and while i was employed in gathering them up, he went by me; but, hastily pressing the sooty kettle to my side, i started once more, and, soon passing him again, i saw him no more on the carry. i do not mention this as anything of a feat, for it was but poor running on my part, and he was obliged to move with great caution for fear of breaking his canoe as well as his neck. when he made his appearance, puffing and panting like myself, in answer to my inquiries where he had been, he said, â��locks cut â��em feet,â�� and, laughing, added, â��oh, me love to play sometimes.â�� he said that he and his companions when they came to carries several miles long used to try who would get over first; each perhaps with a canoe on his head. i bore the sign of the kettle on my brown linen sack for the rest of the voyage. [illustration: _carrying round the falls_] as we approached the mouth of the east branch we passed two or three huts, the first sign of civilization after huntâ��s, though we saw no road as yet. we heard a cowbell, and even saw an infant held up to a small square window to see us pass. on entering the west branch at nicketow, polis remarked that it was all smooth water hence to oldtown, and he threw away his pole which was cut on the umbazookskus. we camped about two miles below nicketow, covering with fresh twigs the withered bed of a former traveler, and feeling that we were now in a settled country, especially when in the evening we heard an ox sneeze in its wild pasture across the river. wherever you land along the frequented part of the river you have not far to go to find these sites of temporary inns, the withered bed of flattened twigs, the charred sticks, and perhaps the tent-poles. not long since, similar beds were spread along the connecticut, the hudson, and the delaware, and longer still ago, by the thames and seine, and they now help to make the soil where private and public gardens, mansions, and palaces are. we could not get fir twigs for our bed here, and the spruce was harsh in comparison, having more twig in proportion to its leaf, but we improved it somewhat with hemlock. after the regular supper we attempted to make a lily soup of the bulbs which i had brought along, for i wished to learn all i could before i got out of the woods. following the indianâ��s directions, i washed the bulbs carefully, minced some moose meat and some pork, salted and boiled all together, but we had not the patience to try the experiment fairly, for he said it must be boiled till the roots were completely softened so as to thicken the soup like flour; but though we left it on all night, we found it dried to the kettle in the morning and not yet boiled to a flour. perhaps the roots were not ripe enough, for they commonly gather them in the fall. the indianâ��s name for these bulbs was _sheepnoc_. he prepared to camp as usual between his moose-hide and the fire, but it beginning to rain suddenly he took refuge under the tent with us, and gave us a song before falling asleep. it rained hard in the night and spoiled another box of matches for us, which the indian had left out, for he was very careless; but we had so much the better night for the rain, since it kept the mosquitoes down. sunday, a cloudy and unpromising morning. one of us observed to the indian, â��you did not stretch your moose-hide last night, did you, mr. polis?â�� whereat he replied in a tone of surprise, though perhaps not of ill humor: â��what you ask me that question for? suppose i stretch â��em, you see â��em. may be your way talking, may be all right, no indian way.â�� i had observed that he did not wish to answer the same question more than once, and was often silent when it was put again, as if he were moody. not that he was incommunicative, for he frequently commenced a longwinded narrative of his own accord--repeated at length the tradition of some old battle, or some passage in the recent history of his tribe in which he had acted a prominent part, from time to time drawing a long breath, and resuming the thread of his tale, with the true story-tellerâ��s leisureliness. especially after the dayâ��s work was over, and he had put himself in posture for the night, he would be unexpectedly sociable, and we would fall asleep before he got through. the indian was quite sick this morning with the colic. i thought that he was the worse for the moose meat he had eaten. we reached the mattawamkeag at half past eight in the morning, in the midst of a drizzling rain, and, after buying some sugar, set out again. the indian growing much worse, we stopped in the north part of lincoln to get some brandy for him, but, failing in this, an apothecary recommended brandrethâ��s pills, which he refused to take because he was not acquainted with them. he said, â��me doctor--first study my case, find out what ail â��em--then i know what to take.â�� we stopped at mid-forenoon on an island and made him a dipper of tea. here, too, we dined and did some washing and botanizing, while he lay on the bank. in the afternoon we went on a little farther. as a thunder-shower appeared to be coming up we stopped opposite a barn on the west bank. here we were obliged to spend the rest of the day and night, on account of our patient, whose sickness did not abate. he lay groaning under his canoe on the bank, looking very woebegone. you would not have thought, if you had seen him lying about thus, that he was worth six thousand dollars and had been to washington. it seemed to me that he made a greater ado about his sickness than a yankee does, and was more alarmed about himself. we talked somewhat of leaving him with his people in lincoln,--for that is one of their homes,--but he objected on account of the expense, saying, â��suppose me well in morning, you and i go oldtown by noon.â�� as we were taking our tea at twilight, while he lay groaning under his canoe, he asked me to get him a dipper of water. taking the dipper in one hand, he seized his powderhorn with the other, and, pouring into it a charge or two of powder, stirred it up with his finger, and drank it off. this was all he took to-day after breakfast beside his tea. to save the trouble of pitching our tent, when we had secured our stores from wandering dogs, we camped in the solitary half-open barn near the bank, with the permission of the owner, lying on new-mown hay four feet deep. the fragrance of the hay, in which many ferns, etc., were mingled, was agreeable, though it was quite alive with grasshoppers which you could hear crawling through it. this served to graduate our approach to houses and feather beds. in the night some large bird, probably an owl, flitted through over our heads, and very early in the morning we were awakened by the twittering of swallows which had their nests there. we started early before breakfast, the indian being considerably better, and soon glided by lincoln, and stopped to breakfast two or three miles below this town. we frequently passed indian islands with their small houses on them. the penobscot indians seem to be more social even than the whites. ever and anon in the deepest wilderness of maine you come to the log hut of a yankee or canada settler, but a penobscot never takes up his residence in such a solitude. they are not even scattered about on their islands in the penobscot, but gathered together on two or three, evidently for the sake of society. i saw one or two houses not now used by them, because, as our indian said, they were too solitary. from time to time we met indians in their canoes going up river. our man did not commonly approach them, but only exchanged a few words with them at a distance. we took less notice of the scenery to-day, because we were in quite a settled country. the river became broad and sluggish, and we saw a blue heron winging its way slowly down the stream before us. the sunkhaze, a short dead stream, comes in from the east two miles above oldtown. asking the meaning of this name, the indian said, â��suppose you are going down penobscot, just like we, and you see a canoe come out of bank and go along before you, but you no see â��em stream. that is _sunkhaze_.â�� he had previously complimented me on my paddling, saying that i paddled â��just like anybody,â�� giving me an indian name which meant â��great paddler.â�� when off this stream he said to me, who sat in the bows, â��me teach you paddle.â�� so, turning toward the shore, he got out, came forward, and placed my hands as he wished. he placed one of them quite outside the boat, and the other parallel with the first, grasping the paddle near the end, not over the flat extremity, and told me to slide it back and forth on the side of the canoe. this, i found, was a great improvement which i had not thought of, saving me the labor of lifting the paddle each time, and i wondered that he had not suggested it before. it is true, before our baggage was reduced we had been obliged to sit with our legs drawn up, and our knees above the side of the canoe, which would have prevented our paddling thus, or perhaps he was afraid of wearing out his canoe by constant friction on the side. i told him that i had been accustomed to sit in the stern, and lift my paddle at each stroke, getting a pry on the side each time, and i still paddled partly as if in the stern. he then wanted to see me paddle in the stern. so, changing paddles, for he had the longer and better one, and turning end for end, he sitting flat on the bottom and i on the crossbar, he began to paddle very hard, trying to turn the canoe, looking over his shoulder and laughing, but, finding it in vain, he relaxed his efforts, though we still sped along a mile or two very swiftly. he said that he had no fault to find with my paddling in the stern, but i complained that he did not paddle according to his own directions in the bows. as we drew near to oldtown i asked polis if he was not glad to get home again; but there was no relenting to his wildness, and he said, â��it makes no difference to me where i am.â�� such is the indianâ��s pretense always. we approached the indian island through the narrow strait called â��cook.â�� he said: â��i â��xpect we take in some water there, river so high--never see it so high at this season. very rough water there; swamp steamboat once. donâ��t you paddle till i tell you. then you paddle right along.â�� it was a very short rapid. when we were in the midst of it he shouted, â��paddle!â�� and we shot through without taking in a drop. soon after the indian houses came in sight. i could not at first tell my companion which of two or three large white ones was our guideâ��s. he said it was the one with blinds. we landed opposite his door at about four in the afternoon, having come some forty miles this day. we stopped for an hour at his house. mrs. p. wore a hat and had a silver brooch on her breast, but she was not introduced to us. the house was roomy and neat. a large new map of oldtown and the indian island hung on the wall, and a clock opposite to it. this was the last that i saw of joe polis. we took the last train, and reached bangor that night. the end the riverside press cambridge. massachusetts u. s. a footnotes: [ ] joe aitteon was thoreauâ��s guide on the second of his three excursions into the maine woods. he was an indian whose home was on the same island where polis lived. a selected list of out-of-door and nature books _by john burroughs_ the summit of the years time and change leaf and tendril ways of nature far and near wake-robin winter sunshine pepacton, and other sketches fresh fields signs and seasons birds and poets, with other papers locusts and wild honey riverby each of the above, mo, gilt top, $ . _net_. a year in the fields selections 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concord. winter the above four are from the journal of thoreau. edited by h. g. o. blake. transcriberâ��s note the illustration â��the red squirrelâ�� appears facing page , not page . list of illustrations amended. page : â��phenemonaâ�� amended to â��phenomenaâ�� note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) the girls of central high on lake luna or the crew that won by gertrude w. morrison author of the girls of central high, the girls of central high at basketball, etc. illustrated new york grosset & dunlap publishers [illustration: central high had won!] contents i the lone man on the island ii missing: the short and long of it iii tony allegretto iv a solemn moment v aunt dora vi which is which? vii how to get a new shell viii hide and seek ix one is a heroine x baked in a biscuit xi the boat is found xii in the cave xiii the strange man again xiv the new shell xv tommy long has a bad day xvi the canoe race xvii miss carrington in judgment xviii mother wit's discovery xix the rescue xx billy's story xxi in practice again xxii the stolen shell xxiii billy's great dive xxiv the big day xxv the race is won the girls of central high on lake luna chapter i the lone man on the island "there! i see him again," whispered dora lockwood. a half-minute's silence, save for the patter of the drops from the paddles as the light cedar canoe shot around east point of cavern island. "so do i!" cried dorothy, but in a low tone. "my! what frightful whiskers." "he looks just like a pirate," declared her sister. "he _is_ a pirate--or a robber--i wager," returned dorothy. "maybe he's one of those horrid men who robbed stresch & potter tuesday night." "oh, dora! let's hurry by." both girls redoubled their efforts at the paddles and the canoe shot past the little cove which lay at the foot of the eminence known as boulder head. the black hair and ferocious whiskers of the person upon whom they made these comments dipped down behind a big rock on the shore and disappeared. "there! he's gone," sighed dora, with relief. "i'm glad. _do_ you suppose he had anything to do with the robbery at stresch & potter's department store? they say the thieves got more than ten thousand dollars." "i don't know whether the lone pirate is one of them or not," laughed dora; "but _somebody_ must have committed the robbery--and why not he?" "that's heartless," sniffed dorothy. "they say that a small boy helped the robbers, too. they had to push a boy through the wire screen they cut out, and he opened a cellar door to let the robbers in." "don't i know that? and don't i know who is suspected, too?" returned dora. "oh, dora! don't say it!" protested dorothy, in horror. "i don't say i believe it. but you know very well that billy is up to all sorts of mischief." "but billy long is one of our own boys." "i know he goes to central high. but all the boys who go to our school are not angelic." "far from it," sighed her sister, pensively. "and 'short and long' is a regular little _snipe_, sometimes!" said dora, with emphasis. "but to rob a store!" gasped her twin sister. "he was seen around there the afternoon before. why, i know that a policeman has been to his house looking for him, and nobody has seen short and long since thursday night." "but the robbery was committed some time tuesday night." "he wasn't suspected at first. perhaps he thought nobody had noticed him helping the men in the afternoon." "if they were the men--those surveyors." "of course they were!" cried dora. "the city engineer's office sent no men to run that street line. those fellows were taking measurements right back of stresch & potter's building--and short and long was helping them. and, now, when the hue and cry is raised, he's gone." "oh, dora! it would be dreadful," sighed dorothy. "one of our central high boys." "and one that's always been just as full of mischief as an egg is full of meat," snapped dora. now, supposing there had been a blind person in the canoe with the lockwood sisters, that unfortunate person could never in this world have told which girl spoke at each time. their voices were exactly alike--the same inflection, the same turning of phrases, the exact tone. nor could this supposititious blind person--had his eyes been suddenly opened--have been able to tell the girls apart, either! for dora and dorothy lockwood were exactly the same height, of the same physical development, and with the same mannerisms and carriage. both had a wealth of rather light brown hair, and that hair was tied with ribbons of exactly the same shade, and tied in exactly the same kind of bow. they possessed two pairs of very nice gray eyes, usually sparkling with fun. each had a dimple at the left side of her pretty lips, and when they smiled that dimple came into prominence at once. the turn of their chins, the shape of their noses and ears, the breadth of their foreheads--every feature was the same. one's reflection in the looking-glass could be no more exactly like the original than was her sister. so, unless some person was near enough to watch the play of the twins' lips, it would have been impossible to tell which girl spoke. they had been paddling for some time--from the boat landing at the girls' branch athletic field of central high, at centerport, to the east point of cavern island, and beyond. lake luna was a beautiful body of water some twenty miles in length and a half-mile broad. cavern island lay in its middle directly opposite the city of centerport. at the upper, or west end of the lake, lay lumberport, another lively town, at the mouth of rocky river; and at the far eastern end of the lake its waters flowed out through rolling river at the city of keyport. back of the city of centerport, which was by far the largest and most important of the three, was a range of beautiful hills--hills which were now clothed in their mantle of full summer verdure. there was, about in the middle of the big town, a slight elevation occupied by the best residences. this "hill section" of centerport was flanked on either hand by business portions of the city; but on the lake shore side of the hill there were beautiful estates, boat clubs, bathing pavilions, and the new athletic field established for the use of the girls of central high school, at which institution the lockwood twins were pupils in their sophomore year. the twins were, too, dressed alike, in very pretty blue and white boating costumes, with broad-brimmed canvas hats; but despite these hats they were as brown as berries, and the red blood showed through the tan on their cheeks like the hue of blush-roses. their arms, bared to the elbow, were very brown, too. a number of the girls of central high were possessed of canoes; but none was a better paddler than the lockwood twins. either singly, or together, dora and dorothy, in competition with most of their mates, whether of sophomore, junior or senior class, could hold their own. besides the twins rowed respectively number and number in the eight-oared shell. for some few months now the girls of central high had been particularly enthusiastic about athletics of all kinds. they were rivals for all athletic honors with the two other high schools of centerport--the east and west highs--as well as with the high school girls of lumberport and keyport. recently there had been a rowing race between these high school crews of eight, and the girls of central high had been beaten. there were coming soon, however, the annual boat races and other aquatic sports on lake luna which were each year contested and supported by the athletic clubs of the three cities of the lake. it was an all-day tournament, and it always embraced swimming, rowing and paddling for prizes, as well as fun in the shape of "bunting," water-polo, marine hare and hounds, and other games. but if the truth were told, the main interest of the lockwood twins and their girl friends was at present centered in the eight-oared shell race between the five high schools. as the twins swept on in their canoe, and turned boulder head, hiding the place where they had seen the bewhiskered poll of the individual whom dora had called the lone pirate, she said: "do you suppose, dory, that anybody will be good enough to really present the crew with a new shell?" "somebody's got to--if central high is to win," declared dorothy, vigorously. "that's so. we can never beat east high with our old tub--let alone the lumberport or keyport eight." "leave it to mother wit," laughed dorothy. "she has her thinking cap on." "but we can't leave everything to laura belding," declared dora. "she shouldn't be called upon to do everything. she got colonel richard swayne interested in our girls' branch athletic league, and so we are to have a fine new field, they say. that's enough for laura to do." "but mother wit is always turning up unexpectedly with something new," laughed dorothy. "and she says we must have a new shell in time to use it in the race on the big day." "who's launch is that, dory?" asked her sister, suddenly. a motor-boat had just come into sight around a point of the island ahead. "why--why----isn't that pretty sweet's _duchess_?" asked dorothy. "maybe. it's missing explosions dreadfully. nasty thing! i don't like a motor boat." "well, a canoe or a sailboat is more fun, i believe, unless you want to go fast," said the other twin. "speed up, dory. we can cross the bow of that boat. it _is_ purt's boat." "and there are two other boys aboard." "chet and lance, i declare!" "laura said she and jess were coming over to the island to-day; funny the boys aren't with them." "then somebody else would have to go with purt, for he could never run that motor alone. oh, look!" as dorothy spoke there was a big puff of smoke from the middle of the launch and they heard the boys shouting excitedly. [illustration: as dorothy spoke there was a big puff of smoke from the middle of the launch.] "now you've done it, purt!" was an exclamation the twins heard. then flames shot up where the smoke had been and the twins both cried out. "their gasoline's afire! it's the tank!" exclaimed dora. she had scarcely spoken when there came a muffled report, another great balloon of smoke, and the launch seemed to be afire from end to end. out of the smoke and flames three figures, one after the other, leaped into the lake, while the burning launch darted on across the path of the girls' canoe. chapter ii missing: the short and long of it "oh! oh!" cried dora. "i hope they're not burned." "but they'll be drowned!" gasped her sister. "chetwood belding and lance darby won't drown, that's sure," returned dora, but driving in her paddle vigorously. "no, they can swim." "and they won't let prettyman sweet drown, either." the girls swept on at a splendid pace, paying no attention to the runaway and burning launch. they were anxious to reach the struggling boys. "we can't take them aboard, dora!" cried her sister. "of course not; but they can cling to the gun-wales----" "and sink us." "no, they won't." "they'll tip us over. i don't want to get all wet," panted dorothy. "here's another canoe!" cried dora. out of a neighboring inlet shot a second cedar boat, also paddled by two girls. "it's laura and jess!" cried dorothy. "goody! now we can get the boys to shore all right," said dora, with satisfaction. "laura will know what to do. she always does." laura belding, who was chetwood belding's sister, and who rejoiced in the nickname at school of "mother wit," was a girl who possessed a very quick mind. her mates expected a good deal of her, therefore, and it was not surprising that dora and dorothy lockwood should consider that the rescue of the three boys in the lake was a simple matter now that laura had appeared upon the scene. in the first volume of this series, entitled "the girls of central high; or, rivals for all honors," laura belding's quick wit was displayed on several occasions--notably in her solving the problem of a fire that was discovered in the office of the principal of central high school, franklin sharp. but in that initial volume was told, too, of the beginning of after-hour athletics in central high and of the interest the girls began to take in all manner of sports and games approved by the girls' branch athletic league. the girls of central high had ever been loyal supporters of the boys' games--had "rooted" at all baseball, football, and rowing matches, and the like, for their particular colors; but now they were to take part themselves in various lines of athletics and sports, and their real interest in such things was, naturally, much increased. but to properly develop the idea of the girls' branch athletic league, which was formed at central high, the need of a modern girls' athletic field was plain to both the girls themselves and their instructors. centerport, although a moderately wealthy town, could not supply fifty thousand dollars, off-hand, for such a purpose; and that was the least sum needed for the establishment of an up-to-date building and field for winter bathing, basketball grounds, tennis courts, a cinder track, and a dancing lawn. perhaps laura belding was no more interested in the establishment of such a fine field than many other of the girls of the sophomore, junior, and senior classes. laura was a soph herself; but she saw ways and means to an end more quickly than the others. by chance she interested a very wealthy man--one colonel richard swayne. the colonel thought that little miss belding was quite the quickest-witted girl he had ever met. and, later, when laura's bright thought chanced to aid the colonel's invalid daughter, the old gentleman began to take a deeper interest in the things that interested laura. so that, finally, through colonel swayne's generosity, the idea of a fine field for girls' athletics became a possibility. this coming summer, during the long vacation, it would be built, and the girls of laura's class were very proud indeed of "mother wit." now the two canoes, propelled by the twins in one and laura and her chum, jess morse, in the other, dashed toward the three boys in the water. the power launch, flaming merrily, was allowed to take its own sweet will across the lake. "now, don't you tip either of those canoes over, purt!" chet belding was angrily shouting as the girls reached the trio of water-soaked voyagers. "easy! you're not drowned yet." "but, mercy, chet!" squalled prettyman sweet, splashing madly. "i--i've swallowed--ugh!--so mu-mu-much water! help!" he went under again, for he could not swim. but chet brought him up with a jerk, having still a hand upon the boy's collar. "stay up here!" growled laura's brother. "keep your face out of the water." "but i want to, deah boy--dontcher know!" gasped purt. "yes; you want to; but you want to talk, too. keep your mouth shut, then you won't get water-logged," snapped lance darby, coming up on the other side. "oh! don't be harsh with him, boys," begged dorothy lockwood. "he's lost his boat." "and that's his own fault. he _would_ smoke a cigarette," said chet, "and i told him the gasoline leaked." "i wouldn't go in the old boat with him again for a farm down east with a pig on it!" declared lance. "now, easy! don't you dare swamp this canoe." they made the almost helpless purt seize the sharp stern of laura's canoe with both hands. then chet swam beside him to keep him from dragging the girls' craft down, as laura and josephine morse paddled for the shore of the island. lance followed on with the lockwood canoe, and both reached the shore at about the same time. the sweet boy struggled out upon the shore and lay down, almost overcome. but the other boys aided the girls in getting the cedar boats onto the shore, and out of harm's way. "nice mess we're in," gasped lance, flinging himself down upon the sod, too. "look at us! not fit to appear on board the _lady of the lake_." that was the little steamer that transported passengers from centerport to the amusement park at the west end of cavern island. down at this end of the island the land was hilly and wild; but around the boat landing a park was laid out, with carrousels, a small menagerie, swings, and the like. "lo--lo--look at purt!" burst out jess, unable to hold in her laughter any longer. "what-what will his mo-mo-mother say when he gets home?" prettyman sweet was, as chet often declared, "the very niftiest dresser" in central high. and even when he went motor-boating he was the very "glass of fashion." his fancy waistcoat would never be seen in its pristine lustre again, and as for the gaudy striped shirt and cuffs he had worn, the stripes were surely "fast" colors, in that they had immediately run into the white ground-work of the garment! "i--i do-do-don't care," chattered purt. "what are clothes, anyway? i'm dying of cold!" "and in june," snorted lance, with disgust. "let's build a campfire and warm him," suggested laura. "haven't a dry match," declared her brother. "i have. don't catch me canoeing without a tightly corked bottle of matches. i've been upset too many times," laughed laura. chet and lance gathered the wood; but purt only lay and moaned and shivered. the adventure was a serious matter for the exquisite. "and i bet this settles purt's motor-boating for all time," scoffed jess morse. "got enough, haven't you, pretty?" "weally, miss morse, i am too exhausted to speak about it--weally!" gasped purt. "and it was the only sport purt would go into," grunted chet. "he could get somebody to run his boat for him, you see. all he had to do was to sit tight and hold his ears on." purt felt affectionately for his ears--they stuck out like sails from the side of his head, "trimmed flat across the masts"--and said nothing. he could not retort in his present condition of mind and body. but his schoolmates talked on, quite ignoring him. "what were you two boys doing out in the _duchess_ this afternoon, anyway?" demanded laura. "i thought you were going to see the game between lumberport and the east high team?" "why," said chet, hesitating, looking at lance, "if we tell you, you'll keep still about it--all you girls?" "of course," said jess. "all of you, i mean," said chet, earnestly. "no passing it around with the usual platter of gossip on the athletic field this evening." "how horrid of you, chet!" cried josephine morse. but laura only laughed. "we can keep a secret as well as any crowd of boys--and he knows it," she said. "well," said her brother, squatting before the campfire, that was now burning briskly, and spreading out his jacket to the blaze, while the legs of his trousers began to steam. "well, it's about short and long." "billy long!" gasped dorothy, looking at her sister. "poor billy!" added laura. "what about him?" "he's missing," said chet, gravely. "missing: the short and long of it, eh?" chuckled jess. "this is no laughing matter, jess," declared launcelot darby, sharply. "haven't you heard of the robbery?" "at stresch & potter's department store?" cried jess. "of course. what's that got to do with short and long?" "nothing!" declared chet, vigorously. "anybody who says that billy long helped in that robbery deserves to be kicked. he's not that kind of a fellow." "but he's accused," said laura, gravely. "somebody said they saw him hanging about the rear of the store with some men tuesday afternoon. the men appeared to be surveyors. they are supposed to be the robbers, for nobody seems to know anything about them at the city engineer's office," chet continued. "a small boy had to be put through the little basement window where a screen was cut out. no man could have slipped through it and then opened that door for the men. short and long is accused--at least, he is suspected. a policeman went to his house friday morning; but billy had gone away over night." "that looks suspicious," declared jess. "no, it doesn't. it looks as if billy was scared--as of course he was," exclaimed chet. "who wouldn't be?" "that is so," murmured one of the twins. "well," sighed chet, "we heard that he had been seen to take a boat at norman's landing, and thought maybe he'd come over this way. so, as purt wanted a sail----" "and a bath, it seems," chuckled jess. "we came over this way, looking into the coves and inlets for the boat billy is said to have borrowed. but we didn't see any sign of it, nor any sign of poor billy. of course he is innocent; but he's scared, and his folks are poor, and billy was afraid to remain at home, i suppose, thinking he would get his father into trouble, too." "it's a mean shame," said lance. "what if stresch & potter were robbed of ten thousand dollars? they oughtn't to have accused a perfectly innocent boy of helping in the robbery." "but that's it!" exclaimed laura. "how is billy to disprove the accusation if he runs away and makes it appear that he is guilty?" "don't we see that?" demanded her brother. "that's what we want to get at billy for. we want to catch and bring him back and make him face the music. then we'll all prove him innocent and make these smart alecks take back what they've been saying about him. it's a shame!" cried chet, again. "it _is_ a shame," agreed laura. but just then both the lockwood twins burst out with: "maybe he _did_ come over to the island." "huh! what for? to hide?" demanded lance. "perhaps," said dorothy. "maybe to find the robbers himself. perhaps they are hiding here," said dora. "likely," grunted chet. "we saw somebody hiding back yonder at the foot of boulder head," declared dorothy. "so we did! the lone pirate!" cried her sister. "'the lone pirate'?" repeated laura and jess, in unison. "who's that?" the twins told them what they had seen----the bewhiskered man who had hidden behind the boulder. but the boys scoffed at the idea of the stranger having anything to do with the men who robbed the department store safe, or anything to do with billy long. "no," said chet, wearily, "he's gone somewhere. but we don't know where. and if the police catch him it will go hard with poor short and long." chapter iii tony allegretto now, "short and long," as the boys called him (christened william henry harrison long) was a jolly little fellow and extremely popular at centerport's central high school----not so much with the teachers and adults of his acquaintance, perhaps, as with his fellow pupils. he was full of fun and mischief; but to the boys who knew him to be perfectly fair and honest, the accusation now aimed against him seemed preposterous. it was true that his father was a poor man, and billy long seldom had any spending money. naturally he was always on the outlook for "odd jobs" which would earn him a little something for his own pocket. he had been seen carrying the chain for the mysterious surveyors who had been in the vacant lot behind the department store that was robbed the tuesday night previous to the opening of our story; but _that_ should not have made trouble for short and long. he did not let many such chances escape him when he was out of school. billy was the short-stop on the central high nine and as chetwood belding and lance darby were important members of that team, too, they were naturally particularly interested in the missing youth. the three boys who had so unceremoniously left the motor boat _duchess_ still stood around the hot fire on the shore, drying their garments. purt sweet was really a pitiful sight, his fancy clothing looking so much worse than that of his two companions. the girls were in gales of laughter over his plight. laura repeated in a sing-song voice: "double, double, toil and trouble, garments steam and purt does bubble!" "now, miss laura," complained the victim, "this is altogether too serious a matter, i assure you, for laughter. what ever shall we do to get home?" "well, we can't walk," chuckled lance. "guess we'll have to appear on the _lady of the lake_" said chet. "my goodness! in _this_ state?" mourned purt. "only fawncy!" "you can't fly home," said jess. "somebody is bound to see you." "let's take off our shoes, wring out our socks, and put 'em on again, and then walk over to the amusement park," said chet. "and if you girls will paddle over we'll treat you to ice cream," added lance. "you are trying to bribe us----i see," declared laura, laughing again. "just so," said lance. "we'll stand treat if you don't tell everybody how we had to jump out of purt's old boat." there was a good deal of laughter at this; but finally the four girls agreed and the boys helped them into the water again with their canoes. it was not far to the amusement park at the west end of cavern island, and the three partially dried boys arrived there about the time that the two canoes reached the landing. there was a good deal of fun while the seven young folks were eating the cream. purt sweet slunk into his seat in the corner, striving to hide his bedraggled apparel. he tucked a paper napkin into the front of his waistcoat, and so hid the hideous color scheme of the gaudy shirt, the stripes of which had spread with wondrous rapidity. then he buttoned his coat tightly to hide the ruined waistcoat; but the coat was tight anyway, and the ducking had done it no good. "i believe, on my life, purt," chuckled chet, "that the coat is shrinking on you. that tailor cheated you this time----i know he did. if the coat gets much smaller, and you eat much more ice cream, you'll burst through the coat at all the seams like a full-blown cotton-blossom." "better let _me_ eat the ice cream for you, old man," advised lance, seriously. "don't make an exhibition of yourself here." "that's what i am," said purt, sadly. "fawncy meeting any of the stricklands, or the tarbot-rushes, or general maline's people, here when i'm in this condition. weally, it is dweadful to contemplate." "it's tough, i allow," said chet callously. "what you need is a mask and a blanket to disguise yourself." "you're not likely to meet any of centerport's four hundred over here at cavern island park," laughed laura. "so you need not fear." "i should think you would be just as ashamed presenting yourself before _us_ as before those maline girls," said jess, tossing her head. "i am insulted. no! you cannot pay for my ice cream, mr. sweet. chet will pay for it." "gee, jess," chuckled lance darby. "if you eat more'n two dishes chet will go broke. i know the state of his finances to-day. and purt always has plenty of money." "weally, miss morse," urged pretty, who was not usually prone to spend his money. "weally, you must let me pay the check--for all. it is my treat, you know. and i assure you, i had no intention of saying anything to offend you." "but you consider those maline girls--and they are the homeliest girls in centerport--of more importance than laura and dora and dorothy and me. you're not ashamed to appear before us with your outfit all smudged up!" "but, my dear miss morse!" gasped pretty. "don't you 'dear' me, mister!" ejaculated jess, with every appearance of anger. "if i'm not as good as sissy maline----" "oh, you are! you are!" declared purt, in haste. "you misunderstand. i am in this horrid state. but--you see--you saw it happen and realize that it was an unavoidable accident----" "nothing of the kind!" snapped jess, still apparently unyielding. "if you hadn't tried to smoke a nasty cigarette----" "oh, i assure you it was a very mild one. i have them made extremely mild--and with my monogram on the paper. weally, you know----" "horrid thing! you're the only boy who smokes them that we know. what do you say, girls? sha'n't we cut purt right off of our calling lists if he doesn't give up monogrammed cigarettes?" "they're the worst kind," murmured chet. "the monogram makes 'em so much more deadly." "i tried one of purt's coffin nails once--ugh!" admitted lance. "he calls 'em mild. but he's so saturated with nicotine that he doesn't know what 'mild' means. i believe they make his cigarettes out of rope-yarn and distilled opium. one puff made me ill all day." "impossible, dear boy!" gasped purt. "i believe it's as lance says," said laura, gravely. "and purt sets a very bad example for the other boys." "sure!" grinned her brother. "we're all likely to run off and send for a thousand monogrammed cigarettes." "what! what!" cried jess. "did purt buy a _thousand_?" "i--i had to, miss josephine, to get the monogram printed on the wrapper, you know." "come," said laura, still with a serious air. "we must decide what is to be done with this culprit, girls." "i think he should not be allowed to associate with any of the girls of central high," said one of the twins. "or with the boys, either," suggested lance. "his example _is_ dreadfully bad," said jess. "weally! i assure you----" panted purt, wrigging all over, and not quite sure whether the girls meant it, or were "rigging" him. "have you any more of those nasty cigarettes with you?" demanded laura, sternly. purt, looking greatly abashed, hauled out a saturated case of seal leather and displayed nine of the pulpy looking things. "so you only smoked one of them to-day?" was the next demand. "and he only just got that lit when the vapor from the gasoline caught fire. like to have burned him to death," grunted chet. "that single smoke was certainly a very expensive one for you, master purt," declared laura. "for perhaps it has cost you your motor-boat at least, it has cost you more than the whole thousand cigarettes were worth. kindly throw those disreputable looking things away!" purt obeyed instantly by tossing case and all into the lake. "ugh! now you'll poison the fish," complained jess. "never mind the fish," said laura, still intent upon the victim. "now, purt, how many cigarettes have you left at home?" "oh--i--ah----" "do not prevaricate!" commanded the girl. "answer at once." "why--i--i have most of the thousand left," admitted purt. "say! you always carry around a full case to flash on the fellows--i see you," cried lance. "ye--es," admitted purt. "tell the truth, sir! how many of the horrid things have you left at home?" purt looked up at her, blinked a couple of times, swallowed like a toad that has snapped up a live coal, and then blurted out: "nine hundred and ninety!" at that a howl of laughter went up from the crowd. "and--and you--you've nev--never smoked even _one_?" gasped laura, at last. "not until to-day," replied the sadly abashed purt. "oh, hold me, somebody!" cried lance. "and he's had those cigarettes for three months, i know!" "purt, you'll be the death of us yet," declared chet belding, wiping his eyes. "i--i couldn't get used to the taste of them in my mouth," confessed the dude. "you're more fun than a box of monkeys!" declared lance. "that reminds me, girls," said chet, suddenly, and picking up the checks to pay the bill before purt sweet could get around to it. "there's an enormously funny monkey over here. trained to a hair. i saw him over in centerport when his owner brought him through----" "i saw that monkey--with a piano organ. and such a nice looking italian with it," declared laura. "look out, lance," whispered chet, grinning, "she likes the romantic and dark complexioned style in heroes. get some walnut stain and a black wig." "why, he was playing in the streets, over in town," said jess. "that was just to advertise his act before the season opened," declared chet. "so he told me." "all right," laura said. "the boat isn't due yet, so we might as well remain with you boys until it comes and so keep you out of mischief." "but i really look so badly----" began purt. "never mind. you won't meet the maline girls here," snapped jess, as though she were still very angry with him. "come on, purt--be a sport," whispered lance, with a wicked grin. "it won't cost you anything except what you give to the monkey--and that's a private affair between you and the monk you know." it was true that sweet was a "tight-wad," as the boys expressed it. he would spend any amount of money on himself, or to make a show; but liberality was not one of his virtues. the young folks were not long in finding the booth, across which was painted a straggling sign reading: tony allegretto and his performing monkey "which is the 'monk'?" demanded lance, in a whisper, when they saw two very gaily dressed figures on the tiny platform before the booth. the italian himself was a short, agile young man, but not ill-looking. he had splendid teeth, and they showed white and even behind his smile, for his face was dusky and his mustache as black as jet, as was his hair. he was dressed in a gay, if soiled, neapolitan costume, and the monkey was dressed in an imitation of his master's get-up. it was a large monkey, with a long tail and a solemn face, not at all the ordinary kind of monkey that appears with organ grinders. the italian began to grind his organ when he saw the accession of the young folk from central high to his crowd of spectators. they made a goodly audience and tony allegretto--if that was his name--began his open-air performance. "aria from 'cavalleria rusticana' to inaugurate the performance of a monkey," chuckled jess. "how are the mighty fallen!" suddenly tony changed the tune and spoke a sharp word in italian to the monkey. instantly the creature went to the front of the platform, took off his cap, bowed to the audience with hand and cap upon his heart, and then began to dance. it was a rather melancholy dance, but he turned and twisted, while tony scolded and threatened in a low voice. "gee!" exclaimed lance. "that's the monkey that put the 'tang' in 'tango'--eh, what?" "poor little thing!" said the lockwood twins together. "i don't believe he likes to do that," said laura. "he ought to be taken away from that man and sent to school," declared chet, with gravity in his face but a twinkle in his eye. "he'd do quite as well in his classes as some of you boys, i have no doubt," said jess, quickly. "at least, professor dimp says you act like a lot of monkeys sometimes." "old dimple is prejudiced," declared lance. "he ought to see _this_ monkey act. phew! see him whirl. there! that's over. now what next?" chapter iv a solemn moment the dance of the performing monkey had ceased and its owner changed the tune on the piano-organ again. he handed the monkey a little toy gun with one hand while he still turned the crank with the other. the monkey threw the gun down petulantly at first, but tony threatened him and finally the animal held it when it was thrust into his hands. "that monk certainly does understand italian," admitted lance. "i bet they are related." "lance is 'sore' on the italian because he thinks laura admires tony," chuckled chet. "be still!" commanded laura. "you had better be nice to us girls or we won't keep the secret of how you boys took an involuntary bath to-day." "'nuff said," growled chet. "i'm dumb." the monkey was changing the gun from hand to shoulder, and holding it in different positions supposedly in imitation of a soldier's drill. but some of the audience laughed at its awkwardness. "the italian army must drill differently from ours," said dora lockwood. "did you ever see anything so funny?" laughed her twin. tony overheard them and his eyes flashed. he boxed the poor monkey on the side of the head, and it ran chattering to the end of its line. "aw, say!" exclaimed the good natured lance. "isn't that mean?" "it's not a very smart monkey at that," said a man in the crowd. "hi!" exclaimed tony, suddenly, "you think-a da monk can't do anything? he don't lik-a da silly treek--eh? look now! i lock de door--so," and suiting his action to his words the italian turned the big brass key in the lock of the booth door. he shook the door to show that it was fastened. then he turned to the monkey again. "bébé!" he commanded, harshly, pointing to the door, and rattled off some command in his own language which the audience did not understand. but the monkey seemed to understand it. he looked at his master, ran to the end of his line, looked back at tony, chattered, and then seized the big key. he turned it carefully, still looking over his shoulder at tony, who appeared not to notice him, and ground the organ furiously. the lock must have been well oiled, for the monkey turned the key very easily. then he turned the knob of the door quite as carefully, all the time appearing to be afraid that he would be caught at it. for the first time the monkey actually betrayed some ability as an actor. he pushed open the door, still keeping a sharp watch upon his master. slowly he wedged his way into the booth. in a moment he had snatched something from the table inside and was back again upon the platform, with his mouth full, and munching rapidly, with his face hidden from his master. the crowd laughed and applauded. tony considered this a good time to take up the collection and he gave the monkey his cup. the little fellow made a polite bow to every person who dropped anything into the cup. at those who did not contribute bébé chattered angrily. "he's just as cunning as he can be," said dorothy, as they turned away. "but i don't believe that man treats the monkey kindly." "here comes the boat!" exclaimed chet. "we've got to leave you, girls. don't get into any trouble, now, paddling home." "don't you fear for us," returned dora, confidently. "let's race back to centerport!" proposed jess. "no," said laura, as the girls tripped down to the landing where they had left their canoes. "it is too far and mrs. case warns us not to over-exert, paddling." "she's a fuss-budget," declared jess, pouting. "she's the best physical instructor in centerport, and we're lucky to have her at central high," said dorothy, loyally. "we're supposed to be in training for the boat races, too," said dora. the girls got aboard nicely and started across the lake. it was a calm day and there were scarcely any ripples; therefore there was little likelihood of the girls getting into any trouble. half way across they saw a second motor-boat towing the burned _duchess_ toward the city. the fire was out, but the girls saw that poor purt would have to spend some of his money in repairing the craft. the four girls reached the school boathouse and had their canoes drawn out and put carefully away. then they separated, for the lockwood twins did not live on the same street as laura and her chum. the lockwood cottage was set in a rather large plot of ground, which was mostly given up to mr. lockwood's nursery and hot-houses. the twins' father was wrapped up in his horticultural experiments, and as they had no mother the two girls were left much to their own devices. mrs. betsey spink kept house for the lockwoods, and had been the twins' nurse when they were little. she was a gentle, unassuming old lady, who "mothered" the girls as best she knew how, and shielded absent-minded mr. lockwood from all domestic troubles. the neighbors declared that the lockwood household would have been a very shiftless establishment had it not been for mrs. betsey. mr. lockwood seldom knew how the bills were paid, what the girls wore, or how the house was run. his mind was given wholly to inventing new forms of plant life. he experimented with white blackberries, thornless roses, dwarf trees that bore several kinds of fruit on different limbs, and, of late, had tried to cultivate a seedless watermelon. he was always expecting to make a fortune out of some of his novel experiments; but as yet the fortune had not materialized. but he was a most lovable gentleman, and the twins were as proud of him as though he was the most successful man in centerport. mr. lockwood had one cross to bear, however--a thorn in the flesh which troubled him on occasion very much. this was a certain very practical sister--the twins' aunt dora. fortunately aunt dora lived in another city; but she was apt to make unexpected visits to her brother, and when she came to the lockwood house there was no peace for any of the inmates while she stayed. as the twins on this occasion entered the premises by the back gate they saw certain windows on the second floor of the house wide open, and the curtains drawn back. they halted in something more than astonishment, and looked at each other solemnly. "that's aunt dora's room!" gasped dora. "she's here!" returned dorothy, in the same awe-struck voice. "oh, dear!" sighed her twin. "_now_ we're in for it," rejoined dorothy. then both together they exclaimed: "poor papa!" it was a solemn moment for the whole household, and the twins felt it. chapter v aunt dora "i feel just like running away," said dora, "and staying until auntie goes." "don't do it," begged dorothy, "for i shall have to go, too." "poor papa!" they both exclaimed again. "no. we shall have to stay and brace papa up," admitted dora. "we've just _got_ to," groaned her twin. "and if she begins to nag him again about giving one of us up----" "we won't leave him," declared dorothy, very firmly. "_i_ wouldn't live at her house for a fortune!" repeated dorothy. "come on! let's see how the land lies," suggested dora. "perhaps the worst of it's over." "no such luck," groaned dorothy. "there's betsey." they ran up the winding path to the kitchen porch. the gentle, pink-faced old lady who met them at the door, had a worried brow. "hush, girls! you're aunt is here," she whispered. "we know it. we saw the windows of the best room wide open. is she making mary clean the room all over again?" "yes," sighed mrs. betsey. "your aunt declared it smelled musty from being shut up. she has _such_ a nose," and the little old lady shook her head. "interfering old thing!" snapped dora. "hush! you must not speak so," admonished mrs. betsey. "well, she _is_," declared dorothy, of course agreeing with her twin. "where is she?" queried dora. "with your father in the hot-house." "come on, then," said dora to her sister. "let's get it over right away." they heard voices in the conservatory, for the sashes were open on this warm day. there was the stern, uncompromising tone of aunt dora, and the gentle, worried voice of mr. lockwood. the twins never liked to hear their father's voice when he was worried, and they saw to it--with mrs. betsey--that it did not occur frequently. but there was no help for it when aunt dora was about! first of all, the twins heard their aunt say: "you're no more fit to bring up girls, lemuel, than i am to steer one of these dratted airships the papers are full of!" "no. you are right," said mr. lockwood. "the comparison is just. you would _not_ do well in an airship, dora." "huh! i should think not! and you're as little fit to bring up two girls--and twins, at that!" "but--but i don't really bring them up," said mr. lockwood, apologetically. "mrs. betsey does that." "mrs. betsey!" with a sniff. "and really, they get along very well, sister." "they get along well because they are no trouble to you." "well, isn't that as it should be? they are good girls--and loving girls." "i declare to man! lemuel lockwood, you haven't any more idea of what those girls need than a babe unborn." "what _do_ they need, dora?" asked worried mr. lockwood. "they need a strong hand--a stern and uncompromising spirit to govern them--that's what they need!" declared the militant aunt. "but dora, they are good girls and make me no trouble at all." "of course they make you no trouble. you let them do exactly as they wish." "no, no!" urged mr. lockwood, hastily. "they don't always do as they wish. sometimes we haven't the money to let them do _with_. i've heard mrs. betsey say so. and--and--why, there is one of them who likes three lumps of sugar in her coffee; but i always reprove her for it. that is extravagance." "huh!" sniffed aunt dora. "otherwise they are no trouble to me at all," said mr. lockwood, briskly. "they are not, i assure you. we live a very quiet and peaceful life here." "yah!" exclaimed his sister. "that is all you want--peace." "i admit it--i admit it," returned her brother. "i am naturally retiring and of a peaceful disposition, dora." "you're a natural born fool, lemuel!" declared his sister, so sharply that the twins, who were inadvertently listening at the door, hesitating to go in, fairly jumped. "i want to tell you right now that you are a disgrace to manhood! you've never amounted to a row of beans since you were out of pinafores. if your little property wasn't tied up hard and fast so that you could only use the income of it, you would have frittered it all away long ago, and left these children penniless. you've never made a dollar in your life, lemuel lockwood!" "but--but there has never been any real necessity for me to make money," stammered the horticulturist. "and one of these days we are going to have a plenty. i've got a melon started here on the bench, dora----" "you needn't show me any of your nasty plants. they're all ridiculous. and it isn't plants we're talking about. it's girls. mercy knows how an inscrutable providence ever came to allow two helpless girl babies to fall into your hands, lemuel. but they're here and you've the burden of them. one would be more than you could manage properly; but two is ridiculous. i'd undertake, as i have told you before, to bring my namesake up as a girl _should_ be brought up--and that will leave more money for you to fritter away on your hot-beds and cold-frames, and the like," she added, slily. "dora!" exclaimed mr. lockwood, with a quaver in his voice, "do you really think i am not doing my duty by dora and dorothy?" "think it?" sniffed his sister. "i know it! and everybody else with sense knows it. how can a mere man bring up twin girls and give them a proper start in life?" "but mrs. betsey does her very best----" "and what does _she_ know?" demanded his sister. "does she ever read papers upon the proper management of girls? or magazine articles upon what a young girl should be taught by her parents? or books upon the growth and development of the girlish mind?" "no--o," admitted mr. lockwood. "i am very sure mrs. betsey never has time for such reading." "then what does she know about it?" demanded aunt dora, triumphantly. "but they are hardly ever sick--and how pretty they both are!" sighed the father of the twins. "bah! never sick! pretty!" ejaculated aunt dora, staccato. "what about their souls, lemuel lockwood? what about the development of their minds? have you done aught to make them stern and uncompromising when they meet the world on an equal footing--as all women shall in the time to come? are you preparing them for their work in life? are they prepared to take the helm of affairs and show man how woman can guide affairs of moment?" "i--i hope not!" murmured mr. lockwood, aghast. "they are just girls going to school, and studying, and having fun, and loving each other. no, dora, the stern duties of life have not troubled them as yet, thank god!" "but they should be beginning to realize them, lemuel," declared his sister. "life is not fun. there is no time to dawdle around with plays, and athletics, and such foolishness. where are they this minute, lemuel lockwood?" "why--why, they went out on the lake." "in what?" "a canoe, i understand." "and what's a canoe?" gasped aunt dora. "is _that_ a proper thing for young girls to ride in? why! it's a savage boat--an indian boat. a canoe, indeed!" "but i scarcely can think there is any harm in their paddling a canoe. many of their schoolmates do so, and their physical instructor, mrs. case, approves." "it is no business for my namesake to be in," declared aunt dora. "you named her after me, lemuel, and i feel that i have some right to her. she having no mother, and i being her godmother, she is more mine than anybody else's. and i am determined to take her home with me." "take dora?" gasped mr. lockwood. "whatever should we do without her?" "hah!" exclaimed his sister. "you have the other one." "but--but it doesn't seem as though one would be complete without the other," said mr. lockwood, thoughtfully. "they have always been together. why, nobody knows them apart----" "and that's another foolish thing!" exclaimed aunt dora. "to allow two girls to reach their age and have nobody able to distinguish between them. dressing them just alike, and all! it is ridiculous." "but they have always wished to be just alike, sister," said the father of the twins. "_they_ wished!" exclaimed aunt dora. "is it _their_ place to have their way in such affairs? that is exactly what i say, lemuel--you're not fit to manage the girls. and i am determined to save one of them from the results of your mismanagement. i have always noticed," added aunt dora, a little less confidently, "that dora is much more amenable in disposition than dorothy. naturally, being named after me, she may have taken on more reasonable and practical characteristics than her sister." mr. lockwood was a thin little man, with wisps of gray hair over his ears, a bald crown, on which he always wore a skullcap, and meek side whiskers. but now he stood and stared in perfect amazement at his sister, demanding: "do you mean to tell me you have noticed such characteristics in dora?" "certainly," said his sister, complacently. "then you know them apart?" "well--er--when i have the opportunity of comparing their manner and speech----" "here they are!" exclaimed the harassed father, suddenly spying the girls behind his sister. "if you can tell which is which, you are welcome to. i leave it to the girls themselves. if dora wishes to go with you, she may. i--i wash my hands of the affair!" chapter vi which is which? mr. lockwood had a habit of getting out of difficulties in this way. he frequently "washed his hands" of affairs, finding that they adjusted themselves somehow without his aid, after all. but on this present occasion there was, perhaps, a special reason why he should tell his sister to go ahead, and leave the matter entirely with her and the twins themselves. aunt dora claimed to be able to tell the girls apart--something that nobody, not even mrs. betsey, had been able to do since they were little tots and dora had worn a blue ribbon on her wrist, and dorothy a pink. the twins, who had heard all the foregoing conversation, and understood the situation thoroughly, advanced when their aunt dora turned to meet them. "kiss me, my dears," commanded the militant lady, opening her arms. "dora, first!" but the twins ran in together and one kissed her on one cheek while the other placed her salute on the other--and at exactly the same moment. aunt dora adjusted her eyeglasses, stood off a yard or so, and stared at the girls. "dora," she said, solemnly, "you are going home with me." neither girls changed color, or showed in the least that the announcement was either a pleasant one, or vice versa. "do you hear?" demanded their aunt. "yes, ma'am," they replied, in chorus. "i spoke to dora," said the lady, firmly. not a word said the twins. "which is which, dora?" asked mr. lockwood, from the background, and perhaps enjoying his sister's discomfiture. "i declare nobody in _this_ house has been able to tell them apart since they were in their crib. mrs. betsey declares she believes they used to exchange ribbons when they were toddlers, for she used to find the bows tied in funny knots." the two girls looked at each other with dancing eyes, but said nothing. it had been their sport all their lives to mystify people about their several identities. and here was a situation in which they determined--both of them--to keep their aunt guessing. "this is no matter for flippancy," said aunt dora, sternly. "i intend to take my namesake home with me, and to bring her up, educate her, and finally share my fortune with her. do you understand this fully?" "yes, ma'am," replied the twins. "i am speaking to dora," their aunt said tartly. the girls were silent. "i am separating dora from her sister for her own good. as you girls grow older you will find that the income your father has remaining will barely support one girl in a proper manner. to divide his responsibility is a kindness to him----" "that is not so," interjected the mild mr. lockwood. "you are more than welcome, girls, to all i have. and--possibly--i might look about and get a little more money for you to use, as time goes on. if you need it----" "we know all about it, papa," chimed the twins. "we are satisfied." "does that mean you are satisfied to remain here, dora?" demanded their aunt, insisting upon speaking as though but one girl heard her. "we are both satisfied," chorused the twins, quickly. "but i am _not_ satisfied with the affair," declared aunt dora. "it has long been both my intention and desire to take my namesake--my godchild--away from here. while you two girls were small it was all very well to declare it cruel to separate you. but you are old enough now----" "we shall never be old enough, auntie, to wish to be separated," said one of the twins. "nonsense, child!" exclaimed aunt dora, her eyes sparkling as she thought she had at last obtained an inkling to the identity of the two girls. "you will soon get over all that, dora--of course you will." "i am sure i should not so soon get over separation from my sister," said the other girl. her aunt wheeled on this one. "do you mean to tell me that you scorn my offer?" "if i were dora i should beg to be excused," returned the niece to whom she had spoken. aunt dora whirled again and transfixed the other with decided satisfaction and a sparkling eye. "but dora, i feel sure, will go with her aunt gladly," cried the lady. "if i were dora i should beg to be excused," repeated the girl at whom she looked, in exactly the same tone, and with an unmoved countenance, too. "i declare!" gasped aunt dora, in complete exasperation. "you've managed to get me puzzled, now. which--which of you is t'other?" "that is for you to find out, auntie," said both girls in unison. "you saucy minxes!" began the lady, but one of the girls said, quickly: "oh, no. we don't mean to be saucy. but we have agreed not to tell on the other. father leaves it to us and to you, auntie. neither of us wish to leave our dear, dear home. therefore we shall not tell you which is dora, and which is dorothy." "that is quite true, auntie," said the other twin. "well, i declare to nature!" exclaimed their aunt "here i come offering dora everything that a girl of her age should count as worthy--a home of wealth, a better education than she can get here in centerport--college to follow--the open sesame into society--real society----and do you two girls mean to tell me that neither will say which is dora?" "that is exactly what we have agreed upon," said one of the twins, quietly. "then, let me tell you, miss, i shall find out for myself!" exclaimed the angry lady. "i consider you at fault for this, lemuel. shows your bringing up. it is sheer impudence!" "i--i have washed my hands of it, dora," said her brother, weakly. "well, you can wipe 'em, too!" snapped the lady. "but i mean to take dora home with me when i go back--and that will be very soon," and she whisked away in her rustling skirts, leaving the father and his two daughters alone. they twined around the little man in a moment, the two winsome, loving girls--one upon one side, the other upon the other. "you don't want to lose dora, do you, dear?" demanded dorothy. "nor dorothy either?" demanded dora. "i certainly do not, my dear girls," cried the much harassed mr. lockwood. "then we shall not tell her. we shall tell nobody. nobody shall know which is which--as long as aunt dora remains, that is sure," cried dora. "exactly," agreed her sister. "as long as papa doesn't wish us to go----?" "never!" declared mr. lockwood. "why, we're never even going to get married!" ejaculated the other twin. "of course not," said her sister. "there couldn't possibly be two men just alike, and they'd have to be just alike to please us for husbands." mr. lockwood laughed. it was the first happy sound he had made in two hours. his sister had arrived exactly two hours before. "i know i can safely leave the whole affair to you girls," he said, gratefully. "have it out with your auntie, if you must. but do, _do_ leave me in peace." chapter vii how to get a new shell the lockwood twins were members of the executive committee of the girls' branch of central high and that saturday an important meeting was to be held in one of the school offices. so dora and dorothy stole away after supper, with only a word to mrs. betsey as to their goal. they did not want any more words that night with their aunt, who had sat, like a graven image (providing a graven image has a very hearty appetite) all through the evening meal in an attitude of great offense. the committee, whose actions had to be passed upon by mrs. case, the physical instructor, and franklin sharp, principal of the school, numbered among its members laura belding and her chum, josephine morse; nellie agnew, dr. agnew's daughter; hester grimes and lily pendleton, all sophomores and in the classes at central high with the lockwood twins. hester grimes, who was the daughter of a wealthy wholesale butcher, was not so well liked by the twins as some of the other sophomores. hester could be a very unpleasant person if she wished to be--and on occasions in the past (as related in the previous volume of this series) hester had lived up to her unhappy reputation. lily pendleton, however, usually backed miss grimes up in everything the latter said or did. although laura belding was only finishing her sophomore year at central high, she had become so popular that she was chairman of this important committee, in which, in fact, the policy of the girls' branch athletics was decided. the moment the old business had been disposed of and the way was open for new matters, laura burst out with: "oh, girls! i've got the most exciting thing to tell you!" "don't tell us of any other big robbery," sighed nellie agnew. "we've heard nothing but robbery at our house ever since stresch & potter were broken into. and poor billy long!" "humph!" muttered hester grimes. "i hope they catch him and that he gets all that is coming to him. he always was a mean little brat!" "not at all!" cried one of the seniors. "billy long never did a mean thing in his life. but he is full of mischief." "he'll get it, i fancy if the police catch him," laughed lily pendleton, unpleasantly. "order!" said laura, gravely. "i did not introduce my subject in a very proper way, i know; but the trouble of billy long is far from our business to-night. as chairman of your committee i have received a communication which originally came from the luna boat club. that is the wealthiest boat club on the lake, you know. they really have more to do with our big day than any other organization. and what do you think?" "why don't you get to it?" demanded hester. "you're as slow as cold molasses running up a hill in january." "oh, give her a chance," admonished jess, taking any criticism of her chum--but her own--in ill part. "well," said laura, unruffled, "the secretary of the luna boat club writes that the club as a whole is much interested in the trial of speed between the eight-oared shells of the several girls' highs and as a trophy for that particular race will present to the winner a silver cup--and you can just bet, girls, if it is anything the luna club presents, it will be a handsome one. isn't that fine?" "oh, if we could only win it!" cried jess, clasping her hands. "you've got about as much chance of winning over keyport as i have of flying," said hester grimes. "if goodness is necessary to your wearing wings, hester, i am afraid you really haven't much chance," said one of the seniors, sweetly, and there was a little giggle of approval from the younger girls. "it is a sure thing that we can't win with our old tub," agreed laura, nodding a thoughtful head. "pah!" snapped hester. "you girls in that eight couldn't win anyway." "i don't know why you say that, hester," complained nellie agnew, who pulled number in the eight-oared shell. "we do our very best." "that's what i say," laughed the grimes girl. "and your 'very best' is about as slow as anything on the lake." "let me tell you that doesn't sound very loyal to the school, miss," spoke up another senior. "and who's to teach _me_ how to talk?" demanded hester, tossing her head. "i am not asking you, miss." "order, please!" commanded laura, firmly. "it is not a question of how badly or how well the eight rows. not just now. we have received a notice of this prize. we must respond properly to the secretary of the luna club." this item was disposed of; but laura had another thing connected with it on her mind. "it is quite true," she said, "that with the old shell we have been rowing in, it will be perfectly impossible for our eight to win the race. we are all agreed on that?" "and all the sane ones are agreed that you couldn't win in _any_ boat," declared hester, in her very meanest way. "now, i wish you wouldn't talk that way, hessie," complained nellie agnew. "and it isn't so, either!" exclaimed jess morse. "give us a good shell and we'll show you," said dorothy lockwood. "that is what we need," agreed her twin. "of course we can win under any decent circumstances," said laura, "now that we have bobby hargrew to be coxswain again." hester was silenced for the time. "bobby," or clara hargrew, had been in difficulties with the school authorities a few weeks before, and had been debarred from all the after-hour athletics--and hester grimes had been partly to blame for bobby's trouble. "the point of the whole matter is," said celia prime, one of the older girls, who was on the point of graduating from central high, "that the eight need and must have a new shell. our present boat is a disgrace." "i object to our centering all our efforts upon that particular boat and crew," snapped hester. "so do i," declared lily, her chum. "the canoes and the single and double oars have better chances to win than the eight," pursued hester. "we are centering on the eight because the bulk of the present crew are members of this committee." "that is not so, hessie," declared mary o'rourke, another senior who rowed in the eight. "the whole school is interested," said a junior member of the executive board. "the girls talk more about the eight than about anything else." "and that talk is all very skilfully worked up by laura, here, and her friends," declared hester. "oh! some of us have eyes and ears, i hope." "and a tongue that is hung in the middle and wags both ways!" whispered jess. "we are wrangling without coming to any conclusion," said laura, sighing. "what shall we do about the shell? can we get a new one----" "who'll buy it for us?" demanded lily. "that's just it," agreed laura. "let's ask our folks to all chip in a quarter," said jess. "if the parents of every girl at school did that we'd scarcely be able to buy a new shell," returned the chairman. "i know that my father will never give a penny toward a new shell--not while the crew remains as inefficient as it is at present," said hester, tossing her head. "but if you were in celia's place, at stroke," snapped jess, who was rather peppery in temper, "i suppose he would go right down into his pocket and purchase a boat for us himself?" "perhaps he would, miss smartie!" returned the butcher's daughter. "any change in the crew is up to mrs. case and the girls of the association--you know that, hessie," laura said, gravely. "we all got our positions because the instructor thought we were the better rowers----" "oh, bah!" ejaculated the angry hester. "we all know how _you_ are favored in everything, miss! as for the new shell--i sha'n't do a thing toward helping get one; make up your mind to that." "that certainly is a terrible stroke of bad news, hester," drawled one of the older girls. "now, you would better keep still and let some of the rest of us talk a while. for a sophomore, you have a lot to say that is inconsequential." some of the younger girls chuckled at this. but the occasion and the dispute itself were too serious to engender much hilarity. the question of the new shell was exhaustively discussed, and it was finally decided that a subscription paper be drawn and presented to the parents and friends of central high, and a sufficient sum be raised immediately, if possible, to pay for a new eight-oared shell. at the break-up of the meeting laura belding spoke to several of the girls, including the twins, of a little junket that had been planned for monday afternoon after school. dora and dorothy, jess morse, nellie agnew, and several other sophomores were invited to come to school prepared to ride directly from the school gate in automobiles into the country beyond robinson's woods, to a farmer's, whose family some of the girls already knew. "eve sitz's father raises the most luscious berries, and they are right at their height, eve telephoned me to-day," said laura. "she wants to give us a real strawberry festival monday evening--and there is a moon for us to come home by. chet and lance and a lot of the boys will go along, too. we're going to have mr. purcell's sight-seeing auto as well as our own, and they will hold all of us comfortably." "goody!" cried dora lockwood. "you are always thinking up the most perfectly scrumptious things to do, laura!" "'most perfectly scrumptious,'" repeated nellie, laughing. "if gee gee heard you say that, miss----ahem!--was it dora or dorothy?" the girls laughed, but the other twin shook her head seriously. "there is no dora at present. we are both dorothy lockwood," and when their friends demanded an explanation, the story of aunt dora's determination to take her namesake home with her to live came out in a torrent. "i'm glad i'm not a twin," declared jess morse, laughing till her sides ached. "they're lots of fun, these twins; but it's no fun to _be_ one of them, after all!" the lockwood girls really were in a serious mood when they made their way homeward. it was a tragedy, in their minds, to be separated; and dora and dorothy vowed to each other, whatever befell, that aunt dora should not discover which girl had been named in her honor. chapter viii hide and seek the lockwood twins were glad of an excuse--and a good one--for dodging aunt dora for one afternoon and evening, and they therefore welcomed the invitation to the strawberry festival at the sitz farm with acclaim. but there intervened the long sunday when aunt dora nagged them--and everybody else about the cottage--all day. mary, the hired girl, who had been with them since she had landed at ellis island, and who loved the twins as though they were her own, and admired mrs. betsey more than anybody else living, came to the verge of "giving notice" whenever aunt dora came into view of the house. "sure, i was a bogtrotter when oi landed, and we _did_ kape the pig in the kitchen--i admit it," declaimed the faithful mary. "but i've been bred to wor'rk under as clane a housekaper as ever wore shoes--god bless her! and to have that ould ormadoun come here and tell me me flures ar're not clane, and me bedrooms smell musty----ah--h! bad 'cess to the loikes av her!" mrs. betsey, to save losing mary altogether, gave her permission to take sunday afternoon and evening off. that would free her from the "eagle eye" of aunt dora for a few hours, at least. "aunt dora is what old-fashioned people used to call 'nasty clean'," grumbled mr. lockwood, as he prepared to flee to his beloved plants, despite the sacredness of the day. "she's so clean that she makes everybody else unhappy about it. but have patience, children. it can't last forever." it was mrs. betsey who was put through the "third degree" early in the morning. couldn't she really tell the twins apart? wasn't there something in their voices dissimilar? was there not some mark on their bodies by which dora could be distinguished from dorothy? hadn't one child a scar that the other did not have? "my dear madam," declared the old housekeeper and nurse, in desperation. "i gave up the question as hopeless ten years and more ago. if those girls do not wish to own up, nobody can tell them apart, you may be sure of that. yes, they _are_ stubborn--and they _are_ pert. they have never been governed by harshness or by fear. the only way that i know to make dora tell you which she is, is to make her love you enough to tell you." "nonsense!" snapped aunt dora. "they are children. they must obey." "in that particular, madam," said mrs. betsey, shaking her head, "i fail to see how you are to make them obey." "they both should be punished." "even that would not make them obey you--no matter what the punishment. and you know," added the old lady, with eyes that began to brighten warningly, "mr. lockwood would not hear of the twins being punished." "if they were mine i'd spank them both!" declared aunt dora, spitefully. "and that is perhaps one reason why neither wishes to go home with you," returned mrs. betsey, pointedly. as mary was gone for the day the twins agreed to get tea; and there being a certain famous recipe, which had been the lockwood family property for generations, for tea-biscuit, the twins promised mr. lockwood he should have them. "can't one of you make the biscuit, without the other?" demanded aunt dora, her gray eyes beginning to sparkle. "dora really makes them the best, i believe," said mrs. betsey, placidly, stroking the front of her silk gown, as she sat in her low rocker by the front window. "ha!" exclaimed the militant lady. "then let dora make them." "oh, we'll both make 'em," exclaimed one of the twins, getting up with her sister to go to the kitchen. "one of us can sift the flour while the other is preparing the tins. we'll make you a double quantity, papa," she added, over her shoulder, her own eyes dancing merrily. "now! which was _that_?" demanded aunt dora. "was it dora--or dorothy?" "i really couldn't say," murmured mr. lockwood. "dorothy usually sifts the flour," offered mrs. betsey. "but dora makes up the biscuit best," said mr. lockwood. aunt dora looked from one unruffled face to the other; then she got up quietly and stole from the room. she tiptoed through the hall to the pantry door. there she waited until she was sure the twins were busy at the dresser and stove. so she stepped into the pantry and pushed aside the white dimity curtain at the window in the door which opened into the kitchen. one twin was busily buttering the tins while the other was sifting the ingredients of the biscuits in the big yellow mixing bowl. "so dorothy usually sifts the flour, does she?" muttered the determined old lady, staring hard at the back of the sifter's head. but one thing aunt dora did not know. every time the girl sifting the flour glanced up from her work she looked straight into a mirror over the dresser, tipped at such an angle that it showed the pantry door. she saw the curtain drawn back and her aunt's nose appear at the window. at once she said to her sister: "are you afraid of the wolf at the door?" "eh?" jerked out the other twin, looking up quickly. "but if poor papa is so poor, you know, maybe one of us ought to go home with aunt dora." the girl buttering the tins saw her sister's wink and nod, and glanced slily in the mirror, too. "we will fight the wolf at the door and drive it away," she declared, with spirit. "we'll leave school and go to work rather than be separated. isn't that the way you feel?" "i should feel that i'd rather work than go home with auntie, if i were dora," declared she who was sifting. "so should i if _i_ were dora," agreed her sister. a minute later one of the girls, while testing the heat of the oven, screamed. "oh, oh!" she cried. "oh, oh! i'm burned! look at that!" and she held up her wrist with a white mark across it. her sister darted across the kitchen, crying: "i'll get the witch hazel--you poor dear!" she had forgotten aunt dora, hiding in the pantry, and she collided with her with considerable force. "what's the matter with you?" demanded the exasperated old lady. "nothing with me," returned the hurrying girl. "it's _she_ who's burned." "who's burned?" cried aunt dora. "which of you is hurt?" the girl who had stopped recovered her self-possession. "let me go, auntie," she said, quietly. "_my sister_ has burned her wrist." and so the anxious and determined aunt did not catch the twins off their guard, neither in war nor peace. chapter ix one is a heroine when the girls invited to evangeline sitz's "party" hurried out of central high on monday afternoon, they found, as laura belding had promised, her father's automobile, as well as one of mr. purcell's big, three-seated "lumber barges," as the boys called centerport's sight-seeing autos. there were three seats behind the driver's, each wide enough for four persons. laura and chet (the latter of whom drove the belding machine) had their own close friends in the smaller auto, and it was well filled. mr. purcell stood by the chauffeur of the big car as the lockwood twins whisked into the front seat, completely filling it. dora and dorothy always preferred to keep together, and nobody could get between them here. the girls heard the automobile owner ask the driver: "how do you feel now, bennie? all right?" "pretty good, boss," said the man, who, the twins noticed, was pale. "sure you can make it all right? if you feel bad, say so, and i'll take your place." "i'll be all right, boss, once we get moving," said the chauffeur. "oh, look who's here!" whispered dorothy, suddenly, to her sister, pinching her arm to attract her attention. "it's pretty!" gasped dora. "isn't he a vision of loveliness?" the dandy of the school came mincing along the sidewalk with the evident intention of joining the auto party. he had been excused from classes early to go home and "rig up" for the occasion; and he certainly was--as lance darby said from the head automobile--"a sight for gods and men!" prettyman sweet wore a white flannel coat and trousers, with a very fine line of blue running through the goods lengthwise. he wore a canvas hat and canvas shoes, cut low to show open-work crimson silk socks--oh, they were dreams of the hosier's art! he wore a flowing crimson tie, too, and around his waist, instead of an ordinary belt, he wore a new-fangled, knitted, crimson sash-belt, the like of which none of the boys of central high had ever beheld before. "oh, purt! where did you get it?" cried lance darby. "you're fixed up to flag a freight, with all that red on you," said chet. "and where _did_ you get that gorgeous sash, mr. sweet?" demanded "bobby" hargrew, who was a tease by nature, and had the sharpest tongue of any girl at central high. "oh, now, miss clara," said purt sweet, carefully climbing into the seat directly behind the twins. "this is the very latest thing--weally! i sent clear to new york for it. you see, it's not so stiff and hard looking as a leather belt. this--er--lends a softness to the whole costume that is--er--quite unobtainable with a belt." "oh, gee!" gasped bobby. "it's soft enough, all right, all right!" and the rest laughed as they piled into the machine. purt sat with his back to the twins, and was explaining to the girl beside him that he did not mind riding backward at all. bobby was still on the ground, and as dora and dorothy looked down at her they saw the mischievous one suddenly reach up her thumb and finger and pick at a little frayed place upon the edge of purt's beautiful sash. the thing was knitted loosely of some kind of mercerized cotton, and when bobby seized the end of a broken strand the sash began to unravel with marvelous rapidity. she grinned up at the twins delightedly, and continued to pull on the thread. "all aboard, young folks!" cried mr. purcell. "you ready forward, there, mr. chetwood?" "all right," returned chet, tripping his self-starter. mr. purcell stooped to crank up his big machine. bobby, her eyes dancing, also stooped beside the front wheel for a moment, and then whisked into her seat, facing purt sweet. but the twins saw what she had done. she had fastened the end of the crimson thread to the head of a bolt upon the wheelbox. "all right, bennie!" said mr. purcell, stepping back and waving his hand. the big machine began to tremble and shake, and then they pulled out behind the belding car. there was a lot of noise, and laughter, and fun; but nobody seemed so hilarious as clara hargrew and the lockwood twins. "can't you keep your eyes off purt, bobby?" demanded the girl sitting next to the sweet boy. "what's the matter with him?" "no--nothing!" chortled bobby, stuffing her handkerchief into her mouth. but she was watching that red thread shooting down to the wheel and winding around and around the box, faster and faster as the big machine got under way. by the time the auto turned into market street a great ball of the red worsted, or whatever it was, had formed on the inside of the wheel, and the perfectly unconscious prettyman sweet was fast losing his beautiful crimson sash. the knitted part of the sash overlaid a belt of canvas which really did the service of holding up the exquisite's trousers. but fast, fast indeed, the red thread was running out. others saw the unraveling yarn, and joined bobby and the twins in hilarious laughter. then a man walking on the sidewalk espied the growing ball of thread on the wheel and followed the strand to its source. his happy chortles attracted the attention of other pedestrians, and soon the big automobile was being accompanied by a chorus of shouts from small boys in the streets, and laughter from an ever-increasing number of bystanders. "what do you suppose is the matter with all these people?" demanded the unconscious purt. "i never did see the like. weally! it's too widiculous." "that's what it is!" laughed bobby. "why!" exclaimed purt, "they weally seem to see something about us to laugh at! what can it be?" "must be you, purt," said one of the boys. "widiculous! there is nothing about me to laugh at, dear boy." "huh!" grunted his schoolmate. "you're one big laugh all the time, pretty, only you don't know it!" the way to the farm where the young people were bound was out market street to the east, and then through the winding road which bisected robinson's woods and up into the hills. mr. sitz was a swiss, and had been used to hilly farms in his youth; therefore the "up hill and down dale" nature of his farming land near centerport did not trouble him in the least. he and otto, his son, and the hands he hired, made good crops upon the hilly farm, and the sitzes were becoming well to do. in the front auto laura was speaking about eve sitz. "she's such a big, muscular girl. if she comes to central high next fall, as i want her to, she'll help us greatly in athletics. you see, she'll enter as a junior, and be in our classes. and she can pull an oar already--and what a fine guard she'd make at basketball! she's a lot lighter on her feet than hester grimes, or mary o'rourke, in spite of the fact that she's so big." "bully!" exclaimed jess. "she can cut out hessie, then." suddenly lance, who looked back, raised a shout of surprise and terror. "look at that! what's happened to the other car! stop, chet!" the young folks in the belding car sprang up and looked back. they were just in time to see the man who drove the sight-seeing car fall sidewise from his seat, and slip down until half of his body lay upon the step. he had dropped the wheel and the heavy car was running wild. the two cars were out of the city now, and running upon a lonely bit of road. the belding car was, indeed, half way down the long slope, which the heavier one had just begun to descend. the big auto began to wabble from side to side, and those ahead saw one of the lockwood twins seize the man who had fallen and drag him back into the car. but, meanwhile, the car itself was running away. faster and faster it rolled down the hill, and its course was so erratic that those in the first car almost held their breath. the expectation was that the big car would collide with a telegraph pole beside the road, or go into the ditch on the other side. "stop, chet!" yelled lance again. but if chet belding stopped his car, he knew that the other might run them down. he dared not run that risk. "grab the wheel! shut off the power! brake her!" yelled lance, wildly waving his arms at the crowd behind. "some of you fellows do something!" but the boy nearest to the steering gear of the big machine was purt sweet--and purt scarcely knew enough about an automobile to keep from being run over by one! "oh!" cried laura, "they will be hurt! there! it's going to smash into that tree----" but suddenly they saw one of the twins dive into the chauffeur's seat. she seized the wheel and guided the big machine into the straight road again. then she manipulated the levers and quickly brought the shuddering car to a stop. the driver still lay motionless. "oh, oh!" cried jess, hopping out of the belding car when chet stopped it, and running back. "she stopped it! you're a real heroine--dorothy--dora--whichever one you are." but the lockwood twins looked at each other quickly and that understanding glance made the girl who had played the heroine say: "it doesn't matter which one of us did it, jess. we'll divide the heroic act between us. but let's see what's the matter with this poor man; he's fainted, i believe." chapter x baked in a biscuit there wasn't a house in sight; but not far beyond was the inn at robinson's woods, the picnic grounds, and lance took the management of the big car while the unconscious chauffeur was rushed ahead by chet in the belding car. the man was put to bed at the inn and a physician sent for; but lance agreed to drive the big car himself on to the sitz place. when the larger car reached the inn, however, another discovery was made. even while the auto had followed its erratic course, untended, part way down the hill, purt sweet had sat tight and merely squealed. he had not offered to leave his seat. but now, by the merest chance, he happened to look down at his waist. the greater part of that beautiful crimson sash had disappeared! "wha--wha--what's the matter with me?" gasped purt. "i--i've lost it! who's taken it?" he bobbed up suddenly and broke the strand that had been, all this time, winding around and around the wheelbox until there was now a big roll of it. "what's the matter with you, purt?" demanded one of the boys, bursting with laughter. "why--why--somebody's stolen my sash!" wailed the youth. "did you see it? isn't that a mean trick, now?" the shout that went up from the girls and boys who had been watching the unraveling process brought the crowd from the first automobile back, too. poor purt looked ruefully at his lost sash, wound around the wheel, and bemoaned his bad fortune most feelingly. but lance cut off the ball of red worsted and threw it in the gutter. "i really wish you wouldn't be so careless, purt," he said, as though the victim were at fault. "mussing up the whole machine with your fancy fixin's. don't you do that any more." "but, my dear boy, i had no idea of doing it--weally!" exclaimed the unfortunate purt. "i don't for the life of me see how that could have become attached to that wheel." and as nobody explained the mystery to him, he was in low spirits all the rest of the way to the farmhouse. but the preparations at the sitz farm were likely to raise the spirits of any boy or girl. in the first place the farmhouse was a very pleasant old house indeed, and its big grassy yard, with shade trees and vines, was a delightful spot for an open-air party. under the grape arbors, now in full leaf, long tables had been spread, and as soon as the automobiles arrived eve called the girls to the back porch to help hull berries already picked, while otto, her rather slow-witted brother, took the boys down to the strawberry patch to help pick more of the fruit. purt, who was greedy as could be, "picked into his mouth" until chet and the other boys warned him that he'd be so full he would not be able to do justice to the berries and cream that would come later. the big kitchen of the farmhouse was a scene of great activity, too. mother sitz, who could scarcely speak a word of english, was happy in having the girls about, however; and she had made and frosted and decorated innumerable little cakes such as she had been used to in the old country. eve put on a big apron and lent laura one, and the two set about making the biscuit and the old-fashioned dough for the short-cakes. laura belding was fond of eve for the country girl's own sake; but loyalty to central high and laura's deep interest in school athletics caused her to cultivate the girl, too. there was a very good district school which eve had attended, in which the teacher had brought her older scholars along to a point that enabled them to take the examinations for the junior grade of the city schools. these examinations were to be held in centerport within a fortnight, and laura wished eve to come to central high in the fall, instead of to the keyport high, which was somewhat nearer to the sitz place. "you'll have to take train to keyport, anyway, eve," urged her friend, while they were busy making the biscuits. "there is a better train stops at your station, bound for centerport; and you can get out at the hill station and then it is only a five-minute walk to our school." "i know, laura," said the big girl. "but do you suppose i can pass?" "why not?" "they say that mr. sharp is dreadfully _sharp_ on latin, and that's my weak point." "why, you can cram on latin in a fortnight. i'll tell you a book to get that will help--and it costs but fifty cents. you can begin right away on it----" "but i haven't got the book yet." "you've got the fifty cents, haven't you?" returned her friend. "yes." "then--what time does your rural delivery man go by the end of the road?" eve glanced at the big clock solemnly ticking on the wall. "in about three-quarters of an hour." "run and write your letter to the keyport bookseller. one of the boys will run out and give the letter to the mail carrier." "but a fifty cent piece won't be safe in a letter," said eve, doubtfully. "we--ell----" "and i haven't time to run out there and stop mr. cheever, and make out a money order--for fifty cents, too!" exclaimed eve. "humph!" ejaculated laura. "there's fifty ways of sending fifty cents----" "sure," laughed eve. "a penny at a time!" "no. i'm not joking. write your letter. give me the fifty cents. i'll find a safe way. give me the half dollar now. i'll put the biscuits in the pans. is the oven hot?" "pretty near." "i'll try it--with one biscuit, anyway," chuckled laura, seizing the half dollar her friend gave out of her purse. in ten minutes eve came dancing back from her room with the letter written. "how you going to send the money, laura?" she demanded. "here's the letter--all ready." "and the money will be ready in a minute or two. that oven's good and hot," said laura. "what do you mean?" gasped eve. "you're not baking the half dollar?" "yes, ma'am," laughed laura. "that's what i'm doing." she dropped the range door and showed a small pan with one lonesome little biscuit in it. "it's baking fine, too. i want it to be a hard, crusty one----" "and you've baked the half dollar in the biscuit!" screamed eve. "that's what i've done. you just add a line to your letter to that effect. then we'll put the letter and biscuit in that little box, tie it up, address it, and lance darby will run out to the road and mail it for you. be quick now," concluded laura, whisking the pan out of the oven, "for the half-dollar biscuit is done!'" "what an original girl you are, laura," said eve, doing as she was bid. "who'd have thought of _that_ way to send coin in the mail?" "your aunt laura thought of it," laughed her friend. "for we want nothing to stand in your way of passing that examination, eve. we need you at central high." chapter xi the boat is found and that supper! it was something to be membered by the crowd from town. such thick, luscious yellow cream that mother sitz lifted from the pans of milk in the cement block "milk-house" most of the town-bred folk had never seen before. the biscuits and "short-cake" came out of the oven with just the right brown to them. the big berries were heaped upon the wedges of buttered short-cake, and then cream poured over the berries, with plenty of sugar. "yum! yum!" mumbled lance darby, with a huge mouthful obstructing his parts of speech. "isn't this the jim-dandiest lay-out you ever saw, chet?" "i never sat down to a better one," admitted his chum. "but please don't talk to me. purt is getting more of the berries than i am--and he isn't talking at all. just pass the sugar, lance, and then shut up for a while." but there was enough serious talk during the supper to arrange a return treat for eve and otto sitz. the farmer boy and his sister had seldom been on lake luna and laura and her brother suggested a trip by boat and canoe to cavern island for the following saturday. "and no picnic luncheon at the park. that's too common," declared jess morse, eagerly. "let's do something different." "trot out your 'different' suggestion, josephine," said her chum. "let's go to the caves. let's picnic there." "oh!" cried one of the lockwood twins. "that's where we saw the 'lone pirate.'" "the lone _what_?" rejoined nellie agnew. "what do you mean by that?" the other twin explained how and when they had seen the bushy-headed, wild-looking man at the foot of boulder head. "there's where the caverns open onto the shore, exactly," remarked chet belding. "are you afraid of meeting the pirate, girls?" "we'll capture him and make him walk the plank!" declared bobby hargrew. "hurrah for the pirate!" so the trip to cavern island for the next saturday was arranged, eve and otto promising to join the party at centerport. and the run home by automobile in the moonlight was enlivened by plans for the coming good time on the lake. lance ran the sight-seeing automobile carefully and delivered it to mr. purcell, the owner, in good season. the man who should have driven it, but who was taken ill, had been removed to the hospital from the inn in the woods. "i understand one of those girls played the heroine and stopped the car," said the automobile owner. "yes, sir," replied lance. "that was one of the lockwood twins." "which one was it? i'd like to thank her, at least," said mr. purcell. "couldn't tell you," laughed lance. "why couldn't you? sworn to secrecy, young man?" demanded mr. purcell. "no, sir. but the twins themselves seem to be. nobody knows them apart, and they won't tell on each other. one of them is the heroine, but which one nobody knows," and lance darby went off laughing. meanwhile the twins themselves walked briskly home from the schoolhouse where the party of young folk had separated. on the way they met a girl a little older than themselves, hurrying in the opposite direction. "here's billy long's sister, alice," whispered dora to dorothy. "oh, dear me!" replied dorothy. "i suppose she has had to work late at the paper box factory. and how she must feel----" her twin seized the factory girl's arm as she was hurrying past with just a little nod to the lockwood twins. "alice long!" ejaculated dora. "you're crying. what's the matter?" "oh, girls! you know about billy, don't you?" cried short and long's sister. "they haven't caught him?" cried dorothy. "no, no! i almost wish they would," sobbed alice long. "we don't know where he is. i've just been down to mr. norman's to see if the boat has been found." "and it hasn't?" demanded one of the twins. "no. it was an old boat that mr. norman thought he was going fishing in, same as usual. billy often brings home a mess of fish, or sells them. you know, he has always been a helpful boy." "we want to tell you, alice dear," said dorothy with a glance at her sister, "that we don't believe a word of what they say about billy." "thank you, miss," said alice, eagerly. "i was sure his schoolmates would stand by him. but he was very foolish to run away--if he has run away." "otherwise, what has happened to him?" "that is what is worrying father and me. the boat was old. something might have happened. he might be drowned," sobbed the sister. "oh, no, alice! billy was a good swimmer." "i know that. but often good swimmers are taken with cramps. and if the boat overturned, or sank, out in the middle of lake luna----" "that's too dreadful a thing to think of!" cried dora. "i believe he ran away because he was afraid of being arrested. everybody was talking about his having a hand in that robbery." "well, he never did it. i could testify that he wasn't out of his bed tuesday night when the robbery took place. i told the policemen so. but, of course, billy could have gone out of the window and down the shed roof--and got back again, too--without our knowing it. he has more than once, i suppose," admitted the troubled sister. "you see, on wednesday stresch & potter sent their store detective to see billy, and he bulldozed him and threatened him. i expect the boy was badly frightened, although the man was only a cheap bully. so we don't know what to think--whether billy has deliberately run away, or that some accident happened to him on the lake." "chet and lance darby were looking for him saturday over at cavern island," said a twin. "but they met with an accident. we're all going over to the island again this coming saturday, and we'll search the east end for him." "how would he live over there?" gasped his sister. "oh, there are berries this time of year. and of course, he could fish," said dora eagerly. "there's a man hiding there, anyway," added dorothy, but then remembered that the information might add to alice's fright, so said no more. "we'll do everything we can to find short and long," dora assured the boy's sister. "and we are telling everybody that we don't believe billy would do such a thing as they say. as though there wasn't any other boy in centerport who could have crawled through that window at stresch & potter's." the twins parted from alice long, and ran home. they slipped to bed without encountering aunt dora and counted that day well spent because the old lady had not yet caught them so that she could identify dora. but on tuesday aunt dora appeared at central high and met miss grace g. carrington--otherwise "gee gee." "i wish to hear my nieces recite," she said, with sharply twinkling eyes behind her glasses. "it doesn't matter what class--any class will do." miss carrington politely asked the prim old lady to sit beside her on the platform, and aunt dora listened to the recitation then in progress. both dora and dorothy took part; but for the life of her the near-sighted lady could not tell when dora spoke, and when dorothy answered! "i suppose you know them apart?" she ventured, to miss carrington. "oh, no; but i believe they usually answer to their names. they stand about alike in their classes and we have put them on their honor not to answer for each other. they are good girls and give me little trouble," added gee gee, which was a concession from her. "so if you called one of them to the desk you could not be sure that the one you called really came?" asked aunt dora. "not as far as physical appearances go," said gee gee, shaking her head. so aunt dora was thwarted again and went back to the cottage to invent some other method of tripping the twins. it had become a game, now, that both sides were determined to win; and mr. lockwood and mrs. betsey stood by and watched the play with amusement. a veritable fleet of canoes, pair-oared and four-oared boats gathered at central high boat house, just before noon the next saturday. it was a bright and calm day and the lake looked most inviting. the girls were in fine fettle, particularly. the subscription paper to raise the sum necessary for the purchase of a new eight-oared shell had gone about town briskly that week and laura reported that already more than half of the sum necessary had been promised. she had written to the builders of such shells and they had replied that there was one in stock that they would be glad to send the girls of central high, on approval, if the physical instructor agreed. "and mrs. case is writing to them to-day," concluded laura. "they will send on the new boat and we can pay for it after the money is all in. and, oh, girls! we'll win that race from the keyport and other crews, if such a thing is possible. after to-day the crew will be in training. we must try out the boat, and work in her just as soon as she arrives, and every other afternoon thereafter. so, you members of the crew make your preparations accordingly." "and for goodness sake, bobby," urged nellie agnew, to the little "cox" of the crew, "don't you go to cutting capers in school so that gee gee can condition you. she's just waiting for a chance to fix it so you cannot steer for us." "aw, pshaw!" said clara hargrew. "i don't do anything." "no; but gee gee does something to you," declared jess morse, laughing. "see that you don't give her a chance to stop your after-hour athletics again, bobby," begged laura. "all right; i'll be good," said bobby, grinning. "but after school--well, when long vacation comes this time i think i'll have to set the old school house afire to celebrate!" "no. you had trouble over fires before," advised dorothy lockwood. "that's so," agreed dora. "don't mention fire again!" exclaimed jess. "that's why we lost the race before--because you could not steer for us, bobby." laura and lance darby took eve and otto sitz with them in lance's nice boat. there were two pairs of sculls and otto managed to row very well in the bow. of course chet took jess in his boat, and the remainder paired off as fancy beckoned. but the twins paddled their cedar canoe. and few of the fleet of small craft were propelled to the island in better shape than dora's and dorothy's canoe. the others cheered the pretty girls as they forced their craft through the rippling water. the management of a canoe--especially a double canoe--is not so easy as it appears. but the lockwood twins had taken to that form of aquatic sports very kindly, and there really were few canoe crews in centerport who handled their craft as well. the fleet of boats crossed the lake in a short time and, headed by the twins' canoe, reached the eastern end of the island. they swept into the cove where the girls had seen, the previous saturday, the rough-looking, bewhiskered man upon the shore. right here under the boulder head was the mouth of the cavern from which the island obtained its name. as the twins swept their canoe on with easy strokes, dora suddenly uttered a cry of excitement. "see there, dory!" she said. "see where?" demanded her sister, craning her neck to see over dora's shoulder. "there! down in the water! the sunken boat!" the water in the cove was very clear, but it had considerable depth. the canoe was brought sharply up by the two girls and both peered down. below them could plainly be seen a sunken rowboat. it did not appear to be damaged in any way, but had simply filled and sunk. "what have you found, girls?" demanded lance darby, whose boat was nearest to the twins' canoe at the moment. "is there some deep sea monster down there?" "come and look, lance," cried dora. the moment the young darby saw the submerged craft he exclaimed: "here it is, by gracious!" "here is what?" demanded laura. "the boat. hey, chet! we've found it!" he called to his chum, who quickly turned his own boat's prow in their direction. "what you found?" demanded laura's brother, coming nearer. "here's mr. norman's boat that he lent short and long," declared lance, eagerly. "it was just as you said, chet. billy came over here to the island." "oh, my!" cried jess. "and if that is so, perhaps he is still here." "we must find him," said one of the twins, earnestly. "his sister alice is just about worried to death about him; and the longer he remains in hiding, the worse it will be for him, anyway." chapter xii in the cave the other boats of the flotilla began to make the cove and soon there was a loudly chattering crowd around the sunken boat. "are you sure that's the old rowboat billy got from mr. norman?" asked one of the other boys of chet. "yes, sir! i've been out in it more than once with short and long," declared laura's brother. "but where can billy be?" cried josephine morse. "surely, the poor fellow isn't drowned?" queried nellie agnew. "oh, don't suggest such a thing!" returned one of the twins. "if you'd seen how badly his sister felt about his absence----" "i expect the longs are all broken up about it. and they have no mother," said laura belding, softly. "and billy could swim like a fish," quoth lance darby. "no chance of his being drowned," declared chet. "but, do you suppose he sank the boat here to hide it--sank it purposely?" cried another girl. "maybe he's hiding here. why don't they search the island for him?" "and the caves?" cried another. "_i'd_ like to get hold of him," chetwood belding said, gravely. "but billy never in this world crawled through that basement window and opened the door for those burglars. i'll never believe it----" "not even if billy said so himself, dear boy?" interposed prettyman sweet. "i'd doubt it then," rejoined chet, grimly. "and let me tell you fellows, this absence of short and long is a very bad thing for central high. we lost the game with lumberport just because billy wasn't at short; you all know that. i'm mighty glad the game with west high was called off for to-day. without billy long, central high is very likely to win the booby prize on the diamond this season." "right you are, chet," declared lance darby. "i admit billy is some little ball player," agreed another boy. "but it looks bad, his running away." "what would _you_ have done?" flashed out dora lockwood, for the twins had become strong partisans of the absent billy since talking with alice long, "if that store detective had come and bullied _you_?" "put him through the third degree, did he?" "yes. and scared him by all sorts of threats. and then, everybody around the neighborhood got hold of it, and said that billy was just the boy to do such a thing," dorothy broke in. "he _was_ up to all sorts of mischief," nellie agnew observed. "never did a mean thing in his life, billy didn't," declared chet. "come on ashore," said lance, he and otto sitz pulling their heavy boat in to a sloping landing. "no use gassing here about that old boat. we can't raise it. but i'll tell mr. norman where it is when i go back." "you're very right, lance," said purt sweet. "it's time to have the luncheon--don't you think? i'm getting howwibly hungry, dontcher know?" "to see you eat strawberries up at eve's house last monday, i thought you would never be hungry again--if you recovered," laughed jess. "aw--now--miss josephine--weally, you know," gasped the dude. "you are too, too cwuel!" "somebody throw that fellow overboard!" growled chet. "he's getting softer and softer every day." "never mind," whispered his sister, laughing, "he is dressed much less gaudily to-day. what bobby did to that sash of his last monday seems to have made purt less vociferous in his sartorial taste." "gee, laura!" cried bobby hargrew, from the next boat, "if mammy jinny heard that, she sure would think that schools ought to teach only 'words of one syllabub.'" "never mind mammy jinny," laughed laura. "we've got some of mammy's finest efforts in pie and cake in our hamper. and i admit, like purt, i am hungry myself. let's eat before we do another living thing!" that was indeed a hilarious picnic. the girls had brought paper napkins and tablecloths, as well as plenty of paper plates. no trouble about washing dishes, or packing them home again, afterward. chet had bought a big tin pail and in this he made gallons of lemonade, and everybody ate and drank to repletion. "now, if we were only at the park for just a little while, and could top off on ice cream," said lance, lying back on the greensward with a contented sigh despite his spoken wish. "i'd rather see that monkey again," laughed jess. "that's the cutest little beast." "it weally is surprising how much the cweature knows," said purt sweet. "it is weally almost human." "so are you!" scoffed lance. "it's an ugly little animal. never did like a monkey. and i think tony allegretto and his trained monkey are fakes. we didn't see him do anything wonderful." "oh, they say that the monkey does lots of other tricks when tony gets a big crowd into his booth," said laura. "now, who's for seeing the caves?" cried chet, rising briskly. "you girls declared you wanted to go 'way through the hill." "won't we get lost?" asked nellie, timidly. "not a bit of it. it's a straight passage--nearly," said chet. "lance and i have been through a couple of times. we come out into just the prettiest little valley in the middle of the island--and not far from the park, at that." "but people _have_ been lost in the caves," objected one girl. "not of late years. there are side passages, i know, where a fellow could get turned around." "it's just like a maze, over at the east end," lance observed. "but we won't go into that part." "and the way is marked along the walls of the straight cave in red paint. i've got a box of tapers," said chet, and ran to the boat for them. "gas lighters," said dorothy. "oh, jolly!" ejaculated bobby hargrew. "you know what that new hired girl of ours said when mother showed her how to cook macaroni? she says: "'sure, mrs. hargrew, do youse be atein' them things?' "and when mother told her yes, bridget said: "'well! well! where i wor'rked last they used 'em to light the gas wid!'" the party of young folk had to follow a narrow path along the shore of the cove for some distance ere they came to the first opening into the caves. the sheer face of boulder head rose more than a hundred feet above their heads. there were shelves and crevices in the rock, out of which stunted trees and bushes grew in abundance; but there was no practicable path to the top of the cliff. "they say that, years ago, a man used to live on this island who could climb that cliff like a goat," chet said. "bet none of you boys could climb it," cried bobby hargrew. "and we're not going to try it, miss! not on a double-dare," laughed chet. "we'll go through it, if you please. now, here's the opening of the main passage. you see, there's an arrow in red painted on the rock just inside." "it looks awfully dark," said nellie, quaveringly. "and suppose the 'lone pirate' should be hiding in there?" whispered dora to her twin. "we--ell! i guess there are enough of us to frighten him away," said dorothy. chet took the lead with a lighted taper. of course, when he was well inside the small flame gave a very pale glow; but those behind could see it. then lance followed with another light at about the middle of the indian file, and otto sitz brought up the rear with a third. "you look out somebody doesn't creep up behind you and bite, otto," laughed bobby hargrew, who was just ahead of the swiss boy. "dat don't worry me von bit," growled otto. "it iss only ha'ants i am afraid of, and ha'nts don't live in caves." "no," said bobby, shivering. "b--r--r--r! they'd freeze to death in here. isn't it cold, after coming out of the warm sun?" but when they were once well into the passage through the rock, and the first 'shivery' feeling had worn off, the girls as well as the boys were hilarious. when they shouted in the high and vaulted chambers their voices were echoed thunderously in their ears. the flaming tapers were reflected in places from many points of quartz, or mica. the floor of the cavern was quite smooth, and rose only a little. in places the walls were worn as smooth as glass. in some dim, past age the center of this island must have been a great lake, and the water had found an outlet through these passages. at one point they found a little circular chamber at one side, in which was a bed of pine branches. it really looked as though the place had been used----and not so long before----as a camp. there were the ashes of a fire on the floor. "here's where the pirate has been living," dora declared to her sister. "it would scare the girls into fits if we should tell them so." "hush!" said dorothy. "perhaps that man _is_ here somewhere," and she, at least, was glad to hurry on, although chet searched the chamber with particular care. "what do you expect to find here, old man?" asked lance, laughing. but his chum only shook his head and led the way toward the distant outlet of the passage. chapter xiii the strange man again they came out of the cave into a hollow, grown to a wilderness of small trees, yet carpeted between with a brilliant sod of short grass. on the steep sides were larger trees; but evidently, at a time not then long past, the cup of the hollow had been cleared. and at one side was the ruin of a log hut. "the man who lived alone at this end of the island, and climbed up and down boulder head, used to occupy this hut," said chet. "but those logs were cut a hundred years ago!" cried dora lockwood. "see how they have rotted at the ends." "i guess that's so. nobody knows who built the cabin." "indians!" cried jess. "indians didn't built log houses. the first settlers did that. indians lived in wigwams," declared laura. "some old hunter lived here, maybe, when the woods were full of bears and wildcats," suggested her chum. "what's that!" suddenly shrieked bobby. "there's a wildcat, now!" "behave!" commanded laura, shaking the smaller girl. "you can't scare us that way." "nothing more ferocious inhabits these woods than a teddy-bear," laughed jess morse. "then it was a teddy bear i saw in that tree," declared bobby, pointing. "and it was a live one." the girls--some of them, at least--drew together. "what did you see, clara?" demanded nellie agnew. "a little brown animal----" "a red squirrel!" cried lance. "hark!" cried chet. "i hear him." there certainly did come to their ears a chattering sound. "that's no squirrel," announced otto. "i haf been hunting enough for them alretty." "no squirrel was ever so noisy as that, chet," said his sister. "there! i see it again," cried the quick-eyed bobby. "my goodness, gracious me!" gasped purt, who was craning his neck to see into the tree tops so that the back of his high collar sawed his neck. "i--i thought it looked like a blue-jay." "say!" exclaimed lance. "you're looking in the wrong direction." "it's a monkey!" cried dora lockwood, at that moment. "it's tony allegretto's monkey," added her twin. some of the others caught sight of the animal then. it was truly the large monkey the friends had seen only the week before at the amusement park at the other end of the island. "he's run away!" cried laura. "i hope he has," dorothy lockwood said. "that italian didn't treat him kindly. what was his name?" "he called the monk 'bébé'," said lance. "let's see if he will come down to us," suggested laura, crossing the hollow. "now, keep back, the rest of you," commanded lance. "if anybody can get the little beast, laura can do it." "sure!" chuckled bobby. "mother wit can charm either boys, or monkeys--and right out of the trees!" but they gave way to mother wit and she went alone to the foot of the tree in which bébé was swinging. he chattered when she came near, and swung upright on the branch. but he did not appear to be much afraid. laura found an apple in her pocket, and she offered it to the monkey, calling to him soothingly. whether his monkeyship was fond of apples, or not, he was curious, and he began to descend the tree slowly. he was dressed in a part of his odd neapolitan suit; but it was torn and bedraggled. a cord was fastened to his collar, but it had become frayed and so was broken. his queer, ugly face was wrinkled into an expression of doubt as he approached laura, and his little eyes snapped greedily. the apple tempted him. "come down, bébé," coaxed laura. "talk italian to him--he understands that better," giggled jess. bébé chattered angrily. "hush!" commanded lance. "she'll get him yet, if you'll let her alone." the monkey did seem, when all was quiet, to be about to leap into laura's arms. "come, bébé," she coaxed, and finally the chattering creature timidly dropped from the branch of the tree and snuggled down into her arms, grabbing the apple on the instant and sinking his sharp teeth into it. at the very moment of her success there were crashing footsteps in the bushes and into the opening rushed tony allegretto, the monkey's master. "ah-ah!" cried the italian, his face glowing and his black eyes snapping. "you try-a to steal-a da monk! come to me bébé--or i break-a da neckl!" [illustration: "ah-ah!" cried the italian, "you try-a to steal-a da monk!"] he rushed toward the girl holding the monkey. the animal chattered angrily and cowered in laura's arms. "hold on," said chet, stepping forward. "nobody's stealing your monkey, and don't you say we are. he was up the tree there and my sister got him down for you. i reckon if you treated him half decently he wouldn't run away from you." "you! ha!" sputtered tony. "you one o' dem fresh boys, eh? give-a me da monk!" "let him have the creature, laura," said chet. "he'll beat him. see how frightened poor bébé is!" "can't help it," said her brother. "he belongs to the dago----" "calla me da dago, too!" stammered the angry italian. "i fix-a you for dis!" and he shook his fist at chet. "come on and do your fixing right now," advised the big boy, easily. "you won't find me as easy as bébé, i bet you!" "you 'merican boys and girls want to steal my monk--want-a spoil-a da act!" cried tony. he grabbed bébé out of laura's arms, although the monkey shrieked his protest at the exchange. but tony did not beat the little beast, and it clung to him with one arm around tony's neck while it finished the apple. "you ought to thank us for finding your monkey for you," said lance darby, in disgust. tony growled something in italian and started off up the side of the hollow. before he got out of sight he was joined by a man who stepped out of hiding in a clump of brush. "did you see that?" cried lance, eagerly, in chefs ear. "there's another of 'em here." "another monkey?" laughed chet. but dora whispered to dorothy: "that man has whiskers. do you suppose he is our lone pirate?" "i'd like to see this piratical individual you girls are talking about," laughed laura, who was nearest to the lockwood twins. at that moment lance and chet were walking back toward the entrance to the cave. "say, old man," lance asked his chum, "what were you searching that chamber in the cavern for? what did you expect to find?" "i don't know that i expected to find anything," answered chetwood belding. "but i'll show you what i _did_ find," and he drew from his pocket an old knife and placed it in lance's hand. the latter turned it over, and whistled under his breath. "i ought to know this old toad-stabber," he said. "broken corkscrew--yes; small blade broken short off, too. why, chet, that's short and long's knife!" "that's right." "and you mean to say you picked it up in the cavern?" "right in that place where somebody had been camping," declared his chum. "but don't say anything about it. we can't do anything toward finding him with all these girls about. but, later----" "you bet!" agreed lance. so the boys rather hurried the departure of the crowd for the place where the boats had been left, and where they had lunched. the walk through the cove did not take long, and the party, happy and laughing, crowded out upon the shore of the cove in front of the subterranean passage. instantly one of the twins drew the attention of all by uttering a startled little scream. "what's the matter with you--er--sister?" demanded the other lockwood girl, with a chuckle. "that wasn't the man we saw with tony!" declared the girl who had cried out. "what man?" "the pirate," said the twin. "how do you know?" demanded laura, laughing. "for i just saw him again. and he couldn't have gotten through the cave ahead of us." "there are prowlers about," declared chet to lance. "what sort of a looking man, miss lockwood?" demanded lance. "oh, he's all bushy black whiskers and hair. i only saw the upper part of his body again. he dodged down behind that boulder yonder." "say! the other cave opening is over there," cried bobby hargrew. "and that's a fact," admitted chet. "let's see if the boats are all right," cried lance, starting on a run for the landing. "and the rest of the lunch, dear boy!" cried prettyman sweet, following him. "weally, if that has been stolen it is a calamity." chapter xiv the new shell the calamity had occurred! soulful were the wails of purt sweet. not a crumb of food left in the girls' hampers when the party set out through the cave for the middle of cavern island was now left to appease mr. sweet's appetite. "the lone pirate has done his fell work, sure enough," laura belding declared. "and how hungry he must have been, nellie! he took that pie you made that none of us could eat." they all laughed at this hit, for the doctor's daughter was not much of a pastry cook and her lemon pie had been voted the booby prize at luncheon. "ooh!" gasped bobby. "do you suppose it will kill him? maybe it will give him such a terrible case of indigestion that he will steal a boat, raise the jolly roger again, and go to work making people walk the plank and all that sort of thing--and it will be your fault, nellie agnew!" "i'm only afraid he will eat it and die in terrible agony all alone here," wailed nellie, who could take a joke as well as give one. "and then his ghost will haunt this end of the island----" "and otto will never come here again," said eve sitz, poking fun at her brother, who had once been very much afraid of a supposed "haunt" in an old house in robinson's woods. "never you mind," growled her brother. "there _iss_ ha'ants, undt you will findt oudt so some day--yes!" but chet and lance decided that there were altogether too many prowlers at this end of the island for the party to remain longer. had they been alone, or with the other boys and no girls, they would surely have made an attempt to find the bewhiskered man whom the lockwood twins had twice seen disappear into the far entrance of the caverns. "we ought to report him to the park police," said nellie agnew. "he may steal something more than food, next time." "leave that to us," said chet, hastily. "lance and i will report it in proper time." but to his chum he whispered: "we don't want any police fooling around here. suppose they found short and long?" "right--oh!" agreed lance. "hope they'll all forget it and not mention the 'lone pirate' when they get home." but as events proved, some member of the party mentioned the robbery of the lunch--and in a quarter which brought a search of the eastern end of cavern island by the police, a happening that chet would have given a good deal to avoid. now, however, laura's brother was busy inventing something to interest the party, and yet take them away from this end of the island. the twins were discussing with eve sitz the advantages of paddling over rowing, when chet gave a shout which drew all attention to him instantly. "come on!" said the big lad. "let's get into the boats. we'll have a four-oared race. i'll choose a crew of boys and let laura choose one of girls. i bet we boys, using my boat, can row around that channel buoy out yonder and back again, before laura in lance's boat can do it. and lance has the lightest boat." "done!" cried his sister. "and lance's boat isn't so much lighter, either. what do you say, girls?" "let's show 'em!" cried bobby. "let me steer, laura." "all right," said laura. "and freddie ackerman here will steer for us," said chet. the crews were quickly chosen. laura took eve and the twins with her. chet had purt sweet for number and pulled stroke himself. lance arranged the start and was referee. "when i slap these two sticks together, you're to go," instructed lance. "the line is right between where i stand here on this rock and the boulder at the far mouth of the cavern. i can see the whole course from here. now, no bumping at the turn. the boat that has the inside at the buoy must be cleared by the other boat. don't forget. are you ready?" "oh, wait a minute!" squealed purt sweet. "yes, hold on!" grunted chet. "purt's back hair has come down." "i weally will have to remove my waistcoat--if you will allow me?" suggested the exquisite. "it might get splashed." "go as far as you like," said lance. "chuck it ashore here. i'll stand on it so as to see better." but purt entrusted the precious waistcoat to one of the girls in another boat, and then the two racing boats were brought into line. the referee asked if they were ready again, and, receiving no contrary answer, shouted: "go!" chet's crew certainly were a scrub lot, and he did not expect to get much speed out of them; but otto was a strong oar and had purt been able to keep the stroke the girls would have made a bad showing to the buoy. up to that turn the boys kept ahead. laura set an easy stroke, and found that eve sitz was not much inferior to either dora or dorothy. "they're going to beat!" gasped bobby, swinging with the rowers. "don't let them worry you," advised laura, between her teeth. "the race isn't done until we cross the line." but in turning the buoy the boys came to grief. or, rather, purt sweet came to grief. he managed to catch a most famous crab, and went over on his back, hitting his head a resounding crack upon the handle of lance's oar, and waving his long legs in the air. "now!" cried laura, increasing her stroke, and the girls' boat went past their opponents' at a fast clip. the boys got together again after half a minute; but those thirty seconds told the story of the race. the best the boys could do brought them across the line several lengths behind. and the whole crowd were shouting with laughter over purt's mishap. "i wish you'd kept your vest on, purt," snarled lance. "there'd been some satisfaction in your getting it wet. my goodness! what a lubber you are in a boat!" "weally, i couldn't help it, dear boy," sighed pretty. "just the same, you crabbed the race," grunted chet. "now the girls have put it all over us." and the girls certainly did not spare the boys, and joked at their expense all the way home. but the day was voted a very merry one and eve and otto went home in the evening strongly of the opinion that the boys and girls of central high were a jolly company indeed. eve promised laura before she went home that, if she could pass the exams, for junior classes under principal sharp, she would surely attend central high in the fall. "we've got a splendid bit of athletic timber in eve sitz," laura said, discussing the matter with jess and the lockwood twins. "i hope she'll take up rowing. we can put her into celia's place on the eight for next year, and then there will be no danger of hester grimes getting it," said jess, who was very outspoken. "she is better material for stroke than hester," admitted laura. "and enough sight better tempered," dora observed. "you know what hester is doing now?" demanded jess, in anger. "what is it?" asked dorothy. "she is trying to make the other girls think that the executive committee only cares about the eight-oared boat race, and that we'll put up no fight for central high's entries in the other events." "she is going to make trouble if she can," declared dora. "it isn't so," laura said, firmly. "there is going to be a fine canoe race--we look to you twins to make good for central high in that." "we'll do our best," said the twins together, nodding. aunt dora did not approve of the twins being on the lake so much; in her girlhood "young ladies" of the twins' age did not row, and paddle, and swim, and otherwise imitate boys. "and i remember that you never were any fun, as a girl, dora," observed mr. lockwood, at the supper table that night, when his sister uttered her usual criticisms of the twins' conduct. "you squealed if you came across a caterpillar, and a garter snake sent you into spasms, and it tired you to walk half a mile, and----" "thanks be! i was no tomboy," gasped aunt dora. "far from it," said the flower lover. "and mother was always having the doctor for you, and you got cold the easiest of any person i ever saw--and do to this day----" "that is perfectly ridiculous, lemuel." "i believe you're sitting in a draught now, dora," said mr. lockwood, quickly. "well--i----achoo! i believe you! i never did see such a draughty place as this house, lemuel. ahem! dora! get me my little knit shawl, will you, child?" "oh, yes, auntie," said one of the twins, as they both rose. "we're both through our suppers, auntie," said the other. "we'll bring the shawl." "now!" exclaimed the exasperated old lady, when the twins were out of the room. "which of 'em went for it?" her brother shook his head sadly, but his eyes were a-twinkle. "i could not undertake to say, sister." it annoyed aunt dora very much to hear the girls talk continually of the coming big day on lake luna and the part the girls of central high would take in the races. and that next week dora and dorothy certainly were full of the new eight-oared shell. it arrived at the boathouse early in the week, and proved to be the handsomest shell that had ever been launched in luna waters. even the wealthy luna boat club did not own a shell like it. every other afternoon mrs. case allowed the crew to go out for a spin, and professor dimp, who coached the boys' crews, looked after the girls' rowing, as well. some of the girls' parents went down to the shore in the early evening to watch the practice work off colonel richard swayne's estate; but would aunt dora go? only once! by some inquiry she learned that each member of the crew of eight girls had her own particular seat in the big shell. dorothy was supposed to row number and dora number . but the twins sometimes changed seats--and who was to know the difference? not the coach, for professor dimp could tell them apart no better than other people. had aunt dora been sure that her namesake rowed in her right place on the evening when she viewed the practice, she would have met the shell at the landing, seized number oar, and marched her home and locked her into her own room until tickets could be bought for aunt dora's home city. but in their natty-looking costumes the twins looked more alike than ever--were that possible! chapter xv tommy long has a bad day it was all in the papers one evening about detectives from centerport's police headquarters, aided by the park police, beating the eastern end of cavern island, and the caves as well, for poor short and long. reporters had accompanied the expedition; but they rather made fun of the crowd of police searching so diligently for one small boy. it was suggested in the news stories that the efforts of the officers might better be aimed at finding the burglars themselves instead of chasing a frightened youngster who was supposed to have helped the real criminals. the only thing the police succeeded in doing was to pick up two men who were fighting. these were tony allegretto, who had a concession at the amusement park, and another italian. the fight might have been a serious matter had not the police came upon the men when they did. tony had already drawn a knife. the papers reported that tony and his monkey were shut up together in the park calaboose waiting for court to sit the next morning. the other italian had been sent off the island and warned to keep away. but no trace of short and long was found during the police search. mr. norman, the boat builder, raised the sunken rowboat billy had borrowed, however, and brought it back to his landing. the lockwood twins chanced to be passing mr. norman's place when the old boat arrived, and they walked down the long dock to look at it. "no sign of anything wrong having happened to little billy," said mr. norman. "he tied this old craft, and she filled after a time and sank, breaking the painter, which was a long one. that's all that happened. i don't care about the boat a mite; i only wish i knew what has become of the poor little chap." "they've just chased him away from home," said dorothy. "billy long never helped those burglars." "of course he didn't," said mr. norman. "that's what _i_ say. only folks who don't know the boy will say they believe the police." "and don't you believe billy is over there on the island?" asked dora. "no. he's got away. he's a sharp boy, billy is, and next thing you'll hear of him, he'll be off working somewhere and sending his folks home a part of his wages, believe me! i know billy long," said the boat-builder. the longs lived not far from the lockwood cottage, and the twins went around through their street. this was on one of those rare days when alice long, the oldest sister and the "mother" of the long family, stayed at home from the box factory to "catch up" in her housework. until mrs. long died, two years before, alice had gone to central high, too, and she was a smart and intelligent girl. but she was a faithful one, as well, and she kept the home together for mr. long and the younger children, despite the fact that she could spend only a day once in a while at home. a younger girl did many of the ordinary household tasks, as well as looking after master tommy long, an active piece of mischief now four years old. as the twins came up the walk before the little cottage they heard tommy bellowing at the top of his lungs--and they were perfectly sound lungs, too! "what have you got in here--a lion?" asked dorothy, putting her head in at the open door. "better say a monkey!" exclaimed alice, much exasperated. she was just then hustling tommy across the floor so rapidly that the toes of his shoes scarcely touched the carpet. upstairs she went with struggling, roaring master tommy, and in another moment he was shut into a bedroom and the key turned in the lock. "there!" gasped alice, coming back and sitting down, after placing chairs for her visitors. "you think i'm rather harsh with the little plague? you don't know what he's done to-day." "has he been _very_ bad?" asked the tender-hearted dorothy. "i should say he has!" "what's he done?" demanded dora. "it has certainly been one of tommy's 'bad days.' you'd think he was possessed. poor mother! i can imagine the trouble she used to have with billy." "but what did tommy do?" asked dorothy, bent on trying to plead for the culprit, who was now alternately roaring and kicking the panels of the door upstairs. "one thing he did was to pour sand into my tub of clothes that i had to leave this morning. he called the tub 'lake luna' and said he wanted to make an island in the middle of it, like cavern island where billy is hidden." "oh!" gasped dorothy. "i had to clean out the tub and rinse the clothes half a dozen times to get the sand out." "but, billy!" exclaimed dora. "they say he isn't over at that island." "well, i wish i knew where he was," sighed the worried sister. just then tommy stopped yelling and spoke in a shrill, but perfectly plain tone: "sis! i'm a-goin' to bust a winder and fall out, i am!" "oh!" ejaculated dorothy, jumping up. "he'll be hurt." but alice put forth a restraining hand to stop her before she could flee to the rescue. "don't bother. he doesn't want to jump himself. tommy is bluffing." "bluffing!" gasped dora. "did you ever? i should be scared to death that the little scamp would do it." "i used to be," sighed alice. "now i know better. i came to realize that tommy was taking advantage of my love for him--and he's got to learn better than that." "isn't he a scamp?" whispered dorothy. in a few moments, after silence from the "chamber of torture," the shrill voice cried again: "sis! i've found the matches an' i'm a-goin' to set fire to the curtains--now you see!" the twins gazed upon the calm face of alice with wide-open eyes. alice went on talking without showing the first signs of fear that master tommy would keep his pledge. she was resting after a hard day's work, and she enjoyed having her old schoolmates drop in to see her. after further silence, the boy's shrill voice took up the cry again: "sis! don't you smell sumfin burnin'?" "i _do_ believe i smell something burning--cloth, or something," whispered the nervous dorothy, sniffing. "it's an old black rag i put in the kitchen fire, without opening the damper," said alice, coolly. "suppose he _has_ got the matches?" demanded dora. "there are none in that room," returned alice, placidly. "goodness me!" gasped dorothy. "i wouldn't have a boy around for a farm!" again came the wail from above: "if you don't smell nothin', sis, it's 'cause i pulled off all the match heads an' swallered 'em! i'm goin' ter die--i'se p'izened, sis!" "why! what a dreadful little scamp he is," gasped dorothy. alice jumped up, with her lips set tightly. she ran into the kitchen, from which she returned in a moment with a cup of warm water and mustard. "he's got to be taught a lesson," declared the much troubled sister, with decision, and she marched upstairs. "now, tommy, if you have swallowed matchheads, you must take this," declared alice long, and when master tommy, now rather disturbed by the prospect of the ill-smelling cup, tried to escape, she got his head "in chancery," held his nose until he opened his mouth, and made him swallow the entire mess. it was certainly a bad dose, and its effects were almost immediate and quite surprising to master tommy. the twins waited below stairs while the trouble continued; and finally down came alice with master tommy--a much sadder, wiser, and humbled youngster--by the hand. "i--i'm going to be a good boy," announced master tommy, making a wry face. "i should think you would," dora said, trying to be severe. "that's all right," grumbled tommy, turning to dorothy for comfort. "i didn't swaller any matchheads." "why did you say you did?" asked dorothy. "just to plague alice. but i won't do it again. ugh! that was nasty stuff she gave me. that's what she'd give me if i _was_ p'izened. i don't want to be p'izened," declared the little fellow, frankly. "and you don't want to say what isn't so, either, eh?" queried dora. "we-ell," said master tommy, slowly, "lots of things that _ain't_ so, is better than them that _are_ so. there's fairy stories." "quite right," said dora, quickly. "but there's nightmares, too--bad dreams, you know. they are not so, but they aren't pleasant to dream, are they?" "oh, no!" cried tommy. "and i had a turrible bad dream--onct! and i was scart--yes, sir! and billy heard me crying and he took me out of my crib and took me into bed with him." alice smiled. "i remember tommy told about that. he said the cats got to fighting and were scratching and biting him." "and billy woked me up and took me to bed with him," said tommy, placidly. "i wish billy would come home again." "when did this happen?" asked dorothy, quickly, trying to turn the conversation from an unpleasant topic, as alice's eyes filled with tears. "just the other night," said tommy. "but billy's been away two weeks." "it was jes' afore he went-ed away." "it wasn't long before billy went," agreed alice, nodding. "i know when!" cried tommy. "it was the night afore i felled and scraped my knee on the doorstep." "why, tommy!" cried his sister, springing out of her chair. "are you sure of that?" "yes'm. i be sure," declared tommy. "i dreamed the cats were scratchin' me; an' then that very nex' mornin' the old doorstep scratched me!" cried the small boy. alice turned to her visitors, her face pale in her earnestness. "oh, girls!" she cried. "i remember that night of tommy's dream very well. he hurt his knee on wednesday--the morning following the burglary. billy took tommy into bed with him before midnight, and they slept together all night. doesn't that prove that billy was not out of the house on the night of the burglary? doesn't it?" dora and dorothy looked at each other, and each slowly shook her head. "do you suppose the police would accept tommy's testimony?" dora asked, sadly. chapter xvi the canoe race the twins were very sorry for alice and the other longs and they did not believe the absent billy guilty as charged; but who in authority would believe the testimony of such a little boy as tommy? the fact that billy had been at home, and in his bed, all the night of the burglary at stresch & potter's store was established in the minds of billy's friends only. the twins saw chet belding on the way home and heard some news, after telling billy's friend of what tommy had said. "of course billy hadn't any hand in that robbery," chet declared. "but i wish he hadn't run away. father and mr. hargrew say they'd both go his bail. i wish i knew where he was." "didn't you think he was hiding somewhere on cavern island?" asked dora, shrewdly. "yes, i did. i found his knife saturday when we were in that cave," admitted chet, frankly. "don't you girls tell anybody. but lance and i were through all the caverns with a man who knows them like a book--that was after the police searched. he couldn't be found. "oh, and i say! did you hear about tony and his monkey?" "we read that tony had been fighting and was arrested," dorothy said. "yep. and it was a near thing he didn't get sent to jail. the judge only fined him. the other man the police drove out of centerport altogether. they thought he was the worse of the two. and tony had paid for his concession at the park, and promised to be good. "but the joke of it is," continued chet, laughing, "the police don't want tony to tell all he knows. you see, they shut him into the calaboose at the park and when they went to take him across on the boat to court, tony wasn't there." "he had escaped?" interrupted dorothy. "that's what," said chet. "and how do you suppose he'd done it?" "we couldn't guess," cried the girls. "why, the monkey unlocked the door of the cage and let his master out. the jailer had left the key in the lock while he went to breakfast, and the monkey did the rest. you know, that was one of the tricks we saw him do," continued chet. "tony didn't think he had to stay in jail if the door was unlocked, so he walked down to his booth and got his own breakfast. and the police found him there and took him along to court. but they were easy on tony for fear he would make the park police the laughing stock of the city. lance and i happened to be over there early--it was when we searched for billy in the caves--and we saw tony rearrested." "that italian must be a bad one," dora said. "how did he get off?" "tony said the man he was fighting with cheated him out of his share of some money," replied chet. "and that man is gone, so who is to know the truth?" the stretch of placid lake luna between the boat landing of central high and the easterly end of cavern island was dotted with craft of various kinds and sizes, several afternoons later, when the twins slipped away from aunt dora and--with a word to their father in a whisper as to their goal--ran down to the dock and got their canoe into the lake. aunt dora was suffering from what she called a "grumbly head"--which meant that she had a mild attack of neuralgia. "but mercy, sirs!" mrs. betsey said, in a tone of exasperation rather strange for that dear old lady, "she has a 'grumbly' tongue all the time. i don't know what i shall do about keeping mary if she stays much longer, girls." "for the good of the family i may have to admit my identity and go home with her," groaned dora. "no, you sha'n't!" cried her twin. "you shall not be sacrificed. if mary goes, we'll divide the work between us, and hire a laundress once a week to relieve mrs. betsey." "my! what a bright girl you are, dory," laughed dora. "you've got it all fixed, haven't you? but what about after-hour athletics? no canoeing, and other fun. we'd have all our time out of school taken up with the housework." "i don't care, dora!" said dorothy, firmly. "you could never live with auntie. why, she'd nag you to death." "dear old thing!" sighed dora. "i wish she could see herself as others see her. how do you suppose papa came to have such a sister?" "he has all the mildness of his generation of lockwoods, and aunt dora has all the militancy." "oh, see there!" exclaimed her sister. "hester grimes and lily pendleton out in hessie's canoe." "that's a fine canoe," said dorothy. "it's better than ours." "but i believe we can beat them just the same." "i shouldn't wonder if hessie and lily were intending to try for the honor of representing central high in the girls' canoeing contest next month." "i bet you!" returned her sister. "but mrs. case and the girls will have something to say about that." "mrs. case has our records; but i heard that she will time us all again before the big day." "we must do our very best, then," dora declared, earnestly. "true as you live!" her twin agreed. they launched their canoe, stepped in lightly, knelt on the cushions, and dipped their paddles in the water. the craft shot away from the landing amid the approving remarks of the bystanders. the twins certainly did manage their canoe in admirable style. the rhythm of their bodies, as they swayed to the paddling, was perfect. their strokes were deep and in unison. the drops that flashed from their paddles as they came out of the water shone like jewels in the sun. the twins had a splendid reach and at every stroke the light canoe leaped ahead and trembled through all its frame. other boating parties saw them coming and gave the twins a clear way--all but hester and lily. they seemed to be waiting, and hester flung a backward look every now and then as the lockwood girls drew farther out into the lake. "they're speeding up, too," said dorothy to her sister. "let's race them, if they want to," dora returned. "who's afraid?" "you know mrs. case would rather we did not race crews that intend to compete for the trophies." "we--ell! the lake's free. and we're going the same way hester and lily are. if they race us, what's the odds?" dorothy was just as eager for a trial of speed as her sister. she nodded, and increased the power of her stroke, for she chanced to have the bow. immediately hester and lily redoubled their efforts and the handsome canoe belonging to the butcher's daughter shot ahead at a swifter pace. but the twins were in fine fettle, and their craft gradually crept up on the one in the lead. it was evident to everybody who was near that hester and lily were putting forth all their strength to keep the lockwoods from passing them, and some of the nearby boating parties cheered the race on. dora and dorothy kept steadily at work, speaking no word, but gradually increasing their stroke until their craft was fairly flying through the calm water. hester and lily were older girls, and heavier; but they hadn't the lithe strength and skill of the twins. nearer and nearer the latter's canoe drew to hester grimes's boat. the twins were breathing easily, but to their full lung capacity, when they drew beside the other canoe; but they could hear hester pant and lily groan as they strained at the paddles. on and on crept the second canoe, its bow soon at the middle of hester's boat. only a couple of yards divided the contestants. several four-oared boats and the boys' eight-oared shell kept pace with them, and cheered the race. the twins weaved back and forth like a perfect piece of mechanism. it was a pretty sight to watch them. the paddling of hester and her chum was more ragged; but they were making a good fight. the twins' canoe, however, continued to forge ahead. there was little doubt that they would soon pass their rivals. and just then hester uttered an angry cry, dipped her paddle more deeply, swerved her canoe, and its side came directly in the path of the twins' boat. "look out!" shrieked lily. "you'll run us down!" and that is what the twins did. crash went their canoe into that of hester: both boats tipped alarmingly, and in a moment all four girls were struggling in the lake. chapter xvii miss carrington in judgment "oh! oh! i'm drowning!" shrieked lily pendleton. and then the water filled her mouth and she went down with a "blub, blub, blub" that sounded most convincing. hester was sputtering threats and cries, too, and she paid no attention to her chum, who, although she could swim pretty well, lost her head very easily in moments of emergency. the twins said never a word. they had gone under at the first plunge, but they were up again, shook the water from their eyes, and each took hold of their boat to right it. when lily screamed and went under, however, the lockwoods chanced to be even nearer to her than was hester. "we've got to get her!" gasped dorothy. "sure we have!" agreed dora. and together, leaving their canoe, they dived after the sinking girl. lily was not unconscious, and the moment one of the twins grabbed her, lily tried to entwine her in her arms. but thanks to mrs. case's earnest efforts in the swimming pool, the twins knew well how to break the grasp of a drowning person, and the girl who had been seized by lily did not lose her head, but immediately broke the frightened girl's hold and quickly brought her to the surface. lily was between dora and dorothy, and when she had gotten rid of some of the water, and opened her eyes, she became amenable to advice. together the twins towed her to a launch that came shooting up, and lily was hauled inboard. dora and dorothy were intending to go back and right their canoe; but some of the boys had done that for them, and rescued their paddles and other boat furnishings. "let us help you in here, young ladies; then we'll go after that other girl," offered those on the launch. "the boys will take the canoes back to the boathouse, and that's where you would better be. there's a cool wind blowing." so the twins hoisted themselves over the gunwale of the launch as handily as boys, and the next time hester grimes was dragged in. and a madder girl than hester it would have been hard to find! "it's all your fault!" she concluded, shaking her sleek, black head at the lockwood twins. "you bumped right into us." "and you turned your canoe so that we should bump you," said dora, tartly. "you were afraid of being beaten. i wish we'd smashed your old canoe!" "you'll have to pay for it if it's damaged," declared hester, nodding with determination. but the boys who brought in the two canoes pricked the bubble of hester's rage: they told mrs. case and the professor just how the trouble had occurred. "you have no complaint, hester," said mrs. case, later. "there are too many witnesses against you. i am afraid you are not over-truthful in this. however, i shall report the four of you for demerits. you had no business to race. i have forbidden it. and you can see yourselves how unfortunate interclass trials of speed may be. now! no more of it, young ladies!" hester went off with her nose in the air after somebody had brought her dry clothing from home; but lily pendleton was grateful to the twins for helping her. "though i declare! i don't know which of you to thank," she said, giggling. "and one's just as wet as the other. anyhow, i'm obliged." "you're welcome, lily," said one of the twins. "we are sworn to solemn secrecy never to tell on each other; so you will have to embalm us both in your gratitude." miss pendleton was not quite all "gall and wormwood," as bobby hargrew said hester was; but the girls of central high as a whole did not care much for lily because she aped the fashions of her elders, and tried to appear "grown up." and when she came in from her unexpected dip in the lake it was noticeable that her cheeks were much paler than they had been when she started with her chum in the canoe. because she had a naturally pale complexion, lily was forever "touching it up"--as though even the most experienced "complexion artist" could improve upon nature, or could do her work so well that a careful observer could not tell the painted from the real. the twins went home in borrowed raincoats over their wet garments; nor did they escape aunt dora's sharp eyes--and of course, her sharp tongue was exercised, too. "now!" complained dora, in their own room, "if our athletic field and the building were constructed, we wouldn't have been caught. every girl is to have a locker of her own, and there will be dressing rooms, and a place to dry wet clothing, of course--and everything scrumptious!" "never mind," said her twin. "it's coming. such fine basketball courts! and tennis courts! and a running track, too! i heard somebody say that they would begin the excavation for the building next week. i tell you, central high will have the finest field and track and gym in the whole state." "and east and west highs are just as jealous as they can be," dora remarked: "they've got to wake up, just the same, to beat the girls of central high." "thanks to mother wit," added dorothy. "yes. we must thank laura belding for interesting colonel swayne and his daughter in our athletics," agreed dora. the next morning the twins went to school in some trepidation. there was no knowing what miss grace g. carrington, their teacher, would do about the four girls whom the physical instructor had reported. the lockwood girls never curried favor with any teacher, save that they were usually prompt in all lessons, and their deportment was good. but even gee gee seldom had real fault to find with them. when they came into the classroom before assembly, however, they found hester grimes at the teacher's desk, and hester did not seem to be worried over any punishment. the twins looked at each other, and dora whispered: "i bet you she's up to some trick. trust hessie for getting out of a scrape if there's any possible chance for it." "well, i don't see how miss carrington can make an exception in her case. all four of us were in it." "all four of us were in the lake, all right," giggled dora; "but i bet hessie isn't punished for her part of it." "i declare it was her fault," said dorothy, hotly. "she turned her boat right in our path." "wait!" whispered her twin, warningly. miss carrington looked upon them coldly, and after they had returned from the morning exercises in the main hall she called dora and dorothy to her desk. "mrs. case reports your rough and unladylike conduct on the lake yesterday," said the teacher, rather grimly. "of course, it was out of school hours, but as long as you accept the use of the school paraphernalia and buildings for after-hour athletics, you are bound by the school rules. you understand that?" "yes, miss carrington," said dora. "but if you will let us explain----" "i have the report," interposed gee gee, in her very grimmest manner. "in fact, i consider your running into and overturning the other canoe a very reprehensible act indeed. you might have all been drowned because of the recklessness of you two girls." "but miss carrington! it was not our fault," gasped dorothy. "your canoe ran the other one down, didn't it?" "but----" "yes, or no, young ladies!" snapped gee gee. the twins nodded. miss carrington's mind was evidently made up on this point. "very well, then. no after-hour athletics for you for a month. that is all," and the teacher turned to the papers on her desk. chapter xviii mother wit's discovery "and that shuts us out of the races!" dora broke another rule when she whispered this to her twin as they took their seats. dorothy was almost in tears. but the twins could not tell the other girls of gee gee's proclamation until the first intermission. "she's just as mean as she can be!" proclaimed bobby hargrew who, as jess said, always blew up at the slightest provocation. "hester did it. she's always doing something mean," declared jess herself. "well, there was an infraction of mrs. case's rules," said laura belding. "but it does seem as though miss carrington delights in setting obstacles in the way of central high winning an athletic event. she is, deep down in her heart, opposed to after-hour athletics." "she's just as much opposed to them," said dorothy, "as our aunt dora." "it's a mean shame!" declared nellie agnew, who was not usually so vigorous of speech. "and you see, hester grimes and lily pendleton aren't penalized," said the furious bobby. "they have crawled out of it. and i saw the whole race, and know it was hester's fault that there was a spill." "let's take it to mr. sharp," cried jess. "that would do no good. you know he will not interfere with miss carrington's mandates. she has judged the case to the best of her knowledge and belief," said laura. "hester is her favorite," complained bobby. "and we have no right to say that. she is punishing the twins for breaking a plain rule. if we tried to expose the whole affair, and bring the witnesses to prove our side, we would only be getting hester and lily into trouble, too, without making the twins' case any better," said the wise laura. "they ought to be conditioned as well," declared nellie, who had a strong sense of justice. "it looks so. but miss carrington probably thinks, believing that dora and dorothy are at fault for the spill, that the others were enough punished by being swamped. of course, they should not have raced canoes without the race being arranged by either mrs. case or professor dimp." "huh! old dimple could come forward and save dora and dorothy from the penalty. why, whatever will we do?" cried bobby. "it spoils our chance for the cup again." "and it's such a beauty!" sighed jess morse. for a week the handsome silver cup offered as a prize to the high school eight-oared crews on the big day had been on exhibition in the window of mr. belding's jewelry store. later it would be exhibited both in keyport and lumberport for a week each. it was one of the handsomest trophies to be raced for in the coming aquatic sports. "but, see here!" cried bobby. "here's another thing. hester has played her cards well, i must say." "what now, clara?" asked nellie agnew. "why, hester and lily are not conditioned. they can still practice canoeing under the rules. and they will be the best crew for central high to put forward for the canoe race. now, what do you think of that?" "and dora and dorothy would surely have won _that_ race!" wailed jess. "of course, hessie always gets the best of it!" "i wish we'd smashed her old canoe all to flinders!" ejaculated dora, desperately. but, "if wishes were horses beggars might ride," as laura pointed out the milk was spilled. there was nothing to do but to abide by miss carrington's decision and help mrs. case pick two of the best rowers for the twins' places in the eight-oared shell. and that was not an easy matter, for to arrange a well-balanced crew of eight is not the easiest thing in the world. that very afternoon the physical instructor and professor dimp worked out the crew in the new shell with two other girls in the twins' places. dora and dorothy would not even go down to the boathouse; they were heartbroken. and mrs. case intimated to the other girls that she was very sorry she had been obliged to report the twins' infringement of the rules. of course, she would not criticise miss carrington's harsh punishment; but she would not heed hester grimes's request for permission to be "tried out" in the shell. "you are too heavy, miss grimes, for either number or number oar," said the physical instructor, shortly, and hester complained to some of the girls who would listen to her that the physical instructor "showed favoritism." "never mind," scoffed bobby hargrew, "you've got gee gee on your side. you have spoiled the chance of central high winning that cup. i wish you went to another school, hessie. you're never loyal to this one!" although the girls of central high were giving so much thought to the coming boat races, other athletics were not neglected at this time, nor were their text books. indeed, a very wise precaution of the girls' branch athletic league was that which provided that no girl could take part in after-hour athletics, or compete for trophies and pins, who did not stand well in both classes and deportment. that rule was the one that hit the lockwood twins so hard at this time. and miss carrington's harsh interpretation of it caused them much sorrow. the regular school gymnastics, and the like, were all the activities they might indulge in at present, under the league rules. of course they owned their own canoe and spent much time improving their stroke in a borrowed rowboat. but they were debarred from even the walks conducted by mrs. case. there was one scheduled for the following saturday afternoon, and it promised to be most interesting. some of the girls were taking botany as a side study, and mrs. case was an enthusiastic botanist herself. therefore a "botanic junket," as bobby hargrew called it, was promised for this present occasion. the teacher did not often lead her pupils through the city, if that could be helped; usually the girls rode to the end of some electric car line and there began their jaunt. but this time they gathered at the boat landing where the _lady of the lake_ transported visitors to cavern island. there were nearly thirty of the girls present, including bobby hargrew. nellie agnew was eating an apple, but she had only had a few to distribute to her friends who had arrived first, and bobby missed her share. "gimme the core!" exclaimed bobby, grinning in her impish way. "ain't going to be no core!" quoted nellie, laughing, as she offered that succulent morsel to a truck horse standing by the curb. "hah!" exclaimed bobby, "you're just as generous as tommy long." "what has he done now?" demanded nellie. "he certainly is a little scamp. just as full of mischief as poor billy." "why, tommy wasn't as generous with some fruit or other that he had, and alice took him to task for it. she gave him a lecture on generosity. 'i'm goin' to be awful gen'rous with you, kit,' he told his little sister, katie, afterward. 'i is always goin' to give you the inside of the peaches and the outside of the owanges!' and that's about your idea of generosity, nellie," laughed bobby. mrs. case arrived just then and they took the steamer across to the amusement park. but they did not linger. there was a good path through the "woodsy" part of the island, and the party set out on this way almost immediately. there were some open fields on cavern island as well as woods, and the superintendent of the park cultivated a little farm. as the party skirted the ploughed fields some crows, doing all the damage they could among the tender corn sprouts, rose and swept lazily across the vista to the woods, with raucous cawings. "oh, mrs. case!" cried bobby. "what now, clara?" was the teacher's response. "you know something about birds, don't you?" "a little," replied mrs. case, cautiously, although the girls knew that she was really much interested in bird-lore. "then tell me something i've long wanted to know," cried bobby, her eyes dancing. "and what is that?" "what really is the cause of the crow's caws?" "a bone in his throat, i expect, my dear," replied the teacher, amid the laughter of the other girls. "but this is a botanical expedition, not ornithological. what was your question about the anemone, nellie?" they passed the farm and mounted the hillside toward the upper plateau above the caverns at boulder head. from this point they could see from end to end of luna lake, and the greater part of the island itself. but just below them, on the shore at the foot of the rugged cliff, it was not so easy to see; and, when laura belding and jess, walking with arms around each other's waists, on the very verge of the cliff, heard a sound which startled them below, they could not at first see what caused it. "it was a human voice!" gasped jess. "somebody groaning," admitted laura. "i--i bet it is a ghost, after all," giggled jess. "otto sitz won't want to come here again if we tell him----" "hush!" commanded laura. "there is somebody below--in trouble. wait! cling to my belt, jess--and to that sapling with your other hand. now, don't let me fall." "go ahead," said jess, between her teeth, as laura swung her body out over the brink of the hundred-foot drop. "i can hold you." "i can see him!" gasped laura, after a moment. "it is somebody lying on a narrow shelf half way down the cliff. it's a boy--yes! i see his face---- "billy! billy long! what is the matter with you, billy?" she demanded the next moment. chapter xix the rescue the other girls--and even mrs. case--came running to the spot. the teacher kept the other girls back and herself took josephine morse's place and gripped laura firmly as the latter hung over the brink of the cliff. laura continued to call; but although she thought she had seen the boy on the shelf below move, he did not reply. his face was very white. "he's unconscious! he's hurt!" laura gasped. "how do you suppose he ever got there?" demanded jess. "the question is: how shall we get him up?" demanded mrs. case, briskly. "i can get down to him--i know i can," cried laura. "you'll break your neck climbing down there!" declared the doctor's daughter. "i wouldn't risk it." "but he's helpless. he may be badly hurt," reiterated laura. "my dear! it would be very dangerous climbing down to the ledge," warned mrs. case. "and how would you get back?" "but somebody has got to go down to get billy," declared laura. "and perhaps moments may be precious. we don't know how long he has been there, or how badly he is hurt." "laura can climb like a goat," said her chum, doubtfully. "and i'm going to try it if we only had a rope----" "i'll run back to that farmhouse and get a rope--and some men to help, perhaps," suggested jess. "good!" exclaimed laura. "go ahead, and i'll be getting down to billy meanwhile." "that would be best, i suppose," admitted their teacher. "but be very careful, laura." jess had started on the instant, and her fleet steps quickly carried her out of sight. laura swung herself down to the first rough ledge by clinging to the bushes that grew on the edge of the cliff. "oh, perhaps i am doing wrong!" moaned mrs. case, at this juncture. "i may be sending her to her death!" "don't worry!" called up laura, from below. "it is not so hard as it looks." but there were difficulties that those above could not see. within twenty feet the girl came to a sheer wall which extended all along the face of the cliff, and fifteen feet in height. it looked for a minute as though she were balked. but a rather large tree grew just above this drop, and its limbs extended widely and were "limber." laura climbed into this tree as well as any boy, worked herself along the bending limb, which was tough, and finally let herself down and swung from it, bearing the lithe limb downward with her weight. her feet did not then touch the shelf below, however, and she really overhung the abyss. it was a perilous situation and she was glad that mrs. case could not see from above what she was doing. to make matters worse, it was doubtful if she could climb back upon the limb. muscular as she was, _that_ was a feat that took real practice to accomplish. she swung there, like a pendulum, neither able to get up, nor daring to drop. suddenly something snapped above her. she cast up a fearful glance and saw that the limb was giving with her weight. dragged down so heavily, the bark and fibres of the wood were parting. there was already a white gash across the tree-trunk where the limb was attached to the tree. she was falling. the splitting wood warned her that the entire branch was separating from the trunk! with a crash she fell. fortunately the splitting flung her toward the face of the cliff. she landed upon her feet, and held her position, letting go of the branch, which whirled down the cliff side to the sea. laura, trembling a good deal, gazed down upon the shelf where billy long was. he had not been disturbed, but lay as when she first saw him from the top of the cliff. "but we'll never be able to get up _this_ place," murmured laura, looking up at the sheer wall down which she had come so perilously. but from this point where she stood to the spot where billy lay was only a rough scramble. she was beside the youth in a very few moments. billy lay senseless, the stain of berries on his lips, and one foot drawn under him. when laura shook him, he moaned. then she saw that the shoe had been removed from the hurt foot and the stocking, as well. billy's ankle was painfully bruised and wrenched; it was colored blue, green and yellow, in streaks, and had evidently been bruised for some time. "billy! billy!" cried laura, shaking him by the shoulder. "i--i fell. oh! water!" moaned billy, without opening his eyes. he was very weak, and completely helpless; nor did he regain consciousness. laura had to await josephine's return before she could do anything to aid him. then jess produced nothing but a clothesline; there had been no men at the farm, and she had taken the only rope they had, and run all the way back. but it was a strong line, and there was more than a hundred feet of it. "you can never raise either of us to the top of the cliff, mrs. case," shouted laura from below. "i am going to take the line, double it, and lower billy to the shore myself. somebody can go back to the park and hire that launch that is to let there, and bring it around to this cove. the man will come with it. the rest of you can go through the cave and meet us on the shore, or go back to the park landing." and so it was arranged. laura, with the expenditure of considerable ingenuity and muscle, got billy safely to the foot of the cliff, and then worked her own way down by the rope without cutting her hands. she made a sling of her dress skirt in which to lower billy, and had she not been a very strong and determined girl she would have dropped him. the adventure broke up the walking party for that afternoon; but short and long, after being three weeks away from home, in hiding, was returned to his father and sister, and the doctor was called to attend him. he was too weak and confused, as yet, to tell his story. chapter xx billy's story the lockwood twins were among the first of short and long's school friends who called at the cottage the following morning for news of the injured boy. the physician had kept even the department store detective at a distance. the latter was an officious individual who would have put billy in jail at once had he had the power to do so. the regular police, however, seemed to have their doubts about billy's complicity in the burglary of stresch & potter's store, and they kept away from the house, only the patrolman on beat inquiring how he was. as they had promised, either mr. belding, the jeweler, or mr. hargrew, the grocer, was ready to go bail for billy long, if he was arrested. of course the boy denied the accusation made against him. as little tommy had said, he was certainly at home all the night of the robbery. whether any court would accept tommy's testimony was another thing. billy admitted helping the surveyors in the lot behind the department store. he understood they were surveying for a railroad siding, not for a new street. information of such engineers might be had at the offices of one of the railroads entering centerport--if the surveyors had not been the burglars who later broke into the store and burst the safe. "but those fellows were surveyors, all right, all right," declared billy long, weakly. "and they were not the fellows i saw afterward----" "after what, billy?" demanded dora lockwood, eagerly. "yes; do tell us all about it," urged dorothy. "i don't know anything about their old robbery," said the boy, angrily. "that man from the store kept coming here and threatening to put me in jail. and i didn't want to go to jail. i guess i wouldn't have had any worse time than i _did_ have. for when laura found me i hadn't eaten anything but a handful of berries that i could reach on that ledge, for 'most two days!" "oh, oh! how dreadful!" cried the twins. "guess i should have died," billy said, more cheerfully, enjoying the sensation he was creating. "and you bet that stuff i swiped out of your boats last saturday a week ago, just came in handy." "oh, billy! was that you?" demanded dora. "the lone pirate!" gasped dorothy. "and all those whiskers----" short and long laughed weakly. "that wig and whiskers i had last hallow e'en; don't you remember? i saw you girls a couple of times, too." "and we saw you and thought you might be one of the robbers, after all." "that's all right; i didn't do any robbing, except of your boats," said billy. "but there were two fellows over on the island who i believe _did_ rob that store." "no!" cried the girls. "yes." "oh, tell us all about it," urged the girls again, just as eager to hear the particulars as though it were a story out of a book. and it _did_ sound like a story; only billy long was much too much in earnest to make it up. besides, he had learned a lesson during his weeks of "hiding out." "i was scart--of course i was," he said. "what fellow wouldn't be? that detective from the store said they'd put me in jail till i'd told--and i'd been tellin' him the truth right along. "so i got up early that morning to go fishing. i knew where the white perch were thick as sprats. i got mr. norman's boat; but i knew he wouldn't mind. and i went over to boulder head. as i was starting to fish i heard two men talking just in the mouth of the old cavern. they were quarreling. i guess they must have been foreigners; i couldn't understand all they said. but i got enough of their broken-english talk to understand that one of them had hidden some money in a tight-covered lard can, and part of the money the other fellow claimed." dora pinched dorothy, and looked at her knowingly. but it wasn't until afterward that dorothy understood what her twin meant by _that_. "so i got interested in them, believing that they might be the real burglars, and i forgot the boat. when they went away and i went back to the boat, the old thing had filled and sunk. you never could row that boat to the island without bailing her out a couple of times; and i ought to have dragged her ashore. "so i couldn't get the boat up, and i thought i'd stop there. i had some fishing tackle, and matches, and some crackers. i camped in the cave for a couple of days, and had fires, and cooked fish. but, my goodness! fish gets awful tasteless when you don't have any salt and pepper. "there were berries," continued billy, "and i managed to get along. then, i washed out my old bait bucket and at night i went down to the pasture of that park superintendent and milked his old mooley cow. i got along. "one of those men was always hanging about in the woods, though, and that kept me scared. but i tried to watch him. didn't know but he'd go to the place where he'd buried the money in the lard can. but he went off after a while and i didn't see him again. "then i tried to climb that cliff to get some berries, and i slipped down and twisted my ankle. i guess i'd have starved to death there if mother wit han't found me and got me down." this was all billy's story; but when the twins got out of the house, dorothy demanded of her sister: "what did you pinch me for? what did you mean?" "you're so slow!" cried dora, with some disgust. "those two foreign men billy heard talking about the money were tony allegretto and his friend that the police drove off the island. they weren't the burglars at all!" chapter xxi in practice again all the time the twins had been forbidden to row in the new shell the crew had been getting on very badly. professor dimp was hopeless, and mrs. case could not find two girls to take the twins' places who worked well with the other members of the crew. dora and dorothy could only walk on the bank of the lake and watch the crew struggle to make the time that was its former record. hester grimes and her particular friends scoffed at the practice. hester and lily paddled almost daily in their canoe, and they seemed pretty sure of being chosen to represent the girls of central high in the canoe race instead of the lockwood twins. aunt dora wished to know why dora and dorothy were not giving so much "precious time," as she expressed it, to athletics as formerly, and the twins had to tell her. "humph!" was the old lady's comment; but perhaps she did not feel all the satisfaction that exclamation implied when she saw how down-hearted the girls seemed when she walked with them again along the gravel walk that skirted the waterfront of colonel swayne's estate. the girls' eight-oared shell was out and the crew were practicing. one of the new girls caught an awful crab and the shell came near being swamped. "mercy me!" ejaculated aunt dora. "is that the best they can do without you girls to help them?" this rather amused the twins, despite their sore-heartedness; but their aunt really began to "take up cudgels" for them. she objected to the punishment gee gee had meted out to her nieces. "i didn't like the looks of that four-eyed teacher, anyway," declared the old lady, with some asperity. "i'm going to see about it. your father would just let you be driven from pillar to post--he's got no spunk. what you lockwoods need in this town is a woman in the family!" dora and dorothy thought this was only a threat. but aunt dora actually appeared at central high the next morning and obtained an audience with mr. sharp, the principal. whatever she said to him bore fruit in a quiet investigation on the principal's part into the pros and cons of the canoe bumping that had brought the lockwood twins to grief. he heard the testimony of eye witnesses of the collision--something that miss carrington had not done. all that he said to the severe teacher will never be known; but bobby heard him say for one thing: "loyalty--even in school athletics--is a very good thing, miss carrington. you will admit that, yourself. and these girls are loyal students. i think they have been punished enough, don't you? besides, i fear the testimony you chanced to hear was prejudiced. this hester grimes has been in trouble before for giving untruthful testimony against a fellow-classmate. am i not right?" "and very honorably she admitted her fault afterward," miss carrington declared. "true. but let us not punish these two girls any longer; for miss grimes may have a change of heart again--when it is too late." it was with rather ill grace that gee gee ever owned up that she was wrong, even on minor points. she therefore simply called the twins to her desk after school, and said: "it has been represented to me that you are needed in these rowing contests for the good of the school. personally i believe that athletics is occupying the minds of all you girls too much. but as your conduct during the past fortnight has been very good, i will remove the obstacle to your rowing with your schoolmates again. that is all." there was what bobby called "a regular love feast" at the boathouse that afternoon. it was not practice day; but when professor dimp heard of the return of the lockwood twins to the crew he was delighted. public interest in billy long and his possible connection with the robbery of the department store had rather died out by this time. the friends of short and long had rallied around him, and he was not arrested. when his ankle was better he hobbled to school on crutches; but the boys missed him greatly on the ball field. billy told his chums that he was sure the two men he saw had hidden money somewhere about the caverns of the island; and not only were the boys of central high interested in this "buried treasure," but their sisters as well. "i tell you what," said bobby hargrew, on the beldings' porch one evening when laura had been having one of her "parties"; "let's organize and incorporate 'the central high treasure hunting company, limited,' and go over to cavern island and just dig it up by the roots till we find billy's treasure in a lard kettle." "sounds terribly romantic," said jess morse. "we had a scrumptious time over there at the other picnic," said dorothy. "i vote for another saturday at the caverns, anyway," said chet. "me, too," added lance darby. "well, you folks can guy me all you want to," said short and long, who was getting about with a cane now instead of his crutches. "but those fellers talked of money, and of burying it in a lard can." "say!" exclaimed lance, "a lard can will hold a lot of money." "all right. you laugh. i'm going to have another look for it when i get over there," said billy. "and i'm with you, billy," said josephine morse, with a sigh. "goodness me! i need to find a buried treasure, or something of the kind." jess's mother was a widow and in straitened circumstances, and sometimes jess was cramped for clothing as well as spending money. she lived at the "poverty-stricken" end of whiffle street, just as the beldings lived at the "wealthy" end. so the party for the next saturday was made up in this impromptu fashion, without one of the members realizing what an important occasion that outing would prove. it looked to dora and dorothy, when they reached home that evening, as though they might have to "cut" the "treasure hunt," however. aunt dora had gone to bed quite ill, and before morning mr. lockwood telephoned for the doctor. he came and the family was up most of that night. aunt dora had caught cold and it had settled into a severe muscular rheumatic attack. the poor lady suffered a great deal during the next few days, having considerable fever, and being quite out of her head at times. she called for "dora" then, almost incessantly, and no matter which twin responded she declared it wasn't her namesake, but dorothy, and that they "were trying to fool her!" "and, oh, dear, me," said dorothy, "i wish we hadn't done it, dora." "i wish so, too. when i tell her that _i'm_ dora she doesn't believe me." "poor auntie!" sighed dorothy. "i expect she has had her heart set on taking you home with her." "yes, it's preyed on her mind." "i tell you what!" ejaculated dorothy. "what now?" "let me take your place. i'll go home with her--for a while, at least." "no you won't! i'm dora. i'll go with her," said the other twin, decisively. "and just think how she went to mr. sharp and got us off from gee gee's decision." "but you mustn't go with her to stay all the time, dora. that would kill me!" cried dorothy. "no. but i'll go a little while this summer. we'll have to do something for her. i expect she's lonely in her big house with nobody but servants." thus the twins tried to quiet their consciences--they really had _two_ of those unfortunate arrangements. and the consciences would not be quieted easily. the girls ran home from school the next afternoon before they went to the boathouse; and were prepared to cut practice had aunt dora needed them. but fortunately the patient was asleep, and the twins hurried down to take their places in the shell. the big day was now approaching. there were not many more afternoons on which the girls might practice for the races. "we mustn't disappoint the other girls, and the whole school, and give up the eight-oared shell practice," dora said to dorothy. "no; but if aunt dora is going to be ill long we will have to give up our canoe work. let hester grimes and lil pendleton beat us in that, if they will. aunt dora needs us--and we owe her some gratitude, if nothing more," agreed her twin. chapter xxii the stolen shell the very next morning bobby hargrew came screeching into the rear gate of the lockwood premises as though she was being chased by a bear. "for the land of pity's sake!" gasped mrs. betsey, appearing on the back porch, while mary put her red head out of the kitchen window, and both of them waved admonitory hands at bobby to still her shrieks. "what is the matter with that girl of tom hargrew's?" demanded the old housekeeper. the twins came flying. fortunately aunt dora was asleep, but they all feared bobby's calliope-like voice would awaken the patient. "listen here! listen here!" cried bobby, smothering some of the upper register, but still quite "squally" enough, in all conscience, as mrs. betsey said. "we're listening, bobby! do tell us what it is," cried the twins in unison. "the shell is gone!" cried bobby. "gone where?" "what shell?" "our new shell. and if i knew where it was gone i wouldn't be telling you about how it was stolen, for it would be an old story then," said bobby, panting. "you don't mean to say that the new shell has been taken out of the boathouse--and a watchman there?" "that's what i mean. it's gone," said bobby, solemnly. "mike, the watchman, doesn't know when it was taken. one of the big doors was forced open and our beautiful shell has disappeared. there are two launches out searching the lake for it." "but who would have done such a thing?" cried dorothy. "and what could be their object?" demanded her sister. "ask me an easier one," said the grocery-man's daughter. "i only know it's gone, and the intention evidently is to make us central high girls lose the race." "oh, who would be so mean?" gasped one of the twins. "there are four other contestants in the eight-oared class," said bobby, grimly. "you don't believe any of the other girls have stolen the shell?" cried dora, in horror. "why, bobby! how could they do it? and in the night, too?" demanded dorothy. "i don't say who did it. but it may have been somebody hired to do it by some other crew." "keyport?" suggested dora, doubtfully. "they're the very best crew on the lake--next to ours," added dorothy. "and they probably think themselves the better of the two," said the shrewd bobby. "i'd suspect either of the other three first." "but it's just awful to suspect any of the other highs. what a mean, mean trick!" "if they'd only taken the old shell," wailed dorothy. "that's it. they knew we had little chance to beat them in the old shell. but some spy must have watched us and timed us in the new boat," said bobby with decision. "and so--it went!" "i can scarcely believe it," sighed dorothy. "but it must be found before the big day!" cried dora. "i guess that's what all the girls of central high will say. but lake luna is a large body of water, and there are plenty of wild pieces of shore where the shell could be hidden, in the mouth of a creek, or some such place. or, perhaps it has been removed from the lake altogether. oh, it may have been already destroyed." "dreadful!" groaned dorothy. "and we haven't paid for it, yet," added dora. the news of the shell's disappearance was well circulated over the hill before schooltime. the girls of central high could scarcely give proper attention to their textbooks that morning. some of the members of the crew actually wept. it was the afternoon for practice, and there were only a few more such opportunities. there was no news of the lost boat when school was out. the police had been notified, and the police launch had taken up the search. the watchman at the boat houses was made to admit that it had been his custom to sleep most of the night. there had never been any robbery of the school boathouses before. but, as principal sharp of central high said, another watchman would doubtless be able to keep awake better than mike, and the old man received his notice. this stringent measure did not bring the lost shell back, however. professor dimp had the girls out in the old shell that afternoon, and although they did their very best, they fell back more than forty seconds in half a mile. and from what they knew about keyport, the girls of central high knew very well that they could not afford to drop those forty seconds if they were to win the luna boat club's cup. there wasn't a girl in central high--unless it was hester grimes--who did not consider the loss of the new shell a calamity. theories of the wildest nature were put forward to explain the robbery. that the shell had been stolen for the sake of profit was hardly likely. eight-oared shells cannot be pledged at a pawn shop; nor would any other rowing club purchase such a boat without knowing just where the craft came from. really, bobby hargrew's belief that one of the competing crews had caused the shell to be spirited away gained ground among the school pupils as a body. yet there was no trace of the course of the robbers, and the search of the borders of the lake was fruitless. the newspapers took it up and the theory that one of the competing crews had caused the shell's disappearance was printed. this forced some discussion of the matter before the board of education, and the minority which had always been against competitions between the schools gained some strength. above all, it looked bad for the central high crew. they all knew in their hearts that with the heavy and lubberly old shell which was left them, they could not win the race on the big day. this thought took the heart out of them and on friday afternoon, when they practiced, their showing was even worse than it had been before. saturday the "treasure hunters" had their outing at cavern island. they went in several small boats, and the twins, finding aunt dora much improved (or seemingly so) joined the party at the last moment and paddled their canoe with the rest. "oh, my, my!" cackled lance darby as he slid into a seat in chet's boat that josephine morse had been about to take. "awful accident on the lake! terrible catastrophe while boating on luna! lady had her eye on a seat and a gent sat on it! my, my!" "you needn't think you're so smart," returned jess. "now you're there, you can row--both you and chet. laura and i will sit here in the stern and watch you both work. work is good for boys, anyway." "yes," growled chet. "it's like what they say about the fleas on dogs. a certain number of fleas are good for a dog; helps him keep his mind off the fact that he _is_ a dog!" short and long balanced the big boat by sitting in the bow, and the fleet got under way. "we're going right to boulder head, aren't we?" demanded short and long. "is that where the treasure is buried?" asked laura, laughing. "it's somewhere around there; or in the caves. you folks can laugh," said billy, "but those foreigners talked enough english for me to understand that the money----" "in a lard kettle," put in bobby, chuckling. "in a lard can," corrected billy, "was hidden on the island, and was not far from the caves." "maybe when the man you said was hanging around so long disappeared, he took the treasure with him," laughed dorothy lockwood. "and i bet i know who the two men were whom billy heard quarreling over a lard can," cried dora. "you know, do you?" demanded billy. "well, who were they?" "tony allegretto and the man the police found him fighting with," said dora promptly. "great scott!" gasped chetwood belding. "do you hear that, lance?" "never thought of 'em!" answered his chum. "buried treasure, too!" said chet, thoughtfully. "tony said they were quarreling over money." "there is something that needs looking into about tony allegretto," declared mother wit, seriously. "don't you think so, chet?" "it might be well to find out what the money was, and where they got it to quarrel over," agreed chet, slowly. "pirate gold, of course!" laughed bobby hargrew, from another boat. "don't spoil all the romance of this treasure hunt by suggesting that the buried loot is merely the proceeds of the sale of a banana stand that the two italians owned in partnership." chapter xxiii billy's great dive but both chet and laura belding were thoughtful for the rest of the way to the island. the others seemed to see nothing significant in what billy had said about the two italians, or the suggestion the twins had made that the quarreling men were identical with tony allegretto, the trained monkey's master, and his fellow countryman, whom the police had driven away from cavern island. "we ought to find some clue to the buried treasure, something like poe's 'gold bug,'" suggested nellie agnew. "sure!" cried lance. "so many fathoms from a certain tree with arms like a gibbet, on a line with a stone on which is scratched the outline of a skull. then dig straight down--so far--till you strike----" "a lard kettle!" cried jess. "sounds just like poe, doesn't it?" "just like poe's ravin'," chuckled bobby, the only one who dared make such an atrocious pun. they piled out of the boats at the usual landing and billy took them to the several "hide-outs," or camps, he had found while he was living like a castaway on the island. the twins were as eager to see billy's camps as anyone; the big boulder before the mouth of the farther cavern, into which they did not dare to venture without a guide, had been the boy's lookout. that was where he was perched in his wig and whiskers when dora and dorothy had first seen him and nicknamed him "the lone pirate." "and how under the sun did you chance to have that hallow e'en disguise with you, billy boy?" demanded dora. short and long grinned. "i didn't know but one of those fresh detectives was hanging around the house when i went off fishing that morning; so i put on the wig and whiskers before i slid down the woodshed roof." "by jolly!" laughed lance. "you must have looked like a gnome when you went through the streets." "nobody saw me. it was before sun-up," said billy. dorothy had scrambled to the top of the big rock. suddenly she uttered a loud screech. "what's bit you now?" demanded chet, starting up. "oh! my trophy pin! it's dropped off my blouse directly into the water. oh, dear me! i won that in the relay races this spring." "and the water's deep there," declared bobby. "it's a regular diving hole." "now, you've lost it!" cried dora, sadly. "but you can wear mine sometimes." "don't you fret, miss--which is it, dora, or dorothy?" demanded billy. "i'm dorothy," admitted the twin in question, climbing sadly down to the shore again. "that's all right, dorothy," said short and long. "leave it to me. i put my bathing trunks in my pocket and while you girls are spreading the luncheon over yonder i'll dive and see if i can get the pin. it's some muddy down there, i guess; but i can stay under water nearly two minutes--can't i, chet?" "so you have, billy. you try it. and if you can't, maybe lance or i can get it." billy retired into the nearest cave to remove his clothing and the girls returned to the landing. in five minutes billy made a famous dive into the deep hole under the boulder. he did not stay down two minutes, for lance timed him. and he came up without the pin, but when he got his breath, he gave voice to a shout that started the echoes. "what's the matter with you, billy?" demanded chet. "i've found it!" cried the small boy. "good! give it to me and i'll run with it to dorothy," said lance. "oh! i haven't found her old pin," said billy. "what's the matter with you, then?" demanded chet. "you said you'd found it." "and so i have," proclaimed the diver. "then hand it over," said lance. "but it's down there--and it's hitched to a chain," gasped billy. "what are you talking about?" cried both his boy friends together. "_i've found the lard can!_" shrieked billy, dancing up and down on the rock. "great scott!" spoke chet, staring at him. "you don't mean it?" cried lance. "the lard can with the money?" demanded chet, shaking the smaller boy by the arm. "how do i know whether there is money in it or not?" returned billy. "lemme find where the end of that chain is hitched, and we'll drag it out of the mud and see." "say! talk about treasure hunting!" gasped lance. "this beats 'em all!" splash! went billy again into the water, like a huge frog. in a minute he was at the surface again, with the end of a trace chain in his hand. "catch hold here, fellows, and pull!" he gasped. chet and lance obeyed. with a strong heave they brought the weight ashore. it certainly _was_ a lard can; but the cover was soldered on. "how we going to cut it open?" demanded lance, eagerly, as billy crawled out on shore again. "we're not going to open it," declared chet, decisively. "this can is going directly to police headquarters. and all of us want to keep our mouths close shut about it until the police have examined the contents." and this he impressed rigidly upon the rest of the party when billy had dressed and the three boys went back to the landing. unfortunately dorothy's pin was not recovered. but, as she said herself, she didn't mind that, seeing that her loss of the pin brought about the discovery of the buried treasure. "it beats captain kidd, and 'treasure island,' and poe's 'gold bug,' all rolled into one!" declared bobby, as a final comment upon the whole adventure. the party was eager to get across to the city again and deliver the sealed can to the authorities. so the picnic was considerably shortened. nevertheless, the central high treasure hunting company, limited, was pronounced an overpowering success! chapter xxiv the big day but the boys and girls of central high learned nothing that day about the contents of the sealed lard can. whatever was discovered inside it the police kept very close about. chet had a private interview with the chief of the centerport bureau of detectives, and so did billy long. short and long wished that he could get through with police interference in his affairs, and grumbled some; but the detectives treated him pretty nicely this time, and the two boys went home wondering what would be the outcome of the "treasure hunting expedition." "just the same, we found something!" ejaculated chet. "and it is important, i feel sure." "wish it was the money stolen from stresch & potter. the firm has offered five hundred dollars reward for the recovery of the money and the apprehension of the burglars," said short and long. "say! that would be great for you," his friend said. "wouldn't it?" "we'd take alice out of that factory and let her finish high," said billy, quickly. "that's what we'd do at the long domicile." "i hope it _is_ the stolen money, then," said chet. "hot chance of that," scoffed billy. "those fellows that 'burgled' the store got away weeks ago and have probably spent the money by this time." the discovery of the sealed can on the island did not banish from the minds of the girls of central high, however, the mystery of the stolen shell. this was a tragedy that loomed bigger and bigger as the day of the races approached. and it was very near now. the twins were delighted to be able to row with their mates on the eight-oared crew; but like the other members, they were quite hopeless of winning the race if they had to use the old boat. "somebody who owed us a big grudge turned that trick of stealing the shell," bobby hargrew declared, again and again. "but we never did anything to the crews of the other schools to make them hate us so," cried the doctor's daughter. "only threatening to beat them in the race," said laura, doubtfully. "that shouldn't be a sufficient reason for them to hate us," one of the lockwood twins declared. "it does just seem as though it was done out of spite." "and who's so spiteful toward the central high eight?" demanded bobby, keenly. "now, bobby!" cautioned laura. "that's all right, mother wit. you see the point just as clearly as i do," declared bobby. "you know who's been 'knocking' our crew all the time----" "why--you don't mean----" began jess, in wide-eyed wonder; but laura said: "hush! don't say such a thing. we must not accuse people without some ground for suspicion." "how much ground do you want--the whole earth?" snapped bobby, in deep gloom. so the name of the suspected culprit was not mentioned; but the little coterie of friends looked wisely at each other, and nodded. for, you see, when a girl is disloyal to her school and classmates, how can they help suspecting her if evil should arise? a girl who will not accept the decision of the majority in school affairs, who scoffs at the efficiency of the various athletic teams--who never will be contented unless she is in the lead of everything--can neither be popular nor trusted. disloyalty is a crime that every right-minded person abhors; and although these girls did not mention the name of the person they suspected, all realized who was meant when bobby said: "well, the time is coming when she'll fly her kite too high! everybody will see what she is, and then she'll never be able to fool anybody again--neither teachers, nor students of central high. that's one satisfaction." "and yet, not very satisfactory at present," returned laura belding, thoughtfully. "put on your thinking cap, then, mother wit, and catch her," said bobby, in a whisper. "you did it before, you know." the parents of some of the girls were intensely interested in the outcome of the races on the big day, too; and somebody with influence had induced the chief of police to put detectives on the trail of the lost shell. this, however, beside a search of the lake shore by the police launch, as already reported, did nothing toward uncovering the hiding place of the shell, or the identity of the thieves. it seemed ridiculous to suppose that one girl--no matter how spiteful she might feel--could have accomplished the crime of stealing the eight-oared shell alone. yet bobby hargrew's insistence had impressed laura belding. perhaps, too, the fact that the other girls of central high expected something brilliant in the way of detective work from mother wit spurred the jeweler's daughter to attempt to find the lost shell. instead, she attempted to make the guilty person return the new boat in time for the boat race. and to do this she tried a scheme that might have been fruitless had the culprit not been an amateur in deceit and wrongdoing. no real thief would have fallen into laura belding's trap. she caused to be printed and posted upon the bulletin boards all over the hill section of centerport a quarter-sheet handbill which read in part that the person having caused the disappearance of the new eight-oared shell belonging to the girls' branch athletic league of central high was known, and that person would be publicly exposed if the shell was not returned, or the place of its hiding revealed, in season for the races. and she signed the bill with professor dimp's name, he having agreed to lend it for the occasion. this was not many hours before the dawning of the day of the races; but laura saw to it that the way to and from school for the person suspected was fairly plastered with those notices! printed in their black type, they could not fail to be seen by the right eyes. "what do you expect will come of _that_?" demanded chet, rather inclined to scoff at his sister's plan. "i hope it will cause a change of heart on the part of the person guilty of the outrage," declared laura, laughing. "huh! if i knew who it was that stole the shell i'd go to 'em with a policeman." "and then it would be denied, and we'd never get our shell back in time. we don't know where it is," said laura. "and you evidently don't know just who is guilty," responded chet. "moral certainty would not hold good in court," his sister returned, slily. "bet you nothing comes of it!" growled chet. but laura would not wager anything with him. perhaps she was not very certain in her own mind, at that, that she had gone about the matter in the right way. the night before the big day arrived, and nothing was heard of the shell. the girls were hopeless. even bobby lost her last atom of cheerfulness. they were confident that, if they had to row in the old boat, keyport, at least, would beat them in the race. but when the new watchman opened the boat-house doors early on the morning of the race day he found pinned to the door a paper which bore in scraggly lettering this admonition: "_look under the east float._" he proceeded to do this at once; and there was the shell, missing for so many anxious days, somewhat scraped by being washed by the current against the timbers underneath the float, but otherwise quite fit for use! all the girls of central high did not hear this welcome news until noon, when the schools of centerport let out for the day. the afternoon was to be given up to the aquatic contests, and troops of boys and girls, as well as grown folks, went to the shore, or crowded the boats that were stationed along the racing course. after all the lockwood twins did not have to give up the canoe contest. aunt dora would not hear of their losing practise; and she was so much improved that mr. lockwood hired an easy carriage and took her to the races that she might see dora and dorothy do their best to win both the canoeing and eight-oared trophies. "they are real good girls, after all, lemuel," said aunt dora, reflectively. "now both of them have offered to go home with me." "no!" cried the flower lover. "i can't spare them, dora." "i know you can't," admitted his sister, rather mildly for her. "and although they only said they would come to me for a little while, one at a time, i am not going to accept their sacrifice. i see plainly how much they are to each other--and to you. i guess they are yours, lemuel, and if you have made mistakes in bringing them up, they are too sweet of disposition naturally to be spoiled by your foolishness. "no," said aunt dora, conclusively, "the place for dora is with dorothy, and the place for dorothy is with dora. besides," she added, "it would certainly trouble me to have them about i never _could_ be sure whether my namesake was visiting me, or the other one!" chapter xxv the race is won lake luna was a blaze of glory between centerport and cavern island--the june sunshine over all and every boat along the racing course bright with pennants and streamers. the two fussy little launches bearing the officers who managed the races puffed up and down the open water, and the big police launch kept the spectators' boats back of the line. ashore the highlands were black with spectators, while the driveway was crowded with vehicles of every description. keyport and lumberport had been drawn upon to swell the crowds of lookers-on. the railroads and steam-boats had brought crowds to the race. it was indeed a gala day. promptly at one o'clock the events began. the trial of speed between the boys' eight-oared shells was the first of the juvenile contests, and these latter trials gained almost as much interest from the crowds as did the first races. the boys of central high, with chet and lance and six others at the sculls, and short and long to steer, pulled a splendid race, and came in second--the junior crew of the famous luna boat club being the winner. at least the boys of central high won over the crews of all the other high schools on the lake. the canoe race was a mixed event, for there was no sex limitation in canoeing. the lockwood twins had been chosen, after all, to represent central high, and hester grimes and lily pendleton were not even among the spectators at the races. they had accused mrs. case of "favoritism," although their record for speed was much below that of the twins. dora and dorothy did their very best; but they could scarcely expect to win over all comers in this race. like the boys' eight, however, they came in ahead of all the other school crews, being number at the finish. the race was won by grown men belonging to the luna boat club. after that the interest centered in the trial of speed between the girls' eights of the five high' schools. they had already been flashing about the lower course, "warming up," and as the five came into line at the signal of the starter, they presented a pretty sight. blue and white and crimson and white were the prevailing colors of the girls' blouses and skirts; but the east high girls wore black and gold. blue blouses and skirts, with narrow white trimming, was the costume of central high, and the nine girls in the graceful, polished cedar shell were cheered again and again as they came opposite the grandstand and boathouses. there was colonel richard swayne, who used to be so much opposed to girls' athletics, waving his cap, his bald head shining in the sun. and principal sharp was beside him, likewise cheering for his own crew. back on the driveway aunt dora actually stood up and waved her umbrella in recognition of the twins as the shell belonging to central high came easily to the line. there were laura's and chet's parents, too, in the automobile; with mrs. morse and the doctor's wife; and even alice long, with tommy, the irrepressible, and katie and may, were all there, shouting and waving handkerchiefs, all hoping that the girls in the eight-oared shell would notice them. eve and otto sitz had ridden in to view the race; but they were in prettyman sweet's repaired launch, and laura could hear the voice of the swiss girl calling to her. the twins saw aunt dora and their father standing up in the carriage; but it was against the rules for the participants to notice the cheering crowd. "eyes in the boat, girls! make ready!" snapped bobby, bending forward in her seat. "he's getting ready to fire that pistol." celia prime settled herself for the first stroke. "all ready?" she asked, and the girls behind her--jess morse, dorothy lockwood, mary o'rourke, roberta fish, nellie agnew, dora lockwood and laura belding--all murmured their acquiescence. the starter looked along the line of shells and got a nod from each coxswain. the pistol spoke, and "they're off!" shouted the crowd. like five huge water-spiders, the eight-oared shells darted along the course. with a strain and a heave at the end of every stroke, the boats were propelled in a magnificent burst of speed. for some rods there was scarcely any difference in the standing of the five crews. then, as in old times, keyport drew ahead. "hang to 'em! like bulldogs!" shouted bobby hargrew through the megaphone she wore strapped to her mouth. instantly celia stretched out a little more and the clack of the oars in central high boat sounded quicker. the new shell sped on and its bow was almost instantly at the stern of keyport's boat. behind, the other three crews were spread out badly. only lumberport was coming up at all. east and west highs were no-where from the start. the keyport crew were pulling with all their might and main then, and they were still a long way from the line. "steady!" said celia, through her teeth. "this will pass them." bobby gave the order to increase the stroke. the crew of central high responded nobly. the bow of their boat crept up, slowly but surely, along the side of the keyport craft. they could have passed the rival boat more quickly; but celia was holding back reserve force for a spurt if such a thing became necessary. the twins' toughened muscles did not feel the strain at first; but before the end of the course was sighted they were working blindly, like the other girls--mere pieces of mechanism engaged in a task that, as it continued, became a punishment! but that was what all the long weeks of practice and exercise had been for. their bodies had learned to endure strains like this--and their wills, too. the crowds in the boats and along the banks had never ceased to cheer and shout encouragement to their favorite crews. the race ended in a whirlwind finish, for keyport endeavored to rally at the last. but then central high with their new shell were a boat's length ahead, and they had kept that lead until they crossed the line. central high had won! the race had been a better one than that rowed a few weeks before between the same crews. the beautiful cup presented by the luna boat club would have the place of honor in the girls' branch athletic league house, when the latter structure was completed. "we sha'n't have a chance to row with you infants again," said mary o'rourke, one of the seniors, who would be graduated from central high in a few days; "but see that you do as well next term." "and keep all friction out of the crew,'" advised celia, as they pulled easily back to the boathouse. "that means keep out hester grimes," said bobby, _sotto-voce_. "we want to keep her out of all athletics if we are to win over the other schools. she'll queer our basketball team next." whether bobby's prophecy was correct, or no, must be judged by the perusal of the next volume of this series, entitled "the girls of central high at basketball; or, the great gymnasium mystery." when the crew of the eight-oared shell reached the boathouse they learned of a happening which interested them deeply. the minute the boys' eight-oared shell of central high had come in, a policeman had beckoned chetwood belding and billy long away. the boys were highly excited by this incident, and naturally their girl friends were, too. but it was not until the last event of the day had been decided and the crowd of spectators had broken up and gone their ways that the young folk learned the mystery. chet and billy had been called to the detective bureau, where the chief met them with rather a severe countenance. "so you two boys had no idea what was in that lard can you brought in here the other day?" he demanded. "no, sir," said chet, manfully. "billy heard those two men talking about it. and he found it. he says he thinks there is money in it." "and i should say there was!" ejaculated the police detective, with disgust. "those italians had us all fooled. we got the big fellow, who was sneaking back to try and get on the island again, and of course tony allegretto and his monkey has always been right under our eyes. "by the way, master long!" "yes, sir?" answered billy, wondering what was coming. "you said you thought those men surveying back of stresch & potter's the day before the burglary, were working for the railroad?" "that's what i thought, sir. i gathered it from what they said." "and so they were. they were from the engineer's office of the c, p. & l. we found 'em. they had nothing to do with the robbery." "i didn't think they had. these two dagoes know about the robbery, though!" exclaimed short and long, his eyes twinkling. "i guess they do! i guess they do!" repeated the detective. "and the money stolen from stresch & potter was in that soldered can. we got it. we got the men. and the five hundred dollars will be divided between this office and you boys." "not me!" cried chet. "it belongs to billy. he dived and found the can. and--and i rather think he's paid for his reward by what he went through over there on cavern island." "perhaps that's so," said the official, chuckling. "but tell me, sir!" cried billy, eagerly, "who got through that little window and opened the door for the italians?" "ha! that puzzled us a bit until one of our sharp young men watched tony putting that monkey of his through its tricks. then we all saw a great light." "great scott! and so do i see a light!" cried chet. "me, too," grumbled billy. "but why didn't i guess it before and save myself all that trouble i had?" "the monkey is the guilty party," said the detective. "the bigger italian is a famous safe-cracker. he hired tony allegretto and his monkey to help him get into the building, and to watch outside. then the two men quarreled as to the division of the loot after it was hidden. but they are both in jail, now--and the monkey, too. but mr. monk will never have a chance to open his master's cell-door again. now, you'll hear all about this later, boys, and you will both have to testify when the case comes to trial. that's all." "huh!" exclaimed short and long, as he went away with chet, "looks like as though! everybody had the laugh on me--eh?" "how's that?" queried chet, in some surprise. "why, i needn't have made such a jack of myself as to run away and hide over there on the island. father's said a-plenty to me about it. he says that any boy who runs away instead of, facing the music makes himself appear guilty right at the start." "well--i--don't--know," said his friend, slowly. "certain sure you worried your folks a whole lot--and worried your friends, too." "i never thought of that." "i s'pose not. that detective chasing you up so, was what scared you." "and you'd have been scared, too. he said he could put me in jail. now, i'd just as soon be half starved over there on cavern island as to be in jail," declared billy, with conviction. "say! one thing you got out of it young fellow," said chet, suddenly, with a laugh. "and you wouldn't have got that if you hadn't run away." "oh! do you really think they'll give me part of the reward?" "of course they will. they'll have to. father will have his lawyer 'tend to that for you, billy. the police sha'n't cheat you out of your rights." "then," cried billy, delight showing in his face. "i tell you what's going to happen if i get all that money." "what?" asked chet, curiously. "alice is going back to central high to finish out her last year. you know, she would have graduated two years ago this june if it hadn't been for her having to stay home to 'tend to the kids. she shall come back. i know she wants to be a teacher, and without her high school certificate she cannot go to normal." "well, you're a good kind of a kid, after all, billy," said chet belding. "even if you are full of tickle," and he grinned at the small boy. "thanks," sniffed billy long. "did you think that nobody but _you_ appreciates a good sister? lemme tell you, mother wit isn't the only girl around these corners that's as good as any boy alive!" chet laughed aloud at this. "that's sure a backhand compliment," he said. "most of the girls of central high think they're a whole lot better than the boys." "and gee! ain't they?" rejoined billy, with feeling. they were back at the landing in time to escort the winning girls' crews up to the athletic field and listen to the speeches. colonel swayne made the best one of the day, and certainly the one that was most appreciated by the girls of central high when he announced that the contracts for the building of the new gymnasium were closed and that the building was bound to surpass anything of the kind in the state. "and i declare you deserve it!" said colonel swayne, in conclusion. "you certainly are the finest class of girls i ever did see. you are not like what girls were when i was a boy--i must say that. but, i guess different times breeds different folks. it must be all right for girls now to be athletic and be able to row like boys, and play ball, and all that. "and i certainly was proud that i lived on the hill to-day, and that my neighbors' daughters were such strong and healthy young ladies. it has been the greatest day we've seen on lake luna for many a year. i'm proud of you all!" there was a reception that evening at the chapter house of the m. o. r.'s, central high's very popular secret society, and the girls who had taken part in the aquatic events were feasted and made much of by the members of the society and the teachers and friends invited for the occasion. it was a very happy time for the girls of central high. even miss carrington was in an especially gracious mood; but aunt dora, who had come with the twins, refused to speak to "that four-eyed teacher." bobby hargrew was there, although she could never hope to be a member of the m. o. r.'s herself, unless she changed her mischievous ways. "but," as laura quoted, "can the leopard change his spots?" "he most certainly can--unless he goes dead lame," cried bobby, grinning. "you wait till i'm a junior! i'm going to make the m. o. r.'s and be gee gee's prize scholar next year." "better practice a little now, bobby," advised nellie agnew. "then it won't come so hard to begin in september." dora and dorothy went home early from the "party" with aunt dora. the old lady was still afraid of the night air. "and i'll come to see you--for a while--right after graduation," dora said to her aunt, cheerfully. "and then dorothy will take my place----" "no. you can both come--come together. i couldn't stand you more than a week at a time, i'm sure," said aunt dora, with a sigh. "you girls of the new generation are too much for me; though i must admit that you are pretty nice girls, at that! but your father needs you most of the time--needs you to help him cultivate that seedless watermelon, i expect! "girls aren't what they were when _i_ was a girl. you twins don't know how to knit, or to make tatting, or to embroider. it seems a shame--for you'll never have any tidies for your chairs in your house. "but i must admit that you are well and strong, you two girls. and your ma was that delicate! for those that like 'em i s'pose these athletics are good. i only hope we won't have women pugilists and seven-day bicycle riders! "when girls like you and your friends race in boats and--ahem!--i hope you won't let any club of girls from the other high schools take that handsome silver cup away from you, girls," concluded aunt dora, with sudden asperity. "that _would_ be a pretty dido, i must say! don't you let me hear of its passing out of the possession of the girls of central high." "we'll do _our_ best, auntie," replied dora and dorothy, their bright eyes dancing at the good old lady's emphasis. the end by gertrude w. morrison the girls of central high series the girls of central high or, rivals for all honors the girls of central high on lake luna or, the crew that won the girls of central high at basketball or, the great gymnasium mystery the girls of central high on the stage or, the play that took the prize the girls of central high on track and field or, the champions of the school league by laura lee hope author of the ever popular "bobbsey twins books" the outdoor girls series these tales take in the various adventures participated in by several bright, up-to-date girls who love outdoor life. they are clean and wholesome, free from sensationalism, absorbing from the first chapter to the last. the outdoor girls of deepdale or camping and tramping for fun and health. telling how the girls organized their camping and tramping club, how they went on a tour, and of various adventures which befell them. the outdoor girls at rainbow lake or stirring cruise of the motor boat gem. one of the girls becomes the proud possessor of a motor boat and at once invites her club members to take a trip with her down the river to rainbow lake, a beautiful sheet of water lying between the mountains. the outdoor girls in a motor car or the haunted mansion of shadow valley. one of the girls has learned to run a big motor car, and she invites the club to go on a tour with her, to visit some distant relatives. on the way they stop at a deserted mansion, said to be haunted and make a most surprising discovery. the outdoor girls in a winter camp or glorious days on skates and ice boats. in this story, the scene is shifted to a winter season. the girls have some jolly times skating and ice boating, and visit a hunters' camp in the big woods. the outdoor girls in florida or wintering in the sunny south. the parents of one of the girls have bought an orange grove in florida, and her companions are invited to visit the place. they do so, and take a trip into the wilds of the interior, where several unusual things happen. * * * * * the moving picture girls series the adventures of ruth and alice devere. their father, a widower, is an actor who has taken up work for the "movies." both girls wish to aid him in his work. at first, they, do work in "parlor dramas" only, but later on, visit various localities to act in all sorts of pictures. the moving picture girls or first appearance in photo dramas. having lost his voice, the father of the girls goes into the movies and the girls follow. tells how many "parlor dramas" are filmed. the moving picture girls at oak farm or queer happenings while taking rural plays. full of fun in the country, the haps and mishaps of taking film plays, and giving an account of two unusual discoveries. the moving picture girls snowbound or the proof on the film. a tale of winter adventures in the wilderness, showing how the photo-play actors sometimes suffer. the proof on the film was most convincing. the moving picture girls under the palms or lost in the wilds of florida. how they went to the land of palms, played many parts in dramas before the clicking machine, and were lost and aided others who were also lost. the moving picture girls at rocky ranch or great days among the cowboys. all who have ever seen moving pictures of the great west will want to know just how they are made. this volume gives every detail and is full of clean fun and excitement. by gertrude w. morrison the girls of central high series here is a series full of the spirit of high school life of to-day. the girls are real flesh-and-blood characters, and we follow them with interest in school and out. there are many contested matches on track and field, and on the water, as well as doings in the classroom and on the school stage. there is plenty of fun and excitement, all clean, pure and wholesome. the girls of central high or rivals for all honors. a stirring tale of high school life, full of fun, with a touch of mystery and a strange initiation. the girls of central high on lake luna or the crew that won. telling of water sports and fun galore, and of fine times in camp. the girls of central high at basketball or the great gymnasium mystery. here we have a number of thrilling contests at basketball and in addition, the solving of a mystery which had bothered the high school authorities for a long while. the girls of central high on the stage or the play that took the prize. how the girls went in for theatricals and how one of them wrote a play which afterward was made over for the professional stage and brought in some much-needed money. the girls of central high on track and field or the girl champions of the school league. this story takes in high school athletics in their most approved and up-to-date fashion. full of fun and excitement. by victor appleton the moving picture boys series moving pictures and photo plays are famous the world over, and in this line of books the reader is given a full description of how the films are made--the scenes of little dramas, indoors and out, trick pictures to satisfy the curious, soul-stirring pictures of city affairs, life in the wild west, among the cowboys and indians, thrilling rescues along the seacoast, the daring of picture hunters in the jungle among savage beasts, and the great risks run in picturing conditions in a land of earthquakes. the volumes teem with adventures and will be found interesting from first chapter to last. the moving picture boys or perils of a great city depicted. the moving picture boys in the west or taking scenes among the cowboys and indians. the moving picture boys on the coast or showing the perils of the deep. the moving picture boys in the jungle or stirring times among the wild animals. the moving picture boys in earthquake land or working amid many perils. the moving picture boys and the flood or perilous days on the mississippi. * * * * * the motion picture chums series in these stories we follow the adventures of three boys, who, after purchasing at auction the contents of a moving picture house, open a theatre of their own. their many trials and tribulations, leading up to the final success of their venture, make very entertaining stories. the motion picture chums' first venture or opening a photo playhouse in fairlands. the adventures of frank, randy and pep in running a motion picture show. they had trials and tribulations but finally succeed. the motion picture chums at seaside park or the rival photo theatres of the boardwalk. their success at fairlands encourages the boys to open their show at seaside park, where they have exciting adventures--also a profitable season. the motion picture chums on broadway or the mystery of the missing cash box. backed by a rich western friend the chums established a photo playhouse in the great metropolis, where new adventures await them. the motion picture chums' outdoor exhibition or the film that solved a mystery. this time the playhouse was in a big summer park. how a film that was shown gave a clew to an important mystery is interestingly related. the motion picture chums' new idea or the first educational photo playhouse. in this book the scene is shifted to boston, and there is intense rivalry in the establishment of photo playhouses of educational value. * * * * * the tom swift series these spirited tales convey in a realistic way the wonderful advances in land and sea locomotion. stories like these are impressed upon the youthful memory and their reading is productive only of good. tom swift and his motor cycle or fun and adventure on the road tom swift and his motor boat or the rivals of lake carlopa tom swift and his airship or the stirring cruise of the red cloud tom swift and his submarine boat or under the ocean, for sunken treasure tom swift and his electric runabout or the speediest car on the road tom swift and his wireless message or the castaways of earthquake island tom swift among the diamond makers or the secret of phantom mountain tom swift in the caves of ice or the wreck of the airship tom swift and his sky racer or the quickest flight on record tom swift and his electric rifle or daring adventures in elephant land tom swift in the city of gold or marvellous adventures underground tom swift and his air glider or seeking the platinum treasure tom swift in captivity or a daring escape by airship tom swift and his wizard camera or the perils of moving picture taking tom swift and his great searchlight or on the border for uncle sam tom swift and his giant cannon or the longest shots on record tom swift and his photo telephone or the picture that saved a fortune by captain quincy allen the outdoor chums series the outdoor chums are four wide-awake lads, sons of wealthy men of a small city located on a lake. the boys love outdoor life, and are greatly interested in hunting, fishing, and picture taking. they have motor cycles, motor boats, canoes, etc., and during their vacations go everywhere and have all sorts of thrilling adventures. the stories give full directions for camping out, how to fish, how to hunt wild animals and prepare the skins for stuffing, how to manage a canoe, how to swim, etc. full of the very spirit of outdoor life. the outdoor chums or, the first tour of the rod, gun and camera club. the outdoor chums on the lake or, lively adventures on wildcat island. the outdoor chums in the forest or, laying the ghost of oak ridge. the outdoor chums on the gulf or, rescuing the lost balloonists. the outdoor chums after big game or, perilous adventures in the wilderness. by graham b. forbes the boys of columbia high series never was there a cleaner, brighter, more manly boy than frank allen, the hero of this series of boys' tales, and never was there a better crowd of lads to associate with than the students of the school. all boys will read these stories with deep interest. the rivalry between the towns along the river was of the keenest, and plots and counterplots to win the championships, at baseball, at football, at boat racing, at track athletics, and at ice hockey, were without number. any lad reading one volume of this series will surely want the others. the boys of columbia high; or the all around rivals of the school. the boys of columbia high on the diamond; or winning out by pluck. the boys of columbia high on the river; or the boat race plot that failed. the boys of columbia high on the gridiron; or the struggle for the silver cup. the boys of columbia high on the ice; or out for the hockey championship. by arthur w. winfield the famous rover boys series american stories of american boys and girls the rover boys at school or the cadets of putnam hall the rover boys on the ocean or a chase for a fortune the rover boys in the jungle or stirring adventures in africa the rover boys out west or the search for a lost mine the rover boys on the great lakes or the secret of the island cave the rover boys in the mountains or a hunt for fame and fortune the rover boys on land and sea or the crusoes of seven islands the rover boys in camp or the rivals of pine island the rover boys on the river or the search for the missing houseboat the rover boys on the plains or the mystery of red rock ranch the rover boys in southern waters or the deserted steam yacht the rover boys on the farm or the last days at putnam hall the rover boys on treasure isle or the strange cruise of the steam yacht the rover boys at college or the right road and the wrong the rover boys down east or the struggle for the stanhope fortune the rover boys in the air or from college campus to the clouds the rover boys in new york or saving their father's honor the rover boys in alaska or lost in the fields of ice * * * * * the putnam hall series companion stories to the famous rover boys series open-air pastimes have always been popular with boys, and should always be encouraged. these books mingle adventure and fact, and will appeal to every manly boy. the putnam hall mystery or the school chums' strange discovery the particulars of the mystery and the solution of it are very interesting reading. the putnam hall encampment or the secret of the old mill a story full of vim and vigor, telling what the cadets did during the summer encampment, including a visit to a mysterious old mill, said to be haunted. the book has a wealth of fun in it. the putnam hall rebellion or the rival runaways the boys had good reasons for running away during captain putnam's absence. they had plenty of fun, and several queer adventures. the putnam hall champions or bound to win out in this volume the putnam hall cadets show what they can do in various keen rivalries on the athletic field and elsewhere. there is one victory which leads to a most unlooked-for discovery. the putnam hall cadets or good times in school and out the cadets are lively, flesh-and-blood fellows, bound to make friends from the start. there are some keen rivalries, in school and out, and something is told of a remarkable midnight feast and a hazing that had an unlocked for ending. the putnam hall rivals or fun and sport afloat and ashore it is a lively, rattling, breezy story of school life in this country written by one who knows all about its pleasures and its perplexities, its glorious excitements, and its chilling disappointments. by howard r. garis the dick hamilton series a series that has become very popular dick hamilton's fortune or the stirring doings of a millionaire's son. dick, the son of a millionaire, has a fortune left to him by his mother. but before he can touch the bulk of this money it is stipulated in his mother's will that he must do certain things, in order to prove that he is worthy of possessing such a fortune. the doings of dick and his chums make the liveliest kind of reading. dick hamilton's cadet days or the handicap of a millionaire's son. the hero is sent to a military academy to make his way without the use of money. life at an up-to-date military academy is described, with target shooting, broadsword exercise, trick riding, sham battles etc. dick proves himself a hero in the best sense of the word. dick hamilton's steam yacht or a young millionaire and the kidnappers. a series of adventures while yachting in which our hero's wealth plays a part. dick is marooned on an island, recovers his yacht and foils the kidnappers. the wrong young man is spirited away, dick gives chase and there is a surprising rescue at sea. dick hamilton's football team or a young millionaire on the gridiron. a very interesting account of how dick developed a champion team and of the lively contests with other teams. there is also related a number of thrilling incidents in which dick is the central figure. dick hamilton's airship or a young millionaire in the clouds. tells how dick built an airship to compete in a twenty thousand dollar prize contest, and of many adventures he experiences. by allen chapman. the railroad series ralph fairbanks was bound to become a railroad man, as his father had been before him. step by step he worked his way upward, serving first in the roundhouse, cleaning locomotives; then in the switch tower, clearing the tracks; then on the engine, as a fireman; then as engineer of the overland express; and finally as train dispatcher. in this line of books there is revealed the whole workings of a great american railroad system. there are adventures in abundance--railroad wrecks, dashes through forest fires, the pursuit of a "wildcat" locomotive, the disappearance of a pay car with a large sum of money on board--but there is much more than this--the intense rivalry among railroads and railroad men, the working out of running schedules, the getting through "on time" in spite of all obstacles, and the manipulation of railroad securities by evil men who wish to rule or ruin. books that every american boy ought to own. ralph, the train dispatcher or the mystery of the pay car. ralph on the overland express or the trials and triumph of a young engineer. ralph on the engine or the young fireman of the limited mail. ralph of the round house or bound to become a railroad man. ralph in the switch tower or clearing the track. none [illustration: "thus they started in a line, yhon leading" ... page ] girl scouts in the adirondacks by lillian elizabeth roy author of the polly brewster books, the little washingtons books illustrated grosset & dunlap publishers new york made in the united states of america copyright, , by george sully & company _the girl scouts in the adirondacks_ _printed in the u. s. a._ contents chapter page i. the friday jinx ii. another day of troubles iii. in the mountains at last iv. a visit to grey fox camp v. a story of creation vi. lost on the trail vii. a little business viii. jake's interview with a skunk ix. lessons in tracking x. the girl scouts entertain xi. a canoe trip xii. first aid xiii. shooting the rapids--and other things xiv. the grand surprise illustrations "thus they started in a line, yhon leading" (page ) _frontispiece_ page "would you prefer to sit here and dream, betzy, or go back with me and eat sandwiches" "we are lost, come find us" "where--which way did you hear them?" questioned joan girl scouts in the adirondacks chapter one the friday jinx "are we ready to start, girls?" called mrs. vernon, the captain of dandelion troop of girl scouts, as she glanced at her protegées seated in two large touring cars. "ready! why, verny, we've been waiting for you these ten minutes," retorted juliet lee, one of the original members of the troop. "and we're just crazy to be off before that black cloud overhead adds to mother's fear lest i never come home again," added ruth bentley, another of the first four girl scouts of elmertown. "well, then, it seems that all the baggage and outfit we need with us on the trip is safely stowed away, eh, jim?" said mrs. vernon, looking at the driver of the other car. "everything that i found waiting to be packed when i drove up to the side door," replied the chauffeur. "all right! then we're off, folkses, but we'll send you word the moment we arrive at old forge in the adirondacks," called mrs. vernon, to the crowd of relatives of the various girls, all gathered to watch the scouts drive away. "good-by! good-by!" now shouted many girlish voices, and "good-by! good-by!" was shouted back as the two seven-passenger cars started on the long journey. mrs. vernon led the way in her luxurious automobile, and as they turned the bend of the road, where the last of the group still watching on the vernon lawn was lost to sight, she laughingly remarked: "i never thought a crowd of girls could get ready for such a long outing in so short a time." "it all depends on how badly the girls _want_ to be ready, captain," retorted joan allison, the fourth girl of the number who founded dandelion camp of girl scouts the summer before. "say, girls! i just felt a drop of rain from that inky cloud!" betty lee warned. she was julie's sister, and they were two who had first suggested a scout organization. mrs. vernon slowed down and turned to the scouts. "shall we stop to put on the rain-curtains?" "mercy, no! it's only a sprinkle, and we're not sugar," exclaimed joan, glancing at the sky. the other girls followed her gaze, and julie said: "see all the blue sky! enough to make the proverbial 'night-cap'." in case the reader has not yet met the four girls who had such a thrilling time while at camp the previous summer, it will be best to make their acquaintance now. as stated before, juliet and elizabeth lee were the two sisters who planned having a scout troop for girls in elmertown. joan allison and ruth bentley, both schoolmates of the lee girls, eagerly agreed to add their efforts to the others' and secure the interest of enough girls for them to be able to apply for a charter from the girl scout headquarters in new york city. before they closed their camp on "verny's mountain" that summer, five other girls had been admitted to membership in the young patrol, namely: hester wynant, fourteen; anne bailey, fourteen; judith blake, thirteen; her sister, edith blake, twelve; and amy ward, thirteen. then during the winter, other girls who had heard of the good times the scouts had had in camp that past summer became so insistent to mothers at home that permission to join the organization was granted them. having nine girls in their original patrol, with julie as leader, and joan for corporal, the scouts now felt experienced enough to pass all the tests required to apply for a troop charter. the young scouts were an active group and when the charter arrived from national headquarters the same day the girls had planned to start for camp, there was great rejoicing. true to his promise given the girl scouts the summer previous, mr. gilroy had sent word to mrs. vernon when the camp in the adirondacks was ready for them. when the girls found that mrs. vernon planned to use her large touring car for half of the number in the troop to go in, and ruth bentley's father had offered his car for the other half, thus saving them great expense for railroad tickets, and giving them the pleasure of autoing the whole long distance, the excitement rose and would not be calmed down again. so it was not only a happy troop that shouted good-by to relatives, but also a flushed, merry group of nine girls who could not keep silent for long. ruth was in the rear seat of her father's car, which jim was driving, when she suddenly sat up and called out to the chauffeur: "i'm sure one of our suitcases on the trunk-rack at the back must be loose, jim. i hear it bump about every time you go over a rough place in the road." "it can't be, miss ruth," returned jim, trying to peer out and see the baggage; "i strapped 'em on good and tight before we left." "well, it happens to be my suitcase that's on top, and i'm sure i don't want to lose it," declared ruth. "maybe we'd better stop and make sure about it; we can soon catch up with verny again," suggested judith. so jim sprang out to investigate. "the suitcases are all right, miss ruth, but somethin's wrong in the back all right." at that ruth jumped out and joined the man. "what is it?" asked she, anxiously. "the sag in that spring 'pears to me to say it is about done for. we'll have to travel slow till we find a garage." "for mercy's sake! didn't you and pa's chauffeur overhaul both the cars thoroughly when you knew we were going on this trip?" "your father sent this machine to the garage in elmertown, 'cause he said they'd know how to do the job up better'n us," explained jim. "then it serves dad right if he has to pay for a new spring! the idea of trusting strangers with his car at this important time! but here we are with a wornout old spring on our hands!" cried ruth, stamping her foot impatiently. "oh no, ruth, not on our hands--but what is ten times worse--on the rear end of the car," laughed hester. "well, we've got to go slow, i suppose, and stop somewhere to replace the old thing," grumbled ruth, climbing back in the car. "if 'liza knew of this mischance, wouldn't she gloat over her 'friday bad luck' prophecy?" laughed ann. jim started again, but carefully avoided the ruts and bumps in the road until he came to a large garage. fortunately for all, they found a new spring in stock and the men were soon at work replacing the bad one. "hurrah for us jinx-breakers! this bit of luck in finding a new spring on hand more than offsets a friday curse," gleefully cried ruth. "you young ladies sure are lucky, but it will take some time to do the work, an' you may as well take a walk and see our nice jersey town," suggested the proprietor of the garage. the scouts followed this sensible advice and stopped at a shop where they treated each other to soda, candy, and peanuts. there being nothing more thrilling to do, they sat down in the park and ate the plebeian delicacy and talked. "i love peanuts, don't you?" anne asked of the girls. "yes, but they have to be enjoyed away from home, or folks will make fun of you," added ruth. "not any more, ruth. when a five-cent bag of peanuts, these days, only contains ten nuts that lifts them out of the cheap class," laughed hester. "and makes them a luxury, eh?" added judith. by the time the peanuts were gone, jim signaled the girls and they hurried back to the garage. it took but a moment for them to jump in and urge jim to hurry after verny's car, somewhere in the lead. mile after mile of beautiful woodland, with now and then a small town, but with many flourishing farms along the way, were reeled off rapidly as the machine sped along as if on wings. finally they reached a crossroad where the signboard warned them: "all travel limited to eight miles per hour." "slow down, jim, or you'll land us in a county jail," called ruth. "then mrs. vernon must be in jail--'cause she ain't in sight along the road, and to get as far as this she _had_ to speed," declared jim. "it's funny she wouldn't stop to find out what became of us, when we dropped so far behind," ventured hester. "they'll look us up at mealtime, never fear," laughed anne. "we've got the hamper with us, you know." the others laughed at this remark, but they had not gone much farther along the road before they spied the vernon automobile waiting under a great oak tree. when the tardy car came up, both parties began to shout, some asking where the delinquents had been, and the unfortunates to demand why folks wouldn't look behind once in a while! finally jim could make himself heard, and he explained about the spring and where they had to stop to replace the old one. "well, _we_ stopped to discuss ways. we ought to decide the route we want to take before we reach jersey city," said mrs. vernon. "which is the route you'd chose, verny?" added ruth. "well, we can save a lot of time by going along to edgewater and cross on the fort lee boat. that takes us right to th street and broadway, new york. we avoid all crowds and city streets, but you will not see anything of the life and bustle of new york city." "how much time will we save?" asked julie. "because we've lost so much over that old spring," added ruth. mrs. vernon smiled. "from upper new york we can drive right onto the state road that runs direct to albany. by selecting that way we will save a great deal of time, because traffic in the city is so congested that every driver has to travel slow and fall in line back of endless cars. at every corner when the signal holds up the entire line one has to stop to permit crosstown traffic a chance." "then for goodness' sake, let's go through the country on this side of the hudson, and cross where you said--fort lee ferry," declared julie. every one agreeing to this decision, the plan was carried out as outlined by the captain. once on broadway, where it passes van cortlandt park, the girls called to mrs. vernon. "how about lunch--we're famished?" "oh, don't let's stop here for lunch. let's go on till we find a nicer spot in the country," returned joan. "maybe there won't be any better place," demurred judith. "oh, yes, there is. after we leave yonkers we will find lots of spots, verny says," called julie, from the first car. "we need a shady place where a spring will give us water," said betty. "a spring failing to bubble up at the proper place, we may have to be satisfied with a pump at some farmhouse," retorted her sister. the two cars sped swiftly along broadway, through yonkers, hastings-on-hudson, and dobb's ferry. at this last place the captain pointed out the famous old headquarters used by general washington at the close of the revolution. "girls, there doesn't seem to be any picnic grounds for us along this state road," remarked mrs. vernon. "suppose we take a bite as we travel along, and cook a regular dinner when we are out in the country somewhere?" "we're willing, in fact, i am more than willing to eat," called anne, the scout with the healthy appetite. so they drove on while refreshments were passed around, and every one admired the river scenes of the ever-changing panorama of the hudson. just beyond peekskill the road ran under a culvert and a sharp turn on the other side made it impossible to see what was on the road ahead. the captain made the turn very neatly and jim was about to follow the leading car, when several shrill cries from the girls ahead caused him to put on the emergency brakes. the passengers in the second car could just see what had caused the frightened shouts from their friends in the first car. a gaunt farm horse was standing on his hind legs pawing the air madly, while a rickety old spring wagon seesawed uncertainly on the edge of a deep ditch beside the road. but the driver of the horse was on the road, hanging on to the bridle while plying a stout hickory stick freely over the animal's back. "git down! will yuh come to arth, yuh rascal?" shouted the irate woman who was garbed in a man's farm hat and a long duster. "do you need any assistance?" called mrs. vernon, anxiously. "not ef i kin git him to plant his feet on arth agin. he ain't got no spunk left to run away, 'cause he's ben out plowing all day, and it w'ar a shame to drive him to the store. but it hed to be, 'cuz the ole man tuk t'other hoss to go to a meetin'." as the unusual character talked, she tugged at the bridle until she finally had the horse quieted down again. then he allowed his long ears to droop lazily, his spine to sag in the middle, and his erstwhile springy legs to bend as if he felt too weary to stand up. the woman with the weather-beaten face and toughened hands was a fluent speaker, even though she paid little attention to the latest style in dress for women. she leaned against the shaft of the wagon and plied her questions to the tourists as freely as she had plied the hickory stick to the horse. "be you-all out fer a lark?" asked she, eyeing the number of girls in both cars. jim thought to move his car gradually along the road so the scouts in his charge could join in the conversation with the woman. but the moment the horse saw the automobile crawling towards him, he jumped aside. the wagon-wheel turned suddenly and the unexpected happened; the woman who had been leaning heavily on the wheel was unceremoniously dropped to a sitting posture in the dusty road. several of the scouts had to smother with handkerchiefs, a keen desire to laugh, but the owner of the horse seemed to take the situation good-naturedly. "wal, ef that ain't jus' like samson! he does the mos' onexpected tricks, so's that he keeps us guessin' what next." jim sprang out of the car when he saw the result of his innocent action with the engine, but the agile woman was up before he could reach her side. she brushed the dust from her long coat and chuckled aloud: "i allus said that animal oughter be called delilah 'cuz _she_ was so sly, but my ole man says 'samson' was close enough to that critter, and this animal hez such long hair that it suits with the name." "you've just had him clipped, i see," ventured mrs. vernon. "not clipped, captain--but shorn of his locks like samson," laughed julie. "maybe that's why he feels so tired," added joan, quickly. every one but the farmer's wife laughed. she seemed very serious over the conversation, and nodded her head affirmatively. "well, we have to drive on, madam, but we're sorry to have frightened samson," said mrs. vernon, in order to make an end to the scene. "say, couldn't you tell us where there is a nice picnic place near here?" called jim, as the first car started. "yeh--a few miles furder on. you'll find a nice little brook in a grove of sugar-maples, with green grass on all sides." jim thanked the woman, and started his car. mrs. vernon was informed of the grove which was to be a stopping place for dinner, and all were eagerly on the lookout for the spot that would offer such an ideal resting place. but it was the longest "few miles" any of the scouts had traveled, for the meter showed many, many miles before any grove was seen. there was no brook in it, but the grass was very green, and the maple grove, which crowded a knoll a short distance from the road, looked cool and inviting. as usual, julie was the first one out of the cars and over the fence. she started to cross the very green grass, but instantly sank into the water that was hidden under the green blades. "help! oh, i'm drowning!" shouted she, struggling to pull her feet clear of the bog. but she would free one foot, and instantly the other would sink. then she tried to drag that one out, but the first one would go down again. both together she could not get out. "oh, oh! see the mess poor julie's in!" called one of the girls. mrs. vernon was gazing quickly around for some sort of help to get the scout out, but the girls stood about the place sympathizing with the furious scout. "is it like that all over there, julie?" called betty, anxiously. "how do i know? come over and find out for yourself!" snapped her sister. the girls laughed at the retort, but betty added: "i only wanted to know if it was safe for me to come over and help you out." julie straightened up and glared at her soft-hearted sister. "you sound just like our sunday school teacher when she reads: 'come over into macedonia and help.'" again the audience of girls laughed appreciatively, but julie was too busy keeping her feet "treading water" to pay any attention to their enjoyment. meantime, jim had removed some rails from the fence and was bringing them to the scout's aid. "now, miss julie, when i shove these over, you manage to work an arm over each one, and sort of lift yourself out that way. i'll shove others over for you to step on next, and in that way you can get out and across to us," advised jim, working as he spoke. finally julie was rescued from the mire, and then the captain said: "every one walk along that elevated bank, over there, to reach the grove, as this entire area may be a boggy spring." but the grass under the trees in the grove was found to be hard and dry, and they soon began to prepare luncheon. while mrs. vernon unpacked the hamper, the scouts were detailed on various duties: some to build a fire, some to hunt spring water, some to set table on the grass. but julie was excused from all these tasks, as she had more than enough work to do in cleaning the mud from her boots and stockings. when luncheon was almost ready, judith and amy, who had been sent to find the spring and bring back drinking water, reported: "we couldn't find any spring." julie looked up and jeered: "you are fine scouts! couldn't find a spring when all you have to do is to find the source of all that water where i went down!" "water! that looked like mud," retorted judith. "we'll go for the water," volunteered joan, catching hold of betty's sleeve to take her along. so they started, and as julie had said, the spring that fed the boggy spot was not far back in the grove. the water gurgled down from a cleft in a huge rock, and on either side of the small pool wood violets dipped their fragrant petals into the sparkling mirror. betty sat down upon a flat rock beside the pool to enjoy the scene. but practical joan filled the pail with cold water and then laughed at poetical betty. "would you prefer to sit here and dream, betty--or go back with me and eat ham sandwiches?" "oh, i forgot where i was," laughed betty, rising reluctantly to help carry the pail of water. "that's what i thought," tittered joan, "but the rest of the girls prefer something more solid than dreams." during the luncheon the captain said: "wouldn't it be splendid if each one of us kept a diary of what happens during this summer's camp? then we can rewrite the facts when we go home and make a good story of it. perhaps a real publisher will buy it from us and thus give us a fund for next year's outing--if we have one." "oh, that is great!" exclaimed several voices with girlish enthusiasm. "well then, when we camp to-night, we'll jot down the episodes of the day's trip--not forgetting to dwell at length on 'samson,' and julie's side-plays," remarked the captain, smilingly. "has any one thought of a stopping place for the night?" asked jim. "not definitely, jim; but i hope to cross the river at poughkeepsie and drive along the west shore as far as possible. then we can pitch camp at any good place we find," replied the captain. they had not gone much farther before ruth called: "it looks as if the rear tire on verny's car was flat!" the captain slowed up, and every one tried to see the tire. "that's what it is, all right, captain!" ejaculated jim, impatiently. "dear me! that means another delay!" sighed several girls. the car had to be jacked up and jim went to work to mend the puncture in the tube, then pumped and pumped until the tire was properly inflated once more. as the tourists climbed into their respective seats in the automobiles, joan said: "well, captain, this wasn't such a bad day after all--in spite of being a friday." "i'm thankful for it, too," sighed betty, fervently. the cars made good time after that and passed over the ferry at poughkeepsie, to travel northward on the road that ran along the west shore. they pitched camp in some woods and soon had a fire started to heat the canned soup they had brought. when all else was ready, the captain banged upon a tin pan to call the scouts to dine. "um! that tomato soup smells good!" exclaimed joan, sniffing audibly, as she saw the contents of the pan that stood over the fire. "will you serve it, jo--you are nearest the pan?" said mrs. vernon, passing the basket that held the tin cups. "here! everybody hold up a mug to fill, while i come around with the pan!" ordered joan, taking hold of the pan-handle that had been over the fire a long time. "oo-oouch!" cried the girl, whipping her hand up and down as she danced wildly about. "you didn't spill the soup, i hope!" exclaimed anne, with deep concern. "what difference would that make--a little cheap soup? but my hand--oh, it's got a trail blazed clean across the palm!" wailed joan, showing her red-skinned hand to sympathizing friends. "poor old scout! we have to learn all kinds of blazing, i suppose," murmured julie. "and the soup _is_ all safe--jo never dropped the pan!" declared anne, with gratification in her tones. "here, miss jo," said jim, who had gone for a bottle kept in the kit. "pour this olive oil all over the hand and the smart will soon stop." he hurried to give the bottle to joan but his toe caught in a bramble and tripped him. the bottle flew from his hand and struck the root where joan sat. the glass shattered and the oil ran out the grass at the scout's feet. [illustration: "would you prefer to sit here and dream, betzy, or go back with me and eat sandwiches" ... page ] "well, well! it must be the friday jinx that still pursues us," remarked jim, gazing regretfully at the glistening oil that formed beads on the blades of grass. the girls laughed merrily, but mrs. vernon seemed serious. she was about to speak, when amy asked joan to pass the crackers. she picked up the box that was nearest her, and turned to hand them to her next neighbor, when her foot slipped on the oily grass and she sat down suddenly upon the stump. the box fell in hester's lap, but joan clapped a hand over her mouth and smothered a howl. "goodness me! what's the matter now, jo!" cried ruth, seeing the girl's convulsed face. joan shook her head helplessly, but her eyes were filled with tears. every one wondered what could have happened, and when the scout could speak she said thickly: "oh, that oil! i slipped and bit the end of my tongue clear off--i'm sure of it!" "stick it out and let's see," demanded ruth. "that's what comes of having too much of a good thing!" declared julie, teasingly. every one but the captain laughed, and she said seriously: "do you know, girls, that i've had an idea about all this talk over friday being a 'bad luck' day. of course it is perfectly absurd to intelligent people, but there are enough superstitious folk left in the world who actually think friday has some power to bring ill luck with it. "now i believe that it is the _fear_ and general belief in the superstition that carries any weight with it. if we, as good intelligent scouts, will try to break this silly fear for others, we shall have to begin with ourselves, by not referring to the superstition with the sense of its having _any_ power to act." the girls listened seriously, as they always did when their captain started one of her "sermonettes" as julie called them; and when she had concluded, joan said: "in other words, you want us to starve the poor wraith still more by withdrawing any thoughts from the matter whatever?" "exactly! you've worded it better than i could have done myself," responded the captain, emphatically. when supper was over and everything about camp had been prepared for the night, joan suggested taking a stroll down the picturesque country road. the gloaming was so inviting that the scouts decided to saunter down the woodsy road. they continued along the inviting footpath for more than a mile before they noticed a heavy fog settling upon everything. "better turn and go back, girls. this fog is obscuring everything along the way," suggested mrs. vernon. "b-r-r-r! isn't it damp!" shivered joan. "yes, and it will be worse before we get home," added judith. they retraced their steps, but the fog came thicker and heavier all the time, and before they had gone more than half the way back, it was necessary for the scouts to go single file in order to keep in the footpath that ran along the top of a high grassy bank beside the narrow road. "it would be so much simpler to hike along the road, verny," suggested hester. "but there are so many machines traveling back and forth, and we'd have to scramble up this wet slippery bank to get out of the way every time one rushed past," explained julie. julie was in front, heading the line. being scout leader of the troop, she naturally led in most things. suddenly she stopped short and warned those back of her: "look out for this big boulder right in the pathway--have to detour towards the fence!" "boulder! why, there wasn't any boulder here on our way over," argued ruth. "the fog's in julie's eyes," laughed joan. "maybe we didn't notice a rock before," ventured amy. "maybe we are on the wrong road," said anne. "we're right, all right, but i see a boulder in the way. if you don't believe me, come here and sprain your toe kicking it!" a few of the scouts crowded in front to peer through the puzzling fog to see the questionable boulder, but it unexpectedly got upon its clumsy feet and started for the girls. in the fog it loomed up as big as an elephant. "murder! fire! help! help!!" came in confused screams from the scouts in front, as they turned precipitously to flee from this unknown danger. the confusion, as they fell back upon the scouts behind, while the great "boulder" still advanced slowly, was awful! but the soft earth of the bank had been washed out from under the top layer of roots and grass, and when so many stamping, crowding girls brought their weight upon the crumbling ground, it caved in with them. jumping, screaming, tumbling scouts now went headlong down the slide of five feet into the roadway. the captain and betty had been far enough in the rear to escape this general stampede, but they, too, saw the dark object trying to skirt the newly broken-down embankment, and they slid quickly down the wet weedy bank to get away from this ghostlike creature that crept towards them. while brave scouts were getting up from the little ditch where they had rolled, a plaintive call from the "boulder" above identified the creature as belonging to the bovine kingdom. a second "moo-oo," as the cow passed slowly down the bank to the road, where she hoped to find some one to lead her home, created a wild laugh from every one. chapter two another day of troubles early in the morning the scouts heard jim rattling the pans while he essayed to cook breakfast. they were soon up and dressed, and being ready for another day's adventuring, they offered their services to the cook. "last night after you-all went for that hike, i mooned around some myself. i saw a little farmhouse over that hill, and i think a couple of girls might try to get some milk for breakfast," suggested jim, pointing over the brow of a slight grade. "all right, hester and i will go for it, verny!" exclaimed amy. "very well, girls; the rest of us will do what we can to help jim. breakfast will be all ready by the time you return, so don't dawdle on the way, will you?" replied the captain. "take the big thermos bottle that will keep the milk cold all day, and bring the breakfast milk in this pail," suggested julie, handing the girls both articles as she spoke. hester and amy disappeared over the brow of the hill where jim said the farm was located, but breakfast was ready and waiting a long time before a sight of the girls was had again. hester carried the pail very carefully, and amy held the bottle, so it was evident that they had milk, but why should they seem to laugh so merrily over something, as they drew near the scouts? "what do you think happened to us?" called amy. "you'll never guess--we got chased by a bull!" added hester. "oh, never!" cried the scouts who had been waiting anxiously. "yes, sir! we heard a cow and knew there must be a farm," began amy excitedly, but her companion interrupted her and said: "that wasn't a cow we heard, but the bellow of this bull!" "do tell us all about how you escaped," chorused the eager voices of many girls. every one was anxious to wait on the heroines, and after they had been served everything at one time, they began to munch and talk. "well, first we left here and thrashed through those bushes back there," said hester, nodding her head towards the alder bushes, "to reach the place where we heard the cow--as we thought." here hester choked over the egg, and amy quickly took up the story: "and we were halfway across a pasture lot when hester, who was first, yelled wildly and waved her arms. i looked up, 'cause i was watching where i walked, the lot was pawed up into such hummocks, and saw hester racing for the low boughs of an apple-tree. then i heard a thumping, and saw a big bull charging across the meadow, making straight for us!" amy gasped and needed a drink of water, then hester continued the tale: "oh, girls, it was thrilling! i managed to scramble up in the apple-tree, and turned to see what had become of amy. there she was, sprinting like a marathoner for the barbed-wire fence that enclosed the lot. she back-trailed over to it, and up over it she went, just like a swallow flies, but look at her stockings and skirt!" every one looked at amy's apparel and sympathized with her, yet every scout wished she had had such an exciting time. "now they can win a badge for story-telling, can't they, verny?" said betty, glad for her two pals. "and another one for mending," laughed julie, vindictively. "poor julie's awful sore about that mud," murmured amy, winking an eye at the others. every one laughed, but the captain said: "go on and finish the yarn." "well, i left hester in the tree--safety first, you know--with the bull standing under it, waiting for her, while i skirted the lot and reached the house. when i told the old lady how we happened to be in such a fix, she threw her gingham apron over her head and sat down on the doorstep to laugh. "i was beginning to feel offended, when she glanced up. she understood, and said: 'deary, that ole bull has to be helped to his stall every night after a day in the pastoor. he oughter been butchered years an' years ago, but you see he saved me from a wicked tramp one day, an' father sayed bill had earned his life-pension fer that. so bill's safe from the slaughter-house, but he sure is a nuisance these days. why, this mad run of his'n will keep him wheezin' fer a hull week. now come with me an' i'll show you how he's payin' the price fer actin' like a three-year-old!" "i followed the old lady to the fence, and there, sure enough! bill was sprawled out under the tree, puffing for breath, but poor hester sat in the branches wailing because she dared not come down while the bull was making such a snorting noise!" the scouts laughed heartily at the graphic picture of hester crying up in the tree, but the girl retorted, "well, isn't 'discretion the better part of valor'?" "of course it is! we'd have done the same thing," agreed mrs. vernon, still laughing at amy's story. then she suggested breaking camp. after cleaning away all signs of camping, the scouts climbed into the cars which were soon speeding along. they were keen, now, for something new that they could write in their diaries, and many interesting things were seen and dilated upon as they rode past. as the autos neared schenectady, one of the scouts began singing; in a few moments all the girls were singing with her. but a hound ran out of the gate of a farmhouse and barked at the oncoming singers. then the distracted dog sat down and lifted his snout high in the air. his dismal prolonged howl of protest at such singing effectually ended the song, and julie called to the animal, "wise doggy--to be able to tell singing from _singing_!" the weather was all that could be desired, and the two cars were in fine shape for the run. after they left amsterdam, where the large carpet-mills would have offered interesting entertainment had not the scouts a greater ambition in view, that of reaching camp--they voted to stop for no sightseeing along the way. so they kept along the road to fonda. here they left the railroad turnpike and went northward to johnstown. at this place mrs. vernon made an error in judgment. she should have gone westerly, through rockwood, lascelville, oppenheim, and so on to delgeville. but she took the northward road, which looked better and was more traveled. not until she came to gloversville did she realize the mistake. then she stopped and questioned a policeman how to reach her destination. and he explained about the country road she must follow due west in order to reach rockwood, where the state roads would be picked up again. this advice was followed, and they traveled over the bad road until a crossroad was reached. there was no mention made of this spot on the road-map, and there was no signpost to direct a lost tourist. so the captain said, "we'll take the right-hand turn, it looks best." further on, the road descended and ran close to a river. "dear me, i hope we didn't take the wrong turn, anyway!" cried mrs. vernon. "that officer never told me about a crossroad." "and it's going to pour, too. just look at that black cloud," said joan. "it hasn't thundered yet," hester said, trying to be cheerful. at the same moment a flash satisfied every one that a shower was imminent, and jim failed to relieve their fears when he said, "we don't want to get caught on this low land when it rains. the road is lower than the river and will soon be flooded over." that spurred on the captain, and she made the car fairly fly, in order to reach higher ground before the shower came. but the storm won out. "i felt a drop of rain!" called julie. "so did i--two drops more!" seconded ruth. "we'd better stop to button down the rain-curtains, captain," advised jim. "maybe we can reach high ground soon, jim!" called back mrs. vernon, still speeding along the marshy road. a loud peal of thunder and inky clouds warned her, however, that this would be no trifling shower, so she stopped reluctantly for the curtains to be fastened down over the sides of the cars. the girls got out while the rain-curtains were sought in the box under the seat, and jim removed numerous items before he reached them in the bottom. "gee! everything under the sun was piled in here!" growled he. and by the time he did get the covers out, the rain was falling hard. while jim and mrs. vernon secured the curtains on the buttons, the scouts transferred the pyramid of camping necessities back into the boxes under the seats. then when all were snugly sheltered from the rain, the captain proceeded to start her car. it failed to respond, however. she tried again, with no success. then she turned and called to jim. "something must be wrong, jim!" "mebbe it's 'cause the wheels is sunk so deep in that soft mud," said he. "it's 'most up to the hubs." "no--something is wrong with the engine," returned she. "i'll slip on my oilskin and see," said jim, finally. "oh, jim! don't slip on it--just _put_ it on," giggled julie, the irrepressible. "humph!" was all the reply she got at the stale joke. "jim, i'll help you," now offered betty, willingly. "you gals just sit still, will you?" growled jim impatiently, as he jumped out into the muddy road. the wind came tearing down the valley that lay between the mountains, driving shreds of storm-clouds before it. gusts of rain dashed against jim's face as he peered and poked about the stubborn engine, but still the obstinate machine refused to budge. "i can't see a durn thing that's the matter with it!" shouted he, trying to make himself heard above the whistling of the wind. "better get back in your car until the worst is over," called back mrs. vernon. so they all waited patiently for the rain to cease, but the storm grew worse, while the clouds seemed to fairly empty themselves right over the stalled cars. suddenly jim gave a frightened cry: "great scott, captain! the river's overflowin' her banks, and this road's gettin' under water!" "then we've just _got_ to get out of this fix somehow!" wailed mrs. vernon, gazing helplessly around for aid. "i'll try to work my car close up to the other and see if i can't push you ahead," suggested jim, starting his engine as he spoke. but this idea failed to render the assistance they looked for. "i think you need a good hard impact to send you out of that mud. the wheels are stuck," called julie, who had been considering the plight. "but how can we _get_ an impact? jim can't crush in the radiator on his car, you know! and the fender won't do it," said ruth. "let a few of us get some of those stout rails from that fence and shove them under the back of the machine. the rest of the girls can tie a rope to the front and pull. then when we give a signal, jim can push with his machine, while verny throws hers into high--something ought to happen with all that!" suggested julie. anything seemed better than sitting helplessly while seeing the water slowly rising in the roadway. so the plan proposed by julie was put into operation. two long rails were shoved, one under each side of the back of the car, with two scouts ready to apply all their youthful muscle up on each rail. four scouts stood in front holding to a rope, ready to pull. the captain sat at the wheel ready to speed, and jim waited in his car behind, ready to drive on. "now, when i yell 'go,' every one strain your muscles fit to crack. it's the only way we'll get out of this," ordered julie. "tell us when you're going to say 'go'!" begged ruth. "i'll shout 'one, two, three--go'--then _go_!" julie braced herself, took a deep breath, and cried, "all ready--one, two, three--go!" four in front pulled with might and main. mrs. vernon's engine chugged ready to break. jim almost pushed the radiator in, and the four scouts pushing on the rails--well, "they were not." jim was heard roaring unrestrainedly, while four girls in front were standing and staring as if at an apparition. all the time, the rain fell in a deluge, but mrs. vernon jumped out into the mud to see what had happened at the rear. then she, too, gasped. both the rails were completely worm-eaten, but how should girls have known that? they were placed under the car at a dangerous angle for their future use in the fence, and when the good strong muscles of four scouts brought their weight upon the rails to lift the car somewhat, the timber quickly split up and precipitated the four boosters, face downward, in the mud. "oh, dear me! this is the last straw!" moaned mrs. vernon. "no--the last rails!" sputtered julie, trying to laugh. "girls--hold your faces up to the rain and it will wash the mud from your eyes!" yelled judith, who waited on the running board for further developments. she had hardly spoken when a swift shaft of blinding light and a deafening crack of thunder sent a panic into every one. they were stunned for a moment, and then such a howl as went up from nine lusty throats! "we're struck!" yelled some. "oh, we're killed!" added others, but it took only a second after they had caught their breaths to pile, willy-nilly, into the cars, where they huddled until the fright had subsided. shortly after the lightning had struck a large tree further up the road, the rain suddenly stopped and the sun shone out as hot and bright as ever. "my! i feel like pollyanna would," sighed julie. "'i'm glad, _glad_, glad' we weren't standing under that tree!" "we can only die once," responded ruth, sighing as she gazed down at the flooded road. "ruth thinks she'd rather die quickly, than by slow degrees in being choked in this mud," laughed julie, catching ruth's thought. every one laughed and that made them feel more cheerful. then just back of them came the sound of horses' hoofs and a kindly voice called out, "well, well, this is some plight you-all are in, eh?" they turned and beheld a nice old man sitting astride one plow-horse and leading a second. "reckon you didn't know this was one of the worst roads in the county when it rains." mrs. vernon explained how it came about that they were there, and the old man said, "fortunately, i cut across that field in order to reach home. i was late and, as this is meeting night, i have to leave home earlier than usual. now i can help you pull out, 'cause my team is pretty powerful." he hitched his horses to the front of the stalled car, and it was soon pulled up on higher ground where jim could crawl under and see what was wrong with the works. "we are most grateful to you, sir, for your timely help," said mrs. vernon. "how much do we owe you for this great service?" "i'm glad i could help, madam. i am the parson of the district, hereabouts, and i try to do good by the wayside as i walk this life-road." "then, if you will not accept a gift for yourself, you cannot refuse it for your flock. we will give to any needy one in your parish," said mrs. vernon, handing him a folded bill. being sent along the right road with the minister's directions and blessing, the cars soon reached rockwood, and from there, followed the usual route to delgeville. the highway now ended, and a pretty country road took its place as far as salisbury, where a turnpike road began and continued as far as middleville. from the latter town onward, the roads were indifferent or bad as far as gravesville. there were many interesting experiences for the scouts to write up in their books later on, such as running into a balky herd of cows and being threatened for damages by the farmer; holding their breaths when mrs. vernon ran over a lot of broken glass sprinkled across the road--but the tires held and no damage was done; stopping to bargain for a string of fish that a little freckled-face boy had for sale; and last, but not least, just before reaching gravesville, being warned by a girl of twelve of a masquerading constable, further up the road, who arrested more speeding drivers than any other constable in the county. when asked why she showed the scouts this partiality, the girl said: "because i'm going to be a scout myself, as soon as that new manual gets here. i wrote fer it t'other day, and i've got five schoolgirls ready to start with me. maw says she will ask the teacher to be our captain." thereupon followed a good scout talk by mrs. vernon, the country girl listening with all her wits alert. "how'd you know we were scouts?" asked julie, curiously. "by that pennant flyin' in front, of course!" retorted the girl. as the scouts drove away, mrs. vernon said, "she'll make a first-class scout, because she uses her eyes and other faculties." after leaving the town of gravesville, the scouts took a short cut to prospect, but the roads were steep and rough, and it was all the engines could do to mount the grades. then the opposite down slopes were so steep and sudden that it was necessary to put on all brakes and shut off the engines. one of these down grades had a sharp turn at the bottom, with a purling stream running under a rustic bridge immediately at the base of the mountain. on the other side of the bridge, the road rose abruptly up the side of another mountain. the descent was made nicely and the captain's car crossed the bridge, but jim's car stopped unexpectedly just as it reached the bridge at the foot of the mountain. "another case of push!" laughed julie. "all out!" ordered jim. "what now?" called mrs. vernon, as she also stopped her car to ask what was wrong. "if only your car was behind, you could shove us across the bridge, but there isn't enough room in this trap to do anything." "every one will have to help, jim; the girls can push and pull the car back to the grade, while you work the engine. maybe it will start that way," suggested mrs. vernon, waving her passengers out to help the stranded car. after half an hour's work, jim suddenly called, "my! what a lot of cotton-heads we are! here, captain, just back up and give us a tow across the bridge--that's all!" at this simple remedy every one laughed. the steep climb of the mountain was accomplished without trouble, and there the road wound back and forth like a serpent's trail. rocks, weighing tons, overhung with lovely vines, jutted out from the sides of the cut-out road that edged the cliff. again, mossy dells where maidenhair fern waved fragile fronds at the girls, nestled under giant groups of pines. the chorus of wild birds mingled with the subdued music of falling water, to the keen appreciation of the tourists who delighted in this impressive scene as only scouts can. the cars continued slowly through this peaceful place, but jim's engine suddenly stopped short again. he frowned and got out to examine it. "gee, captain! the tank needs gas and no place at hand to buy the feed. what shall i do?" "we didn't cross that other bridge until we came to it," giggled julie, quickly. "i suppose i've got to tow you along until we find gas, somewhere," said mrs. vernon. so the second car was harnessed to the leader and they started again. in this manner they traveled until they came to a small settlement that boasted an "emporium" where all the "latest styles and goods were sold." on the front porch of this store, in a low rocking-chair, sat the owner, a lady of doubtful years. she jumped up spryly when the cars stopped at the steps, and smiled invitingly. "do you sell gasoline?" asked mrs. vernon, politely. "i guess i kin oblige you," replied the lady, going indoors. jim jumped out and began to unscrew the plug on the tank. "now who'd a thought we could get gas in this little shop?" declared ruth, surprised. "you never can tell! i s'pose she wants to make all she can in every way," added hester. meantime the lady returned to the door and called out, "won't you please step this way?" jim thought she had to fill a measure from some barrel in the back, so he went in. but the lady was searching diligently along a shelf of bottles until she saw the one she wanted. "here they be--i knew i had 'em somewhere. one's ten cents, and the other's a twenty-five cent bottle. but you have to take keer of fire, you know." jim scratched his head, as he said, "i'll take a five-gallon can, please, ma'am." for a second, the old lady was amazed, but she rose to the occasion and showed herself a true business woman, "oh, i'm sorry, i'm just out of that size to-day, but can't you come back to-morrow--i'll have it then?" jim laughed. "i need it for the tank. the car won't go on nor come back, unless i get some gas for it." "oh! i thought you wanted some to clean gloves, or shoes. that's the only kind i keep on hand." "maybe you can tell us where we can get a gallon or so," said jim, trying hard to keep a straight face. "if you kin wait until jed gits back i kin send him to prospeck junction for a gallin. he can't carry five gallins, i fear." jim started out and the shopkeeper followed as she spoke. so mrs. vernon asked, "where is prospect junction?" "jus' over yander, a bit of ways. it's quite a gay resort, i've hear'd jed say, where they sells gas to riders what come through. but i hain't never gone there, 'cause i don't mingle with society. i am a church member and 'tends to my business." the lady tossed her head with a self-righteous air as she said the last words. jim said: "i'm sorry that four-ounce bottle wouldn't do, missus." and the scouts bowed as they left her standing on the "stoop." chapter three in the mountains at last the scouts finally reached old forge, where they had been due a full day sooner. mr. gilroy was worried at their non-appearance and had telephoned to their homes to learn that they had left on time. then he followed them along their route and at some places he heard they had stopped and gone again, and at others that they had not yet arrived. but the moment the girls saw him and heard his complaint, they laughed at his concern. "nice way to treat your adopted father--laugh at him, because he worried over his girls!" said he in pretended grievance. "but what could possibly happen when we had jim and verny at the wheels?" asked ruth. "that's just it! with the captain leading, i was sure you would be jailed for speeding, and would need me to bail you out," teased he. "we needed baling out when we got in the river-flood, but not in jail!" laughed julie. "if we had dreamed you had a 'phone way up here, we would have called you to help us, that time," added joan. then the story of the mud and flood had to be told, while mr. gilroy sat on the side-door of the car and directed the captain which road to take to reach his bungalow. "did our outfits get here all right, mr. gilroy?" asked ruth. "yes, and they have been down at your camp several days now," replied their host. "how far is our camp from your bungalow, mr. gilroy?" asked betty. "not very far--just a nice walk. your camp is right on the shore of one lake, while my bungalow is on the shore of first lake, one of the fulton chain, you know." the scouts then learned that mr. gilroy's estate extended from first lake, where his bungalow was built, across country to little moose lake where their camp was to be. this was a distance of about three-quarters of a mile between the two places. "we'll stop at the bungalow first and give you a good square meal after all your experiences; then we'll go on over to camp. when your baggage is all out of the cars, jim and i will drive back to my garage where the machines can stand." "oh, jim is going back home with dad's car, to-morrow," said ruth. "and verny is going to keep hers here for the summer," added julie. the cold luncheon had been waiting a long time, and when the scouts finally arrived they did justice to the viands. then, every one being eager to see the new camp-site, they started for the lake. here everything was in order to receive the tenants. three fine tents, fully equipped with every possible comfort for the campers, were waiting for the girls, and a smaller tent for the captain. "oh, how wonderful! why, this won't be like roughing it," declared several of the girls as they inspected their camp. "everything is ready but the fancy touches. you girls will have to add them as your experiences pile up," said mr. gilroy. "what do you mean?" asked julie. "oh, collections of butterflies, flower-prints, willow-work, and birchbark articles--all these are fancy touches." it was late in the afternoon when the scouts arrived at the bungalow, and it was twilight before they had their baggage all unpacked and in their individual tents. then when the cars were emptied and it was time to drive them back to the garage, mr. gilroy said: "as this is your first night, and everything is strange, you'd better come back to the house for a light supper. get your beds all ready to turn into, and then let everything else go until morning." mrs. vernon approved of this plan, so they finished their tasks and jumped in the cars to drive back to the bungalow for the evening. darkness crept into the woods and everything was silent as they reached the house. while jim followed the host to the garage with the cars, the scouts sat on the verandah and enjoyed the quiet of the woods. the stars now began to peep out of the deep blue that could be seen here and there through the trees, and the captain reminded the girls: "now that we are here for the summer, you must resume your study of the stars. you dropped that, you know, when schoolwork took so much of your time." "most of us know all the stars by heart, verny," said betty. "the names of them, yes, but how many of you can find them as they are placed in the sky?" returned mrs. vernon. "i can show you where the pole star is. look there!" replied joan, running out on the grass to find the bright point of light. "and i can find great bear and the pointers," added ruth, joining her friend on the grass. the other scouts now jumped up from the verandah and ran to join the first two, so the captain followed, also. "i know alcor, mizor, and the square of pegasus," said amy. "that panlike group of stars is known as andromeda," added julie, not to be outdone by her chums. "and those three little stars are called the kids. off to the left of perseus--oh, i forgot to say that perseus is a group of stars at the end of the pan-handle,--well, to the left of them are the bright stars known as capella." "bravo! you scouts are going to be marvelous astronomers some day," came the approving voice of mr. gilroy, as he joined them. "i was just telling the girls they would have to take up the study of the heavens again," mentioned mrs. vernon. "and we were showing off to let the captain hear how much we know," laughed julie. "who can find the lady in the chair or the guards?" asked mr. gilroy of the scouts. the girls eagerly sought for and described these groups, then their host asked for the seven sisters and demon's eye. when they had answered these, ruth said: "if the trees were not so thick i could show you orion, taurus, and lots more, like the lion, the sickle, canis major, etc." "hoh! some of those--and the clown, the ox-driver, the southern cross, and the northern cross--can't be seen at this time of year, ruth," said julie. ruth frowned at the correction, but mr. gilroy quickly calmed the troubled waters with praise for the girls. "you scouts certainly know the stars better than the boys of grey fox troop. i should like to have the two troops have a match game about the stars, some time." "who are the grey fox boys, mr. gilroy?" asked julie. "do you remember i told you, last summer, of some boy scouts who camped in my woods every year? well, four of those boys are here now. the rest of the troop are coming up in august, but these four have all summer to camp in. i'm going to introduce you, soon." "verny, why can't we see all the stars all the year?" now asked ruth. "because the earth turns on its axis, you know, so that certain planets are out of sight for us, and are seen on the other side of the globe. then when the earth turns fully around we see them again." "and the pole star is reckoned to be the center of the star-sky for all the others to move about it. the pole star is always in the same fixed place, so we can always locate it. but not so with the other stars," added mr. gilroy. "i wish some one would tell us a story about the stars," hester now said. "who will tell one?" asked mrs. vernon. "i know that mizor and alcor were used by the turks in past days as a test for eyesight. soldiers who could not sight those two stars were disqualified for fighting. but in these times i don't believe a little thing like bad eyes will hold up a turk from fighting!" said julie, comically. then joan added: "the pole star and ursa major, or the great bear as it is also called, form a shape like a wagon; so in olden times it was called king charles' wain. each star in this constellation is known by a greek letter. the two stars 'a' and 'b' are called the 'pointers' because they point to the pole star." "oh, i didn't mean lesson stuff, like this," complained hester. "i meant a real live legend!" "you tell one, verny," begged betty, sweetly. "mr. gilroy is better able to do it. besides he is the host and is supposed to entertain us," returned mrs. vernon, glancing at mr. gilroy, who was stretched out comfortably upon the short grass. "your host claims to be completely disabled for the time being, captain. pray proceed with the legend yourself," laughed mr. gilroy. then mrs. vernon said: "i never could see why cassiopeia, or the lady in the chair, should be named that. to me, the stars look more like a tipped-over letter 'w' than a lady in a chair." "don't you know the story, verny?" asked julie, eagerly. "you do, so why not tell us?" retorted the captain. "oh, well, then, all right!" said julie. so she began: "once there was an ethiopian queen, the wife of cepheus, who was very proud of their only child, a daughter named andromeda. they were always praising her and speaking of her beauty to every one, so that after a time folks who also had lovely daughters felt jealous of the princess. "in the depths of the inner sea, which is now the mediterranean, lived old nereus and a number of charming daughters. they heard of the queen's bragging about andromeda, and they made up their minds to stop it. so they got their father to help them. "then nereus and the nymphs sent a flood of water over all the country of which cepheus was king, and devastated the kingdom. this caused famine and pestilence, and in the wake of these awful plagues came a sea-monster in the form of a dragon. this fearful beast bellowed----" at that moment a deep thrilling call from some creature close by in the forest-edge caused every one to jump, and they all huddled together. they turned and stared apprehensively at the darkness behind them, but mr. gilroy instantly whispered, "s-sh! don't breathe, and you will see a sight worth watching for." the moon now sailed from back of the cloud that had obscured it for a time, and its cold white light etched everything it touched. again the strange whistling call sounded directly back of the group, and a crashing and tearing of underbrush ended with the sudden spring of a fine buck, that landed him out on the grass not twenty feet from the scouts. at the same moment, a plaintive call came from the direction of silver falls, which was up on the mountainside in front of the bungalow. the buck lifted his gigantic antlers in the moonlight, and his sensitive snout sniffed angrily as he sensed the invaders of his range; but another imperative call from his mate at the falls compelled him to leave these usurpers; so he wheeled gracefully and, with an answering call to let his doe know he was coming, trotted down the trail until he reached the stream that came from silver falls, and there he disappeared in the forest. "what a wonderful sight!" breathed mrs. vernon, when the buck was gone. the girls listened to the dying echoes of those pounding hoofs, and sighed. mr. gilroy sat up and spoke eagerly, "that is the first buck i've ever seen near my bungalow. there are deer in the adirondacks, but they seldom come near a habitation. it is said that they feed in the barnyards in winter, looking for stray grain, but i am not here in winter, you see." "how i would have loved to have had a snapshot of him," said julie, sighing. "you've all got it in your memory--the best place to frame a picture for all time," replied mrs. vernon. "you know, girls, there is an old hunter's saying, that goes: 'a deer to welcome you on your first night will bring luck to you all that year,'" said mr. gilroy, as he turned to lead the way into the bungalow. "wait, mr. gilroy; julie never finished her story. she broke off just where the beast bellowed--then came the buck!" said joan. "the deer finished the story better than we ever could," laughed the captain, as she followed mr. gilroy. "but, at least, tell us what happened to those nerieds?" asked betty, who wished to see the wicked punished. so mrs. vernon had to end the story, although it was condensed in the telling. but betty persisted, "you haven't told us yet what the nerieds did when they found the wonderful prince perseus saved and married to the princess." every one laughed, but julie replied, "why, like most jealous people, the nerieds had to move away from town when every one found out how it all had happened!" the "bite" they had before leaving for camp would have been classed as a first-class supper in the city restaurants, and then, when good-nights were being said, the host gave jim a laden basket to carry for the scouts. "you'll be glad of this in the morning, for breakfast. if you need anything else, run over here and get it from my man who cooks," explained mr. gilroy. but next morning, the contents of that basket were found to be more than enough for any one breakfast. the fruit, cereal, biscuits, and ham to broil, were highly appreciated by the hungry girls. this was soon gone, and then mrs. vernon said they must buckle down to genuine camp life. "i'd rather sleep out under the trees, verny, when the weather is so fine," suggested julie. "so would we," agreed the other scouts, and the captain said, "well, we might make willow beds for out-of-doors, and keep the cots as they are." "how do we know we can find any willows around here?" asked ruth. "i saw some early this morning when i was snooping about. i got up at dawn and left you girls sleeping, while i investigated the premises. girls, the place is simply perfect for _anything_ we might choose to do this summer," declared the captain, enthusiastically. "tell us where the reeds are, and we will get them," said betty. "they grow about a spring not far from here. we must follow a wild-animal trail along the lake to reach the spot." so the scouts each took an axe and knife and followed the guide to the willow-brook where the reeds grew. mrs. vernon showed the girls how to select the wands, and then began to cut down her own. she took about six dozen reeds as thick as a lead-pencil, and many smaller ones; these were bundled together, and then she was ready to start back to camp. finally the girls were ready, also, and they trailed back. "now girls, each one must cut notches about three-fourths of an inch from the butt-ends of the reeds. then peel the sticks carefully--do not crack or break them while doing it." mrs. vernon did hers as she advised. "now come with me, and select your posts for the beds. i take four young birch saplings for the bed-frame," announced mrs. vernon, as she chopped down the required birches, "and stout birches about four inches thick for my bedposts." each scout cut hers and then went back to the camp-ground to begin work on the indian beds. "every one measure the birch saplings and have two of them seven feet long, and two shorter ones three or four feet long," instructed mrs. vernon. "lop off all the twigs, and place the two long ones for sides, and the two short ones for top and bottom of the bed-frame. "now, this done, watch me carefully, girls. this is the important part of making the bed," advised the captain. mrs. vernon took a ball of heavy twine and doubled a long strand so that it was half-length. this was twisted into one strand, and a loop tied in the middle. many of these strands were stretched across the frame at equal distances apart, until the entire frame had a warp across it. "now i'll weave in the reeds," said the captain, taking one of the thin willows and weaving it in and out of the cords. at the loop, the rod was thrust through it to hold it centrally in place, then the weaving process went on until the end of the frame was reached. the weaving of each reed was done the same way until the whole frame was crossed with willows held firmly in the middle by the loops in the cords. "next thing, girls, i will cut the posts as i need them. i want them about three feet high. one end of each post must be sharpened so it will go down into the ground." this was done and the four stout birch posts were driven firmly into the ground where mrs. vernon wanted her willow bed to stand. "and next, i tie a loop of heavy cord, or rope, about the top of each post, in which i can hang my willow-frame." this was also done, and the scouts helped place the woven mat in position. "well, isn't that simple, when you know how!" said julie. "everything is, my dear," laughed mrs. vernon. "your bed is too wide for me. i don't want one four feet wide," said ruth. "you can make it as wide, or as narrow, as you like. i think three feet is wide enough for each girl," returned the captain. "but the best of these beds is, that when one is invited to visit, one can roll up the mat easily and carry it along to sleep on. they are very light and not cumbersome to roll and carry." all that day was given to weaving the beds, and the scouts not only enjoyed the novel employment, but had great fun in joking each other over the work. about four o'clock that afternoon a shrill whistle was heard from the trail that ran to the bungalow and soon thereafter mr. gilroy was seen coming down towards camp. "hullo, there! i waited all morning for visitors, but at last decided to come and see if my tenants had abandoned the premises!" explained he, as he went over to the weavers to watch them. "now you understand why we couldn't visit," said joan. "i came over to ask how many of you have been fishing? and what did you catch?" said he. "no, we haven't fished yet. we planned to try it the very moment we are through with these beds," replied joan. "then perhaps you have not been near the lake-cove since you went hunting for willows this morning," remarked mr. gilroy. "the cove? i saw two boats there early this morning," said the captain. "and now there are two canoes there, also," added mr. gilroy. "oh, really! but how did you manage to get them there--by paddling in from the lake?" asked mrs. vernon. "no, i had them brought from my boathouse this morning. while jim was here, i made use of him by having him help hiram carry two canoes over to the boat-wagon, and then drive down here. not a soul nor a sound was seen or heard about the camp, so i surmised you had all gone on a lark. then we launched the canoes and tied them to a stump to surprise you when you should go for the boats. we never dreamed you could keep away from temptation so long as this." "goody! then the first scout that finishes her bed can go and catch fish for supper," declared amy, who was the slowest of the weavers. they all laughed teasingly, and soon afterwards, julie cried, "i'm done! now for the fish!" joan and ruth soon completed their beds, too, so mr. gilroy went out with them to fish. that evening he was invited to sup with the scouts, and a jolly time they had. in the evening, while sitting about the dying campfire, he said to the girls: "the first rainy day that comes along i want you all to come to the bungalow and see my collection of moths, flowers, birds, and butterflies. i have a fine exhibit of butterflies, among them are rare specimens that have seldom been found in these mountains. you scouts will want to start collecting after you see what i have done." "i shall be delighted to look at them, as i have always wanted my girls to do something along those lines," said mrs. vernon. "if you know anything about butterflies, you will prize the specimen of swallow-tail i found in these woods," said mr. gilroy. "really! but i've heard they were never found in america, mr. gilroy," exclaimed julie. "i know that is a common belief, but i have one, nevertheless, and a friend who devotes his time to studying insect-life assured me that the one i caught was genuine. then, the very next day this friend caught one quite near the place where mine was taken. this led us to investigate, and we reached the conclusion that there are rare butterflies hatched out in isolated sections of this land, but are not found; so, of course, no mention is made of them. "even if the farmers see a swallow-tail, or any other rare butterfly hovering over their gardens, they don't know the difference, and it passes safely. if that same farmer knew the value of the specimen he would leave all else to chase the gauzy flutterer." when it came time for the visitor to say good-night, he said, "oh, i forgot all about the very object of my visit!" "it must have been awfully important," laughed julie. "well, _we_ think it is," chuckled mr. gilroy. "the boys of grey fox camp sent me to invite you to have dinner with them to-morrow, if it is clear." "why, mr. gilroy!" exclaimed julie, scarcely believing her idol could forget such an important matter. every one laughed at his guilty look, and judith teasingly said, "we ought to call him 'the man who lost his memory,' for that!" "all fooling aside, scouts, i have a suggestion to make on that very remark. i've wanted to mention it before, but always there was some exciting or important matter that could not be interrupted. now i wish you girls would stop 'mistering' me! i am such an old friend by this time, i should think i could be to you as much as the captain is. she is 'verny' instead of 'mrs. vernon.'" julie was ready with an answer before he had quite finished his complaint. "oh, we would love to give you a pet name, gilly, because you do mean as much to us as our best friends anywhere. by taking a few letters away from your proper name and adding a little 'nick' to the syllable, we have one ready-made." "fine! 'gilly' it shall be henceforth!" laughed mr. gilroy. "but it is so disrespectful, i think," remonstrated mrs. vernon. "couldn't we find some other affectionate term that will do without impressing strangers with our lack of courtesy to our friend?" "why do you object to 'gilly?'" asked mr. gilroy, quizzically. "i can't really find any tangible excuse, except that it makes me think of gilly-flowers, you know," laughed mrs. vernon. every one joined in the laughter, but mr. gilroy said seriously, "well, i am not old enough to be 'granny' to the girls and i dare not request to be called 'daddy' by them, or their rightful parents will call me out to fight a duel, so do let us leave it 'gilly.' the boys of grey fox always wanted to use a friendlier name than a 'mr.' but they never came to it. now we will begin the habit." before mr. gilroy left the camp, the name was established. they were to meet at mr. gilroy's bungalow early in the morning, so he could start them on the right trail. he was going over in the car with supplies for the boys, but the hikers preferred the novelty of adventuring on foot. early the following morning, breakfast being cleared away, each scout was advised to take an axe, a clasp-knife, a bit of twine, a tin cup, and some waterproof matches. "but why should we bother with such stuff?" asked amy. "one never knows whether one will arrive at the right destination or not. should we get lost, we at least have something with which to get a meal," said the captain. "are you going to carry that little bag of flour?" asked hester, curiously. "yes, and a strip of bacon that is wrapped in the paper. i'm not going to starve, if worst comes to worst," laughed mrs. vernon. "a lot of good a strip of bacon will do for ten of us!" said judith. but she had not been with the scouts when they camped at verny's mountain the foregoing summer. when mr. gilroy heard about the bacon and flour, he laughed. "why, it is only two or three hours' tramp over the ridge, and a big dinner will be waiting when you get there." mrs. vernon held her peace, but carried the bacon and flour just the same. she was not to be jeered out of what she knew to be a wise act, whether the food would be needed or not. chapter four a visit to grey fox camp each girl wore hiking boots, her camp uniform, and carried a light pack containing the ax, cup, knife and matches. a few of the girls, secretly following the captain's example, packed a strip of bacon and crackers, or other eatables in their packs. mr. gilroy saw them safely started on the right trail, and then drove away in his car. he followed a woodcutters' road that wound around the mountain, but the scouts were to use the trail that ran over the crest to the boys' camp. the scouts were brimming over with spirits (julie said, "not the kind made in the moonshine, either"), and spent so much time examining flowers or watching wonderful birds that the time sped by unawares. the trail led through small clearings where a brook or waterfall made life worth living. but the higher they climbed the more rugged grew the trail, until there were long stretches that seemed to be sheer wilderness. at such places, the scouts had to hunt about and find a blaze to guide them further. in this way, the hours passed and noon came; still the hikers were far from grey fox camp. "and i'm starved to pieces!" joan assured them all. "so'm i!" admitted ruth. then it was learned that every one present would appreciate something to eat. "but what? we only brought flour and bacon," laughed amy. "how would a fine juicy steak taste about this time?" asked mrs. vernon, winking at her old scouts. they knew what she meant. "oh, 'home and mother'!" sighed judith, rolling her eyes heavenward. every one laughed, but the captain added: "i really mean it! we may as well stop now to cook that steak as to keep on in a half-fainting condition." "but, verny! we didn't bring one bit of meat to camp, and the butcher drives his rounds once a week," cried amy. "we'll just hunt around and chop down a steak," suggested mrs. vernon. "who wants to go with me to find the wooden animal that grows a steak ready-made?" of course, they all went, except julie and joan who remained to build a fire and start the bacon sizzling in the tiny pan. a scout-twist of flour and water was kneaded by joan and put to bake near the fire, and then the girls sat and waited for the others to return. the captain blazed a way slowly into the forest wilderness, peering under bushes and wherever a tree had been cut down--on its stump of a trunk she always looked eagerly. after about ten minutes' search she saw what she wanted. "ah! here it is--a porterhouse, this time." the new members saw a great chestnut stump, its jagged spears of wood protesting against its untimely end. but all over the trunk grew fungi--some larger, some smaller, and all of the same flat horizontal shape, like a huge palm-leaf. these were carefully removed and handed to the girls to carry. "what are they for?" asked judith, looking at the red juice that ran over her fingers when she took the fungus. "that's your steak--think it is too big for one?" "the what?" exclaimed the other new members, skeptically. "beefsteak mushroom--finest steaks ever tasted," came reassuringly from the captain. "the ones growing on a chestnut stump are always the sweetest, but the chestnut trees are disappearing so fast that soon we will have no such mushrooms from them." when they had gathered enough steaks for that meal, they returned to the clearing where julie and joan awaited them. on the way back, mrs. vernon showed the scouts the earmarks of the beefsteak mushroom. "when i cut these from the tree they bled exactly as flesh will bleed when it is cut. now turn them over and you will see on the under side that they have veins of red. that is the life-sap. we will broil or cook them exactly as if they were steaks and then you shall judge of their flavor." "isn't it thrilling to think that man can go right into any wilderness and, without carrying food, clothing, or shelter, live with what nature provides," remarked judith. "yes, and without paying the outrageous prices charged at the present time for actual necessities," replied the captain. the bread-twist was baked, and when the steaks were washed and sliced, mrs. vernon dropped them into the hot fat tried out from the bacon. immediately the smell of frying steak made every scout smack her lips in anticipation. "if we weren't sure of such a fine dinner awaiting us, i would have had a few of you girls gather young bracken for a fresh green vegetable to eat with our steak. but we must not stop and enjoy too much by the wayside," said the captain. there was a liberal slice of steak for each one and the girls pronounced the taste of it delicious. "and so tender, too! i never had such a juicy bit of meat," said hester. having refreshed themselves considerably, with the fun of finding the mushrooms and cooking them, to say nothing of eating them, also, the scouts continued the hike along the trail. just as they reached the crest of the mountain, julie came suddenly upon a fawn, standing in the shadow of a tree; it was watching these queer two-legged creatures. it is hard to say which was most surprised, julie or the deer, but the fawn recovered first and bounded away through the forest. "oh, shucks! there we've gone and left that camera home again!" cried julie, stamping her foot angrily. "wouldn't that have made the most wonderful picture!" added judith. "no use crying now, but, for goodness sake! julie, remember to bring it next time," said joan. "let _every one_ remember--the last thing to do when we start anywhere, every one is to say to herself: 'remember the _maine_!' then we will surely take the camera," giggled julie. the scouts now began descending the other side of the crest, and found a better trail than on the side they came up. so, being able to go faster, they soon reached a lovely camp-site, where the voices of several boys announced that grey fox camp was reached. "we were just being sworn in as deputies to go out and hunt for strayed or stolen scouts," called mr. gilroy, jocularly, as the girls picked their way down from the great rocks that formed a wall back of the camp-ground; then he introduced the two troops to each other. "you told us it was about a two-hours' hike!" said ruth, shaking her head at mr. gilroy, as if in despair of saving his soul. "well, so it is, when the boys are in a hurry to get to the bungalow." "we've been five hours coming, and had to stop for lunch along the way, too," said judith, eager to talk about the beefsteak. the boys stared. "why, you were to have dinner with us! didn't mr. gilroy tell you that?" "yes, but we couldn't wait so long. we're ready for more dinner, now," said joan. "what did you cook for luncheon?" asked alec, the oldest boy in the troop. "oh, only a beefsteak-mushroom and a scout-twist," returned julie, nonchalantly. the boys exchanged glances. "did you find the mushrooms along the way?" asked another boy named bob. "sure! did you think they came preserved?" laughed joan. "no, but _we_ have never found any on this side of the hill. bob often goes out to hunt, but so far we've never seen any," explained another boy, ned thompson. "when we go back, you can go with us a ways, and we will show you where we found the ones we had for luncheon," said betty. "is dinner ready, boys, or will there be time to show the girls about the camp?" asked mr. gilroy. "show them about, as it will take us ten minutes more to finish everything in style," replied alec. so the girl scouts were invited to pass judgment on the fine camp the boy scouts had made. everything was neat as wax, and the boys had constructed many convenient articles from wildwood material only. "last year we had eight boys in camp, but this season only four could come in the beginning; so they have lots of room in their big tee pee. when the other boys come out, they will have to make another tent. they made and water-proofed this one themselves," explained mr. gilroy, showing the visitors the fine big tent. "they built this dining-room, too, to use if the weather is very bad. i told the boys about your corduroy floor that you made in your huts last summer, so they tried it here with very good result." the girl scouts now saw their own idea put into use in a different manner. the log floor was hard and dry, but at each corner rose a stout pole, and upon the tops of the four pole ends was stretched a canvas roof, making a shelter underneath. "girls, we ought to do the same thing, to use for meal time when it rains, or if the rays of the sun are too hot," observed mrs. vernon. mr. gilroy then pointed out to the girls how careful the boys had been in selecting this camp-site. they had high, dry ground, near plenty of fine spring water, on the same lake where the girl scouts camped, but an arm of high land extended out into the water and separated the two camps. "you see, they have ample firewood about without cutting down any trees; they get the early morning sun, and shade all the rest of the day. they ditched the entire place to carry off all the rainwater that might wash down from the crest during a heavy storm. and they built a refrigerator to keep things cold; and over there they have a chicken-coop." "a chicken coop! where did they get the chickens?" asked julie. "ned had some at home and he crated them and brought them along. the boys get fresh eggs in this way, and when the season is over, they will kill the hens for a special occasion and eat them." "verny, that's what we need, a few chickens in camp," was joan's decision, the moment she saw the hens scratching. "i noticed gilly had a lot of chickens running about the barnyard. maybe he will loan us a few, just to provide us with eggs this summer. we can return them in the fall, you know," ventured julie, daringly. "who will buy their corn?" asked he, laughingly. "no one. we will feed them scraps and they can scratch!" promptly replied julie. "you'll starve them and then they won't lay any eggs," now said alec, joining the party. "we'll smile on hiram and get him to bring us some corn from the barn, now and then," said ruth. "i came over to tell you dinner was ready to serve. we had better go now, and eat it while it's good," said alec. the boys had various things hanging over the fire, but the great novelty that caught the girl scouts' attention, at once, was the roaster upon which a nice brown chicken was swinging before the fire. "there! that's a fine idea. how did you make it?" asked mrs. vernon, looking closely at the contraption. alec described to the captain the method of making the roaster. "we took a forked stick, as you see there, of about a two-foot length. we drove that down into the ground about six inches. next we took a long pole, six or eight feet long, and drove the end down into the ground just back of the short stick with the forks. it rested in the crotch made by the forks so that its tapering end slanted upward at an angle, as you see here. "from the end of this long pole we hung the cord that holds the chicken. wire is just as good to use. then we arranged that flat, paddle-like fan halfway between the top and the rope end where the roast will hang. as your chicken roasts before the fire, that mill-fan keeps it perpetually turning about so it browns alike all over." julie wanted to make one like it as soon as they went back to their own camp, so she hastily sketched a model. "it is a great stunt, all right, and we've cooked many dandy roasts this way, and never scorched any," said bob, when alec concluded his description. the dinner began with oyster-mushroom stew, then they had roast chicken, baked wild-potatoes, stewed bracken that tasted exactly like young spinach, dandelion salad, and scout cakes for dessert. it was mid-afternoon when the girls finally said good-by to their hosts, and invited them soon to visit dandelion camp. they started on the return hike, but when they reached the highest boulder back of the camp, the scouts stood and waved good-by again. "come as soon as you can, but give us a whole day's warning, first!" shouted julie, to the four smiling boys below. they made much better time going back, as the trail from grey fox camp was plain, and going down the other side of the crest was much simpler than climbing up. they got back to their own camp by seven o'clock, and were surprised to find mr. gilroy there before them, with supper all ready to eat. "well, this sure is good of you!" sighed julie, dropping upon the grass with healthy fatigue. "i thought you'd appreciate it; i had no exercise to-day, except what i got running the car, so i decided to 'do a good turn' and digest that dinner at the same time," said he. after supper, which was unusually late that night, the tired scouts and their visitor were sitting about the campfire hoping some one would tell a story, when julie spoke: "last summer, gilly said he would tell us all sorts of indian legends when we visited camp in the adirondacks. now we're here and this is the right sort of an evening to tell them." the other scouts seconded the suggestion, but mr. gilroy said: "funny, but i don't remember that promise." "i told you you've got an awful memory--didn't i want to dub you 'the man-with-a-poor-memory?'" teased judith. the guest sat gazing silently into the fire for a few minutes, then he began: "i'm going to tell you a story that is told by the alaskan indians. these ancient legends have been handed down from one generation to another, but the original goes back before the days of moses. i was deeply interested in a few of these tales because they sounded so much like our story of creation as told in genesis, that i wondered if a white missionary had sown his seeds of christianity in the fertile soil of the alaskan esquimaux' mind. "but as far as i could ascertain this legend was told many hundreds of years before white man ever stepped on alaskan ground. recently i learned that iceland has similar legends, and it may be that the alaskan esquimaux are descended from those of iceland. it is well known that iceland is the oldest civilized land in the world--that it was famous for its learning before the days of solomon the wise." chapter five a story of creation* a legend of raven *this legend, given in various ways by different tribes of the icelandic and alaskan indians, each with its own variations, but all with one thread of similarity woven through the tales--was partly interpreted and grouped by the author into the legend that appears in this book. it is said to date back thousands of years before abraham and our bible. acknowledgments for original texts and tales are due the smithsonian institute. "no one knows just how raven first came to be, and we have many different beginnings to start from, but in sitka we know that raven never had beginning nor will he have an ending. "raven was always the all-in-all, and, as he knew all things and made all, he began to wish to have a form of his wisdom that, too, would live on with him forever. so it was that he made him a son to help in the creation. and the son's name, also, was raven. and now it is of raven, son of raven, that we speak. "raven was instructed in every form of knowledge and he was trained in every wise thing, so that when he grew up he would have everything necessary to make a glorious world, where all beautiful wishes and every good idea would be objectified, and would remain forever a praise and prayer to raven, the father creator. "so raven made the world, but he found there was no light with which to show the beauty and form of what he had created. then, after deep thinking, he remembered his father to have said that there was a large lodge far up the nass where one kept all the light that ever could be found. "raven tried many ways in which to reach this house on the nass, but the way was unknown to every one, so he wandered afar, seeking for the true trail. one day he helped an old lame man along the path and, for gratitude, the old man said: 'you seek the one of nass who keeps the light?' "raven replied, 'yea, for many days have i sought him.' "then the lame old man smiled a strange smile, and said, 'i know of but one way to bring this great light into the world you made, and that way is to send forth that light through the daughter of the one with the light.' "'but, brother, how do i know there is such a daughter? and if there be, how shall i receive the light through her?' "'o raven, thou art a great creator! thy father is all-in-all of the north, and the daughter of light will joyously send forth this light you need to show the beauties of your world,' said the old wayfarer. "'then tell me this, o brother, for i seem not to know how to reach the virgin of the light, despite all the wisdom i have been taught,' anxiously begged raven. "'then hark to my words, o son of raven: i will turn you into a small drop of water, and fly with you over the house of light. as i pass the pool whence comes the water for drink, i will drop you into a glass the virgin holds ready to quaff. then you will know what to do.' "raven showed his surprise, for he had believed the old man to be lame and helpless, and now he found he was a wise man who could find his way wheresoever he would go. "then the old man, with the wonderful drop of water held carefully in his palm, flew over the house of light, and passed low down over the pool where the virgin stood ready to drink. "as she raised the cup to her lips, the drop of pure water which had been raven, fell into the liquid, and she drank all that the vessel held. "now this drop of clear water grew and became a man-child, and the virgin knew she was to bring forth the light unto the world, that all might enjoy the beauties of creation. so she was happy and praised raven and the father of raven, day and night, for having given himself to become a little drop of water that the light might be born. "when the time came for the light to be revealed, the virgin prepared a royal bed of furs of great value for the man of light to be born on. but the babe struggled and refused to be born in a state of riches, and he whispered to the virgin: 'the world of joy and riches needs me not, but the world of sorrow and darkness needs me. i will shed this light on such as are heavyladen and weary.' so the virgin knew the light must be born in meekness and humility, that all brothers could find raven without pomp or pay. "so the birthplace was lined with common iceland moss, and the child of light was born thereon. the moss-bed was made up in a room that had been used for the humblest things in the great house of light: that is, for the storing of queer bundles, some large, some small, and all of various shapes and colors. and when the babe looked around at the walls of his birthplace, his eyes shone like stars and a heavenly smile beamed from his face, for _he_ knew what those bundles contained! "as the child waxed strong and beautiful, the mother saw that it yearned for something she had not hitherto given him, so a servant was ordered to seek everywhere and find what it was the babe craved. "finally, the attendant moved a bundle that hung at the farthest end of the room. and as he did so, the child laughed and his eyes shone brightly. "'bring that bundle here--it is what the babe wanted!' declared the mother. so the unwieldy bundle was placed upon the bed. "the mother carefully removed a wrapper, but found still others to undo. finally all the wrappers were taken away and but one remained. this was of a wonderful shimmering material such as no one had ever beheld before. the mother reverently opened this cover, and lo! there lay revealed all the stars of heaven! "the child gurgled with joy, and took the corner of the shimmering cover and drew it, with the contents, over to himself. he looked upwards, and with a wonderful expression in his sweet face, suddenly flung the bright cover and all the stars it held, up through the smoke-hole of the lodge. "with a happy, joyous laugh, he watched the stars scatter far and wide to rest finally in the firmament, and there they shine to this very day! "the virgin mother then knew that this child truly was raven, the son of raven, and she commanded every one to bow down in worship, for he had been given the power to bring light to the world of darkness, and no more would darkness cover the people. "soon after the stars were fixed in the firmament of heaven, the child again yearned and seemed to pine for something. but now the mother knew what had to be done, so she commanded an attendant to take down the bundle that hung in the corner whence the stars came. "this bundle was brought over to the mother, but it was smaller than the first bundle that had held all the stars. the mother carefully undid the many wrappings of this bundle, and found the last covering was made of a filmy frosty texture which had no opening or end that might be unrolled. "but the child held out his hands eagerly for the bundle, and the moment it had been given him, he found the secret opening and then unrolled the cover. when the last frosty bit of gauzy cloud fell away from the contents so carefully preserved, every one exclaimed in wonder at the beauty they beheld. there was a big moon, cool and shining, then as now! "the child clapped his hands with delight, and wafted the moon with its frosty gauze covering up through the smoke-hole of the room and it became fixed as the stars, to give light through the hours of darkness, that the earth need not stumble and fall upon a black pathway. "the third bundle was great and difficult to reach, but the child cried for it and the servants had to work and struggle to reach it, until finally, down it came. and as it fell, it sent forth sparks of strange fire that consumed not a thing, yet prevented any servant from handling the bundle. "the child laughed and clapped his hands, but finding no one could hold the flaming bundle, he crept over and took it. the mother stood affrighted lest the child of light be consumed. but he unwrapped each covering himself, and when the last dazzling wrapper was revealed, no human being durst gaze upon that light. but he who was born of light looked upon what was hidden in that covering and flung all up through the smoke-hole to take its place in the firmament of heaven, where it shines like unto a sun--to-day, as in those days. and it was given the world to shed its rays of light upon the earth by day, even as the moon shines for light by night, and the stars sing for joy and gladness that light came to the world. "after the sun, and moon, and stars were made, this man-child did many wonderful things that astonished all who came to the house of light to hear and see such a marvelous being. but there was still one bundle left hanging in a very gloomy corner of the birth-chamber, and this bundle was left until the child grew to the stature of a man. then he demanded that it be given him. "'no, no, my son,' wept the mother, 'do not ask for that--it contains death.' "'know then that _i_ know it,' returned the young man, seriously. 'knowest thou not why i came to be born of the light? not only that the world might have eternal light, but also to dispel all darkness that eternal life might come through the overcoming of this death. "'the light i had, and the light i gave, but through forever closing the gates of death to the world i forever fix this light of life in the heavens that no one can darken it more.' "the mother wept for she knew her son must die if he took down that bundle, but he replied: 'for this great mission was i sent to you that, through you, should be given birth to light, and thus establish for all time the light for the world.' "sorrowing, the mother herself took down the bundle and brought it to her son, and no servant might remain in the room when raven, son of raven, removed the coverings of death. as the last wrapper was removed and the mother saw the heavy shroud that folded itself clingingly about the ghastly contents of that bundle, she ran weeping from the room, for she dared not watch her son accept it. "so the birth-room remained closed while raven fought with death, but after three shinings of the sun, and three shinings of the moon, and with the shining of the stars as they sang softly, a blinding light shone through all the walls of the house of light, and the mother with her attendants ran to open the door of the birth-chamber, now called the room of death. but behold! the man raven himself was revealed in shining raiments, shining like the sun, and he smiled upon those who fell down in awe at sight of him. "'i have destroyed death for all, and now i go to shine in the heavens with this light of life that was given me. all who will may follow where i go,' said raven. "'and at that, he rose through the smoke-hole and took his place in heaven, but his light shone then and shines now into every corner of darkness in the world. and the day is come when there is no more darkness, for rich and poor, good and bad, and every created thing made by raven, see the light that transforms everything into lights that find their places in the firmament of heaven.' "raven, son of raven, sat hidden in the great light that he received when death was overcome, but he saw that the earth was without form. then he desired to create seas and mountains upon the face of the void, and he sat thinking and thinking for many a time. "suddenly he remembered that in the house of light there was a wonderful pool of clear water. so he sent a ray from the sun down through the clouds and thereby drew up enough water to drink. but he did not swallow the cooling water. he held it in his mouth and flew with it over the whole earth which was void of form. "he spat forth a drop of this water and it became the source of the river nass. another drop from his mouth became the stikine river, and the third drop became the taku river. then followed the chilkat, the alsek, and finally, all the great rivers of the north. "but raven found he would need more water for seas and oceans and lakes, so he sat again, and by thinking and thinking he received the idea. "it was not according to his wish to send a sunbeam to the pool of eternal water in the house of light, to bring up more of that pure water to him, and he was happy when he conceived the idea that came to him. and this it was: "'if the rivers i made, run on eternally because their source came from the house of light, why shall i not guide them all to one great meeting-place and call that the ocean? but as they run to this one rest, even so will i give them smaller rests along the way, and at these resting-places they may spread out upon the bosom of the earth. these rests will i call lakes. then there will come times when the ocean, which is continually filled from the eternal source of the rivers, must needs overflow its boundaries. and these overflows will fill up the great holes in the earth. so these i will call seas. "'even as the sun sent his ray to carry me the drink from the pool that is in the house of light, so will i command the sun and the moon and the stars to govern the waters of the earth, and thus the lights in the firmament of the heavens will draw up any surplus overflows, that these may turn to moisture in the cloudy coverings that wrapped the lights before they became fixed in the firmament. the clouds will rain down refreshing drink upon all lands on the earth, that all things may replenish themselves and so live eternally, in one grand bond of brotherhood, loving and helping each other, from the great to the small, and from small to great.' "and it was as raven desired. so to this day, the sun and moon and all the stars work together in harmony to keep the rivers and lakes, and seas, and ocean within their bounds and to replenish all things. "but raven found afterwhile that so much water flowing ceaselessly from the source, and the rain that fell from the clouds upon the land, made the earth so wet that it was not a good place to dwell upon. then he began to think and think again, of how he might create something to dry up the surplus moisture. "now he was walking by a great ocean, one day, still thinking of plans to dry away any unpleasant dampness, when he saw a petrel sitting on a rocky promontory. "'brother,' called raven to the bird, 'how came you here?' "'i? oh, i was born when the waters were sent to earth. how came you here--and where were you born?' asked the petrel. "'i? oh, i was born before the world was thought of, so i have no beginning and no end,' replied raven. "'ha! tis well said, but rings not true,' the petrel jeered. 'no one ever was before this world was created, and no one ever shall remain when this world ends.' "'i am raven, son of raven, and because you know not the truth of creation, but believe the lie, you shall henceforth go about in a fog. your name shall be earth-made, and you shall dream dreams in this fog, but you may not see the light until that day when the whole world shall be freed from all forms of darkness!' "and instantly, a fog-cover fell over petrel, because he knew not the truth told by raven, son of raven. and the fog so hid from the eyes of petrel the sun and moon and stars that came from the house of light, that he believed _them_ to be controlled by a lie, also. "but raven learned that the fog he had called forth from the waters on the earth made the place still more moist and not good for a place of sojourn. then he planned to dry it away quickly. "petrel, the earth-bound, was left groping in the fog for the truth he had scorned and now could not find, and raven passed to a place where he saw something floating on the wave not far from shore. he failed to recognize it as of his creating, so he wished to reach it. "while looking about for something to use to reach it, he saw a bird with a very long bill, watching him. this bird was not like anything he had created so he knew it must be an offspring of the fog, mist-made, and related to petrel. "raven then commanded this bird, 'fly out over the water and bring back yon floating object.' "the bird with a long bill was a chicken-hawk, and it lived by killing weaker and smaller birds than itself. raven knew this was its way the moment he saw it was mist-made, and so he sent it on this errand. "the chicken-hawk dared not refuse to go after the bright object floating on the wave, but he said to himself, 'i'll drop it if it is not good for me to carry!' "raven knew this evil intent, and said, 'when you have taken hold of the object, do not drop it till you have brought it ashore.' "so the chicken-hawk left in no good humor, and flew out to the wave, where he found a mass of fire floating there. he was a coward, such as all mist-made creatures are, and he feared to bring in the great ball of fire, yet he dared not disobey the command of a superior being like raven. so he tore off a mouthful only, and that is how he came to be so badly burned. had he caught hold of the whole mass of flame, the outside of which really had been cooled as it rolled about upon the waves, he could have escaped without an injury. "he brought the piece of fire to shore, and raven said, 'because you were cowardly and obeyed me only through fear, your beak shall remain forever burned off and short as it now is.' "and so it is to this day, and shall be until light redeems all things. "raven then took some chips of red cedar and some white stones, and mixed them in the fire. these were distributed over all the earth, so that many great forests grew up from the cedar shavings, and thus absorbed the surplus moisture on the land. and mighty volcanoes were formed of the red-hot stones, and these, in consuming the water under the surface, steamed and spewed forth the massive rocks and varied-hued stones that gave peaks and cliffs as pleasant places for deer and sheep to roam upon. "thus, with the face of the earth so beauteous, raven sat down and rejoiced. but petrel and chicken-hawk were left to wander in the fog. "finally, raven's mother died, and he sorrowed greatly, for she saw not the great light that he had established to overcome the darkness of death. still, because she had always dwelt in the house of light and had given birth to raven, son of raven, she was given an honorable place in the firmament of heaven. "and raven, as the custom was in the realm where his mother had lived, prepared a great feast in honor of his mother. but he began thinking how he might honor her in a different way. so he cut a witch-hazel wand with which to point at anything he wished to use in the preparation of this feast. thus he collected wood and stones and many things on the face of the earth. and when all this was assembled he built him a great house. "then he called the rain and sunshine to hide the house until he was ready for the feast. he then sat down to think and think, and this is what he thought, and what came of it. "'i want fish to swim in the waters, and birds to fly in the skies, and creatures to live in the forests, and beings to live on the land, to be found in this house when it is opened. and they will all be perfect, lovely, and good, to live with this creation i have made.' "thus, having thought all these things, raven stood up and stretched out his hand that held the wand, and pointed it over the house that was hidden as yet by rain and clouds. "and, suddenly, the rain ceased its downpour, the sun smiled, and the house stood revealed in all its beauty. then raven sang: "'this made i for an honor to my mother!' "and as he sang his song of honor and praise, the house opened and all manner of living creatures came forth--beautiful, perfect, and an honor to the earth upon which they would dwell. "so it is that even to this day, when one makes a feast to honor a dead person who will sit in a place in the firmament, the house of the living is opened to all, from the greatest to the least of the earth. "when the feast was over raven wished to leave an eternal monument to his mother, the virgin who gave birth to the light, so he called to him the four winds to help. "'south wind, in the spring and summer when all the sun's rays are warm, blow gently upon the earth and sing of my mother.' "'north wind, sit on top of the ice-mountain yonder, and when the earth is chill and sorrowing for my mother, blow fiercely from your snow-laden hills and sing over her grave.' "'east wind, when the earth-people weep salt-water over the biers of their dead, and sigh because of their loss, sing to them of my mother.' "'west wind, when you blow gently, and tell the earth that storms and cold and sorrow may come but light shines in the end to bring them joy and peace, sing low and sweetly of my mother.' "thus the four winds came to earth to sing to the peoples dwelling here, and every one heard of the mother who gave birth to light--raven, son of raven. "but after all these things were done, raven sat down and thought and thought deeply, and as he thought he called upon his father, the great raven, the all-in-all, for advice. "and having received advice, raven stood up and lifted his hands to the heavens, and sang with a loud voice: "'i shall make men in my image and likeness, and they shall dwell in the light and be given dominion over all this earth i have made for my joy and pleasure. thus we shall be happy and live forever!' "so raven made all men like unto himself. they were good and perfect and beautiful and they all dwelt in love in the light. and thus they dwelt many, many days, and were happy. "but the fog which had been called out for petrel's error harbored many birds of evil omen, and these, guided by petrel, swept through the fog and attacked the men of the light. the fog covered all things and caused every one to grope about, seeking to find one another and escape from the mist that hid the shining light. "and thus any one who had the slightest degree of fear or greed or malice or lying in his heart, breathed in the fog and thenceforth lived in a dream. they were thenceforth born of the fire of wrath that the chicken-hawk tore apart from the floating mass, and were consumed with fear. they lived their days in the fog that came upon petrel when he believed a lie, and they suffered and sorrowed and died, all in a dream caused by the fog; and afterwhile these mist-men forgot there ever had been a perfect earth created by raven, son of raven, where love and beauty and joy rule everything. "so petrel ruled his world of fog, where hate and sin and death were his servants, and thus it happened that a petrel is the sign of storm and trouble and blinding mist, but the raven is known to be wise and patient for it knows where its light dwells. "so raven sits, and patiently waits for petrel's dreams to lose themselves in the fog, for such will surely come about. and as the lights ruled by raven shine stronger, the fog grows fainter and still lighter, until breaks the day when all mist vanishes and raven's creation is seen forever beautiful and perfect." when mr. gilroy concluded his beautiful legend, the scouts were silent. it was the greatest praise they could bestow at the moment, for the story was not one to call forth applause and noise. then they began to speak, but in soft voices. "and to think that this story of creation, so similar in many ways to our bible stories, was handed down from ancient days," remarked mrs. vernon, thrilled by the realization. "i find many interesting similarities between our bible and the holy legends reverently told by the esquimaux. but this one always struck me as being as fine as any. that is why i told it," explained mr. gilroy. then their camp entertainer, as julie now named mr. gilroy, bid them all good-night and went up the trail. and the scouts were soon in bed, their last waking thoughts being of raven, son of raven, the all-in-all of creation. chapter six lost on the trail a few days after the girl scouts' visit to grey fox camp, they were agreeably surprised by having the boys visit them. mr. gilroy was with them, and as each boy carried an ax and a woodman's knife, the girls knew they came to work. "we decided to cut a shorter trail over the crest, and as to-day is so cool, we thought it would be a fine time for work," explained alec, the leader in the boys' camp. "one day's as good as another! we're ready to help any time," replied julie, as leader of the girl scouts' troop. "why didn't you let us know, then we might have blazed the trail up our side of the mountain, and you boys would have worked from your side. when we met on top, we might have celebrated with a feast," ventured mrs. vernon. so the girls ran for axes and knives, and all began work together, back of dandelion camp. they cut and chopped, and blazed a fine trail up past silver falls, where the doe had called to her mate the first night the girls were at camp, and so on to the top of the mountain. but it took the greater part of that morning to go as far as they did. "we'd better stop here, and go back to see how the trail seems," suggested mr. gilroy. "why not finish the job, now that we're on top?" asked alec. "because you boys can easily blaze from here on to your camp, and i am beginning to worry lest my dinner is burning," laughed mr. gilroy. "_your_ dinner! where's the indian cook?" asked alec. "he's cooking for fifteen! i have invited guests coming to dine at the bungalow this evening," returned mr. gilroy, meaningly. "oh, hurrah! isn't that fine? now we won't have to wash any supper-dishes!" exclaimed ruth, who still disliked doing dishes. the girls laughed, for they understood, but alec said, "why talk about a supper so distant! i'd rather plan about something to eat this minute." "so would we all. i guess we are nearly starved," said ned. "why not stop work and cook a few steaks?" suggested bob. "you boys have done all the talking about something to eat, but the girls said nothing. maybe they are not hungry!" ventured mr. gilroy. "hungry! we're too _weak_ to speak," sighed julie, rubbing the spot under her belt. "i can eat reindeer moss without its being cooked," said amy. "that settles it! cook we must, but what?" declared joan. "well, some of us will hunt up the mushrooms; some must gather bracken, some, the lichen; and gilly can hunt up the coffee beans, _alias_ roots and acorns," said alec. "what will _you_ be doing, meantime?" retorted mr. gilroy. "oh, i'll just remove that package of flour from your pocket and use this strip of bacon that i lifted from dandelion larder; and when the steaks come back, i'll have bread and fat ready over a fine fire." "bacon! when did you manage to steal that?" demanded the captain, amazed. the boys laughed, for alec's clever sleight-of-hand was an endless source of fun for them. "don't all hunt together. divide your strength and see that results come back with you," advised alec, rolling up his sleeves preparatory to starting his fire. "i can't fish like the other boys, so i'll go with the girls who are going for the beefsteaks," said dick. "all right. and where will you go, captain?" asked alec. "if gilly is sent for coffee, i shall hunt for tea. i do not care for his brand of coffee, but i _do_ know where to find the ingredients for a nice fragrant cup of tea." a laugh circled the group, and mr. gilroy said, "all right. now see to it that you don't ask for a drop of my coffee, hereafter." so they separated, some of the scouts going with mrs. vernon; bob and ned going for trout; hester and amy with mr. gilroy; and julie, joan and judith with dick, for mushrooms. after breaking a way through a dense jungle, the latter four scouts came out to a small clearing, but they had not seen any mushrooms. "what a fine baseball diamond this clearing would make!" said julie, as they looked around. "and there are some chestnut stumps--on the far side of the clearing!" exclaimed dick, crossing to the spot. but they found no mushrooms on the stumps, much to their chagrin. "there'll be other trees about here, where we're sure to find what we need," said dick, eagerly. so into the woods they plunged, winding about here and there, but not finding what they sought. none of them thought to blaze a trail as they wandered, consequently had no means of telling how far or in what direction they had gone before dick found a few small mushrooms. "only enough for a few of us. we need more than these," he remarked. "there's sure to be more where these are. let's keep on hunting," urged julie. so they kept on winding through the underbrush, but with no good results. finally dick found a plant that he believed to be a wild potato. "no, it is not. it hasn't the leaves or blossom of the indian potato," declared joan. "that may be, but when it grows old it dries up, you know," argued dick, beginning to dig at the root. the girls wandered about seeking for signs of more mushrooms, but could find none. then dick stood up and stretched his back-muscles. "my that was tough digging when you have no tool. and it wasn't a potato after all." "well, we've been gone a long time now. suppose we go back with what we have," said joan. "yes; even if we can't fill up on steaks to-day, let us eat more of the greens," added judith. so they turned to go back to camp. they climbed over the boulders similar to those over which they had already climbed, over similar fallen timber, and finally came to a stream. "i don't remember a brook when we came," remarked julie. "neither do i," added judith. "all places look alike when you're hunting anything. we may have crossed a bog or a brook and never have noticed it," said dick. "oh, i would have noticed it! i wouldn't be such a poor scout as not to know where i was going," returned julie, defensively. "now, dick, i'm sure there was no bog where we came through, but here's one right ahead of us," called joan, who was a few paces ahead. "no, there was no bog!" affirmed julie. "did you bring a compass?" now asked dick. "no, we never thought of being lost," murmured julie. "we're not lost, just strayed a bit," dick assured them. "'lost, strayed or stolen'--it's all the same if we have to miss our dinner," sighed joan. they managed to cross the boggy spot and then trailed to a place that dick claimed was the clearing. but it turned out to be a little fen made by a tiny spring. "what we should have done was to leave our marks as we came through--broken twigs, or trampled grass, or some such signs," said julie. "but we didn't, and now is no time to talk of it!" dick said impatiently, for he began to realize that they really were lost. "we can begin right now, however, and then not keep circling around without recognizing that we were there before!" snapped julie. so the girls began, then and there, to leave their signs as they followed after dick, who really knew not where he was leading. "had we better separate and go in different directions to hunt the camp?" asked dick finally. "mercy, no! better be lost together than get lost each one alone!" exclaimed joan. "sort of 'united we stand,' etc.," chuckled julie, in spite of her concern over not finding the way. they kept on forcing a way through the thick bush and resting now and then when they found a little clearing; but finally judith cried: "you'll have to go without me! i'm so weak from hunger i can't walk another step." "girls, suppose we stop and cook the steaks?" asked dick. "i say so, too," agreed julie. so they cleared a little space in the woods and with two rubbing-sticks soon produced fire. while two of the girls were doing this, dick washed the mushrooms in the little spring they had seen, and then sliced them with his knife. "we haven't any salt or bacon, but they'll taste good to starved wanderers," said dick, holding one over the fire to cook. each girl spiked one on a sharpened stick and held it out to broil. when the mushrooms were cooked they each ate until they felt better. then dick made a suggestion. "making this fire gave me an idea. why not make 'two smokes' for signals. if alec or any one else is looking for us, they can see them." "why didn't we think of that before! fine idea, dick," said joan. "what will 'two smokes' mean?" asked judith. "means 'we are lost,' come find us," said dick, busy with two heaps of firewood. "but you can't signal here under these trees, dick! we've got to find an open place where the smoke can rise up above the tree-tops, you know," advised julie. dick realized he had been caught napping by a girl, and he didn't like it very much but he could not show his annoyance, for julie was right. so he stood up and said: "i'll shout as loud as possible,--maybe they will hear us." so he shouted until he was hoarse. "in this dense forest, where the trees break every sound, the smoke signal is as good as any other. let us find a clearing," suggested julie. so they sought again, and soon found an open spot where the sky was visible without any obstructing tree-branches overhead. "why, this looks like the same clearing that i said would make a fine baseball diamond," declared julie. "so it does! and here is a broken twig where we went out," said joan. [illustration: "we are lost, come find us" ... page ] "then we can't be many miles from home," laughed julie, her spirits rising again at the slightest encouragement. they made two smokes, however, and waited to watch the thin spirals rise above the trees, side by side, until they dispersed in the blue ether far overhead. but no sound came in answer to the signals. "maybe no one remembered the smoke idea," ventured judith. "and they'd have to be in the open, or climb a tree, to see it," asserted joan. "maybe they made signals, too, and are waiting for us to answer them. did you bring a rifle, dick?" said julie. "no, none of us did. but i can climb one of these trees and see if the others made any smokes." "choose that towering pine,--you ought to be able to see everything from that high top," advised julie. so dick climbed the tall pine, but after he had reached the top he saw nothing that might lead him to find the other campers. he shouted and whistled as shrilly as he could from the lofty perch, but no answering sound came to his ears, so he slid down again. "see anything at all, dick?" asked julie, the moment he came down. "a great sea of waving green tops, one wave back of the other, without a break," said he. "well, what now? shall we keep on hunting for the way back from this clearing, or just sit and let them find us?" asked joan, despondently. "you know they say a flock of ducks will always fly towards water. now, i saw some ducks flying in one direction when i sat up in that tree," remarked dick. "then you _did_ see something other than waves of green! why didn't you say so!" snapped julie, impatient with his poor scouting sense. "i thought they might be flying down towards little moose lake, where dandelion camp is, and we want to find our party," said dick, in justification. "anything to get out of this tangle. we'd just as lief wind up at dandelion camp as elsewhere," said joan. "all right then, follow me and we will go in the direction the birds flew," said dick, and he started down hill. down and down they tramped, chopping away smaller obstructions, until they were stopped by a wide fen that belted the section. advance was impossible, for every time one tried to step upon the ooze the foot would begin to sink in. "oh, how awful!" wailed judith, ready to cry. "how can we cross? if only we could find a fallen tree that happened to fall right across," sighed joan. "if only we had a drink of cold water i'd be thankful," declared julie, mopping her warm face. "that's the easiest part of the whole trouble," quickly said dick. "what do you mean? i wouldn't drink that slimy liquid for anything," said julie, frowning at the water. "now, just wait a second and you'll see what i can do with that water!" bragged dick, glad to redeem his reputation as a scout. with hands and a stick he quickly dug a hole to the depth of the marsh. then he squinted carefully at his well, then at the marsh, and back again. the girls watched him curiously. "guess i can go a few inches deeper,--the well has to be about six inches below the surface of the nearby pool, you know." he dug deeper and soon the well began filling with muddy water. "there, now i've got it!" said dick. "do you expect us to drink _that_!" scorned joan. "no, but wait." dick hurriedly baled out the well until it was almost emptied. then he allowed it to fill again. he baled it out a second time, and permitted it to fill again. the third time the water was almost clear, so he baled once more, and this time the water filtered in as clear as crystal. he stooped, drank from it, and said: "it's cold and pure!" then the girls drank, and found it most refreshing to their parched tongues and throats. "well, i never knew that before! we've learned two things by being lost with dick as guide," said julie frankly, and dick was delighted to hear such nice things about himself. "shall we try to circle this fen and get across, or go back again?" now asked dick. "it's hard to tell just what is best to do," murmured julie, puckering her brow in thought. suddenly two shots echoed down the mountainside, and after an interval of six seconds a third shot rang out. "there! alec's seen our smoke. his signal means 'where are you?' what shall we do?" cried dick, excitedly. "how can we answer them?" wondered the girls. "we'll have to back-trail to our clearing. that's where the shots sounded from," said dick. "dear me, if only we had waited there, they would have found us," complained judith. "but we didn't, so the next best thing to do is to get back as soon as we can, or they'll go away again," declared julie. they climbed, scrambled and tumbled up the rugged slope, keeping as far as they could to the rough trail they had made in coming down. when they thought they were near the clearing, they shouted with all their lung-power, and the welcome sound of answering calls soon greeted their ears. "oh, dick, give that cat-call again so they will know we're on our way," asked julie, anxiously. so dick gave his ear-splitting whistle by placing his fingers between his lips and blowing through the crevices. in less than ten seconds afterwards, two shots sounded in quick succession. "that means they've heard us and are waiting," cried dick. "come this way,--that echo is misleading." so the girls followed their young guide, and soon they broke through the fringe of great trees into the clearing where the rest of the party stood. alec gave them no time to explain. he was angry, and no mistaking it! "dick, can you tell me of any concession made to you that allows you to start two fires and then go away and leave them to work their will in these forests? if we had not found the fires you left, what might have resulted to this area of mountain land?" the girls and dick stood amazed, for they had forgotten all about the fires started as smoke signals. "when i broke through the underbrush into this clearing, the fires were blazing away like fury. they had encroached upon all the brush and handy leaves, and were eating a way to the timber-line. in half an hour more those same _little_ fires would be raging over the crest and destroying acres and acres of forest-trees, to say nothing of causing the work all the farmers and forest-rangers would have in trying to control it. just because a brainless scout _forgot_ his duty!" the scorn in alec's last words was cutting. dick began to apologize, but alec held up a hand. "no apology will answer for such a thing." then he turned to ned and said: "put dick down for penance at camp." "we ought to be punished as well as dick," said julie. "we never remembered the fires, either." "that's up to your captain,--i am merely doing my duty to _my_ troop," returned alec. "had anything to eat?" asked anne, who always felt sorry for any one who was hungry. "we ate the mushrooms we found," meekly replied joan. "then come back and eat what we left for you. we had fish and greens and biscuit," said hester. while they were munching the cold food, alec questioned them further. "why didn't you use what scout-sense you had? you know you could have found the way you came through those woods by looking for broken cobwebs across the bushes; by overturned stones with the damp under side showing; or by broken twigs and crushed blades of grass; and last, but hardest, you might have looked to see where leaves on trees and bushes were turned awry from your brushing against them. they do not right themselves immediately, you know." "we never heard of that before," admitted julie. "but dick has, even though he has forgotten it," said alec. "he had to learn it from the manual--what he would do in case of being lost in a forest." "but even if you knew nothing about that, you all knew it would simplify things for us if you were to blaze a way to guide us the way you went. you could easily have broken twigs and left them hanging, or piled little heaps of stones along the trail you took." "oh, for goodness sake! let up on us now, and wait until _you_ are lost, will you?" cried julie, placing her palms over her ears. "yes, it's so easy to tell the other feller what to do!" was all the retort dick made. "well, children, after all i have my inning!" declared mr. gilroy, chuckling. "what's that?" demanded every one. "i wanted you to come home and dine with me, but no! you must stop to cook in the woods. now you'll all be glad enough to hurry home and come to my party. and the dinner won't be slighted, either, from so much overeating up here!" chapter seven a little business at breakfast the day following the "lost scouts'" adventure, mrs. vernon remarked: "girls, yesterday's experience taught me an important thing, and that is, we need a set of rules for camp, so that every member of dandelion troop will have her proper share of work and duty to perform. "we have been keeping house in a haphazard way, with no responsibility attached to any one but julie and me. now, each day there must be some sort of regulations and punishments, if duties are neglected. the fire yesterday showed me that that system was good." "your idea is all right, verny, but what will the rules cover, and why have punishments?" asked julie. "because every day will probably bring new problems to us, so that set rules will not do, but each day must have added rules. if these rules are not obeyed, the scout who is negligent ought to be made to pay for her lack of obedience." "have you formulated any plan to begin with?" asked joan. "i thought that julie, as scout leader, could consult with me about that. although i think we ought to select a new orderly for each day, to see that the other scouts do what is required of them. if we begin with ruth, betty next day, and so on through the new membership, one each day, it brings us to the eighth day. of course julie, joan and i will not be orderlies. but the leader and corporal are over the orderly, and the captain over all of you." "what do you expect the orderly to do, verny?" asked joan. "she will read the rules for the day immediately after breakfast. every scout must take turns in being cook for camp one day. one must be wood-gatherer, one must see that food supplies are on hand, some must do the fishing, and so on through the entire housekeeping list. this trains every one alike, and no partiality will be shown one who is a fine cook or one who is an awful one!" the girls laughed, and the captain continued: "then, we don't expect one to do all the heavy work while another goes free, and by partitioning the work and control each one does her bit. in case of any gross negligence or breaking of rules, the officer of the day, the corporal and the leader will decide the punishment. should need arise, the whole troop may act as a jury to judge the matter." after the captain had finished speaking, the scouts sat down and compiled a set of camp rules, and ruth was asked to print them neatly on cardboard, because ruth was the artistic scout of the group. this business disposed of, julie said: "now what shall we do to-day, girls?" "but you haven't chosen an orderly for the day!" called judith. "oh, that's so! well, it lies between ruth and amy, as they are the more experienced scouts, to act the first day." "don't choose me. i've got my work cut out already, if you expect these rules nicely printed," declared ruth. "all right, then; it's amy. no partiality meant, girls," julie reminded them. "more like 'malice aforethought,'" giggled joan. "why? isn't it an honor to be the orderly?" demanded julie. "it may _seem_ like an honor, but when it is thoroughly investigated it turns out to be just plain old hard work!" "sure, julie! don't you see, all the other scouts go scot free for the day, while the orderly has to see that everything is done properly and then take the blame if nothing is right," laughed judith. "well, amy is able to carry the burden, and it is only for a day; then another one has to do it," said the captain. when the weighty business of selecting rules and deciding on a recreation for the day was over, mrs. vernon said, "which did you decide to do first, hike or swim?" "is mr. gilroy coming over to visit us to-day?" asked ruth. "he invited himself to supper to-night, but i doubt if we see him before that time. why?" answered the captain. "because if he was coming, he would hike with us, and we'd rather wait for him, and swim first. but it doesn't matter now." "we'll go for the hike first, and when we get back a fine, cool swim will feel good," suggested the orderly for the day. "verny, do you know of any places one might choose for an objective on a hike?" asked joan. "yes, mr. gilroy gave me a county map that shows every good trail within twenty miles of here. i'll get it and we'll look it over." so saying, the captain went to her tent for the paper. they all sat about mrs. vernon as she studied the map and read aloud of various trails that sounded interesting. at last she said: "here's one that seems inviting. it is named 'river bend,' and the trail winds along one of the streams that is an outlet of our lake. the description says the blazes are old but distinct, and no one can miss the may. shall we try that trail?" "where does it end?" questioned hester. "how long is it to anywhere?" asked anne. "it's seven miles, and forks when one reaches the hut of an indian canoe-builder. one fork runs to river bend village, and the other to a ravine that is said to be most picturesque." "we'll take that trail and decide which place we prefer to see, the village or the ravine, after we have hiked a while," said the orderly. "why not take a little flour and fat and catch some fish at noon, and sup while on the trail?" asked julie. "why not carry our dinner stuff and have a _regular_ meal while we are about it," said anne, who could not forego a dinner. the other scouts laughed, and mrs. vernon replied, "all right, it sounds inviting." so each scout carried a tin cup and platter, while the orderly saw to it that each one carried part of the dinner material. it fell to the captain's lot to carry the frying-pan, and to anne to carry the two-quart pail; the others had the flour, bacon, potatoes, etc. river bend trail led down to the end of the lake, where the stream started. it wound in and out, as it followed the uneven edges of little moose lake, running over mossy knolls, through rivulets, past waterfalls, and around impassable obstructions. thus the detouring added greatly to the distance the map had vouched for. the scouts had paper and pencils in case they wished to sketch anything interesting, but most of the paper was used in writing notes along the way, to be entered later in their records. they had gone about two miles when julie stopped short and held up a warning hand. "verny, listen! i heard a baby crying pitifully over in those high bushes." "mercy me! do you suppose there can be any gypsies here?" cried amy, the timid. "gypsies--nothing! but how could a baby get in that jungle?" retorted joan. then they distinctly heard the plaintive wail, as of a very young child in fear and distress. even mrs. vernon turned pale at the picture that presented itself to her thought. "girls, we've got to investigate this. it doesn't seem plausible that any one would bring a kidnapped child to this wilderness to lose it, but one can never tell!" declared julie. "it's a baby, that we know, so it's up to us to save it," added ruth. "the poor little dear!" wept betty, the tender-hearted. so the scouts began cutting a way through the almost impenetrable growth that divided the trail from the place whence came the cries. but as they went deeper in the jungle and got nearer the spot they were aiming for, the cries ceased. "dear, dear! i hope the little thing isn't past aid?" murmured the captain, anxiously. that urged the scouts to greater endeavor, and finally julie broke into a tiny clearing of about three feet across, and saw a little grey rabbit, which had been caught in an old mesh-wire trap set by some one long before and forgotten. "oh, you poor little creature!" cried julie, falling upon her knees to rescue the soft little thing. "is it alive, jule?" asked a chorus of anxious voices. "yes, but it is awfully afraid of me. i can't do anything for it." "maybe it will bite you--do be careful, jule!" called amy, deliciously thrilled at this fearful risk her friend was taking. "bite!" scorned julie. "it's starved, and too weak to even nibble." "wait, julie! let me throw my hat over it so it won't see what we are doing. then it won't feel so frightened. remember the 'boulder' we all saw, and when it moved we had a panic? well, our sense of sight was all that caused that fear. it is the same now--what the rabbit doesn't see it won't fear," explained mrs. vernon. while it was hidden under the broad-brimmed scout hat, the rabbit was not aware of the willing rescuers, and soon julie had the snare open, and mrs. vernon held the little creature in her hat. "shall we let it go now?" asked some of the girls. "it may have an injured leg where the trap caught it. i think we will carry it home and feed it well, and then if it is all right, it can run away. it is sure to be caught by some larger animal if it is unable to jump or run," said the captain. "this will make a dandy story to write down in our record book, verny, won't it?" asked ruth, eagerly. "yes, but it will also show how inexperienced we are in wildwood sounds,--to mistake the rabbit's cry for a child's wail." "but it _did_ sound exactly like a baby, there's no denying that!" exclaimed julie, frowning as she realized how they all were caught napping. "this reminds me of a story alec told us yesterday when we were waiting at the campfire for you lost scouts," said hester. "he and his troop went on a three days' hike in the country last year, and at night they found an old abandoned barn where they decided to sleep. the floor was in good condition, with a bit of hay piled up in one corner. but the loft overhead was in such bad condition that in many places the flooring was broken down completely. as there was no ladder or stairway to reach it, the boys concluded there was no use in examining it--no one would be up there! "so they stretched out on the hay and were soon sound asleep. but some time after that--no one knew how long they had been asleep--ned nudged alec and whispered: 'some one's in the loft!' "alec sat up and listened. sure enough, he could hear a man snoring as distinctly as he could hear dick breathe. "so he roused the other scouts, and they very quietly crept over to the side where they could get a grip on the joists to help themselves up. each scout had armed himself in some way. one had an old pitchfork with but one prong. another had a rake handle, one found the curved handle of a feed-grinder, and so on. "when they got to the shaky, decayed floor above, the snoring had stopped, so they knew the tramp was aware of their approach. they had to be awfully careful, too, so as not to fall through any of the broken places in the floor. but they each had their lanterns, and used them before they took a step. alec went first, and threw the light back and forth to avoid a sudden surprise from the tramp. "'there's something moving over on that pile of old burlap sacks!' whispered alec, the instant he saw a creeping movement there. "several of the boys then jumped and began beating up the sacks violently. but as suddenly, a pair of wings flapped up in their faces with a whirring sound, and a barn-owl began to screech madly as she rose and flew through a hole in the roof." hester laughed as she reached this part of the story, and all the scouts joined in. julie, who had not heard it before, said: "thank goodness, we girls are not the only ones to be taken in, then!" "alec said there are lots of wild creatures that make sounds exactly like human beings. and that owl snored just like a man." by this time they had regained the trail, and mrs. vernon tenderly adjusted the trembling rabbit. the hat so covered it that it could curl inside and not see a thing to cause it any fear, and thus it was carried along, to be cared for later on and then regain its freedom. the scouts found many interesting subjects for discussion along the trail, until they reached a wide shallow stream that came down the steep mountainside and emptied into the river. "it's not on the map, and it sure cuts off further progress," said the captain. "it's shallow--we can wade it," suggested julie. "let us go upstream and find a narrow ford, or some rocks that we can cross on," added mrs. vernon. they went up on the near side of the stream, but the banks became so rocky and impassable that they found it was useless to try to climb them. the scenery was wild and wonderful, so several good pictures were taken of the tumbling waters and rocks, and then they all retraced their steps. "now, it's wade or go back," declared joan. "stuff your stockings down in your boots and sling them about your necks by the strings," advised julie. this was done, and one after another the scouts waded through the stream, shouting, screaming if one slipped on a stone, laughing when one stepped in a hole and got wet to the waist, but having plenty of fun. "how did bunny stand the voyage?" called julie, the moment the captain stepped up on the bank. "bunny is curled up fast asleep, i guess," said she. "i wish it was noon. did any one hear the twelve o'clock whistle blow?" laughed joan. "why--are you hungry?" questioned anne. "aren't you?" retorted the orderly. "sure! i always am," laughed anne, frankly. "then why not say it is dinner-time, verny?" asked ruth. "you must be hungry, too!" declared judith. "i bet we all are, if verny will take the count," asserted hester. "well, we may as well stop here beside this stream and eat, as to go on and fare worse," admitted the captain. "some one's got to fish," said judith. "why not all fish and the sooner catch what is needed?" advised mrs. vernon. so this suggestion was followed out. four goodly sized fish rewarded the combined efforts of the fishermen that time, and then two scouts were detailed to clean them, while two went to build a fire. others were tolled off to attend to other work, and in half an hour a savory meal was ready. when all signs of cooking and eating were cleaned away, mrs. vernon took the bunny again and said they had best go on. "outdoor cooking and eating always makes me feel fine. i can walk a hundred miles now, and feel it no more than if it were a trifle," said julie, taking a deep breath. "all the same, we haven't gone five miles yet, according to verny's map, and there is still that walk home, so don't brag too much, julie," advised betty, seriously. "we haven't voted yet whether we want to go on to the village or to the ravine," now said ruth. "i'd like to visit the old indian canoe-maker, and have a chat with him," said joan. "his time is money, so he will charge us for chatting," returned julie, grinning. "i think joan's idea of visiting the indian a good one, girls; why not go there instead of to either of the other places?" the captain's suggestion was agreed upon, and the scouts turned in at the willow-arched walk that led to the indian's hut. a wide brook ran under the willows, and here they saw several canoes waiting to be used. the pathway that ran alongside the brook was littered with rubbish of all kinds,--the accumulation of years of slovenly housekeeping and lazy carpenter work out of doors. but it was evident that the indian was neither slovenly nor lazy when it pertained to making canoes. every canoe there was a splendid example of workmanship. when the scouts reached the door, the owner came out to see them. "morn'," said he, bowing seriously to his visitors. "are you mike, the indian?" asked mrs. vernon, after acknowledging the salutation. "me mike--wan'da canoe?" "no, we came to visit you. we are friends of mr. gilroy's," explained the captain. "huh! mees'er gilloy use mike's canoes." "so he told us. he says they are the finest anywhere," said julie, ingratiatingly. "bedder buy one," came from the indian. "verny, we might _rent_ another one--we only have two in the lake, you know, and we all prefer canoes to boats," whispered joan. "we can't afford any added expense," replied mrs. vernon. but mike understood the meaning of that whisper, so he wisely said: "come see fine canoes." he led the way to his shop on the banks of the little stream and displayed the various methods of his trade. the girls found it all very instructive and interesting. then he said: "mike take canoe to lake fer leddy--no charge." "what do you mean by that?" wondered julie. "mike give fine canoe--one week try; leddy not like, mike come take him home. no pay." "but we don't want any more canoes. we have two now," asserted mrs. vernon. mike shrugged his shoulders silently. "how much you rent canoe for?" asked julie, believing the indian could comprehend better if she used bad english. "mike no rent his canoe--sell him cheap." "we can't afford to buy one, but we might rent it if you make a low price," bargained julie. mike shook his head decidedly. "no rent--onny buy." "come, girls! we must start on, now that we've had our visit," said the captain, turning to go. the scouts reluctantly turned also, but mike saw their faces, and also knew that the lady was boss. so he seemed to reconsider. "mike got good fren' by mees'er gilloy. mebbe fren's of him be fren's of mike. how much you give for rent canoe?" every one turned suddenly at that hope held forth. "what do you ask?" countered mrs. vernon. "got money now to pay?" asked mike, cutely. julie exclaimed, "certainly!" but the captain saw through the shrewd bargainer, and said: "we'll have mr. gilroy do this business for us." now mike had no idea of losing these customers, nor of having to deal with a good business man like mr. gilroy, so he said guilelessly: "solly dese gals no paddle home in dis canoe." several of the scouts instantly wished to do so, but the captain said: "corporal, see that your troop does not fall for this enticing snare." the scouts laughed when they comprehended mike's intentions, and mrs. vernon courageously walked away. but mike followed. "canoe rent for four dollah week." "what! that's sixteen a month! i guess not!" cried julie. "fren's of mees'er gilloy get him fer tree dollah week." "no sir-ee!" retorted julie. "mike, i'll pay you two dollah week--or six dollah mont--or feefteen dollah season. what you take?" all the scouts laughed, but mike frowned. "me tak feefteen dollah now to augus' furst," said he. every one hushed to get every word of this bargaining. "we want him in augus', too. him worth feefteen dollah, no more, till september ten," declared julie, slapping her palms together to emphasize her words. mike sighed audibly. "all light. but mike no carry him an' lose day. gals mus' tak now an' pay down." then every one turned to every one else, and word ran round: "who's got any money?" "i've got three dollars--that's all," said mrs. vernon. "mike, we got tree dollahs only. come to camp and get rest," said julie. "you tak him along?" asked mike, anxiously. "are you 'fraid to trust us?" countered julie. "oh, no! mike no wan' trouble carry him so far, da's all." so the three dollars was paid down, balance to be paid when mike called for it; canoe to be taken along with no added work expected of mike. mike launched the canoe in the stream that passed his shop, and several of the girls squatted in the bottom. but it proved overweighted for such a shallow stream, and two had to get out again. julie and joan then paddled it safely to the deeper river, where amy and judith, being lightest of the scouts, got in and sat in the bottom. mrs. vernon and the rest of the troop stood watching eagerly while the two girls paddled silently and swiftly up the river to the place where the tumbling stream joined river bend. here they halted to allow their other friends to catch up with them. julie and joan were complimented upon their prowess, and when ruth and betty exchanged places with amy and judith, the canoe went on its way up the river, while the other scouts continued hiking back towards camp. "it wouldn't take us long to reach home if we were all in canoes," said anne. "it would if _you_ were in one--you are so heavy!" laughed hester. a titter sounded from the girls, but mrs. vernon held up a hand for silence. "was that thunder i heard from over the mountain?" "no, that was only julie's paddle echoing down the stream," giggled judith. but a louder rumble told the captain she was right in her surmise. "dear me! i hope we won't be caught in another thunder-storm," said she, holding the bunny closer to her side. but in answer to her fear, a sudden flash and a nearer peal of thunder warned them all to seek shelter if possible. "if it rains we're bound to be soaked!" sighed anne. "you big silly! did any of us think water was dry?" asked hester, scornfully. "i do wish those girls hadn't left us in the canoe! if it rains they may upset," worried the captain. "they didn't leave _us_ in the canoe, captain. and we are just as likely to meet with mishap as they," laughed judith, to cheer every one up. "well, it's going to break mighty quick! see that inky cloud scudding across there?" exclaimed amy, pointing at the sky. "verny, why not make a quick shelter to crawl under?" suggested anne. "think you can do it?" answered the captain. "hester's got the rubber cover that mike gave us for the canoe when it is not in use, and we might stretch that between four trees," added anne. "that's so. let's try it!" agreed hester, eagerly. quickly, then, the scouts chopped down the scrub bush where four young trees were found for the corners, and then, while anne and hester secured the four corners of the cover, the other girls ditched around the spot so the rain would run off and not soak their camping place. anne and hester completed their work before the others, and then hastily bunched a mass of chopped-down bushes all around the temporary tent to break the driving rain when it came. the spot thus enclosed was not large, but by huddling together they managed to keep dry. "how nice it is to sit in a dry place and watch everything else gradually soak with the rain," ventured amy, comfortably. "no one would have dreamed that a shower would come up to-day, the weather was so perfect when we left camp," said judith. "do any of you girls understand weather-lore?" asked mrs. vernon. no one did, so the captain continued: "if you study wind and cloud, wildwood creatures and other animals, you will find much to interest you in the weather. "when rain is coming you will see the sheep turn their tails to windward, but if the day is to be fine the sheep will graze with faces to the wind. "cows always gather and huddle together at a sheltered end of the pasture lot when a storm is approaching. cattle are restless and uneasy before a storm breaks. and cows will fling up their heels, or sheep will gambol as if to make the most of the sunshine just before a prolonged spell of bad weather. pigs, too, will grunt loudly and cavort about uneasily in their pens, carrying bits of straw from their bedding in their mouths, before a heavy rainstorm. "with wild creatures you will find partridges sitting in the fields when thunder is in the air. but the moment the storm blows over, the birds are alive with energy again. rabbits and other night-feeders can be found out hunting on a sunny day, but that means there will be a wet night. "most of our birds in field and forest know when a storm is brewing, and they can be seen seeking for extra food to carry home, or, perhaps, devouring it quickly, storing it up against the time everything is soaked with the rain. "bees seldom fly far from the hive when rain is threatening; flies are annoying and sting sharply before rain, and many times they cling tenaciously to wall or furniture,--that is to keep flat to a surface, so their bodies will not become damp. "a large ring can be found to encircle the moon the night preceding a rainstorm. should the storm be two or three days off, the ring is wider and you will find fainter shadows inside the main circle,--one for each day. "mountain moss is found to be soft and limp, and smoke generally beats downward when the east wind presages rain. callouses on the feet will ache painfully; spiders will be seen strengthening their webs against moisture-weight; morning-glories will close up tightly; mushrooms are found to be numerous; and there are a dozen other weather-signs that i forget now." the scouts had listened with interest, for this was new to them, although hester added: "i've heard the saying, 'mackerel sky, twelve hours dry.'" "yes, and another one goes, 'rain before seven, fine before eleven,'" said judith. "you will find in summer that heavy dews in the night mean fine weather the following day," added mrs. vernon. "also any thunder-storm that comes with the wind soon passes away, but let it come against the wind, and it is apt to last." "this one came with the wind and is blowing away already. see!" exclaimed amy, eagerly. "yes, girls, now we can do as the arabs--fold our tent and steal away," said mrs. vernon, rising carefully so as not to jar the bunny which had remained very quiet all this time. "i wonder what the girls in the canoe did while the rain was falling," said judith. "leave it to julie to find a way. i'll say she landed them all on the bank and then turned the canoe upside down over their heads," laughed hester. when the canoeists arrived at camp, sometime after the hikers got there, they exchanged experiences. hester's surmise turned out to be exactly right, and the girls in the canoe were as dry as those who sat under the rubber cover. chapter eight jake's interview with a skunk "gilly, do you know of any vegetable dye we can find in the woods to dye some burlap for decorations?" asked julie one day. "yes, you can take the berries and leaves of red or staghorn sumac and boil them together to make a black dye, or ink. if you need ink in a hurry, you can take the _genus coprinus_, commonly known as the ink mushroom, and pluck it at the end of its first day. the spores are black, and the gills turn into a black fluid at the last. this produces a splendid writing ink, or will dye grass, quills, and other wildwood stuffs." "speaking of quills, gilly--why can't we have chickens as the grey fox boys have?" asked joan. "what would you do if they got the gapes, and no one would feed them chopped onions?" laughed mr. gilroy. "i'm not looking for trouble, but for pets to have about camp," retorted joan. "i'd hardly call a chicken a pet!" laughed julie. "even so, julie, it would cluck and _appear_ to be friendly, even it wasn't." "what you scouts need is a good frisky dog for a pet. you can have chickens, if you like, but they are a nuisance. they stray away to lay their eggs, and if they were kept cooped you'd have to spend valuable time making a suitable inclosure. but a dog will go hiking with you, guard you at night from elephants and other prowling animals of the jungle, and be a fine old pal to boot," said mr. gilroy. "oh, why didn't we think to bring jippy," exclaimed amy. jip was a little poodle of about fifteen years and had had the rickets for the past five years, so he had to be carried about. the moment the scouts saw that amy was in earnest they fairly roared, and judith finally said: "oh, amy's catching the _ingénue_ habit from betty! what shall we do with two of them on hand?" "had we but known of this dire need of a dog, we would have brought towser--had he lived. he was only twenty-two this march, and had full use of his bark even though he had no teeth or eyesight. but, alas! alas! towser is no more!" sighed julie, rolling her eyes. as towser had been one of the "old settlers" in elmertown, he was known to every man, woman and child there. many a time, because he was stone-deaf and had not heard the blast from the horn, some one would have to rush out to rescue him from a passing automobile. so julie's lament caused a new burst of merriment. "stop all fooling now, scouts, and listen to me," said mr. gilroy. "i mean a regular dog--an irish terrier, or a bulldog, to chum with and be of some good to you. how'd you like it?" "there ain't no sech critter in camp," retorted julie. "but i know where to get one! his name is jake, and he is very fond of the ladies, i'm told." "his name sounds dreadfully rakish, gilly," teased joan. "if jacob is as faithful as his name would imply, we'd like to meet him," added mrs. vernon, smiling. "you shall. he lives at the farm where my overseer is, and the next time mr. benson is due here, i'll see that jake accompanies him. if both sides are mutually attracted, the dog shall stay to give you scouts something to do," declared mr. gilroy. "what kind of a dog is he, gilly?" asked betty, eagerly. "he is a prize airedale. but he is so clever that he tries to run everything on the farm, consequently mr. benson always has to separate jake from the other dogs in the neighborhood." for the next two days the scouts were kept busy constructing a fine kennel for jake to live in when he joined their camp. everything imaginable was done to add to the comfort and luxury of this "dog's life"; and the third day they started for the bungalow to be introduced to jake, who was expected to arrive that morning. it was a warm, drowsy day, and the wildwood creatures seemed to be keeping quiet. even the bees hummed less noisily over the flowers they were robbing of nectar. the girls strolled slowly along the pathway, stopping now and then to watch a bird or examine a flower. they were just passing the bend where the tumbling brook could be plainly seen from the trail when, suddenly, julie held up a warning hand for quiet. every one stopped short and waited. she pointed silently across the bushes in the direction of a long fallen tree that lay on the bank of the stream. the scouts looked, but saw nothing to cause this interest. then she whispered warily, "i saw a big creature creeping along that log!" "really!" "what did it look like? which way did it go?" were questions hoarsely whispered. "it crawled on that log and suddenly disappeared. maybe it jumped into the water when it saw us. i am thinking it was a beaver," returned julie. "oh, how wonderful! if we could only see it at work," cried some of the scouts. "how big was it, julie?" now asked mrs. vernon. "it went so fast that i couldn't see well, but i should say it was about as big as a very large cat,--maybe larger if we were closer," said julie. "dear me, if we didn't have to go for jake we might sit and wait for it to appear again. if it is a beaver, i'd love to watch it build a dam," sighed ruth. "i hope jake won't want to chase it, on our way back," betty worried, as the thought struck her. "we'll hold jake on a leash. and if he doesn't make a fuss we might creep over and watch for the animal's appearance again," added julie. "then the sooner we go and get jake, the sooner we'll be back here," was the sensible remark of joan. the scouts now hurried along the trail and soon reached the bungalow, where a splendid airedale was sleeping in the sunshine. he was stretched out full length right in the way where one would have to pass to go up the steps to the verandah. "oh, are you jake?" called julie quickly, when she saw the dog. "isn't he a beaut?" cried joan, admiring the shapely form as it jumped up to growl at the visitors. "why, jake, don't begin our relations with a growl! don't you know we have to keep the peace all summer?" laughed julie, snapping her fingers to the dog. mr. gilroy heard voices and came out on the verandah. the moment he greeted the scouts familiarly, jake wagged his stump of a tail and ran up to show his friendship for his master's friends. the girls fussed over the dog immediately, and mr. gilroy smiled. "well, what do you think of him, scouts? is he homely enough to win your pity? you know it is said, 'pity is akin to love.'" "he's a regular peach, gilly!" exclaimed joan. "just what we need at camp," added judith. and in the next ten minutes the dog had won high favor with his future companions. then the scouts told about the animal they believed to be a beaver, so they wanted to hurry back and watch. "but hold to the leash if you go near the log. jake is a born hunter," advised mr. benson. "oh, he is very obedient if you speak sternly to him," added mr. gilroy. "if he tugs or wants to run, just command in severe tones, 'to heel, jake,' and he will obey like a lamb." jake wagged his tail as he watched mr. gilroy, and when the order was given, 'to heel, jake,' he crept behind his master. "oh, the darling! doesn't he mind splendidly!" cried several of the scouts. "i'll come along pretty soon. wait for me near the log where you saw the beaver. i'll finish up with benson and then join you there," said mr. gilroy, as the scouts started down the trail again, leading jake by the leash. every one was delighted with the meek and obedient dog, and the fussing was accepted by him as his due, but he paid no attention to the numerous pats and endearing names given him as they walked along. then they reached the open space where the log bounded the edge of the running water. it was about a hundred yards from the trail and distinctly visible because the brook was lower than the footpath where the scouts stood. "there it is! i saw it!" exclaimed joan, excitedly. at the same moment jake also saw something doubtful moving swiftly out of sight back of the log. the girls ran over to the bushes to see the better, and julie's hold on the leash relaxed unconsciously. in that same second, jake took mean advantage of her inattention to him and darted away. "oh, oh! come back here, jake!" yelled julie instantly. but the dog stood upon a rock, his ears erect, his nose sniffing as he pointed it in the direction of the log. his tail trembled spasmodically and the hair along his spine stood up stiffly. "i say, to heel, jake. come back, to heel!" shouted every scout in the group. but jake was deaf to their calls. then the captain called to him, but he bounded from the rock and managed to force his way through the bushes, the leash catching here and there on stumps, on sharp rocks, or on bushes. "what shall we do? now he'll kill the little beaver!" wailed betty, wringing her hands. "some one run back and get gilly! _he'll_ make him mind," ordered julie. "who's orderly for the day? i want to wait and watch what he does," said joan. "oh, pshaw! i'm orderly, and i s'pose i've got to go," declared judith, impatiently. "i'll go for you, judy, 'cause i can't bear to wait here and see jake kill anything," said betty, deeply distressed. "all right, judy,--let betty go instead, if she likes," agreed the corporal. so betty ran swiftly away while the other scouts resumed their coaxings to draw jake away from the log. julie now started to break away through the bush to get the dog, and several of the girls followed closely at her heels. when they reached the place where they had seen something move, they also saw tracks in the soft soil. "it really is a wild animal," said julie, excited at sight of the footprints. "but what? do you know?" asked judith. "no, but it must be a beaver--or a fox. i don't know which," confessed julie. but they couldn't get at jake. he was racing excitedly up and down on the log, his nose close to the strangely odorous scent, and all the commands and persuasions from the scouts failed to make the least impression on him. his nervous short yelps showed how keen he was to have a face-to-face bout with the animal. julie tried to step on the leash, but he dragged her foot so that she suddenly sat down violently on the ground. then he nosed under the grass that hung over the brook, and finally swam over to the other side. there he stood and watched nervously, but the girls could not get him back again. "talk about his minding! why, he's the cussedest dog i ever saw!" complained julie, as she got up and shook her clothes free of the briars. "there's no use standing in this baking sun to look at jake standing on the other bank!" exclaimed joan, angrily eying the disobedient dog. "we'll go back to the shady trail and watch for gilly," said julie, starting back to join the captain. but they kept calling to jake as they retraced their steps. when they got back to the slight elevation where mrs. vernon and amy had waited, anxiously watching results, they saw jake make a leap and swim quickly back across the brook to the log. "he must have seen or heard something that time," whispered hester. "yes, 'cause he's stretched out on that log nervously wagging his tail with his eyes glued on something," admitted amy. then they caught their breath. the scouts saw a movement in the green leaves at the end of the log and then--jake was creeping stealthily across that log, as if he also saw what he wanted to pounce upon. "oh, oh! jake's got it! he's jumped upon it!" screamed julie, frantically. "why, it's a great big tomcat! they're fighting!" cried hester, too excited to stand still, but jumping up and down. "a cat! gilly hasn't a cat that color!" declared joan. "girls!" fairly hissed julie. "i bet it's a wildcat--and it will kill jake as sure as anything!" "no, no! oh, girls, i just saw it, too! it's a skunk! run, run--for your lives!" cried mrs. vernon, turning to run up the trail towards the bungalow. but several of the scouts would not desert the dog. he had carried the skunk off its feet with his unexpected leap upon it, and the two rolled and fought madly for supremacy. the leash, instead of tripping jake, got tangled in the skunk's legs, and both animals rolled back and forth. the enraged beast fired the deadly fluid to blind her antagonist, but it drenched the fallen tree only. then jake caught a grip on her throat and shook her head; still she was game and kept on struggling. again they rolled over together, the skunk trying to get to the brink of the water, where she would manage to roll them both in. but jake understood that motive, too, and braced his feet against the stones in their way. a second volley of the ill-smelling spray from the skunk struck at random, and then jake gave her neck another sudden shake. this time it was effective, and the head suddenly hung limp. jake had broken her neck, and was the victor! he now took great pains to drag the trophy through the brush to present to his friends in the roadway. the leash caught several times and almost snapped his own neck, and the skunk was heavy, but he managed to drag it along. when julie saw his intent she screamed and warned the girls to flee! and in running up the trail they met mr. gilroy, who had been summoned by half-crazed betty's crying, "jake and the beaver are killing each other!" mr. gilroy did not stop to hear what julie tried to gasp, but he ran down and saw jake bringing the skunk out into the pathway. "to heel! to heel, jake!" shouted mr. gilroy, holding his nose when the dog tried to jump upon him in the ecstasy of having achieved such a great deed. "what shall we do with him? he can't sleep at dandelion camp to-night," wailed the girls, as they, too, held their noses. "i'll have to take him back to the barn and have hiram turn the hose on him for twenty-four hours." "isn't there a reward for skunks in the country?" now asked the captain. "not only a reward, but the pelts are valuable since they became so fashionable," remarked mr. gilroy, complacently. "well, jake's earned his keep to-day, then," declared judith. "but it will cost more than the skunk brings to pay for the nine hundred and ninety-nine bottles of _fleur-de-lis_ toilet water gilly will have to use to change jake's scent!" laughed julie. chapter nine lessons in tracking "well, scouts! that shows us how little we know about wild animal's tracks," remarked mrs. vernon, after jake had been made to go back to the bungalow, and the troop went on to camp. "i could have sworn that skunk's footprints were a coon's or a fox's,--or something big!" exclaimed julie, trying to justify her mistake. "to me, the tracks in the soil looked like a lynx's, or something," added joan, hoping to cover the ignominy of having unearthed a skunk without knowing the animal. "isn't there some sort of book that will teach us how to recognize tracks, girls?" asked hester. "is there, verny? maybe we can get one at the bungalow," added julie. "i don't know of any at this moment, but mr. gilroy surely will know," replied the captain. so they all went to the bungalow the next morning to inquire after jake's scent, and also to borrow any books on the subject they had discussed. "yes, i have several books, and let me tell you they are precious, too. there are but few on this subject, and the one i consider the best was compiled by ernest seton-thompson under great difficulties. he had to gather all information from plaster casts made in the tracks themselves, or from sketches, or from camera pictures taken on the spot. "as every different animal leaves a different track, there are many illustrations necessary in such a work, and that makes the book most desirable and also very expensive. but it is great fun to study the pictures and then try to recognize the tracks in the woods." "we haven't found any about camp," said judith, regretfully. "there must be all sorts of tracks there, but you don't know how to find them. now, if you want to study this book and then practice early some morning, i'll come down and help find the tracks," mr. gilroy said. "oh, great! will you come to-morrow morning?" asked the girls. "hadn't we better study the book first, scouts, and let gilly know when we are ready to go tracking?" suggested the captain. so for a time every one was busy reading the book and trying to discover a track in the woods near camp. but julie laughed as she said, "it isn't likely that a wild animal will prowl close to our camp at night. we'll have to hunt one some distance away." mr. gilroy overheard the remark as he came down the trail. "sometimes the animals will come quite close to camp just to find out what it is that is intruding on their forest domain." "well, then, i wish they'd hurry and come here!" declared judith. "when you are ready to hunt tracks, i'll arrange some baits around your camp grounds; and the next morning i'll vow you'll see that you've had callers while you slept. so quiet are they that you won't hear them, either," said mr. gilroy. "we are ready to hunt now, gilly. we know everything in the book and are crazy to test it," said joan, eagerly. "then i'll tell you what we might do. i was going over to grey fox camp, but if you girls will deliver a message for me, i will go home and attend to the bait i spoke of. hiram and i will do the rest." "all right--what do you want us to say to the boys?" agreed the scouts. "now, listen! tell them that i want them to start out at dawn in the morning and hunt up all the tracks they can trace about their camp. then to-morrow afternoon they are to come over here with their reports and have a match with you girls. the side showing the best results and most interesting experience shall have a prize. how does it strike you?" mr. gilroy glanced at the pleased faces as he concluded. "fine! do they know much about tracks?" returned julie. "oh, yes, but then you must understand that they have been scouting for more than four years. tell them that this is your first summer in a genuine forest camp, and they need not expect you to accomplish wonders. then you girls must turn in and do your best!" laughed mr. gilroy. the scouts were most enthusiastic, and gaily agreed to follow mr. gilroy's suggestions. when they were ready to hike over the crest, the captain said, "we may as well invite the boys to supper to-morrow and make a party of it." "that will be splendid. and i'll contribute my quota to the dinner instead of eating it at home," added mr. gilroy. "we may have quail or partridge for dinner if we track the birds carefully," suggested joan, giggling. "venison steaks are better," hinted mrs. vernon. "what's the matter with bear steaks, while we're about it? they're said to be gamier in flavor," laughed julie. "we'll have all three, and serve a ten-course dinner to the boys," added ruth. with light banter the scouts left mr. gilroy where the trails diverged,--they to cross the crest and invite the boys over for supper the next day, and mr. gilroy to go home to find the "bait." dandelion camp was abandoned for a long time that day, and it was too late in the afternoon when the scouts returned, to ask what had been done in the woods during their absence; but a great deal had taken place there, as hiram and his master could have told had they been so inclined. even jake could have testified to mysterious actions, and many queer maneuvers of familiar animals from the barnyard, but the girls never asked _him_. their faith in mr. gilroy was sublime! while the dandelioners sat eating their camp supper, they discussed the boys they had visited that day. "i declare! i wonder if we ever _will_ know as much about the woods as those grey fox boys do," sighed hester, taking a bite of baked potato. "sure! we know almost as much as they do already," bragged joan. "they gave us a lovely luncheon--and all with nothing to do it with," added judith. "and it's up to us, girls, to give them a dinner that will make their eyes pop out to-morrow!" declared ruth. "let's plan it now, and do as much towards it as possible, then we can give that much extra time to tracking," suggested julie. "and, scouts! i want you to display every bit of fine work you have done since we've been in camp, and all the work we did at camp last summer, as well, and brought with us this year," advised the captain. "yes, we don't want those boys to think we don't know a thing! the stuff we've made is so different from what they have, too," admitted the leader. so the evening was employed in arranging many exhibits to impress the visitors the following afternoon. then the scouts rolled into bed. "verny, you'd better set the alarm clock for four in the morning," called julie, the last thing. "yes, we want to be up and ready to start when gilly comes for us," added joan, the corporal. "all right. go to sleep now, or you'll all over-sleep," laughed the captain from her tent. but there was no need of an alarm clock. the girls were up half an hour before it rang, and were impatiently waiting for the arrival of their instructor in tracking. some of the scouts had gone into the bushes to begin a search, but had found nothing. it took but a few moments after mr. gilroy arrived to outline his plans for the work and fun. "we will scatter in couples to hunt for any sort of track whatever. the first couple that discovers any genuine track must call out, then we all will run and study it for what it is, or where it leads to. now, pair off, scouts, but the captain and i will follow at a distance and hurry to the first pair who find a track." "there are nine of us--how about the odd one?" asked julie. "let the three youngest go together," returned the captain. so amy, betty and judith hunted in trio. it was a "still hunt" for a time, since every one was too intent on finding a track to speak. most of the scouts took to the dense bushes and woods, but the leader sought in a clearing and was the first to summon the others. "oh, come, every one! we've found a great big track!" called julie, as she and her companion knelt to inspect the prints. every one raced wildly to the clearing, and, sure enough, there were hoof prints distinctly marked in the soil. the trail led across the clearing into the dense forest. "aren't they big?" excitedly asked joan. "they're made by a deer!" said julie, boastfully. "are they, gilly?" asked the girls as the judge came up. he pretended to study them carefully, and then said: "i shall have to wait and compare them with those in the book." "maybe it is a reindeer?" suggested betty, eagerly. "mercy no! we don't have reindeers south of the pole!" declared her sister. "look here, girls! this creature only had two legs--it left only two hoofmarks, one for each side," cried judith now. "then i know what it was! it was that familiar animal that carries a pitchfork, smells of sulphur and is known to have hoofs," retorted julie, making them all laugh merrily. "i'm sure i have no desire to trail _him_!" said the captain, holding up both hands as if to ward off such a danger. "let him go to his lair in peace!" "all joking aside, girls, this is a queer track--only two feet instead of four. let's follow and see where it goes," suggested mr. gilroy. so they trailed the plainly visible tracks, and after a distance, julie said: "whatever it is, it couldn't have traveled so far as this if it was a cripple. it just _couldn't_ walk on two hind legs all this way." mr. gilroy had to laugh loudly at this, but he said, "no, but don't give up hope! you may stumble right over the prostrate buck." but the trail now crossed itself several times, and the scouts wondered which way the two-legged creature finally went, for all tracks were obliterated after that criss-cross place in a tiny clearing. the corporal was determined to pick it up again somewhere, so she finally came out to the trail that ran from the camp to the bungalow. here she wandered up and down for a short distance, and then spied the tracks again. "oh, i've got him again. he goes right up this trail," so she followed. the others followed at a distance, and then she shouted, "he prowled around gilly's house, too, last night, for i see the hoofmarks here." julie would have gone after the tracks to the right "lair," but hiram came forward from the barnyard to meet her. he had heard her call to the others, and offered a solution to the problem. "i seen them tracks this mornin', too, miss julie, and i'm sure that animal come to the barnyard las' night to feed offen the hay and corn he could find around there." "oh, really! would one do that?" asked julie, amazed. "sure he would, if he was a deer. an' them tracks ain't no grizzly, er fox, er other critter, you know." "no; of course, it is a deer, as one can see by the tracks. but i'm sorry we have to end in such an ordinary place as the barnyard," sighed julie. "i see'd some queer tracks down by that log where jake caught the skunk," now hinted hiram. that was enough! in another moment every scout was bounding down the trail in order to reach the spot first and win honor by knowing the track correctly. hester found these tracks first, and shouted to her friends, "this has small cloven feet, but there are only two legs, also! now and then you can see where one track looks as if a hind foot had broken in on another one!" "oh, girls! that explains that other two-footed animal!" now exclaimed julie, quickly. "what, what?" demanded every one eagerly. "most likely the deer stepped daintily with its hind feet directly in the same track made by its forefeet. it said something about that in the book, you know." "do you think that is it, gilly?" now asked several anxious voices. "exactly! i was hoping you'd find that out," agreed he. "well, does this creature show any unusual tendencies, girls, by which you can recognize it?" laughed mrs. vernon. "not a thing! it starts from the trail and goes right through the brush where we broke a way that day the skunk was killed, and it stopped to question nothing. it must have been in a hurry to get a drink," explained joan. the trail plainly led to the brook, and ended there. no sign of anything going back again could be found, although the girls looked carefully over the entire place. then julie thought she saw something in the soft soil upon the opposite bank. to make sure, she waded through the shallow but swiftly running water, and there, on the steep bank, she saw the tracks again. "ha! i found 'em! plain as day. come and follow!" called she. and off she started. not more than a dozen yards along the top of the bank she found the tracks go down again; and through the brook she went, up the other side, and back to the brush-clearing on a new trail, following the cloven-footed tracks. out on the hard trail they were lost. "now, that makes two i've trailed and lost. it's a shame!" cried julie, stamping her foot. "'better to have trailed and lost than never to have found at all,'" misquoted mrs. vernon, laughingly. "if the first one was a deer, this second one must have been a little fawn," said judith. "is there any other animal that wears hoofs?" asked ruth, of no one in particular. now, mr. gilroy must have dreaded the reply, for he quickly changed the subject. "how many of you brought the plaster and bottle of water?" every one had. "well, why not make a little cast of both the tracks you do not recognize and then compare them with those in the book when we go back to camp?" this sounded fine, so the scouts were soon busy making casts of the tracks. when hard, they were handed to the captain and mr. gilroy to carry carefully until they all reached camp. quite near the camp ground hester made a discovery. "oh, come and see! here is something with toes. as big as a wildcat, or maybe a little bear!" yes, there were toes in this animal's tracks--as plain as could be. so the scouts guessed every animal known, excepting the coyote and water-loving creatures. after many futile suggestions, they made a plaster cast of these tracks also. "i'm going to carry this load back to camp, girls, and be ready for the next one you give me," announced mr. gilroy, starting to go down the trail. the next two tracks, one that of a large-toed animal and the other of one whose tracks showed how the hair grew down low on the hind legs,--for the hair showed in several of the imprints made of plaster,--strangely ended near the bungalow, and on the other side of the hard trail again, they ran as far as the barnyard. "i never saw the beat of it! any one would think gilly hung the bait on the barn door to entice the animals here," said julie, who was angry at winding up at such a place three times running. mr. gilroy had to laugh in spite of himself. "say, where did you put that bait, anyway, gilly?" demanded the scout leader, watching the man skeptically. "where we knew it would attract the best results." "gilly, i verily believe you are hoaxing us!" cried julie. mrs. vernon smiled at her bright scout, but mr. gilroy shook his head protestingly. "why should i hoax any one? i was laughing at the way you brave scouts dodged when joan said the animal they lost might be crouching on a bough of the trees." "no, that wasn't what made you laugh." then julie went over and held a secret conference with her corporal and ruth, and they, grinning, urged her to do as she suggested. so julie took a sample of the different casts made in the tracks, and left the others engaged in finding new and intricate tracks. mr. gilroy and the captain were not taken into the three scouts' confidence, but they must have suspected where julie proposed going, for soon after she had gone mrs. vernon said: "girls, if we expect to entertain the grey fox boys at dinner this afternoon, we'd better go back now and begin work." "without a clue to any wild animal we tracked?" sighed judith. "oh, yes, judy--we've got some fine clues, and by the time we're at camp and have our books out, julie will be back with proofs! come on," was joan's assurance to the girls. on the way, the scouts discussed the last track they had discovered. "i was sure it was a crow's," asserted amy. "no, it was more like a chicken-hawk's," hester added. "there wouldn't be any chicken-hawk around here in these woods," said joan. "maybe it was the american eagle," laughed mr. gilroy. "yes, it got tired of sitting on the flagpole where the colors have hung for four days without being taken in at night, as they should be," remarked the captain. "dear me, verny, there is so much to remember in camp. we always remember the flag after we are in bed at night," complained ruth. "the orderly will have to appoint a flagman for each day after this," said mrs. vernon. they finally reached camp, and had a light luncheon ready before julie returned. she came down the trail sprightly, with one hand holding something behind her, and singing as she came. "where have you been, julie?" asked several of the scouts. "did you find out what you went for?" asked others. "yep! i learned that we have among us the queerest sort of creature, girls. it really walks on two legs, holds its head upright, and belongs to the fox class. i tracked it right to our midst," laughed julie. the scouts seemed perplexed, and julie, too full of her discoveries to tease very long, said, "his name is 'foxy grandpa,' and you all know him well!" every eye glanced at mr. gilroy, and he laughingly replied, "why do you all seem to think i am that animal?" "because you are, gilly!" retorted julie. "and i'll prove it now, to every one's satisfaction." "first, then: did hiram miss any calves or pigs or other domestic animals from his barnyard yesterday?" mr. gilroy threw up both hands in submission when he saw the knowing look in the leader's eyes. "because here are the molds we made of the tracks found in the forest, girls. and here are molds i made of the heifer, a pig, the great dane, and a chicken, at the bungalow. can you find any difference?" both the captain and mr. gilroy laughed, but the scouts gasped in unbelief, "would gilly do such a thing?" not one bit of difference was found when comparing the molds of each animal, and then mr. gilroy had to tell how he did it. of course, the scouts laughed mirthlessly, for they were thinking of how those grey fox boys would jeer at their woodcraft. but julie now brought out in front, the hand which had held something behind her. "here is the hawk--or american eaglet. i brought it with me for dinner to-night. to gilly it will be crow-pie, but to us it will be spring chicken." and the leader tossed a dead chicken upon the grass. then she added: "that's what happens to all 'critters' that trespass on our land. hiram tells me that when a farmer catches an animal on his land, he generally holds it for ransom, or for food for himself, so we have not fared so badly, scouts, in this day's work! "behold the other trophies coming! i took them because they broke the law and trespassed on our estates last night." julie waved a hand dramatically towards the trail, and every one turned to look. hiram was slowly advancing toward camp, leading with one hand a fractious pig, and with the other hand dragging an unwilling half-grown heifer on a chain. jake was jumping about and barking excitedly as they came over and stood like prisoners at the bar. "mr. foxy grandpa," began julie, as severely as she could, "because of your crime of misleading trusting scouts into a snare, i pronounce this judgment upon you, and therefore levy upon your property to satisfy the judgment. "this wild deer and its little fawn shall henceforth be the property of the injured ones--insulted past all forgiveness by your fraud. and the innocent victims used to perpetrate your schemes, being as free from guile as the scouts themselves, shall dwell henceforth together in peace and tranquillity!" every one laughed heartily at the dénouement for it was so like julie; but mrs. vernon added, "julie you speak exactly like the millennial times, when the lion and the lamb shall dwell in love and peace together." "the lion will dwell with the lamb, all right, but the lamb will be the _piece_ inside the lion," added mr. gilroy; "just as this pig will live in camp! such a life as it will lead you!" "no good talking 'sour grapes', now, gilly," advised julie, wisely. "the calf and the pig remain, no matter what sort of life they lead us." "what can you expect to do with two such pets?" asked mr. gilroy, who was honestly amazed at the scouts' unexpected appropriation. "first, build a pen for them, and second, have veal and pork before we leave for home!" retorted julie. she then ordered all the scouts to fall to work and construct a temporary shelter for the two creatures. mr. gilroy seemed too surprised to comment, and when hiram finally delivered the calf and pig into julie's custody, mr. gilroy turned to her and said, "do you _really_ mean to keep the beasts, here in camp?" "why, of course! why should we go to all this fuss for nothing?" "well, i can't see, yet, why you should?" when the calf and pig were temporarily tied to a tree, where they seemed as much at home as back in the barnyard, julie said, "by the way, gilly, what did you call the pets when they were yours?" "they have never been christened, because i waited for an opportune time. it is here now!" returned mr. gilroy, picking up one of the bottles of water that had done duty to make plaster casts that morning. he held it over the calf's head and poured half of its contents out while he said solemnly: "dear little deer, henceforth you shall be known as julia, in honor of the intrepid scout that captured you, single-handed. "likewise, this sweet little fawn, known by its tracks through the wilderness, shall be named ant-and-ett because of its peculiar habits,--busy as an ant and eats all that comes its way!" then the rest of the water was emptied over the pig's head. "_antoinette_ it shall be, now and forever," declared julie, while the other scouts laughed uproariously. but the two names stuck, and thereafter the calf was "julia" and the pig was generally called by the name of "anty." after the christening mr. gilroy beckoned for the captain to join him where the girls could not over-hear his conversation. "you don't suppose the girls are in earnest about keeping the pig and calf at camp, do you?" asked he, anxiously. "yes, certainly," laughed mrs. vernon. "you don't know girls of this age, or you'd understand that they enjoy all these silly pranks thoroughly, and really, they act as safety-valves." chapter ten the girl scouts entertain "now, gilly, you've got to help us build the sheds for julia and anty, or go home until its time for the party," exclaimed the leader, calling to the still-wondering man. "if we're to have any dinner ready for the grey foxes; i think hiram and gilly ought to do the building of the sheds, and let us get busy with the cooking," added the corporal. "yes, that's a better plan," admitted julie. "come on, now, gilly, don't shirk your duty!" so mr. gilroy and his man were set to do construction work, while the scouts ran to and fro, fetching and carrying, arranging exhibits, baking, cooking, and what-not, that dandelion troop need not take a "back seat" in comparison with the grey foxes. "verny," whispered julie, soon after the two men were sawing and nailing at the sheds, "it's as plain as the nose on my face, that gilly thinks those boys are far cleverer than we girls." "what makes you think so, julie?" asked joan, who was passing at the time. "never mind, now, jo, but we've just got to show him, as well as his boys, that girl scouts know a heap more than they talk about. that's why i'm anxious to make a 'ten-strike' with dinner!" "it is too bad we were tricked with false tracks," said mrs. vernon. "i don't believe those boys would have known any better, under the circumstances, but of course, they won't admit it." "forget it!" said julie, shortly. "and listen to me. take all the contents of our boxes out upon the cots, and call upon all the girls you need to help in the work. turn the packing cases upside down and cover them with some of our embroidered covers; then arrange to the best advantage, everything we can show for our past year in scoutdom. "try to group our exhibits according to their relationship with each other, but leave all the indian pots and dishes scattered about carelessly as if we were accustomed to using them daily. the birchbark baskets and articles can be hung about on tents or trees where they will show off best,--but don't let it look as if the stunt was done on purpose for this occasion--see?" joan smiled. "yes, i see! leave it to the girl scouts!" so, although there was plenty of activity before, now there was no end of rushing and laughing and planning between the scouts. the pots and dishes julie spoke of were left to mrs. vernon to place, and she accomplished the task of studying carefully the apparent carelessness of leaving the vessels about. these indian pots and dishes were the most interesting things the scouts had made. it was simple work, and took but little time and no cost to produce the results. and most effective they were. they took a lump of clay and worked out all the hard bits, and sticks or stones, then shaped it for the bottom of a bowl or pot. in its first step it looked like a flat saucer, then it was left an hour or two, according to the thickness of the clay, to dry well. after that the sides were built up on this saucerlike bottom. it was shaped the desired form, and patted into the thickness required, then smoothed out nicely, both inside and out, and again dried as before. now it was baked in a hot fire for several hours, so that when it was cool it was a fireproof bowl. the only trouble the girls had had with this interesting art was the carelessness of a few of them in cooling the dishes too quickly. they found the clay invariably cracked when the pots were too quickly cooled after taking them from the fire. but by slow degrees of cooling, which took about three hours, they came out perfect. the scouts had decorated their pots as they felt inclined, so that they presented a varied and pleasing array as they stood about camp, in places where the eye would see them to their best advantage. some were painted with wood-dyes, and others were etched in relief patterns. when the captain had finished her task, she silently drew the attention of the scouts to the groups, and they all stood and smiled proudly at their handiwork. "we didn't see anything like that at grey fox camp," bragged judith to joan. "no sir! nor did they have a cookstove like ours! alec may have made a roasting-fan such as we never heard of before, but we can show him a thing or two when he comes over!" exclaimed joan. at this moment julie was heard calling the orderly. "how about that chicken? some one's got to draw it so it can be cooked. it ought to go on the fire in another half hour." at this mr. gilroy called out, "you're not going to eat my chicken, are you?" "sure! that's why i had hiram wring its neck. i knew the poor thing wouldn't object to being cooked if once its breath was gone," laughed julie. "dear me! it's my turn to draw the fowl and i hate it!" complained ruth. "s-sh!" warned julie, waving a frying-pan at ruth, "it is for the cause of woman this time, so don't cry, ruthy!" "i'll help do it, ruth," betty now offered kindly. "i know how you dislike the work, but 'liza showed me how to do it so that it really isn't half bad." betty poured scalding water over the chicken, and the feathers came off easily. then she slit the throat and breast and removed the entrails without causing any repulsion in ruth. when it was ready, ruth admitted that she knew she could do the work the next time without a qualm. the cookstove the scouts were so proud of was a remarkable affair--even mr. gilroy admitted that. mrs. vernon had discovered a heap of fine flat stones, such as a surveyor uses for his "corners," and these were used. the largest stones were placed against a tree that would act as draught to the fire, and the mound was built up until it was a convenient height to use without bending uncomfortably low, as is necessary with campfires. through the center of this mound was a well, and on four sides of the rounded mound were windowlike openings backed with tin; in these niches various pots or pans could be kept hot while other viands were cooking on top of the stove. the top was made of a sheet of thin stove-iron which the captain had brought from home, and near the bottom of the mound was a tipping-stone upon which the fire was laid. when the fire was out, its ashes could be removed by tipping the flat stone over and letting the cinders fall to the bottom, where they could be raked away quite easily. this opening provided draught for the fire, and at the back, from the fire-stone, an opening had been left, and here to several feet above the top of the stove, a length of stove-pipe carried all smoke out and above the heads of the scouts. the girls had also built a fireless cooker in the ground just beside their stove, where fish, or any article needing steady heat, could be placed. this cooking-pit was constructed after the plan adopted by most scouts, and described fully in the manual. while ruth and betty were busy preparing the chicken, mrs. vernon built a good fire in the stove, and had several of the girls heat the stones in the fireless cooker, to be ready for use. mr. gilroy had donated several fine lake trout that day, so these were cleaned and washed and placed in the cooker-pit, where they would need no watching but be done to a turn when wanted. the chicken was cut up for a fricasee, and diced onions and potatoes were prepared to add to the boiling liquid about an hour before serving. this would provide not only soup for the first course, but chicken with dumplings for a third course. they proposed having the fish with butter sauce for the second course. just as julie added the diced potatoes, hester exclaimed, "oh, jule! what did you do that for? those duck-potatoes were meant to make the boys' eyes bulge!" "what duck-potatoes? i never touched them!" declared julie, defensively. "didn't you cut them up and use them just now?" "i should say not! after all the work we had in finding and digging them! why, they ought to be preserved--not eaten," laughed the leader. "thank goodness!" sighed hester, in such evident relief that every one laughed sympathetically. "who's doing the indian cucumbers?" called the corporal. "i am!" answered judith. "they're all peeled and sliced ready to serve. and amy gathered the dandelion greens to go with them." "fine! verny is making a mayonnaise to use with the salad. my! won't those boys have the wind taken out of their sails when they see the duck potatoes and indian cucumbers!" giggled joan. mr. gilroy had not missed much of all this whispering and joyous confusion, and he chuckled to himself as he and hiram finished nailing the last boards on the sheds and turned julia into her new home. the small pigsty was soon completed, and then a fence was built about it, but it was not calculated to keep a full-grown pig in bounds; it was strong enough for antoinette, however, at that time. before the pig-pen was quite finished, the scouts heard the whistles and calls from the grey fox boys, as they hiked over the crest trail. so they fluttered about anxiously to see that not an item on the programme was forgotten. hiram was on his way to the bungalow, and mr. gilroy had hurried down to the lake to wash up and make his dinner toilet, when the boys came gaily into camp. after greeting their hostesses, the grey fox scouts looked around. "well, guess you girls are planning to spread yourselves for dinner, eh?" asked alec, jocularly. "oh, nothing more than usual; we live high every day," returned julie, tossing her head. nothing more was said about dinner just then, but a loud call from "julia" drew all attention to her shed. the boys stared in surprise at the two buildings they had never noticed before. "isn't that a pig--in that pen?" asked ned, amazedly. "no, it's antoinette--our latest girl scout!" giggled amy. the boys laughed, for the name struck them as awfully funny for a pig. then they walked from anty's pen to the shed, which had a door swung on leather hinges, but it was closed. "and what sort of scout do you lock up in here?" asked bob, condescendingly. "bob veal!" retorted julie, causing every one to roar at the questioner. bob flushed, but walked over to the stove where the captain stood stirring the dumplings in the chicken soup. "that's a fine stove, captain," ventured he. "yes, it is something like the one we built last year in camp. that was so convenient we decided to have another this summer. wouldn't you boys like to examine it closely?" thereupon the grey foxes did examine it closely, much to their advantage on useful ideas of kitchen equipment. then they saw the fireless cooker that was in use for the time being; so they passed on to inspect the various birchbark hanging-baskets filled with flowers; the rustic fern-boxes, and all the useful articles the scouts had manufactured of birchbark and acorns. "it takes a girl to do fancywork, all right. now, we boys are not gifted that way, you see, but we can make other things, instead," remarked alec, bestowing a male's compliments on feminine accomplishments. "just what can you make, or have done, that we girls are not able to do?" demanded julie. "oh, i wasn't personal in any way,--i just meant that it is quite natural for women to do the light things while men have to look after the business of life!" "well, the quicker you open your eyes to facts, and see that we women of the present age are fast outstripping the men in _every_ calling, the better it will be for your own good!" said julie. "just glance around, boys, and tell us if you can make a better showing for _your_ four years," added joan, waving her hand at the various exhibits. it happened that the girls had each been given a cue by julie, so that when the grey fox boys came into camp, judith was found sweeping carefully with a camp-made broom, amy and betty were placing a tabletop upon its legs and then starting to set the table, and the other scouts were busy with other unusual things. now dick walked over to judith. "how did you know you could make a broom like this?" said he. "why, this is an old one made the first day we came to camp. you ought to see our new ones. they are fine!" dick examined the broom, and called alec over. "they can make brooms, all right, alec!" said he, showing the article in question. it was made of long hickory shavings, well bound about a good handle, and promised to outlast any dozen store brooms. "but why sweep this grass,--that's foolish," said alec. "no, because this is where we will sit about the table. we always sweep away the crumbs or trash that fall during mealtime, so the ants and other insects won't annoy us. this morning, however, we were in such a hurry to get out with gilly, that we forgot the usual routine work in camp," explained judith. the two boys exchanged glances, but judith saw them. alec then said, smilingly, "oh, yes! how did that track-hunt come off? i suppose you scouts knew every animal, eh?" judith now realized that mr. gilroy had had the whole joke planned out with the grey fox boys, and that the boys were only waiting to have a good old laugh on the girls. so she deliberately told a lie,--fervently praying that it be forgiven for the "cause of women." she glanced roguishly up at alec, and winked one eye. "wasn't it too funny for anything,--the way we led gilly about by the nose?" the boys stared in surprise for a moment, then dick said, "what do you mean? didn't you scouts go out at dawn with gilly to study tracks?" "sure! but didn't you boys know about the joke we made up on him about those tracks? that's why he is so late to dinner." "tell us about it?" eagerly begged both boys. "oh! i can't. i thought you knew something about it or you wouldn't have grinned the way you did. i'm so sorry i let the cat out of the bag, for likely, our leader wants to tell you the story while we all are at dinner," cried judith, the picture of regret. "oh, come on and tell! now that you've said so much!" coaxed dick. "well, you boys walk around and look over our work and i'll run and ask julie if i may tell you the story," whispered judith, giggling, and running over to the leader's side. when julie heard the truth from judith, she was furious, but she soon saw that she must thrust anger behind her, and plan some clever way to reverse the joke and make it fall upon the originator. in fact, at that moment, the scouts wished all kinds of dreadful things upon their benefactor, mr. gilroy. he, however, unaware of their ire, was walking up the trail from the lake to the camp-site. and the boys, who were told to amuse themselves for a time, were certainly finding more good ideas put into useful form at that camp than they ever dreamed of. the large square table was constructed of the boards removed from a piano-case which gilly had at the barn. these were all nailed to a frame and furnished a strong, heavy top that could be placed, at will, on the four sturdy posts that were driven into the ground. these table-legs were only fifteen inches above the ground, so one could sit on the grass and conveniently use the top. the four boys met at a large rustic shelf-cupboard, constructed of short-length boards taken from a cereal box, and placed so as to make four shelves. two sides were made of boards that came from one of the packing-cases from the city. this cupboard stood against a great pine tree that furnished the backing, and on the shelves were the array of lanterns and candlesticks made and used in camp. "gee! they've got the bottle-neck holder, the tin-can lantern, and all the rest. it seems they know the scout stunts, all right," whispered ned. "yes, and look at these candles! do you suppose they made them in camp? they look like hand-dipped products," added alec, examining the tallow candles. "we won't let on that we're curious, but we'll find out from gilly just how they made these candles," suggested bob. from the shelves that held candles and some clay ornaments the boys wandered over to the sun-dial. "it's better than the one we made," admitted ned. "humph! so it is," said alec, reluctantly, but willing to be just. "whoever did that burnt-wood etching around the edge sure made a fine job of it. and the numerals are very good," added bob. "gilly said ruth is the artist of the troop," said dick. but the grey foxes never found out that the indian clock had been made during the previous winter when there was ample time to spend over such a work. the large wooden slab was sent to camp with many other highly decorative things made the same winter. mr. gilroy now joined the boys and offered to act as official guide in viewing everything. so interested were the boys in all they saw that they temporarily forgot about the joke of the tracking. "come and see the indian willow beds the scouts made the first day in camp," said mr. gilroy, boastfully, now that he wanted to impress the boys. so the beds, the weaving looms, the birdhouses here and there, and other things were duly seen and admired. but the exhibit that interested the boys as much as anything that day was the neat and beautiful work done with wild flowers and a deal of patience. there were blue-prints of delicate flowers, as well as shadow-work and pressed and mounted flower-groups. alec recognized the three-leaved arrow-head, and showed it to the other boys who had never seen it before. this particular specimen was white and waxen in contrast to the indigo-hued paper. the spiderwort was a rich blue with its two large petals rounded, while the third one was tiny and colorless. there was also a purple variety known as "job's tears." the wild leek and garlic flowers made dainty blue-prints, scarcely recognizable as coming from such humble family trees as the despised onion. wild spikenard, with its crown of tiny white flowers, also reproduced beautifully in the blue-print. the seal of solomon and purple twisted stalk made scraggy pictures easy to identify. betty had pressed a white trillium that made an imposing picture, retaining all its beauty and lines. the boys had the painted trillium in their collection but had never seen the white one. in the flower collection made by the other scouts were many orchids,--fringed-purple, ragged-fringed, yellow-fringed, and others. also the indian pink, the rattlesnake plantain, the pink snake-mouth, monkshood, bloodroot, pitcher plant, and numerous others that formed a wonderful exhibit which it would take a long time to do justice to. while the grey foxes were poring over the flower books, mrs. vernon came up beside them. "when you boys are through here, we will sit down to dinner, as everything is ready to serve." "oh, we'll look at the rest of these another time," said bob, quickly. so the captain led them over to the table, where the appearance of the festive board caused them to smack their lips. mr. gilroy and the grey fox boys were seated according to julie's directions, then the girls all went over to the cookstove. at each place on the table sat a flat clay-made plate that was to do service for many needs. beside the plate were the birchbark cup to drink water from, a birchbark napkin ring that held a paper napkin, and the usual knife, fork and spoon. in the center of the table stood a lovely fern centerpiece, the holder woven of split willows, and the fern dug up in the woods and transplanted into a tin pail that did not show inside the basket. the fernery was flanked by two other handwoven baskets of sweet-grass. one held the scout-biscuits just baked, while the other was piled high with light little puff-cakes. on either side of the centerpiece stood two large flat clay platters,--one held the indian cucumber salad, and the other a dandelion salad. "aren't the girls going to sit down, too?" called alec. "yes, but each girl has to serve a boy's soup as well as her own. then we will sit down," answered julie. meantime joan was whispering anxiously, as each girl held out the clay bowls for soup, "now remember! leave the tracking tale to julie, and agree with her everytime! don't you dare be caught napping this time!" and as each scout left the stove with her two bowls of soup, she whispered. "no, leave it to me! we'll get the best of gilly for this joke." the chicken soup was highly praised, and truly it was a good broth and deserved all praise. then came the fish,--all done to a turn and served piping hot with butter sauce. the indian cucumber went well with the lake trout, and here the boys had another surprise. "indian cucumbers! we never knew they grew around here," ventured alec, but delighting in the salad just the same. "oh, didn't you? well, you see, it takes a girl's fancy touches to secure these sort of things. you boys, of course, have to give your time to doing big things," was julie's sarcastic reply. the third course consisted of the chicken and dumplings, stewed bracken, and a side dish of vegetable that looked for all the world like small potatoes. the boys studied these curiously. "it's quite digestible," laughed mrs. vernon. "but be sure to appreciate them,--they are the only wapitos we've ever found!" declared joan, proudly. "wapitos! you don't mean it!" exclaimed alec, eagerly. "why, where did you find them?" asked the other boys. "one morning when we were out tracking," said julie, with a careless manner. then quickly added, "oh, captain, where are the brussels sprouts? we almost forgot that vegetable." the orderly jumped up and ran to the stove where, in one of the niches, stood the bowl of charlock hearts, a wild green that tastes exactly like tender sprouts. these are easy to cultivate in a garden, too, and are not as expensive as brussels sprouts. "my, what a spread this is!" sighed bob, ecstatically. every one laughed, for bob and anne were the gourmands of the two troops, and were never ashamed to admit when they enjoyed a thing. "yes, it's some dinner, all right. made a lot of work, didn't it?" added alec. "oh, not so much as usual," returned julie. "we really had planned a more elaborate affair, but the joke we played on gilly took longer than we allowed for it, and so we had to scramble the dinner." julie smiled benignly upon the guests, but they exchanged looks with mr. gilroy at the mention of a joke. so she continued: "because of that joke, you have ordinary chicken for a meat course, whereas i had hoped to give you a real dainty, stewed wild rabbit. but our snares were left unbaited while we planned to come in first on gilly and his proposed prank. i don't suppose you know a thing about it, do you?" the girls gasped at their leader's mention of a rabbit snare,--this was the first they knew of such a thing! and since bunty grey had taken up his residence nearby their camp, after his recovery from the old trap down on river bend, not one scout girl could be made to taste rabbit. the boys were keen to hear about the joke on their friend gilroy, but _he_ wanted to know about rabbits. so he asked: "where did you set any snares? this is news to me!" "is it? why we caught a rabbit in a snare set down by river bend, but we haven't stewed it yet," returned julie, smiling angelically at mr. gilroy. "never mind snares, but tell us about the tracking," now urged alec. "there isn't much to tell--excepting that we let him indulge himself in the belief that he was fooling us," began julie. "while we were at your camp, to invite you here to-day, gilly had all his hands turn the barnyard beasts out and led them a dance about our campgrounds, believing we would fall for his little game. "he took so much pains and trouble over the joke, that we hadn't the heart to undeceive him, so we played the game through. "but it was hard work to keep straight faces, wasn't it, girls?" julie appealed to her companions. "yes, indeed! and when julie left us to bring back the proof of his joking, that was best of all," added joan. "yes, you see i got him to say that hunters who found a wild animal could claim it, if it was in season, so i went to the barn where i _knew_ our 'wild animals' would be, and not only found them, but caught them, also. being in season, we claimed them. thus we turned gilly's joke on himself, as he sure was amazed to find that we took him at his word, and kept the 'ferocious' beasts!" julie laughed so heartily that every one joined in, never doubting but that the merriment was natural and genuine. "so that is how we became owners of the calf, the pig, and the nice spring chicken you just finished," added julie. mr. gilroy now cleared his throat to say something in self-defence, but every one laughed loudly again, the boys believing julie's tale, and the girls hoping to keep up the deception. "poor dear old gilly! we renamed him this morning. he is to be foxy grandpa hereafter, you know; not alone because he told the grey foxes what he was going to do, but because he planned such a beautiful snare and ran into it himself," said joan. "as if you boys would believe we were 'greenies' in camplife! why, just look around and see our work! is there anything here to prove we are such ignoramuses as to believe a calf-track could possibly be a deer-print?" asked julie, scornfully. "you're right, you girls sure can do scout things," said alec, admiringly. "this dinner alone would prove it!" exclaimed bob. "any one who can find indian cucumbers and wapitos, when we boys have hunted and hunted, and never succeeded, is a first-class scout, and no mistake about it!" declared dick, enthusiastically. so mr. gilroy decided not to speak in self-defence any more. the dinner wound up with wild-current tarts, puff-cakes, and coffee made from roots and roasted acorns, pulverized. "lady scouts, let me toast you for this wonderful success, not only in culinary art, but also in founding a curious menagerie," said mr. gilroy, standing and holding up his coffee before drinking it. "before we adjourn from this feast, let me ask one question," said alec, as they prepared to get up from the table. "what was it in that salad dressing that gave such a palatable flavor? i never tasted anything like it before." the scouts smiled with pleasure, and mrs. vernon said, "that taste was given by adding a few leaves of burnet to the salad. it was not the dressing; but few people know what a wonderful flavor burnet gives to salad. it would be used more often did chefs know this simple little wildwood fact." while the girls were clearing away the dishes, mrs. vernon spoke very seriously to julie about the tale she told. "you did not tell an absolute untruth, yet you did not voice the truth, because we all _were_ taken in by those tracks!" "but, verny! surely you wouldn't have these mere males _think_ we were such gullible scouts, would you? it would be a disgrace for the whole organization!" cried julie. "i never advocate self-righteousness in covering up an error of judgment or knowledge. the scout committee on ideals would not approve of the tale you told to vindicate the 'cause of women,' as you claim." "i suppose you are right in your viewpoint, verny, but it wasn't fair of gilly to play that prank on us, and tell those boys beforehand, too," pouted julie. "well, let it pass this time, verny, and we'll promise never to be guilty of misappropriating the truth again," said joan. "and don't give us away to the grey foxes!" added judith. the captain shook her head in disapproval, but she said nothing more, so the girls ran off to whisper to mr. gilroy that he was the cause of a dreadful quarrel! chapter eleven a canoe trip the scouts were so busy with canoeing, swimming, and hiking, during the week following the dinner-party that they saw very little of mr. gilroy, although they knew whenever he called at the camp, because he generally brought feed for the calf and pig. these two unusual pets were becoming quite sociable, and would follow the girls around the clearing when meals were being prepared. jake always went wherever the scouts went, and he particularly enjoyed the long walks. but he ignored the calf and pig completely when in camp. about a week after the grey fox boys had visited dandelion camp, mr. gilroy came down early in the morning. "i have to get up at dawn if i want a word with you scouts, these times," laughed he, as he caught them eating breakfast. "sit down and have some," julie invited, making room for him beside her. "can't--haven't time. i've got an important engagement with the grey fox boys, but you were first on my calling list." the girls all halted further progress on the breakfast and listened intently. "what have you plotted, now?" asked julie. mr. gilroy laughed as he remembered the tracking joke. "i'm almost afraid to tell you." but after much coaxing he spoke. "well, then, i am going on a little fishing trip to racquette lake, so i wondered if you scouts wouldn't like to canoe with the party and spend a few days that way?" the girls gave such a chorus of approval that mr. gilroy pretended to stop both ears. "oh, do tell them all about it, gilly, or we'll be deaf!" begged mrs. vernon, laughing at the commotion. so mr. gilroy described the itinerary to the great delight of his hearers. "but remember, girls, no extra baggage is allowed. you wear your uniforms, take bathing suits, and sandals, a wide soft hat that will stick to your head, as few toilet requisites as possible; individual eating outfit, blanket and sleeping-bag, fishing tackle, and your powder puffs." the last item caused a jeer, for the girls hadn't thought of beautifiers, other than those nature presented, since they joined the scout organization. nor did they need any,--they were all fine and rosy, with perfect complexions and good health. "my indian, yhon, is going in a canoe with the cooking outfit and other necessities for so large a party. he is a splendid guide, you know, and knows the country like a book." "what can we do about our pets?" betty asked, concernedly. "oh, jake will go with us, of course, and julia and anty will have to depend on gilly's man for meals. they will learn to appreciate us if we are absent a few days," replied julie, audaciously. "when did you plan to start?" now asked the captain. "day after to-morrow, as early in the morning as we can. that gives you all day to-morrow to get ready and come up to the bungalow for supper at night. yhon will be ready with the canoes at dawn in the morning, and we start from our boathouse. the canoe-wagon is coming here to-day to carry your three canoes over to first lake so as to be in good shape for the trip. yhon will overhaul them all, and look after any caulking or repairs." "dear me, i can't wait for the time to come!" exclaimed several of the scouts. "and if you become seasick on the voyage, you'll be just as anxious to get back," laughed mr. gilroy, causing the girls to giggle in chorus at his ridiculous speech. so on the morning mentioned, a merry crowd of girls and boys followed the captain and mr. gilroy to the boathouse on the lake. yhon was waiting with everything ready, but it was still dim and misty over the water, as the daylight was not yet strong. jake instantly jumped into yhon's canoe as if he knew it paid to be near the larder. mr. gilroy arranged the party so that one lightweight member was in each canoe with one of the heavier girls, and one of the boys. he took charge of another canoe with two girls in it, while the captain managed still another one with two in it. thus they started in a line, yhon leading. as they moved noiselessly out from the shadow of the overhanging rocks and foliage, the dew sparkled like silver drops on all the leaves; every now and then a hungry fish would leap up to bite the paddles, and then whisk its tail angrily as it flashed away again. the newly awakened sun had not yet risen high enough to cast its rays upon the lake, and the mountain that threw somber shadows over the face of the lake, still hid the shining of the orb of day. the expectancy and hush that always precedes the bursting forth of shining light, enthralled all the wild creatures in the woods. yhon had been silently guiding his flock over the water, closely hugging the shore all the way, when the high treble call of a young fawn echoed far over the lake. it was so unexpected that the scouts were startled, but the indian called over his shoulder, "li'l deer lose mammy--call her back!" then, not twenty yards further on, yhon stopped paddling, and pointed with a long finger towards the shore. there stood the fawn on a rock near the water's edge, its head held high as it gazed with consternation at so many queer things floating on the lake. mrs. vernon took a splendid picture of the deer, before a crashing of branches and the rattle of pebbles announced that the doe was leaping to the rescue of her little one. but she could not be seen, as she was wise in woodlore and remained safely screened from men. possibly she knew that a human carried a death-dealing weapon when he sought her in the forests. the canoes passed through first lake, then through second lake, and at last through third lake--all of which were really one large continuous sheet of water. where third lake creek emptied into the large body of water, yhon led the canoes close to shore. he knew that the best lake trout were to be caught where the creek emptied, and here he proposed to fish for the dinner supply. "but we don't want dinner, yet, yhon," called mrs. vernon. "we eat on cedar islan' but him got no fish dere. get my fish here," explained yhon, as he jumped ashore. all were glad of an opportunity to stretch their legs, and then they tried their luck at fishing, also. after a time this became monotonous for the active young ones, and they started up the creek to adventure. the third lake creek came down over moss-covered rocks, which were held in place by gnarled roots of giant trees. these ancient foresters stood looking benignly down upon the placid waters of the lake, as if watching the play of a little child. where the creek swirled out to join third lake, the purplish circles made there gradually lost their foaming haste and gently merged into the wavelets of clear cold water. as the scouts climbed up the rugged bank of the creek, the towering trees were not the only things that watched silently. although the happy young mortals were deaf and blind to the many alert curious eyes that followed their movements, still those eyes were there, wondering at this daring trespass over their domains. some of these wildwood inhabitants were furtively anxious, some hostile, but all were curious to follow the movements of these queer creatures. finally the scouts could not penetrate further, and they retraced their steps. yhon had caught enough fish for the day's needs, and was ready to continue the trip. from third lake creek he paddled across to the opposite shore and thence through fourth lake. they stopped at skensowane to purchase crackers, candy, and other sweets, while yhon took on a supply of staples. cedar island was at the extreme upper end of fourth lake, and long before the scouts saw the green knob standing plainly up from the water, they were hungry enough to eat the grass on the island. so every one assisted with the dinner to facilitate the eating of it. yhon was one of the best guides in the mountains, and his experience in cooking was unsurpassed; hence the scouts enjoyed an exceptional dinner. when all were ready to continue the trip, yhon led across from cedar island to inlet, where there was a "carry" of a mile to reach sixth lake. "phew! carry the canoes a mile in the hot sun!" cried bob. "that's part of the fun in canoeing," remarked mr. gilroy, as they disembarked and prepared to carry. "i'm glad of the change," said judith. "my knees are all out of joint from sitting with them doubled under me." thereupon every one declared it a relief to walk and get the kinks out of the leg-muscles. but after a mile in the heat, with canoe and outfit to carry, every one was just as glad to get back and sit down in the canoes. the trip through sixth and seventh lakes was wonderful. the grandeur of the mountains and the marvelous greens of their verdure reflected in the narrow lakes, made the water seem a dark emerald green as clear and transparent as a perfect jewel. occasionally, faint shadows of birds flying overhead, or deer leaping on the rocks on the banks were reflected in the water as the canoeists silently paddled along, and such entrancing pictures seen in the placid lake thrilled the scouts with delight. here and there, where a stream rushed down into the lake, the scouts could look up through the wide rifts cleft between the forest-trees, and the eye could follow up where falls tumbled over boulders; or to the higher view, where the blue sky showed a tiny streak between the pines. once a flight of wild ducks suddenly rose from the lake, quacking noisily. the boys called to yhon to shoot, but he held up a warning hand to show that this was no season for duck-hunting. in nearing the upper end of seventh lake where the inlet empties into it, yhon called out, "nudder carry--mile to eight lake." but before they reached land, the captain called for a halt. she wanted to take a snapshot of the picture made by the inlet, seemingly in such a hurry to reach the lake, yet making no noise nor showing any froth in its haste. the lake seemed to draw its shores close together to hug the inlet, just as a mother draws her babe to her bosom in love. in small coves on either side of the inlet were patches of green marsh grass and cattails, the home of the wild ducks which rose to escape the coming of the canoeists. as the faint odorous whiff of marshgrass reached the nostrils of the scouts, they wanted to paddle in and cut cattails, but yhon said there was no time then. "plenty time on home trip." through eighth lake to brown's inlet carry was a distance of about two miles, and when they reached shore on brown's inlet, yhon called out, "nudder carry--mile-half dis time to brown tract inlet." the command to carry began to sound tiresome to the scouts, and they were glad to hear mr. gilroy say that this carry would be the last one, as brown's tract inlet brought them right to racquette lake where they planned to camp for the night. it was quite late when they reached the lower end of racquette lake, because the progress had been slow and safe. mr. gilroy had not telephoned for accommodations at any hotel, as they planned to camp at night. but the wind that came with the setting of the sun also threatened a storm during the night, and mr. gilroy thought it best to find a place near a large hotel, in case they had to seek shelter. so they paddled to find a grove quite near one of the larger hotels. the scouts were eager to land and get their camp ready before darkness handicapped them, so when within a few yards of land, hester turned to pull out her blankets. the sudden motion overturned the canoe, and all three occupants went headlong into the water. the frightened screams of the three scouts caused consternation in the others, and many turned around quickly to see what had happened behind them. thus, two more canoe-loads were unexpectedly emptied into the lake. they were soon out on shore, but drenched and shivering from the cold water. "now, isn't that the worst thing that could happen to us, at night!" sighed mrs. vernon. "we'll have to stop at a hotel, now, and let the scouts get in bed while their clothing dries," said mr. gilroy. so the wet ones were advised to dance about to keep warm, while alec and mr. gilroy hurried over to the hotel to engage rooms. but they soon came back with surprised looks. "not a corner to be had, and the manager called up other large places along the shore only to get the same answer--no room. he said there was a family boarding-house some distance along, where we might get in. the woman, a mrs. dickens, was a nice landlady and might tuck us in somewhere. shall we try it?" said mr. gilroy. "it is so dark now, and we haven't started supper or found a spot to camp, so i think we had best try mrs. dickens," replied the captain. in chilly silence the entire party got back into its canoes and skirted the shore until mr. gilroy called out to yhon, "this must be the spot where i was told to land. the house is back from the lake, a bit." the canoeists had no difficulty in locating the boarding-house, but they were too late for a hot dinner, although the cold supper served was very good, especially to hungry young people. "i haven't any rooms left in the main house," explained mrs. dickens, "but i can give you several rooms in the annex. that used to be the help's cottage, but i had it done over to rent this season." "'any port in a storm,' madam, and our 'storm' consists of several soaking suits that have to be dried," returned mr. gilroy. "the cottage has a small kitchen where you can quickly light a fire in the stove and dry everything. i think you will be very comfortable there," said mrs. dickens. so arrangements were made for the use of the cottage for that night. as they planned to start early in the morning again, the entire party retired soon after supper. the wet clothing had been hung on lines about the kitchen, where a servant had built a roaring fire. although they had to "double up" in bed, or sleep on the floor, they were too healthily sleepy to mind such little things, and before ten o'clock every one was asleep. chapter twelve first aid mrs. vernon was a very light sleeper, consequently she was aroused a short time after midnight by cries and calls for help. she sprang from the bed and ran to a side window that opened towards the kitchen side of the boarding-house. all she could see was a dull glare that filled the kitchen windows. but she understood. instantly, she ran to mr. gilroy's room and knocked loudly while she cried, "get up--everybody--the boarding-house, next door, is on fire!" in a moment mr. gilroy jumped up and shouted, "all right--we'll be out in a jiffy!" then mrs. vernon ran back to pull the girls out of bed and have them dress as speedily as possible. the clothing in the kitchen was dry, and soon the girls were dressing and, at the same time, talking excitedly of the fire. "i'm sorry mrs. dickens has had this misfortune, but as long as it happens while we are here, we must try to earn a medal," said mrs. vernon, as she breathlessly pulled a middy-blouse over her head. "what can girls do?" asked amy, eagerly. "i don't know yet, but every little thing helps in a time like this. just obey orders from mr. gilroy or me, and follow the example julie is sure to give you," said mrs. vernon, glancing at the scout she mentioned, because julie might run unnecessary risks for herself, but if she thought she was responsible for the other girls her zeal would be tempered wisely. "what do they give scouts a medal for, verny?" now asked judith, as she twisted her long hair up in a tight coil on her head. "if occasion arises for a scout to display great heroism, or if she faces extreme danger in trying to save a life, she can have the bronze medal--the highest award given. if she does a brave deed with considerable danger to herself, she wins a silver cross. but no scout is to run needless risk just to win a medal of any kind." while the captain spoke, the scouts finished their hurried dressing and now followed her out to the lawn in front of the large house. here the scene was one of great confusion and panic. men were hastily moving articles of furniture and boarders' personal effects out of the three-storied building. smoke poured from all the rear windows, and the roof seemed enveloped in heavy smoke-clouds. "isn't there any volunteer fire department?" called julie, to every one in general and no one in particular. "where is it?" asked alec of a man standing next to him. "we got a ring and hammer up yonder, and a hand-engine, but i hain't hear'n no one strike the signal," said he. "come along, show me where it is," ordered alec, catching hold of the man's sleeve and pulling him away from the staring crowd. once the man had broken away from the mesmeric influence of the fire-watchers, he ran quickly with alec to the knoll where a metal hoop and hammer were kept for the purpose of alarm in case of fire. almost before the two reached the spot, alec caught the hammer and was striking the metal at regular intervals. the man then offered to remain and send the volunteer firemen to the place where they were needed, so alec ran back to help as best he could. meantime, the girl scouts realized there was much to do to help others, and the captain ordered every one to use the utmost presence of mind in doing anything they were called upon to do. julie hastily whispered to joan, "i'm going to run to the cottage and get that coil of rope we brought from the canoe last night, we may need it." "i'll run with you, julie, for we must tie wet towels over our mouths, if we have to go inside there," added joan. both girls raced to their room, and when they came out they were provided with the rope, and the dripping towels were tied across their nostrils and mouths. as they stood momentarily on the little porch of the cottage to see where they might render the best service, the uproar from the upper stories in the rear was awful. "there may be some people trapped in their rooms up there!" exclaimed julie to her companion. "we can climb up this rose-trellis quite easily, jule, and get in at the windows of the second story where the piazza roof gives us a foothold," hastily returned joan. in another moment both girls were quickly climbing up the strong trellis, and as soon as they reached the tin roof they ran to the window. here they found a young mother sitting on the floor, rocking a baby back and forth while she cried wildly with hysteria. the child was held so tightly that it, too, was screaming. while julie uncoiled the rope, joan ran to the washstand and dipped a towel in the pitcher. but julie called to her, "bring the jug of water here, we've got to break this hysteric spell!" joan carried the towel in one hand and the pitcher in the other, so julie caught the jug from her, and dashed the water in the woman's face. the sudden choking and shock broke the spell. then the towel was hastily pinned over the lower part of her face and she was hurried to the door. but the smoke and heat caused the girls to slam the door to again and run to the window. "hey--down there!" yelled julie, to a group of men on the flower-bed. "hold out a blanket while we drop the baby down." "no--no!" screamed the mother, trying to get away from the grasp of strong young joan. "you'll kill it!" "give me the child, i'll carry it down the trellis," said julie, but the mother would not relax her grip on her baby. "where's that rope, jo?" now asked julie. "over by the window we went in at," cried joan, having all she could do to restrain the woman from throwing herself and babe down from the roof. so in another moment, julie had the rope tied to a window shutter, and with the other end in hand was over by the woman. "here--stand still, will you, while we fix this and let you down to the ground!" commanded she, and the woman instantly obeyed. then both girls lowered the two slowly over the edge of the roof, down to where willing hands were raised to catch them. there was a wild acclaim as mother and child were saved, but the two scouts were not aware of it, as they were back inside the room again, taking their precious rope with them. before they could determine what to do next, a queer form burst into the room. "where's the rope you've been using, girls?" demanded the voice of alec. but he was completely covered by his rubber sleeping-bag, in which he had slit holes for his feet and arms. had it been any other time than such a moment, both girls must have doubled over in merriment at his appearance. "here it is, alec. where did you come from?" cried both scouts in one voice. "upstairs. i got up on the roof by climbing the water-spout, and in a dormer-room up there i found an old crippled woman, crying for help, but with no one to hear her until i climbed in from the scuttle-hole. a little old-fashioned stairway runs from the third floor down into the closet in this room. but i can't get her down those narrow stairs, and the other stairway and halls are a mass of fire. i've got to lower her from the roof, but i need help." "we'll help!" eagerly offered both the girls. so, with the coil of rope, they followed alec through the smoke-filled room into the large dark closet, and thus, up the scuttle-hole stairs that had been abandoned for many years,--perhaps forgotten entirely, until this need. in the front end of the third story there was not much smoke as yet, so the three could see their way plainly. and in a small gable-room having a small window high from the floor moaned an old woman of more than seventy years. the moment she saw alec return with two girls to help, she stopped wailing and tried to be courageous. "now we may hurt you some when you are being moved, but you must bear it, gran'ma," said alec, gently. the old lady smiled reassuringly. "children, anything is better than being roasted up in this little room. don't worry over hurting me but do whatever is necessary," quavered the sweet old voice. "now, girls, i'm going to shinny up the scuttle-hole in the roof and carry the rope with me. i'll tie it securely to the chimney on the roof and let down the other end. fasten this about grandma's waist and we'll try to lift her out that way. you two must help by holding her as much as possible, and by boosting from below." while alec climbed up the wall-ladder and got out to the roof, julie and joan made a roll of blankets and placed it about the old lady's form under the arms. then they looped the rope over this and secured it also under her arms. "all ready, alec!" called julie, holding her charge by one arm while joan held her by the other. as alec hauled, hand over hand on the rope, the two scouts beneath lifted and then boosted the old lady until she was safely through the opening in the roof. then alec leaned over and called to them: "if you can manage to run down and get through that room again, escape by way of the piazza-roof and send the firemen up from the outside with their ladders. i'll wait on the front roof with grandma." so julie and joan rushed down the little attic-stairs, back through the smoke-filled room which was now dreadfully hot from the fire, and out of the other room window to the piazza roof. once on the ground, a curious mob tried to surround them to ask all sorts of foolish questions, but julie was equal to two mobs. with muscular arms and fists striking right and left, she quickly forced a passage and made her way to the spot where the fire-chief was ordering the men about. "mr. chief, run a ladder up to the roof where you see that scout standing. he's got an old crippled woman to save. maybe the rope will reach and maybe it won't, so use your own judgment," called julie, pointing up to where alec could be dimly seen through the smoke. "hoist a ladder, boys! see that scout up on the roof with mrs. dickens' mother?" shouted the chief, anxiously watching the roof. while every one stood and in breathless suspense watched the firemen run up a long ladder and assist alec in saving the poor helpless woman, mrs. dickens came distractedly from the rear of the house and ran about seeking for her mother. when she learned that it was her mother they were trying to save, she fainted with fright. but the old lady was safely brought to the ground, and a great fuss was made over alec. then mrs. dickens was revived, and when she found her aged mother beside her on the grass, she almost fainted again from joy and gratitude. the house was doomed even before the firemen reached the scene, for it was constructed, as so many summer boarding-houses are at seashore and mountain resorts, of thin novelty-siding outside and oil-stained ceiling boards inside; these act like kindling wood once they are ignited. the crowd stood, now, and watched the flames lick up everything in sight, but every one was thankful that no lives were lost. the scouts, both girls and boys, had worked so faithfully that all the silver and linen were saved, and the men had removed much of the best furniture in the ground-floor rooms. the sun, that morning, rose on a scene of confusion and pathos. guests who had been able to save most of their effects were assisting less fortunate ones to dress in all kinds of apparel. neighbors from nearby cottages were caring for the homeless boarders, until order could be brought out of the chaotic condition. but the cottages were few, and the guests many, so some one must suggest a plan to meet the immediate needs. it was mr. gilroy who thought of a way. "we all sympathize with mrs. dickens in her distress, but it might have been worse, friends,--we all realize that,--and so we feel grateful that no lives were lost. but here it is breakfast-time, and there are many hungry mouths to fill, and i would suggest that you accept a scout breakfast with us as soon as it is ready." every one responded to such a hearty invitation, and mr. gilroy added, "then we'll show you how to prepare a good meal with no stove or kitchen, and with but few pots or pans." the boys were sent out on the lake to get the fish; the girls were told to knead the dough for scout-twists, and place them at the fire mr. gilroy was building. to interest the weary boarders, mr. gilroy had started his campfire with rubbing-sticks and had arranged the bread-sticks upon which the dough was twined, to the best advantage for all to watch while the twists baked. most of the dishes had been saved from the fire, and these were now used for breakfast. several large tablecloths had been spread out upon the smooth grass, and plates set around on the squares of linen. the fish had been cleaned by yhon when caught, and now the boys returned with a nice mess--enough for every one that morning. mrs. dickens kept all her extra stock of food in the little loft of the cottage, and as this annex was spared any damage by the fire, there was a supply of cereals, flour, bacon, and other necessities for meals. with the thrift of a good housekeeper, mrs. dickens had laid in a stock of purchases when the army supply had been sold off at auction in the city. so mrs. vernon found gallon cans of stewed prunes and other food-products on hand. in spite of all trouble and perplexities that morning, breakfast was a cheerful meal. prunes for fruit; hominy and other prepared cereals for a second course; then fresh fish, fried in corn-meal jackets and browned in bacon-fat, furnished a delicious third course with the hot scout-bread. and all this was topped off with fragrant coffee. naturally, the conversation was about one thing--the fire and the courage shown by the three scouts. the equally helpful work done by mrs. vernon and the other scouts in caring for those who were rescued, received but small notice. but they never as much as thought of it--with julie and joan in a fair way to win a medal that would lift the entire troop to recognition at headquarters in new york. when breakfast was over, mr. gilroy expressed his other idea. "i have a plan that may meet with general approval, but that remains to be seen. now listen carefully, while i speak, and then do as you like afterwards. my boys and these girls are willing to teach you how to do what i am about to propose, and help in any way we can to make every one comfortable for the time being. "you have no house to sleep in, and mrs. dickens will have no boarders to help her meet her expenses and loss, unless we immediately find some way to change all this seeming trouble. so this is my suggestion: "we scouts are accustomed to sleeping out-of-doors and thus we know how to make the finest beds out of the material nature provides. we will show every one how to weave these balsam beds that are superior to any handmade spring and hair mattress. "while you people are completing your beds, we will paddle up to a place yhon told me about, where a number of indians camp. they make and sell tents to parties coming to the adirondacks for the summer. then at the end of the season they will buy them back and pay prices according to the condition the tents are in. perhaps we can rent a number of tents, as the summer is now half over. "if enough boarders agree to this plan, and will insure the risk to mrs. dickens by advancing the money necessary to pay for the tents, we scouts will go after the tents for you and bring them back in our canoes. "mrs. dickens says she can quickly have a pavilion built that will answer for a dining-room, but any one who does not care for 'roughing' it in tent-life must find other accommodations. all such can have meals in the pavilion, but must take second table as boarders remaining in camp will naturally have first claim on the hostess' service." after a noisy debate, in which most of the ousted guests found these plans and future delights pleasant to discuss, the majority voted to remain and take up tent-life. thus it happened that mrs. dickens was helped out of the financial ruin that had stared her in the face a few hours before, and the guests were treated to a rare experience,--living in the open in the wonderful woods. the scouts started every one cutting the young tips of the balsams for their bedding, then paddled after yhon in the canoes, up the marion river to bear creek, where the guide knew several of his friends to have camps for the summer. they had tents to hire or for sale, and were only too glad to furnish all that were needed for the houseless boarders at dickens' landing. the tent-outfits were carefully packed inside the canoes, and the scouts joyfully paddled back, realizing that "what blesses one, blesses all" in this working out of a good idea. when the scouts landed with the tents and found that enough balsam had been stripped for the beds, they began to weave the tips as all scouts know how to do. meantime, mr. gilroy, yhon, and several of the men raised the tents and secured them in such places as mrs. dickens selected. the balsam beds were then made up in the tents, and before evening, every one was provided with room and beds, thanks to the scouts. as the canoes left that shore, they were sped with many blessings, for they had done a great thing for those standing on the rocks, watching them depart. chapter thirteen shooting the rapids--and other things "well, 'where do we go from here, boys?'" called mr. gilroy, laughingly, as he looked back over his shoulder at the scouts. "anywhere but home!" exclaimed julie. "why not there? don't you like my camp-ground?" asked mr. gilroy, teasingly. "of course, but after such a night and day we won't want to settle down again into quiet life. we have to let ourselves down gradually," laughed alec. "well, then, we'll ask yhon where to go to-day," agreed mr. gilroy. "ride the rapids," returned yhon, as if that was enough said. such a shout that greeted this suggestion proved he was right in his surmise. finally, when mrs. vernon could be heard, she asked, "where are they--far from raquette lake?" "yhon, i suppose you mean those on the route to forked lake, through raquette river to long lake, eh?" said mr. gilroy. "um! up raquette fall to corey an' 'en to sar'nac." "saranac lake! oh, i've always wanted to see it!" cried julie. "do let's go, gilly!" begged other voices. "shall we take a vote on it?" laughed mr. gilroy. "why waste time--it is unanimously decided already," retorted alec for the boys. "yhon, i'm afraid you've let me in for trouble!" cried mr. gilroy, but he turned his canoe just the same, and led the way. the scouts now followed mr. gilroy and yhon across the mouth of the marion river, and rounded woods' point. across boulder bay, to bluff point, they paddled, and carefully rounding this point they entered outlet bay. then the usual route was taken up the bay until they reached forked lake carry. they were all in high spirits and the short carry only added to their enjoyment. the canoes were launched again in forked lake waters and they paddled until the end of the lake was reached. where it joins raquette river was a carry of a mile and a half, and seeing that it was noon and time for luncheon, mr. gilroy said: "why not have something to eat first, and carry afterwards?" "oh, that will add to the work of carrying," retorted julie. "not only canoes but food!" but the boys were for eating, so they scanned the shore carefully as they slowly moved through the water, until yhon saw a place he considered suitable for camp. here a fire was soon started, and the four boys were sent out to fish. the girls were left to bake the bread and prepare the rest of the meal. in spite of their most skillful efforts, the boys did not have good luck, and returned with but a small catch of fish. hilarity due to the way the boys told how they had to fish made up for the lack and for everything else. when everything was packed neatly again, and all were ready to start, jake gave a wild leap and landed too near the edge of yhon's canoe. over it went, staples and outfits all going down into the water. "oh, all our sugar and salt--and everything!" cried julie. yhon never changed a muscle of his face, although he must have been taken by surprise when he was precipitated into the water. the outfits, hampers, and other things were quickly salvaged and restored to the canoe, but jake sat in disgrace on the bank, and hung his head as if he understood just what he had done. so much time had been used in rescuing yhon, in fishing their food-stock out of the water, and coaxing jake back into the canoe, that it was late when the scouts reached deerland lodge. "what say you, scouts,--shall we stop at the lodge, or take a chance up long lake until we reach a point where we can strike off to reach hendrick spring, the fountainhead of the hudson river?" asked mr. gilroy. "and where shall we camp?" asked mrs. vernon. "it might be nice to camp at the spring," suggested alec. "oh, yes, let's do that, gilly!" cried several voices. so they kept right on, paddling swiftly along until they reached a place on the shore where yhon said they must land if they proposed going to hendrick spring. "oh, i thought we could canoe there," ventured julie. "no, we must leave yhon here to watch the canoes while we hike along the trail that goes there. we can carry our sleeping-bags and take enough food for supper, then come back early in the morning for a good breakfast with yhon," explained mr. gilroy. "is there no way we might take to return to fulton chain lakes other than going back the same route?" questioned mrs. vernon. "no, we shall have to go the way we come, or be willing to _carry_ overland for many miles, from one water to the other." "oh, no, that is out of the question," said the captain. so each scout took a sleeping-bag and cup and plate, while the boys carried the extra cooking outfit, and alec his rifle. the trail led through a most wonderful primeval forest where lichened stones, moss-clothed fallen trees and luxuriant foliage of standing timber furnished homes for countless wild creatures. they had not gone far before a ruddy-hued fox tried to back out of their way on the trail, and managed successfully to merge his color with that of the yellow-brown verdure about him. further on, alec suddenly lifted his rifle and aimed, but the furtive mottled animal that had been crouching along the mottled limb of a tree leaped back with the least possible noise or disturbance of the foliage, and was gone! "that was _some_ wildcat, but she was too slick for me!" said alec, when questioned about missing it. the scouts saw so many unfamiliar birds that they wished they had carried a bird book on the trip to help them identify all they now saw. notes were taken, however, to help them look up and catalogue the varieties, later, in camp. there were many other interesting living creatures, also; some half-hid under leaves or twigs, others squatting daringly in the open, with questioning eyes fixed on these clumsy intruders. finally the scouts reached hendrick springs, but to their consternation the place was already tenanted with undesirable tramps. mr. gilroy politely questioned the three men who claimed to be timber-jacks, but their empty package that had contained food and the quart bottle that had once been filled with whiskey, now also empty, belied their story. their hardened faces, unkempt appearance, and other earmarks caused a little apprehension in the hearts of the girls and mrs. vernon; but soon after the new arrivals started their fire to cook supper, the three tramps got up and quietly left. scanty beds of balsam were soon made for the night for the girls, but the boys preferred to sleep upon the grass. after a few campfire tales, they decided who was to keep the fire burning all night to ward off any wild animals, and also to guard against the return of the evil-looking tramps. "we girls want to take our turn in watching, as well as the boys, gilly!" declared joan, when she heard how the guard was to be divided up for the night. "oh, you girls need sleep, but we don't," said bob. "we are just as hale as any of you boys, and we want to do our bit!" exclaimed julie, decidedly. "well, then, if you must, you will!" sighed mr. gilroy, comically. "now i have to begin all over again and figure out this problem. let's see: "first, alec and bob mount guard two hours; then dick and ned guard for two more; then julie and joan; and lastly, all the other girls and myself. how is that?" every one laughed, for julie and joan were now getting all they bargained for. so alec and bob went on duty, while the rest stretched out and fell asleep. at eleven o'clock the next two boys were called; but at one o'clock, when it was time to rouse julie and joan, mr. gilroy crept over and motioned the boys to let him mount duty for a time. it was nearly three when julie woke up and rubbed her eyes. she instantly realized that no one had called her, so she nudged joan and got her up. then they crept over to the campfire and scolded mr. gilroy for breaking faith with them. he laughed and gladly went back to finish his night's repose. having been so sound asleep just before going on duty, and being utterly tired out with the day's experiences, the two girls sat by the fire endeavoring to keep each other fully awake. but the sand man was too powerful for them to resist his dreamy influence, and soon joan dozed while julie yawned and did her best to keep her eyelids open. an hour passed and joan was sweetly sleeping, while julie was nodding, heavy with sleep. suddenly a crackling of branches behind them caused julie to start wide awake. "joan, are you awake?" whispered julie fearfully, shaking her friend. "sure--why?" mumbled joan, sitting up to rub her eyes. [illustration: "where--which way did you hear them?" questioned joan ... page ] "i heard some one--maybe those tramps are back to do something," whispered julie, trying to peer through the misty night. "where--which way did you hear them?" questioned joan, now fully awake, too. "see those long shadows by the trees, over there?" returned julie. "i'll pile a lot more wood on the fire and make it blaze so we can see them if they come nearer." so saying, she threw so much wood on the fire that it instantly smothered the red glow and began smoking like a chimney. the smoke drove the girls from that side of the fire and caused them to cough violently, while there was a lively scrambling of feet over by the trees, and both girls began calling: "gilly! gilly, wake up! the tramps are here!" that cry brought every one to his feet, and the moment all heads got the benefit of the smoke, every one began coughing. but they managed to creep along the ground to the side of the fire, where the two girls stood gazing at the trees in question. just as alec crept up beside the scouts with rifle up ready to aim at whatever he found skulking about them, there sounded a frightful screeching, and hoarse calls came from the lower branches of the tree. "i knew it! i saw them creep over and heard them climb," cried julie, quaking with excitement. "they planned to drop something on our heads, i guess," added joan, her eyes bulging as she tried to see into the foliage. just as alec decided to take aim and fire haphazardly, knowing that he could not see in the dark but could frighten the tramps, bob caught hold of his arm. he was unaware that it held a gun that was cocked ready to fire. the rifle went off prematurely, the shot hit the mark without alec's trying for it, and a heavy thud informed the scouts that the bullet was fatal! instantly, however, there was such a commotion in the leaves, and such a bedlam of screeching! finally a great flock of crows swept out of the high tree and flew away to find a less dangerous roost. the first streaks of dawn were penetrating the forest's darkness when the offended crows left their ancestral tree; and the scouts looked at each other in surprise. but alec was sure it was not a crow he had downed--it was too heavy for that! so the boys crept carefully over to the place where they thought to find the body of a tramp, while the girls followed at a respectful distance. then the relieved cry from alec, and the laughing calls from the other boys, hurried the girls to join their friends. there they saw a dead wildcat of truly awesome size. in its clenched teeth it still held the young nestling--the object of its nocturnal climb into the tree. alec's unexpected shot had hit true and had done for the crafty animal. "well, this is some trophy to carry back home, eh?" cried alec delightedly, as he turned the cat over with his foot. "i'm glad you didn't kill anything more than the wildcat," added mrs. vernon. "if you boys intend carrying that back to camp, you'll have to skin it now and take only the pelt. you can't be bothered with the heavy beast itself. leave the carcass for the wild denizens that will be glad to feed on this, their enemy," advised mr. gilroy. "and do give us the crow! if it hadn't been for joan and me you wouldn't have had the wildcat!" exclaimed julie. "if it hadn't been for you two imaginative scouts we all would still be snoozing peacefully beside the fire," laughed alec. chapter fourteen the grand surprise when the scouts returned to their camp beside little moose lake, they were impressed anew with the peace and beauty of the spot. the canoe trip had been delightful and exciting, but all were glad to get back to a simple life once more. having seen the scout girls safely back home, and their canoes in the lake for future use, mr. gilroy sighed and said, "now i shall take a long rest and recover from the past few days' work!" a few days after their return from the "voyage," as they called it, the scout girls received a bundle of mail. in it were newspapers, many letters, and other interesting items. the papers were all "marked copies," and the mail proved to be letters filled with congratulations and words of praise for the brave girls. "why, they must be crazy! every one's writing about what we did at the fire!" laughed julie. "yes, just listen to this from 'liza, every one!" called out betty. and she read: "'so i sez to yer pa, yu've got two fine scouts in them girls, mister lee, and this proves it. any girl what will climb the side of a house to save folkses from burning, is wuth a lot of lazy, good-fer-nothin' boys, i sez.'" every one laughed heartily at the praise thus bestowed upon them; but betty said regretfully, "it's too bad i didn't do as much as julie did at that fire. daddy won't feel very proud of me, i'm afraid!" "oh, but you did, betty! you ran for the captain and did all sorts of stunts we couldn't have done. but not every one could climb like jo and i do!" said julie, soothingly. "oh, girls!" exclaimed the captain, who had been hurriedly glancing over one of the papers received. "listen to this from a new york paper. oh, i am so proud of you all!" then she read: "'at a recent fire that destroyed dickens' hotel at raquette lake, adirondacks, a group of girl scouts known as the dandelion troop saved many lives and did heroic work in saving property. one of the hotel guests told our local reporter the story and we print his own words.'" then followed an account of the fire, and how it started because of a defective flue in the kitchen chimney. it told in detail all that the girls did, but the story merely mentioned alec and _his_ courageous act. at the last of the story, a full description was given of how the balsam beds were made, and how the boarders were now enjoying themselves in tent-life and out-of-door camp cooking. and all this was due, it said, to the girl scouts being able to teach the homeless boarders how to help themselves with the bountiful supply from nature. that morning, mr. gilroy came down to the camp to hear the news, for he also had received several papers with the story of the fire in them. after the excitement of reading it all over again to him, the girls quieted down to hear what he wished to say. "i came to see about your plans for next summer's outing," said he. the girls looked at him quizzically, for they thought he was joking. mrs. vernon gasped, "next summer! we're not through with this year yet!" "i know that, but 'in times of peace prepare for war,' you know," laughed he. "tell us why you asked?" demanded julie. "because i am planning a trip for my next outing, and i am debating whether to invite any girl scouts to go with me." "where? aren't you going to stay here next summer?" was the answer from several girls. "no, i have had an important letter to-day. and i am going to accept the offer made me by the government, but it will cost any girl scout more to go with _me_ than it did to come to the adirondacks." "then that settles our going! we haven't a cent left over after this outing. if it hadn't been for those escaped felons last year we wouldn't have been here, i suppose!" sighed julie. "if it had not been the reward for the capture of the two felons that proved to be the means to bring you to the adirondacks, there would have been some other way of finding the supply for you. you see, girls, there is always plenty of everything for you when the source is unlimited," said mr. gilroy. "not one of us in dandelion troop have such a banker," laughed judith. "then, if this is so, why need we worry about expenses for next summer's outing with you?" added joan, in response to his remark. "i didn't ask you to worry," retorted mr. gilroy. "i only asked you to remember that you have the invitation, but it is up to you to find the channel of supply and break down the dam, so the supply will run smoothly and continuously for your needs." "how much shall we need, gilly?" asked julie, deeply interested in his words. "more than a thousand dollars for you all, i know that! but how much more depends upon our itinerary, and that depends on the captain." "oh, does she know about it?" chorused the girls. "not yet, but she will, shortly," laughed mr. gilroy. all the coaxings from nine persuasive girls failed to move mr. gilroy from the stand he had taken--not to tell about the next summer's plans. but a week later, when the scouts were well nigh forgetting all about his conversation, he brought a pleasant-faced gentleman to the camp to visit the girls. "this is mr. everard, scouts. he is anxious to meet julia and antoinette, since i told him what clever rascals they are. do you think they will do their tricks for company?" mr. everard laughed merrily, and it was readily seen that he had not come to see the calf and pig do the little tricks which the scouts had taught them. however, the calf and pig were brought out, and they performed as they had been trained to do, during many strenuous hours, and they won the applause of the stranger. then he spoke of the real cause of his visit. "i am one of the investigators of the carnegie reward society, and having heard of your bravery in the recent fire at raquette lake, i was sent here to ascertain various facts. from all accounts, the rescues you made were not only courageous and daring, but spectacular as well. it made a fine tale for the newspapers. one of the leading men on a metropolitan daily sent us a note asking whether such deeds were not rewarded by us." the scouts were too amazed to speak, but mrs. vernon spoke for them. she thanked mr. everard for coming, and said how pleased they all were that others appreciated the deeds performed by the dandelion scouts. "the medal will be given at the same time the reward of money is presented. so i need the names of the girls who took an active part in the rescues. those who rendered first aid to the sufferers may be awarded minor medals--i am not sure of that yet," explained mr. everard. "but alec did as much as jo and i, gilly," said julie, "although they didn't say much about him in the papers." "that has been corrected, but you didn't see the papers of the following day. and alec is to receive exactly the same reward as you girls," returned mr. gilroy. mr. everard did not mention the amount of money that was likely to arrive with the medals, but mrs. vernon spoke of it later. the two men left camp, and mr. everard was taken over to grey fox camp to meet the boys. "verny, maybe that reward will be the nest-egg of the supply we must have to go with gilly next summer!" declared julie excitedly, after both men had disappeared from view. "i was thinking of that when mr. everard spoke," said mrs. vernon. "i wonder how much they give to one--about a hundred dollars, i suppose," ventured joan. "oh, no! i've heard their cash rewards range from a thousand and down to five hundred dollars, according to the valor of the deed," replied the captain. "a thousand!" chorused the scouts in amazement. "why, that would take us all on gilly's trip," said julie. "maybe; but we don't know where he plans to go. if it is around the world, i fear the reward will not carry you all that far," rejoined mrs. vernon, smilingly. a few days after mr. everard's visit at camp, mr. gilroy came again. "well, scouts! was i right when i told you not to limit your supply to any old-fashioned mill-pond?" "you're always right--how could you _ever_ be mistaken?" was julie's retort. he laughed. "now, this flow of supply from the boundless source i preached about will give you the means to accept my invitation for next year." "we have already accepted, and are arranging to be absent from home for the length of time it takes to go to jericho and back again," answered julie. "not to the far east," laughed mr. gilroy, "but to the most wonderful mountains on earth, though the public has not realized that fact, because they are not yet the fashion. they are fast reaching that recognition, however. at present one can go there without being pestered by souvenir peddlers." "do tell us where it is, now that you've told us this much," begged the girls. but mr. gilroy shook his head and left them guessing. the last of august was passing quickly, and the scouts sighed whenever they remembered that they must close the wonderful camp the first week of september. there was still, however, one delight in store for them. that was the county fair, held the first three days of september. they had entered julia and antoinette to compete for prizes in their individual classes. the boys, as well as the girls, spent those days at the fair grounds, showing the tricks julia and the pig could do, and also going about seeking votes for their pets. the result of this faithful work was seen when the prizes were awarded. dandelion scout camp won first prize of a hundred dollars for having the heaviest and finest pig exhibited that year. another fifty dollars came for antoinette's being the best amateur trick animal shown that year. julia won second prize of fifty dollars for having the required number of points in breeding and development. then, after the fair closed, an animal trainer who made his living going about giving shows of trick animals made an offer for the two pets, saying he had seen them perform at the fair. "what shall we do? suppose the man is cruel to them?" asked julie, worried over the disposal of julia and anty. "it can't be much worse than sending them to a butcher," remarked mr. gilroy. "oh, mercy! we never could sell them for meat!" cried joan. "i shall never eat another mouthful of veal or pork," added betty, fervently. "none of us will ever eat meat again!" declared the others. "but that doesn't answer this letter," the captain reminded them. "the man offers a good price, girls, and having so much capital invested, he will surely take care of the investment," said mr. gilroy. "y-e-s, that's so! well, i'll tell you what, girls," said julie. "let's make him double his offer, and that will make him still more appreciative of julia and anty. if he takes it, all right. if he doesn't, we can write to some other zoo trainer, now that we know we have two fine trained pets." but the animal trainer expected a "come-back," and was only too glad to secure julia and anty at the price the scouts mentioned. and that added materially to the fund for the next summer's outing--wherever it was to be. the day the trainer came to take possession of his newly acquired pets, the girls felt blue over saying good-by to them. anty had been so thoroughly scrubbed that she glistened, and julia had been brushed and currycombed until she looked like satin. "oh, anty! shake hands just once more," wailed judith, as she held out her hand to the pig. anty immediately stood upon her hind legs and held out a hoof that had made such distracting imprints for the scouts early in the summer. "i'll buy the little bark shed, too. i know that all pets love their own little sleeping-places and get so used to them they never feel at home in new quarters. i'll take the pen with me," said the trainer. so anty was the means of adding to the coffer of gold the scouts were now dreaming of. and the artistic little bark house was taken away for anty's especial use thereafter. after the departure of julia and antoinette, the scouts felt lonely, and the camp was soon dismantled of all the exhibits that had been used for decorations that summer. everything was packed and shipped back home, and then came the day when mr. bentley came in his touring car to assist in the transportation of the campers to their old homes and families. as they all stood on the verandah of the bungalow shaking hands with mr. gilroy and telling him what a precious old dear he was to have bothered with them all summer, he said: "but you haven't asked me for the itinerary for next year." "we have, again and again, but you said it was not yet time for that!" exclaimed julie. "well, it _is_ time now. i have to spend all next summer in the rocky mountains collecting specimens of glacial deposits, so i need your company to keep me cheerful. it is up to you to win the consent of your people and save the money for the trip." such a chorus of youthful voices as greeted that wondrous prospect made the adults laugh. "you seem to welcome the idea of camping in the rockies?" suggested mr. gilroy, as the scouts piled into the cars ready to go home. "do we! well, gilly, just you wait and see if we are not with you next year in those rockies!" laughed julie. * * * * * _this isn't all!_ would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in this book? would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author? on the _reverse side_ of the wrapper which comes with this book, you will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same store where you got this book. _don't throw away the wrapper_ _use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. but in case you do mislay it, write to the publishers for a complete catalog._ girl scouts series by lillian elizabeth roy author of the "polly brewster books" handsomely bound. colored wrappers. illustrated. each volume complete in itself. here is a series that holds the same position for girls that the tom slade and roy blakeley books hold for boys. they are delightful stories of girl scout camp life amid beautiful surroundings and are filled with stirring adventures. girl scouts at dandelion camp this is a story which centers around the making and the enjoying of a mountain camp, spiced with the fun of a lively troop of girl scouts. the charm of living in the woods, of learning woodcraft of all sorts, of adventuring into the unknown, combine to make a busy and an exciting summer for the girls. girl scouts in the adirondacks new scenery, new problems of camping, association with a neighboring camp of boy scouts, and a long canoe trip with them through the fulton chain, all in the setting of the marvelous adirondacks, bring to the girls enlargement of horizon, new development, and new joys. girl scouts in the rockies on horseback from denver through estes park as far as the continental divide, climbing peaks, riding wild trails, canoeing through canyons, shooting rapids, encountering a landslide, a summer blizzard, a sand storm, wild animals, and forest fires, the girls pack the days full with unforgettable experiences. girl scouts in arizona and new mexico the girl scouts visit the mountains and deserts of arizona and new mexico. they travel over the old santa fe trail, cross the painted desert, and visit the grand canyon. their exciting adventures form a most interesting story. girl scouts in the redwoods the girls spend their summer in the redwoods of california and incidentally find a way to induce a famous motion picture director in hollywood to offer to produce a film that stars the girl scouts of america. the lilian garis books attractively bound. illustrated. individual colored wrappers. every volume complete in itself. lilian garis is one of the writers who always wrote. she expressed herself in verse from early school days and it was then predicted that lilian mack would one day become a writer. justifying this sentiment, while still at high school, she took charge of the woman's page for a city paper and her work there attracted such favorable attention that she left school to take entire charge of the woman's page for the largest daily in an important eastern city. mrs. garis turned to girls' books directly after her marriage, and of these she has written many. she believes in girls, studies them and depicts them with pen both skilled and sympathetic. barbara hale: a doctor's daughter barbara hale and cozette gloria: a girl and her dad gloria at boarding school joan: just girl joan's garden of adventure connie loring's ambition connie loring's dilemma amy bell marlowe's books for girls charming, fresh and original stories illustrated. wrappers printed in colors with individual design for each story miss marlowe's books for girls are somewhat of the type of miss alcott and also mrs. meade; but all are thoroughly up-to-date and wholly american in scene and action. good, clean absorbing tales that all girls thoroughly enjoy. the oldest of four; or, natalie's way out. a sweet story of the struggles of a live girl to keep a family from want. the girls at hillcrest farm; or, the secret of the rocks. relating the trials of two girls who take boarders on an old farm. a little miss nobody; or, with the girls of pinewood hall. tells of a schoolgirl who was literally a nobody until she solved the mystery of her identity. the girl from sunset ranch; or, alone in a great city. a ranch girl comes to new york to meet relatives she has never seen. her adventures make unusually good reading. wyn's camping days; or, the outing of the go-ahead club. a tale of happy days on the water and under canvas, with a touch of mystery and considerable excitement. francis of the ranges: or, the old ranchman's treasure. a vivid picture of life on the great cattle ranges of the west. the girls of rivercliff school; or, beth baldwin's resolve. this is one of the most entertaining stories centering about a girl's school that has ever been written. when oriole came to harbor light. the story of a young girl, cast up by the sea, and rescued by an old lighthouse keeper. when oriole traveled westward. oriole visits the family of a rich ranchman and enjoys herself immensely. the outdoor girls series by laura lee hope author of the "bobbsey twins," "bunny brown" series, etc. uniform style of binding. individual colored wrappers. every volume complete in itself. these tales take in the various adventures participated in by several bright, up-to-date girls who love outdoor life. the outdoor girls of deepdale; or, camping and tramping for fun and health. the outdoor girls at rainbow lake; or, the stirring cruise of the motor boat gem. the outdoor girls in a motor car; or, the haunted mansion of shadow valley. the outdoor girls in a winter camp; or, glorious days on skates and ice boats. the outdoor girls in florida; or, wintering in the sunny south. the outdoor girls at ocean view; or, the box that was found in the sand. the outdoor girls on pine island; or, a cave and what it contained. the outdoor girls in army service; or, doing their bit for uncle sam. the outdoor girls at the hostess house; or, doing their best for the soldiers. the outdoor girls at bluff point; or, a wreck and a rescue. the outdoor girls at wild rose lodge; or, the hermit of moonlight falls. the outdoor girls in the saddle; or, the girl miner of gold run. the outdoor girls around the campfire; or, the old maid of the mountains. the outdoor girls on cape cod; or, sally ann of lighthouse rock. the blythe girls books by laura lee hope individual colored wrappers and text illustrations by thelma gooch every volume complete in itself the blythe girls, three in number, were left alone in new york city. helen, who went in for art and music, kept the little flat uptown, while margy just out of a business school, obtained a position as a private secretary and rose, plain-spoken and businesslike, took what she called a "job" in a department store. the blythe girls: helen, margy and rose; or, facing the great world. a fascinating tale of real happenings in the great metropolis. the blythe girls: margy's queer inheritance; or, the worth of a name. the girls had a peculiar old aunt and when she died she left an unusual inheritance. this tale continues the struggles of all the girls for existence. the blythe girls: rose's great problem; or, face to face with a crisis. rose still at work in the big department store, is one day faced with the greatest problem of her life. a tale of mystery as well as exciting girlish happenings. the blythe girls: helen's strange boarder; or, the girl from bronx park. helen, out sketching, goes to the assistance of a strange girl, whose real identity is a puzzle to all the blythe girls. who the girl really was comes as a tremendous surprise. the blythe girls: three on a vacation; or, the mystery at peach farm. the girls close their flat and go to the country for two weeks--and fall in with all sorts of curious and exciting happenings. how they came to the assistance of joe morris, and solved a queer mystery, is well related. carolyn wells books attractively bound. illustrated. colored wrappers. the marjorie books marjorie is a happy little girl of twelve, up to mischief, but full of goodness and sincerity. in her and her friends every girl reader will see much of her own love of fun, play and adventure. marjorie's vacation marjorie's busy days marjorie's new friend marjorie in command marjorie's maytime marjorie at seacote * * * * * the two little women series introducing dorinda fayre--a pretty blonde, sweet, serious, timid and a little slow, and dorothy rose--a sparkling brunette, quick, elf-like, high tempered, full of mischief and always getting into scrapes. two little women two little women and treasure house two little women on a holiday * * * * * the dick and dolly books dick and dolly are brother and sister, and their games, their pranks, their joys and sorrows, are told in a manner which makes the stories "really true" to young readers. dick and dolly dick and dolly's adventures the bobbsey twins books for little men and women by laura lee hope author of "the bunny brown series," etc. durably bound. illustrated. uniform style of binding. every volume complete in itself. these books for boys and girls between the ages of three and ten stand among children and their parents of this generation where the books of louisa may alcott stood in former days. the haps and mishaps of this inimitable pair of twins, their many adventures and experiences are a source of keen delight to imaginative children everywhere. the bobbsey twins the bobbsey twins in the country the bobbsey twins at the seashore the bobbsey twins at school the bobbsey twins at snow lodge the bobbsey twins on a houseboat the bobbsey twins at meadow brook the bobbsey twins at home the bobbsey twins in a great city the bobbsey twins on blueberry island the bobbsey twins on the deep blue sea the bobbsey twins in the great west the bobbsey twins at cedar camp the bobbsey twins at the county fair the bobbsey twins camping out the bobbsey twins and baby may the bobbsey twins keeping house the bobbsey twins at cloverbank the bunny brown series by laura lee hope author of the popular "bobbsey twins" books, etc. durably bound. illustrated. uniform style of binding. every volume complete in itself. these stories by the author of the "bobbsey twins" books are eagerly welcomed by the little folks from about five to ten years of age. their eyes fairly dance with delight at the lively doings of inquisitive little bunny brown and his cunning, trustful sister sue. bunny brown and his sister sue bunny brown and his sister sue on grandpa's farm bunny brown and his sister sue playing circus bunny brown and his sister sue at camp rest-a-while bunny brown and his sister sue at aunt lu's city home bunny brown and his sister sue in the big woods bunny brown and his sister sue on an auto tour bunny brown and his sister sue and their shetland pony bunny brown and his sister sue giving a show bunny brown and his sister sue at christmas tree cove bunny brown and his sister sue in the sunny south bunny brown and his sister sue keeping store bunny brown and his sister sue and their trick dog bunny brown and his sister sue at a sugar camp six little bunkers series by laura lee hope author of the bobbsey twins books, the bunny brown series, the blythe girls books, etc. durably bound. illustrated. uniform style of binding. every volume complete in itself. delightful stories for little boys and girls which sprung into immediate popularity. to know the six little bunkers is to take them at once to your heart, they are so intensely human, so full of fun and cute sayings. each story has a little plot of its own--one that can be easily followed--and all are written in miss hope's most entertaining manner. clean, wholesome volumes which ought to be on the bookshelf of every child in the land. six little bunkers at grandma bell's six little bunkers at aunt jo's six little bunkers at cousin tom's six little bunkers at grandpa ford's six little bunkers at uncle fred's six little bunkers at captain ben's six little bunkers at cowboy jack's six little bunkers at mammy june's six little bunkers at farmer joel's six little bunkers at miller ned's six little bunkers at indian john's grosset & dunlap, publishers, new york +-----------------------------------------------------+ |transcriber's note: | | | |the word catalogue appears in the main text, but is | |catalog in the advertisements at the end of the book.| |raquette lake is also shown as racquette lake. | +-----------------------------------------------------+ memorial library. the arctic prairies a canoe-journey of , miles in search of the caribou being the account of a voyage to the region north of aylmer lake by ernest thompson seton author of "wild animals i have known", "life histories", etc. dedicated to the right honourable sir wilfrid laurier, g. c. m. g. premier of canada preface what young man of our race would not gladly give a year of his life to roll backward the scroll of time for five decades and live that year in the romantic bygone-days of the wild west; to see the great missouri while the buffalo pastured on its banks, while big game teemed in sight and the red man roamed and hunted, unchecked by fence or hint of white man's rule; or, when that rule was represented only by scattered trading-posts, hundreds of miles apart, and at best the traders could exchange the news by horse or canoe and months of lonely travel? i for one, would have rejoiced in tenfold payment for the privilege of this backward look in our age, and had reached the middle life before i realised that, at a much less heavy cost, the miracle was possible today. for the uncivilised indian still roams the far reaches of absolutely unchanged, unbroken forest and prairie leagues, and has knowledge of white men only in bartering furs at the scattered trading-posts, where locomotive and telegraph are unknown; still the wild buffalo elude the hunters, fight the wolves, wallow, wander, and breed; and still there is hoofed game by the million to be found where the saxon is as seldom seen as on the missouri in the times of lewis and clarke. only we must seek it all, not in the west, but in the far north-west; and for "missouri and mississippi" read "peace and mackenzie rivers," those noble streams that northward roll their mile-wide turbid floods a thousand leagues to the silent arctic sea. this was the thought which spurred me to a six months' journey by canoe. and i found what i went in search of, but found, also, abundant and better rewards that were not in mind, even as saul, the son of kish, went seeking asses and found for himself a crown and a great kingdom. four years have gone by since i lived through these experiences. such a lapse of time may have made my news grow stale, but it has also given the opportunity for the working up of specimens and scientific records. the results, for the most part, will be found in the appendices, and three of these, as indicated--namely, the sections on plants, mammals, and birds--are the joint work of my assistant, mr. edward a. preble, and myself. my thanks are due here to the right honourable lord strathcona, g. c. m. g., governor of the hudson's bay company, for giving me access to the records of the company whenever i needed them for historical purposes; to the honourable frank oliver, minister of the interior, canada, for the necessary papers and permits to facilitate scientific collection, and also to clarence c. chipman, esq., of winnipeg, the hudson's bay company's commissioner, for practical help in preparing my outfit, and for letters of introduction to the many officers of the company, whose kind help was so often a godsend. ernest thompson seton. chapter i departure for the north in i set out to journey by canoe down the athabaska and adjoining waters to the sole remaining forest wilds--the far north-west of canada--and the yet more desert arctic plains, where still, it was said, were to be seen the caribou in their primitive condition. my only companion was edward a. preble, of washington, d. c., a trained naturalist,--an expert canoeist and traveller, and a man of three seasons' experience in the hudson's bay territory and the mackenzie valley. while my chief object was to see the caribou, and prove their continued abundance, i was prepared incidentally to gather natural-history material of all kinds, and to complete the shore line of the ambiguous lake called "aylmer," as well as explore its sister, the better-known clinton-colden. i went for my own pleasure at my own expense, and yet i could not persuade my hudson's bay company friends that i was not sent by some government, museum or society for some secret purpose. on the night of may we left winnipeg, and our observations began with the day at brandon. from that point westward to regina we saw abundant evidence that last year had been a "rabbit year," that is, a year in which the ever-fluctuating population of northern hares (snowshoe-rabbits or white-rabbits) had reached its maximum, for nine-tenths of the bushes in sight from the train had been barked at the snow level. but the fact that we saw not one rabbit shows that "the plague" had appeared, had run its usual drastic course, and nearly exterminated the species in this particular region. early next morning at kininvie ( miles west of medicine hat, alberta) we saw a band of antelope south of the track; later we saw others all along as far as gleichen. all were south of the track. the bands contained as follows: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , (almost never , probably because this species does not pair), or antelope in bands along miles of track; but all were on the south side; not one was noted on the north. the case is simple. during the past winter, while the antelope were gone southward, the canadian pacific railway company had fenced its track. in spring the migrants, returning, found themselves cut off from their summer feeding-grounds by those impassable barb-wires, and so were gathered against the barrier. one band of , at a stopping place, ran off when they saw passengers alighting, but at half a mile they turned, and again came up against the fence, showing how strong is the northward impulse. unless they learn some way of mastering the difficulty, it means extermination for the antelope of the north saskatchewan. from calgary we went by train to edmonton. this is the point of leaving the railway, the beginning of hard travel, and here we waited a few days to gather together our various shipments of food and equipment, and to await notice that the river was open. in the north the grand event of the year is the opening of the rivers. the day when the ice goes out is the official first day of spring, the beginning of the season; and is eagerly looked for, as every day's delay means serious loss to the traders, whose men are idle, but drawing pay as though at work. on may , having learned that the athabaska was open, we left edmonton in a livery rig, and drove miles northward though a most promising, half-settled country, and late the next day arrived at athabaska landing, on the great east tributary of the mackenzie, whose waters were to bear us onward for so many weeks. athabaska landing is a typical frontier town. these are hard words, but justified. we put up at the principal hotel; the other lodgers told me it was considered the worst hotel in the world. i thought i knew of two worse, but next morning accepted the prevailing view. our canoe and provisions arrived, but the great convoy of scows that were to take the annual supplies of trade stuff for the far north was not ready, and we needed the help and guidance of its men, so must needs wait for four days. this gave us the opportunity to study the local natural history and do a little collecting, the results of which appear later. the great size of the timber here impressed me. i measured a typical black poplar (p. balsamifera), feet to the top, feet inches in circumference, at inches from the ground, and i saw many thicker, but none taller. at the hotel, also awaiting the scows, was a body of four (dis-)mounted police, bound like ourselves for the far north. the officer in charge turned out to be an old friend from toronto, major a. m. jarvis. i also met john schott, the gigantic half-breed, who went to the barren grounds with caspar whitney in . he seemed to have great respect for whitney as a tramper, and talked much of the trip, evidently having forgotten his own shortcomings of the time. while i sketched his portrait, he regaled me with memories of his early days on red river, where he was born in . did not fail to make what notes i could of those now historic times. his accounts of the antelope on white horse plain, in , and buffalo about the site of carberry, manitoba, in , were new and valuable light on the ancient ranges of these passing creatures. all travellers who had preceded me into the barren grounds had relied on the abundant game, and in consequence suffered dreadful hardships; in some cases even starved to death. i proposed to rely on no game, but to take plenty of groceries, the best i could buy in winnipeg, which means the best in the world; and, as will be seen later, the game, because i was not relying on it, walked into camp every day. but one canoe could not carry all these provisions, so most of it i shipped on the hudson's bay company scows, taking with us, in the canoe, food for not more than a week, which with camp outfit was just enough for ballast. of course i was in close touch with the hudson's bay people. although nominally that great trading company parted with its autocratic power and exclusive franchise in , it is still the sovereign of the north. and here let me correct an error that is sometimes found even in respectable print--the company has at all times been ready to assist scientists to the utmost of its very ample power. although jealous of its trading rights, every one is free to enter the territory without taking count of the company, but there has not yet been a successful scientific expedition into the region without its active co-operation. the hudson's bay company has always been the guardian angel of the north. i suppose that there never yet was another purely commercial concern that so fully realized the moral obligations of its great power, or that has so uniformly done its best for the people it ruled. at all times it has stood for peace, and one hears over and over again that such and such tribes were deadly enemies, but the company insisted on their smoking the peace pipe. the sioux and ojibway, black-foot and assiniboine., dog-rib and copper-knife, beaver and chipewyan, all offer historic illustrations in point, and many others could be found for the list. the name peace river itself is the monument of a successful effort on the part of the company to bring about a better understanding between the crees and the beavers. besides human foes, the company has saved the indian from famine and plague. many a hunger-stricken tribe owes its continued existence to the fatherly care of the company, not simply general and indiscriminate, but minute and personal, carried into the details of their lives. for instance, when bots so pestered the caribou of one region as to render their hides useless to the natives, the company brought in hides from a district where they still were good. the chipewyans were each spring the victims of snow-blindness until the company brought and succeeded in popularizing their present ugly but effectual and universal peaked hats. when their train-dogs were running down in physique, the company brought in a strain of pure huskies or eskimo. when the albany river indians were starving and unable to hunt, the company gave the order for , lodge poles. then, not knowing how else to turn them to account, commissioned the indians to work them into a picket garden-fence. at all times the native found a father in the company, and it was the worst thing that ever happened the region when the irresponsible free-traders with their demoralizing methods were allowed to enter and traffic where or how they pleased. chapter ii down the noisy river with the voyageurs at athabaska landing, on may , , . a. m., we boarded the superb peterborough canoe that i had christened the ann seton. the athabaska river was a-flood and clear of ice; scows of freight, with half-breeds and indians to man them, left at the same time, and in spite of a strong headwind we drifted northward fully miles an hour. the leading scow, where i spent some time, was in charge of john macdonald himself, and his passengers comprised the hudson's bay company officials, going to their posts or on tours of inspection. they were a jolly crowd, like a lot of rollicking schoolboys, full of fun and good-humour, chaffing and joking all day; but when a question of business came up, the serious businessman appeared in each, and the company's interest was cared for with their best powers. the bottle was not entirely absent in these scow fraternities, but i saw no one the worse for liquor on the trip. the men of mixed blood jabbered in french, cree, and chipewyan chiefly, but when they wanted to swear, they felt the inadequacy of these mellifluous or lisping tongues, and fell back on virile saxon, whose tang, projectivity, and wealth of vile epithet evidently supplied a long-felt want in the great lone land of the dog and canoe. in the afternoon preble and i pushed on in our boat, far in advance of the brigade. as we made early supper i received for the twentieth time a lesson in photography. a cock partridge or ruffed grouse came and drummed on a log in open view, full sunlight, fifty feet away. i went quietly to the place. he walked off, but little alarmed. i set the camera eight feet from the log, with twenty-five feet of tubing, and retired to a good hiding-place. but alas! i put the tube on the left-hand pump, not knowing that that was a dummy. the grouse came back in three minutes, drumming in a superb pose squarely in front of the camera. i used the pump, but saw that it failed to operate; on going forward the grouse skimmed away and returned no more. preble said, "never mind; there will be another every hundred yards all the way down the river, later on." i could only reply, "the chance never comes but once," and so it proved. we heard grouse drumming many times afterward, but the sun was low, or the places densely shaded, or the mosquitoes made conditions impossible for silent watching; the perfect chance came but once, as it always does, and i lost it. about twenty miles below the landing we found the abandoned winter hut of a trapper; on the roof were the dried up bodies of skunk, foxes, and lynxes, besides the bones of moose, showing the nature of the wild life about. that night, as the river was brimming and safe, we tied up to the scows and drifted, making more miles, or since embarking. in the early morning, i was much struck by the lifelessness of the scene. the great river stretched away northward, the hills rose abruptly from the water's edge, everywhere extended the superb spruce forest, here fortunately unburnt; but there seemed no sign of living creature outside of our own numerous, noisy, and picturesque party. river, hills, and woods were calm and silent. it was impressive, if disappointing; and, when at last the fir stillness was broken by a succession of trumpet notes from the great pileated woodpecker, the sound went rolling on and on, in reverberating echoes that might well have alarmed the bird himself. the white spruce forest along the banks is most inspiring, magnificent here. down the terraced slopes and right to the water's edge on the alluvial soil it stands in ranks. each year, of course, the floods undercut the banks, and more trees fall, to become at last the flotsam of the shore a thousand miles away. there is something sad about these stately trees, densely packed, all a-row, unflinching, hopelessly awaiting the onset of the inexorable, invincible river. one group, somewhat isolated and formal, was a forest life parallel to lady butler's famous "roll call of the grenadiers." at night we reached the indian village of pelican portage, and landed by climbing over huge blocks of ice that were piled along the shore. the adult male inhabitants came down to our camp, so that the village was deserted, except for the children and a few women. as i walked down the crooked trail along which straggle the cabins, i saw something white in a tree at the far end. supposing it to be a white-rabbit in a snare, i went near and found, to my surprise, first that it was a dead house-cat, a rare species here; second, under it, eyeing it and me alternately, was a hungry-looking lynx. i had a camera, for it was near sundown, and in the woods, so i went back to the boat and returned with a gun. there was the lynx still prowling, but now farther from the village. i do not believe he would have harmed the children, but a lynx is game. i fired, and he fell without a quiver or a sound. this was the first time i had used a gun in many years, and was the only time on the trip. i felt rather guilty, but the carcass was a godsend to two old indians who were sickening on a long diet of salt pork, and that lynx furnished them tender meat for three days afterward; while its skin and skull went to the american museum. on the night of may , we camped just above grand rapids--preble and i alone, for the first time, under canvas, and glad indeed to get away from the noisy rabble of the boatmen, though now they were but a quarter mile off. at first i had found them amusing and picturesque, but their many unpleasant habits, their distinct aversion to strangers, their greediness to get all they could out of one, and do nothing in return, combined finally with their habit of gambling all night to the loud beating of a tin pan, made me thankful to quit their company for a time. at grand rapids the scows were unloaded, the goods shipped over a quarter-mile hand tramway, on an island, the scows taken down a side channel, one by one, and reloaded. this meant a delay of three or four days, during which we camped on the island and gathered specimens. being the organizer, equipper, geographer, artist, head, and tail of the expedition, i was, perforce, also its doctor. equipped with a "pill-kit," an abundance of blisters and bandages and some "potent purgatives," i had prepared myself to render first and last aid to the hurt in my own party. in taking instructions from our family physician, i had learned the value of a profound air of great gravity, a noble reticence, and a total absence of doubt, when i did speak. i compressed his creed into a single phrase: "in case of doubt, look wise and work on his 'bowels.'" this simple equipment soon gave me a surprisingly high standing among the men. i was a medicine man of repute, and soon had a larger practice than i desired, as it was entirely gratuitous. the various boatmen, indians and half-breeds, came with their troubles, and, thanks chiefly to their faith, were cured. but one day john macdonald, the chief pilot and a mighty man on the river, came to my tent on grand island. john complained that he couldn't hold anything on his stomach; he was a total peristaltic wreck indeed (my words; his were more simple and more vivid, but less sonorous and professional). he said he had been going down hill for two weeks, and was so bad now that he was "no better than a couple of ordinary men." "exactly so," i said. "now you take these pills and you'll be all right in the morning." next morning john was back, and complained that my pills had no effect; he wanted to feel something take hold of him. hadn't any pepper-juice or brandy? i do not take liquor on an expedition, but at the last moment a winnipeg friend had given me a pint flask of pure brandy--"for emergencies." an emergency had come. "john! you shall have some extra fine brandy, nicely thinned with pepper-juice." i poured half an inch of brandy into a tin cup, then added half an inch of "pain-killer." "here, take this, and if you don't feel it, it means your insides are dead, and you may as well order your coffin." john took it at a gulp. his insides were not dead; but i might have been, had i been one of his boatmen. he doubled up, rolled around, and danced for five minutes. he did not squeal--john never squeals--but he suffered some, and an hour later announced that he was about cured. next day he came to say he was all right, and would soon again be as good as half a dozen men. at this same camp in grand rapids another cure on a much larger scale was added to my list. an indian had "the bones of his foot broken," crushed by a heavy weight, and was badly crippled. he came leaning on a friend's shoulder. his foot was blackened and much swollen, but i soon satisfied myself that no bones were broken, because he could wriggle all the toes and move the foot in any direction. "you'll be better in three days and all right in a week," i said, with calm assurance. then i began with massage. it seemed necessary in the indian environment to hum some tune, and i found that the "koochy-koochy" lent itself best to the motion, so it became my medicine song. with many "koochy-koochy"-ings and much ice-cold water he was nearly cured in three days, and sound again in a week. but in the north folk have a habit (not known elsewhere) of improving the incident. very soon it was known all along the river that the indian's leg was broken, and i had set and healed it in three days. in a year or two, i doubt not, it will be his neck that was broken, not once, but in several places. grand island yielded a great many deermice of the arctic form, a few red-backed voles, and any number of small birds migrant. as we floated down the river the eye was continually held by tall and prominent spruce trees that had been cut into peculiar forms as below. these were known as "lob-sticks," or "lop-sticks," and are usually the monuments of some distinguished visitor in the country or records of some heroic achievement. thus, one would be pointed out as commissioner wrigley's lob-stick, another as john macdonald's the time he saved the scow. the inauguration of a lob-stick is quite a ceremony. some person in camp has impressed all with his importance or other claim to notice. the men, having talked it over, announce that they have decided on giving him a lob-stick. "will he make choice of some prominent tree in view?" the visitor usually selects one back from the water's edge, often on some far hilltop, the more prominent the better; then an active young fellow is sent up with an axe to trim the tree. the more embellishment the higher the honor. on the trunk they then inscribe the name of the stranger, and he is supposed to give each of the men a plug of tobacco and a drink of whiskey. thus they celebrate the man and his monument, and ever afterwards it is pointed out as "so-and-so's lob-stick." it was two months before my men judged that i was entitled to a lob-stick. we were then on great slave lake where the timber was small, but the best they could get on a small island was chosen and trimmed into a monument. they were disappointed however, to find that i would by no means give whiskey to natives, and my treat had to take a wholly different form. grand rapids, with its multiplicity of perfectly round pot-hole boulders, was passed in four days, and then, again in company with the boats, we entered the real canyon of the river. down athabaska's boiling flood of seething, leaping, coiling mud. chapter iii human nature on the river sunday morning, th of may, there was something like a strike among the sixty half-breeds and indians that composed the crews. they were strict sabbatarians (when it suited them); they believed that they should do no work, but give up the day to gambling and drinking. old john, the chief pilot, wished to take advantage of the fine flood on the changing river, and drift down at least to the head of the boiler rapids, twenty miles away, the breeds maintained, with many white swear words, for lack of strong talk in indian, that they never yet knew sunday work to end in anything but disaster, and they sullenly scattered among the trees, produced their cards, and proceeded to gamble away their property, next year's pay, clothes, families, anything, and otherwise show their respect for the lord's day and defiance of old john macdonald. john made no reply to their arguments; he merely boarded the cook's boat, and pushed off into the swift stream with the cooks and all the grub. in five minutes the strikers were on the twelve big boats doing their best to live up to orders. john said nothing, and grinned at me only with his eyes. the breeds took their defeat in good part after the first minute, and their commander rose higher in their respect. at noon we camped above the boiler rapids. in the evening i climbed the - or -foot hill behind camp and sketched the canyon looking northward. the spring birds were now beginning to arrive, but were said to be a month late this year. the ground was everywhere marked with moose sign; prospects, were brightening. the mania for killing that is seen in many white men is evidently a relic of savagery, for all of these indians and half-breeds are full of it. each carries a rifle, and every living thing that appears on the banks or on the water is fusilladed with winchesters until it is dead or out of sight. this explains why we see so little from the scows. one should be at least a day ahead of them to meet with wild life on the river. this morning two bears appeared on the high bank--and there was the usual uproar and fusillading; so far as could be learned without any effect, except the expenditure of thirty or forty cartridges at five cents each. on the th we came to the cascade rapids. the first or little cascade has about two feet fall, the second or grand cascade, a mile farther, is about a six foot sheer drop. these are considered very difficult to run, and the manner of doing it changes with every change in season or water level. we therefore went through an important ceremony, always carried out in the same way. all boats were beached, the pilots went ahead on the bank to study the problem, they decided on the one safe place and manner, then returned, and each of the boats was run over in different places and manners. they always do this. you are supposed to have run the cascades successfully if you cross them alive, but to have failed if you drown.. in this case all were successful. below the cascades i had a sample of indian gratitude that set me thinking. my success with john macdonald and others had added the whole community to my medical practice, for those who were not sick thought they were. i cheerfully did my best for all, and was supposed to be persona grata. just below the cascade rapids was a famous sucker pool, and after we had camped three indians came, saying that the pool was full of suckers--would i lend them my canoe to get some? away they went, and from afar i was horrified to see them clubbing the fish with my beautiful thin-bladed maple paddles. they returned with a boat load of - and -pound suckers (catostomus) and paddles broken. each of their friends came and received one or two fine fish, for there were plenty. i, presumably part owner of the catch, since i owned the boat, selected one small one for myself, whereupon the indian insolently demanded cents for it; and these were the men i had been freely doctoring for two weeks! not to speak of the loaned canoe and broken paddles! then did i say a few things to all and sundry--stinging, biting things, ungainsayable and forcible things--and took possession of all the fish that were left, so the indians slunk off in sullen silence. gratitude seems an unknown feeling among these folk; you may give presents and help and feed them all you like, the moment you want a slight favour of them they demand the uttermost cent. in attempting to analyse this i was confronted by the fact that among themselves they are kind and hospitable, and at length discovered that their attitude toward us is founded on the ideas that all white men are very rich, that the indian has made them so by allowing them to come into this country, that the indian is very poor because he never was properly compensated, and that therefore all he can get out of said white man is much less than the white man owes him. as we rounded a point one day a lynx appeared statuesque on a stranded cake of ice, a hundred yards off, and gazed at the approaching boats. true to their religion, the half-breeds seized their rifles, the bullets whistled harmlessly about the "peeshoo"--whereupon he turned and walked calmly up the slope, stopping to look at each fresh volley, but finally waved his stumpy tail and walked unharmed over the ridge. distance fifty yards. on may we reached fort macmurray. here i saw several interesting persons: miss christine gordon, the postmaster; joe bird, a half-breed with all the advanced ideas of a progressive white man; and an american ex-patriot, g------, a tall, raw-boned yank from illinois. he was a typical american of the kind, that knows little of america and nothing of europe; but shrewd and successful in spite of these limitations. in appearance he was not unlike abraham lincoln. he was a rabid american, and why he stayed here was a question. he had had no detailed tidings from home for years, and i never saw a man more keen for the news. on the banks of the river we sat for an hour while he plied me with questions, which i answered so far as i could. he hung on my lips; he interrupted only when there seemed a halt in the stream; he revelled in, all the details of wrecks by rail and sea. roosevelt and the trusts--insurance scandals--the south the burnings in the west--massacres--murders--horrors--risings--these were his special gloats, and yet he kept me going with "yes--yes--and then?" or "yes, by golly--that's the way we're a-doing it. go on." then, after i had robbed new york of $ , , a year, burnt large towns and small ones, wrecked express trains, lynched negroes in the south and murdered many men every night for years in chicago--he broke out: "by golly, we are a-doing it. we are the people. we are a-moving things now; and i tell you i give the worst of them there european countries, the very worst of 'em, just years to become americanised." think of that, ye polished frenchmen; ye refined, courteous swedes; ye civilised danes; you have years to become truly americanised! all down the river route we came on relics of another class of wanderers--the klondikers of . sometimes these were empty winter cabins; sometimes curious tools left at hudson's bay posts, and in some cases expensive provisions; in all cases we heard weird tales of their madness. there is, i am told, a shanty on the mackenzie above simpson, where four of them made a strange record. cooped up for months in tight winter quarters, they soon quarrelled, and at length their partnership was dissolved. each took the articles he had contributed, and those of common purchase they divided in four equal parts. the stove, the canoe, the lamp, the spade, were broken relentlessly and savagely into four parts--four piles of useless rubbish. the shanty was divided in four. one man had some candles of his own bringing. these he kept and carefully screened off his corner of the room so no chance rays might reach the others to comfort them; they spent the winter in darkness. none spoke to the other, and they parted, singly and silently, hatefully as ever, as soon as the springtime opened the way. chapter iv down the silent river with the mounted police at fort macmurray we learned that there was no telling when the steamer might arrive; major jarvis was under orders to proceed without delay to smith landing; so to solve all our difficulties i bought a -foot boat (sturgeon-head) of joe bird, and arranged to join forces with the police for the next part of the journey. i had made several unsuccessful attempts to get an experienced native boatman to go northward with me. all seemed to fear the intending plunge into the unknown; so was agreeably surprised when a sturdy young fellow of scottish and cree parentage came and volunteered for the trip. a few inquiries proved him to bear a good reputation as a river-man and worker, so william c. loutit was added to my expedition and served me faithfully throughout. in time i learned that billy was a famous traveller. some years ago, when the flood had severed all communication between athabaska landing and edmonton, billy volunteered to carry some important despatches, and covered the miles on foot in one and a half days, although much of the road was under water. on another occasion he went alone and afoot from house river up the athabaska to calling river, and across the point to the athabaska again, then up to the landing- rough miles in four days. these exploits i had to find out for myself later on, but much more important to me at the time was the fact that he was a first-class cook, a steady, cheerful worker, and a capable guide as far as great slave lake. the athabaska below fort macmurray is a noble stream, one-third of a mile wide, deep, steady, unmarred; the banks are covered with unbroken virginal forests of tall white poplar, balsam poplar, spruce, and birch. the fire has done no damage here as yet, the axe has left no trace, there are no houses, no sign of man except occasional teepee poles. i could fancy myself floating down the ohio two hundred years ago. these were bright days to be remembered, as we drifted down its placid tide in our ample and comfortable boat, with abundance of good things. calm, lovely, spring weather; ducks all along the river; plenty of food, which is the northerner's idea of bliss; plenty of water, which is the river-man's notion of joy; plenty of leisure, which is an element in most men's heaven, for we had merely to float with the stream, three miles an hour, except when we landed to eat or sleep. the woods were donning their vernal green and resounded with the calls of birds now. the mosquito plague of the region had not yet appeared, and there was little lacking to crown with a halo the memory of those days on the missouri of the north. native quadrupeds seemed scarce, and we were all agog when one of the men saw a black fox trotting along the opposite bank. however, it turned out to be one of the many stray dogs of the country. he followed us a mile or more, stopping at times to leap at fish that showed near the shore. when we landed for lunch he swam the broad stream and hung about at a distance. as this was twenty miles from any settlement, he was doubtless hungry, so i left a bountiful lunch for him, and when we moved away, he claimed his own. at fort mckay i saw a little half-breed boy shooting with a bow and displaying extraordinary marksmanship. at sixty feet he could hit the bottom of a tomato tin nearly every time; and even more surprising was the fact that he held the arrow with what is known as the mediterranean hold. when, months later, i again stopped at this place, i saw another boy doing the very same. some residents assured me that this was the style of all the chipewyans as well as the crees. that night we camped far down the river and on the side opposite the fort, for experience soon teaches one to give the dogs no chance of entering camp on marauding expeditions while you rest. about ten, as i was going to sleep, preble put his head in and said: "come out here if you want a new sensation." in a moment i was standing with him under the tall spruce trees, looking over the river to the dark forest, a quarter mile away, and listening intently to a new and wonderful sound. like the slow tolling of a soft but high-pitched bell, it came. ting, ting, ting, ting, and on, rising and falling with the breeze, but still keeping on about two "tings" to the second; and on, dulling as with distance, but rising again and again. it was unlike anything i had ever heard, but preble knew it of old. "that", says he, "is the love-song of the richardson owl. she is sitting demurely in some spruce top while he sails around, singing on the wing, and when the sound seems distant, he is on the far side of the tree." ting, ting, ting, ting, it went on and on, this soft belling of his love, this amorous music of our northern bell-bird. . ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting--oh, how could any lady owl resist such strains?--and on, with its ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, the whole night air was vibrant. then, as though by plan, a different note--the deep booming "oho-oh-who-oh who hoo" of the great homed owl--was heard singing a most appropriate bass. but the little owl went on and on; minutes, minutes, minutes at last had elapsed before i turned in again and left him. more than once that night i awoke to hear his "tinging" serenade upon the consecrated air of the piney woods. yet preble said this one was an indifferent performer. on the mackenzie he had heard far better singers of the kind; some that introduce many variations of the pitch and modulation. i thought it one of the most charming bird voices i had ever listened to--and felt that this was one of the things that make the journey worth while. on june the weather was so blustering and wet that we did not break camp. i put in the day examining the superb timber of this bottom-land. white spruce is the prevailing conifer and is here seen in perfection. a representative specimen was feet high, feet inches in circumference, or feet / inches in diameter foot from the ground, i.e., above any root spread. there was plenty of timber of similar height. black spruce, a smaller kind, and tamarack are found farther up and back in the bog country. jackpine of fair size abounds on the sandy and gravelly parts. balsam poplar is the largest deciduous tree; its superb legions in upright ranks are crowded along all the river banks and on the islands not occupied by the spruce. the large trees of this kind often have deep holes; these are the nesting sites of the whistler duck, which is found in numbers here and as far north as this tree, but not farther. white poplar is plentiful also; the hillsides are beautifully clad with its purplish masses of twigs, through which its white stem gleam like marble columns. white birch is common and large enough for canoes. two or three species of willow in impenetrable thickets make up the rest of the forest stretches. at this camp i had the unique experience of showing all these seasoned westerners that it was possible to make a fire by the friction of two sticks. this has long been a specialty of mine; i use a thong and a bow as the simplest way. ordinarily i prefer balsam-fir or tamarack; in this case i used a balsam block and a spruce drill, and, although each kind failed when used with drill and block the same, i got the fire in half a minute. on june we left this camp of tall timber. as we floated down we sighted a lynx on the bank looking contemplatively into the flood. one of the police boys seized a gun and with a charge of no. killed the lynx. poor thing, it was in a starving condition, as indeed are most meat-eaters this year in the north. though it was fully grown, it weighed but pounds. in its stomach was part of a sparrow (white-throat?) and a piece of rawhide an inch wide and feet long, evidently a portion of a dog-harness picked up somewhere along the river. i wonder what he did with the bells. that night we decided to drift, leaving one man on guard. next day, as we neared lake athabaska, the shores got lower, and the spruce disappeared, giving way to dense thickets of low willow. here the long expected steamer, graham, passed, going upstream. we now began to get occasional glimpses of lake athabaska across uncertain marshes and sand bars. it was very necessary to make fort chipewyan while there was a calm, so we pushed on. after four hours' groping among blind channels and mud banks, we reached the lake at midnight--though of course there was no night, but a sort of gloaming even at the darkest--and it took us four hours' hard rowing to cover the ten miles that separated us from chipewyan. it sounds very easy and commonplace when one says "hard rowing," but it takes on more significance when one is reminded that those oars were feet long, inches through, and weighed about pounds each; the boat was feet long, a demasted schooner indeed, and rowing her through shallow muddy water, where the ground suction was excessive, made labour so heavy that minute spells were all any one could do. we formed four relays, and all worked in turn all night through, arriving at chipewyan. a.m., blistered, sore, and completely tired out. fort chipewyan (pronounced chip-we-yan') was billy loutit's home, and here we met his father, mother, and numerous as well as interesting sisters. meanwhile i called at the roman catholic mission, under bishop gruard, and the rival establishment, under reverend roberts, good men all, and devoted to the cause, but loving not each other. the hudson's bay company, however, was here, as everywhere in the north, the really important thing. there was a long stretch of dead water before we could resume our downward drift, and, worse than that, there was such a flood on the peace river that it was backing the athabaska, that is, the tide of the latter was reversed on the rocher river, which extends twenty-five miles between here and peace mouth. to meet this, i hired colin fraser's steamer. we left chipewyan at . ; at . camped below the peace on great slave river, and bade farewell to the steamer. the reader may well be puzzled by these numerous names; the fact is the mackenzie, the slave, the peace, the rocher, and the unchaga are all one and the same river, but, unfortunately, the early explorers thought proper to give it a new name each time it did something, such as expand into a lake. by rights it should be the unchaga or unjiza, from the rockies to the arctic, with the athabaska as its principal southern tributary. the next day another lynx was collected. in its stomach were remains of a redsquirrel, a chipmunk, and a bog-lemming. the last was important as it made a new record. the athabaska is a great river, the peace is a greater, and the slave, formed by their union, is worthy of its parents. its placid flood is here nearly a mile wide, and its banks are covered with a great continuous forest of spruce trees of the largest size. how far back this extends i do not know, but the natives say the best timber is along the river. more than once a lynx was seen trotting by or staring at us from the bank, but no other large animal. on the night of june we reached smith landing. chapter v a conference with the chiefs a few bands of buffalo are said to exist in the country east of great slave river. among other matters, major jarvis had to report on these, find out how many were left, and exactly where they were. when he invited me to join his expedition, with these questions in view, i needed no pressing. our first business was to get guides, and now our troubles began. through the traders we found four natives who knew the buffalo range--they were kiya, sousi, kirma, and peter squirrel. however, they seemed in no way desirous of guiding any one into that country. they dodged and delayed and secured many postponements, but the royal mounted police and the hudson's bay company are the two mighty powers of the land, so, urged by an officer of each, these worthies sullenly assembled to meet us in sousi's cabin. sousi, by the way, is chipewyan for joseph, and this man's name was joseph beaulieu. other northern travellers have warned all that came after them to beware of the tribe of beaulieu, so we were on guard. sullen silence greeted us as we entered; we could feel their covert antagonism. jarvis is one of those affable, good-tempered individuals that most persons take for "easy." in some ways he may be so, but i soon realised that he was a keen judge of men and their ways, and he whispered to me: "they mean to block us if possible." sousi understood french and had some english, but the others professed ignorance of everything but chipewyan. so it was necessary to call in an interpreter. how admirably he served us may be judged from the following sample secured later. q. are the buffalo near? a. wah-hay-was-ki busquow kai-ah taw nip-ee-wat-chow-es-kee nee-moy-ah. kee-as-o-win sugee-meesh i-mush-wa mus-tat-e-muck ne-mow-ah pe-muk-te-ok nemoy-ah dane-tay-tay-ah. interpreter. he say "no." q. how long would it take to get them? a. ne-moy-ah mis-chay-to-ok way-hay-o ay-ow-ok-iman-kah-mus-to-ok. mis-ta-hay cha-gowos-ki wah-hay-o musk-ee-see-seepi. mas-kootch e-goot-ah-i-ow mas-kootch ne-moy-ah muk-eboy sak-te-muk mas-kootch gahk-sin-now ne-moy-ah gehk-kee-win-tay dam-foole-inglis. interpreter. he say "don't know." q. can you go with us as guide? a. kee-ya-wah-lee nas-bah a-lash-tay wah-lee-lee lan-day. (answer literally) "yes, i could go if i could leave the transport." interpreter's answer, "mebby." after a couple of hours of this bootless sort of thing we had made no headway toward getting a guide, nor could we get definite information about the buffaloes or the wolves. finally the meeting suffered a sort of natural disintegration. next day we tried again, but again there were technical difficulties, grown up like mushrooms over night. kiya could not go or lend his horses, because it was mostly squirrel's country, and he was afraid squirrel would not like it. squirrel could not go because it would be indelicate of him to butt in after negotiations had been opened with kiya. kirma was not well. sousi could not go because his wife was sick, and it preyed on his mind so that he dare not trust himself away from the settlement; at least, not without much medicine to fortify him against rheumatism, home-sickness, and sadness. next day kiya sent word that he had business of great moment, and could not meet us, but would see that early in the morning squirrel was notified to come and do whatever we wished. in the morning squirrel also had disappeared, leaving word that he had quite overlooked a most important engagement to "portage some flour across the rapids," not that he loved the tump line, but he had "promised," and to keep his word was very precious to him. jarvis and i talked it over and reviewed the information we had. at ottawa it was reported that the wolves were killing the calves, so the buffalo did not increase. at winnipeg the wolves were so bad that they killed yearlings; at edmonton the cows were not safe. at chipewyan the wolves, reinforced by large bands from the barren grounds, were killing the young buffalo, and later the cows and young bulls. at smith's landing the wolves had even tackled an old bull whose head was found with the large bones. horses and dogs were now being devoured. terrible battles were taking place between the dark wolves of peace river and the white wolves of the barrens for possession of the buffalo grounds. of course the buffalo were disappearing; about a hundred were all that were left. but no one ever sees any of these terrible wolves, the few men who know that country have plenty of pemmican, that is neither moose nor caribou, and the major briefly summed up the situation: "the wolves are indeed playing havoc with the buffalo, and the ravenous leaders of the pack are called sousi, kiya, kirma, and squirrel." now of all the four, sousi, being a beaulieu and a half-breed, had the worst reputation, but of all the four he was the only one that had admitted a possibility of guiding us, and was to be found on the fifth morning. so his views were met, a substitute found to watch his fishing nets, groceries to keep his wife from pining during his absence, a present for himself, the regular rate of wages doubled, his horses hired, his rheumatism, home-sickness, and sadness provided against, a present of tobacco, some more presents, a promise of reward for every buffalo shown, then another present, and we set out. chapter vi out with sousi beaulieu it's a, fine thing to get started, however late in the day, and though it was . p. m. before everything was ready, we gladly set out--sousi, major jarvis, and myself--all mounted, the native leading a packhorse with provisions. and now we had a chance to study our guide. a man's real history begins, of course, about twenty years before he is born. in the middle of the last century was a notorious old ruffian named beaulieu. montreal was too slow for him, so he invaded the north-west with a chosen crew of congenial spirits. his history can be got from any old resident of the north-west. i should not like to write it as it was told to me. his alleged offspring are everywhere in the country, and most travellers on their return from this region, sound a note of warning: "look out for every one of the name of beaulieu. they are a queer lot." and now we had committed ourselves and our fortunes into the hands of beaulieu's second or twenty-second son--i could not make sure which. he is a typical half-breed, of medium height, thin, swarthy, and very active, although he must be far past . just how far is not known, whether or , he himself seemed uncertain, but he knows there is a in it. the women of smith's landing say , the men say or . he is clad in what might be the cast-off garments of a white tramp, except for his beaded moccasins. however sordid these people may be in other parts of their attire, i note that they always have some redeeming touch of color and beauty about the moccasins which cover their truly shapely feet. sousi's rifle, a winchester, also was clad in a native mode. an embroidered cover of moose leather protected it night and day, except when actually in use; of his weapons he took most scrupulous care. unlike the founder of the family, sousi has no children of his own. but he has reared a dozen waifs under prompting of his own kind heart. he is quite a character--does not drink or smoke, and i never heard him swear. this is not because he does not know how, for he is conversant with the vigor of all the five languages of the country, and the garment of his thought is like joseph's coat--ethnologically speaking, its breadth and substance are french, but it bears patches of english, with flowers and frills, strophes, and classical allusions of cree and chipewyan--the last being the language of his present "home circle." there was one more peculiarity of our guide that struck me forcibly. he was forever considering his horse. whenever the trail was very bad, and half of it was, sousi dismounted and walked--the horse usually following freely, for the pair were close friends. this, then, was the dark villain against whom we had been warned. how he lived up to his reputation will be seen later. after four hours' march through a level, swampy country, forested with black and white spruce, black and white poplar, birch, willow, and tamarack, we came to salt river, a clear, beautiful stream, but of weak, salty brine. not far away in the woods was a sweet spring, and here we camped for the night. close by, on a place recently burnt over, i found the nest of a green-winged teal. all cover was gone and the nest much singed, but the down had protected the eggs. the old one fluttered off, played lame, and tried to lead me away. i covered up the eggs and an hour later found she had returned and resumed her post. that night, as i sat by the fire musing, i went over my life when i was a boy in manitoba, just too late to see the buffalo, recalling how i used to lie in some old buffalo wallow and peer out over the prairie through the fringe of spring anemones and long to see the big brown forms on the plains. once in those days i got a sensation, for i did see them. they turned out to be a herd of common cattle, but still i got the thrill. now i was on a real buffalo hunt, some twenty-five years too late. will it come? am i really to see the wild buffalo on its native plains? it is too good to be true; too much like tipping back the sands of time. chapter vii the buffalo hunt we left camp on salt river at . in the morning and travelled till o'clock, covering six miles. it was all through the same level country, in which willow swamps alternated with poplar and spruce ridges. at it began to rain, so we camped on a slope under some fine, big white spruces till it cleared, and then continued westward. the country now undulated somewhat and was varied with openings. sousi says that when first he saw this region, years ago, it was all open prairie, with timber only in hollows and about water. this is borne out by the facts that all the large trees are in such places, and that all the level open stretches are covered with sapling growths of aspen and fir. this will make a glorious settlement some day. in plants, trees, birds, soil, climate, and apparently all conditions, it is like manitoba. we found the skeleton of a cow buffalo, apparently devoured by wolves years ago, because all the big bones were there and the skull unbroken. about two in the afternoon we came up a -foot rise to a beautiful upland country, in which the forests were diversified with open glades, and which everywhere showed a most singular feature. the ground is pitted all over with funnel-shaped holes, from to feet deep, and of equal width across the rim; none of them contained water. i saw one feet across and about feet deep; some expose limestone; in one place we saw granite. at first i took these for extinct geysers, but later i learned that the whole plateau called salt mountain is pitted over with them. brine is running out of the mountain in great quantities, which means that the upper strata are being undermined as the salt washes out, and, as these crack, the funnels are formed no doubt by the loose deposits settling. in the dry woods bear tracks became extremely numerous; the whole country, indeed, was marked with the various signs. practically every big tree has bearclaw markings on it, and every few yards there is evidence that the diet of the bears just now is chiefly berries of uva ursi. as we rode along sousi prattled cheerfully in his various tongues; but his steady flow of conversation abruptly ended when, about p. m., we came suddenly on some buffalo tracks, days old, but still buffalo tracks. all at once and completely he was the hunter. he leaped from his horse and led away like a hound. ere long, of course, the trail was crossed by two fresher ones; then we found some dry wallows and several very fresh tracks. we tied up the horses in an old funnel pit and set about an elaborate hunt. jarvis minded the stock, i set out with sousi, after he had tried the wind by tossing up some grass. but he stopped, drew a finger-nail sharply across my canvas coat, so that it gave a little shriek, and said "va pa," which is "cela ne va pas" reduced to its bony framework. i doffed the offending coat and we went forward as shown on the map. the horses were left at a; the wind was east. first we circled a little to eastward, tossing grass at intervals, but, finding plenty of new sign, went northerly and westward till most of the new sign was east of us. sousi then led for c, telling me to step in his tracks and make no noise. i did so for long, but at length a stick cracked under my foot; he turned and looked reproachfully at me. then a stick cracked under his foot; i gave him a poke in the ribs. when we got to the land between the lake at d, sousi pointed and said, "they are here." we sneaked with the utmost caution that way--it was impossible to follow any one trail--and in yards sousi sank to the ground gasping out, "la! la! maintenon faites son portrait au taut que vous voudrez." i crawled forward and saw, not one, but half a dozen buffalo. "i must be nearer," i said, and, lying flat on my breast, crawled, toes and elbows, up to a bush within yards, where i made shot no. , and saw here that there were or buffalo, one an immense bull. sousi now cocked his rifle-i said emphatically: "stop! you must not fire." "no?" he said in astonished tones that were full of story and comment. "what did we come for?" now i saw that by backing out and crawling to another bunch of herbage i could get within yards. "it is not possible," he gasped. "watch me and see," i replied. gathering all the near vines and twisting them around my neck, i covered my head with leaves and creeping plants, then proceeded to show that it was possible, while sousi followed. i reached the cover and found it was a bed of spring anemones on the far side of an old buffalo wallow, and there in that wallow i lay for a moment revelling in the sight. all at once it came to me: now, indeed, was fulfilled the long-deferred dream of my youth, for in shelter of those flowers of my youth, i was gazing on a herd of wild buffalo. then slowly i rose above the cover and took my second picture. but the watchful creatures, more shy than moose here, saw the rising mass of herbage, or may have caught the wind, rose lightly and went off. i noticed now, for the first time, a little red calf; ten buffalo in all i counted. sousi, standing up, counted . at the edge of the woods they stopped and looked around, but gave no third shot for the camera. i shook sousi's hand with all my heart, and he, good old fellow, said: "ah! it was for this i prayed last night; without doubt it was in answer to my prayer that the good god has sent me this great happiness." then back at camp, yards away, the old man's tongue was loosed, and he told me how the chiefs in conference, and every one at the fort, had ridiculed him and his englishmen--"who thought they could walk up to buffalo and take their pictures." we had not been long in camp when sousi went off to get some water, but at once came running back, shouting excitedly, "my rifle, my rifle!" jarvis handed it to him; he rushed off to the woods. i followed in time to see him shoot an old bear and two cubs out of a tree. she fell, sobbing like a human being, "oh! oh! oh-h-h-h!" it was too late to stop him, and he finished her as she lay helpless. the little ones were too small to live alone, so shared her fate. it seems, as sousi went to the water hole, he came on an old bear and her two cubs. she gave a warning "koff, koff." the only enemies they knew about and feared, were buffalo, moose, and wolves; from these a tree was a safe haven. the cubs scrambled up a tall poplar, then the mother followed. sousi came shouting in apparent fear; i rushed to the place, thinking he was attacked by something, perhaps a buffalo bull, but too late to stop the tragedy that followed. that night he roasted one of the cubs, and as i watched the old cannibal chewing the hands off that little baby bear it gave me a feeling of disgust for all flesh-eating that lasted for days. major jarvis felt much as i did, and old sousi had exclusive joy in all his bear meat. next morning i was left at camp while jarvis and sousi went off to seek for more buffalo. i had a presentiment that they would find none, so kept the camera and went off to the lake a mile west, and there made drawings of some tracks, took photos, etc., and on the lake saw about twenty-five pairs of ducks, identified whitewinged scoter, pintail, green-winged teal, and loon. i also watched the manoeuvres of a courting peetweet. he approached the only lady with his feathers up and his wings raised; she paid no heed (apparently), but i noticed that when he flew away she followed. i saw a large garter snake striped black and green, and with rows of red spots, one on each side. it was very fat and sluggish. i took it for a female about to lay. later i learned from sousi and others that this snake is quite common here, and the only kind found, but in the mountains that lie not far away in the west is another kind, much thicker, fatter, and more sluggish. its bite is fearfully poisonous, often fatal; "but the good god has marked the beast by putting a cloche (bell) in its tail." about i turned campward, but after tramping for nearly an hour i was not only not at home, i was in a totally strange kind of country, covered with a continuous poplar woods. i changed my course and tried a different direction, but soon was forced to the conclusion that (for the sixth or seventh time in my life) i was lost. "dear me," i said, "this is an interesting opportunity. it comes to me now that i once wrote an essay on 'what to do and what not to do when lost in the woods.' now what in the world did i say in it, and which were the things not to do. yes, i remember now, these were the pieces of advice: " st. 'don't get frightened.' well, i'm not; i am simply amused. " d. 'wait for your friends to come.' can't do that; i'm too busy; they wouldn't appear till night. " d. 'if you must travel, go back to a place where you were sure of the way.' that means back to the lake, which i know is due west of the camp and must be west of me now." so back i went, carefully watching the sun for guidance, and soon realised that whenever i did not, i swung to the left. after nearly an hour's diligent travel i did get back to the lake, and followed my own track in the margin to the point of leaving it; then, with a careful corrected bearing, made for camp and arrived in minutes, there to learn that on the first attempt i had swung so far to the left that i had missed camp by half a mile, and was half a mile beyond it before i knew i was wrong. (see map on p. .) at noon jarvis and sousi came back jubilant; they had seen countless buffalo trails, had followed a large bull and cow, but had left them to take the trail of a considerable band; these they discovered in a lake. there were big bulls, little calves, yearling, -year-olds, cows. these allowed them to come openly within yards. then took alarm and galloped off. they also saw a moose and a marten--and buffalo skeletons. how i did curse my presentiment that prevented them having the camera and securing a really fine photograph! at p. m. sousi prepared to break camp. he thought that by going back on our trail he might strike the trail of another herd off to the south-east of the mountain. jarvis shrewdly suspected that our guide wanted to go home, having kept his promise, won the reward, and got a load of bear meat. however, the native was the guide, we set out in a shower which continued more or less all day and into the night, so we camped in the rain. next day it was obvious, and sousi no longer concealed the fact, that he was making for home as fast as he could go. at salt river i found the little teal back on her eggs in the burnt ground. at . we reached smith landing, having been absent exactly days, and having seen in that time buffalo, of them calves of this year, old buffalo skeletons of ancient date, but not a track or sign of a wolf, not a howl by night, or any evidence of their recent presence, for the buffalo skeletons found were obviously very old. and our guide--the wicked one of evil ancestry and fame--he was kind, cheerful, and courteous through out; he did exactly as he promised, did it on time, and was well pleased with the pay we gave him. speak as you find. if ever i revisit that country i shall be glad indeed to secure the services of good old sousi, even if he is a beaulieu. chapter viii thomas anderson we were now back at smith landing, and fired with a desire to make another buffalo expedition on which we should have ampler time and cover more than a mere corner of the range. we aimed, indeed, to strike straight into the heart of the buffalo country. the same trouble about guides arose. in this case it was less acute, because sousi's account had inspired considerably more respect. still it meant days of delay which, however, i aimed to make profitable by investigations near at hand. after all, the most interesting of creatures is the two-legged one with the loose and changeable skin, and there was a goodly colony of the kind to choose from. most prominent of them all was thomas anderson, the genial hudson's bay company officer in charge of the mackenzie river district. his headquarters are at fort smith, miles down the river, but his present abode was smith landing, where all goods are landed for overland transport to avoid the long and dangerous navigation on the next miles of the broad stream. like most of his official brethren, he is a scotchman; he was born in nairn, scotland, in . at he came to the north-west in service of the company, and his long and adventurous life, as he climbed to his present responsible position, may be thus skeletonised: he spent six months at fort temiscamingue, year at grand lac, years at kakabonga, years at hunter's lodge, chippeway, years at abitibi, years at dunvegan, peace river, year at lesser slave lake, months at savanne, fort william, years at nipigon house, years at isle a la crosse, years on the mackenzie river, chiefly at fort simpson, months at fort smith. which tells little to the ears of the big world, but if we say that he spent years in berlin, then was moved for years to gibraltar, years to various posts on the rhine, whence he went for years to st. petersburg; thence to relieve the officer in charge of constantinople, and made several flying visits to bombay and pekin, we shall have some idea of his travels, for all were afoot, on dogsled, or by canoe. what wonderful opportunities he had to learn new facts about the wood folk--man and beast--and how little he knew the value of the glimpses that he got! i made it my business to gather all i could of his memories, so far as they dwelt with the things of my world, and offer now a resume of his more interesting observations on hunter and hunted of the north. [since these notes were made, thomas anderson has "crossed the long portage."] the following are among the interesting animal notes: cougar. ogushen, the indian trapper at lac des quinze, found tracks of a large cat at that place in the fall of (?). he saw them all winter on south bay of that lake. one day he came on the place where it had killed a caribou. when he came back about march he saw it. it came toward him. it was evidently a cat longer than a lynx and it had a very long tail, which swayed from side to side as it walked. he shot it dead, but feared to go near it believing it to be a wendigo. it had a very bad smell. anderson took it to be a puma. it was unknown to the indian. ogushen was a first-class hunter and anderson firmly believes he was telling the truth. lac des quinze is miles north of lake temiscamingue. seals. in old days, he says, small seals were found in lake ashkeek. this is miles north-east from temiscamingue. it empties into kippewa river, which empties into temiscamingue. he never saw one, but the indians of the vicinity told of it as a thing which commonly happened or years ago. ashkeek is ojibwa for seal. it is supposed that they wintered in the open water about the rapids. white foxes, he says, were often taken at cree lake. indeed one or two were captured each year. cree lake is miles south-east of fort chipewyan. they are also taken at fort chipewyan from time to time. one was taken at fondulac, east end of lake athabaska, and was traded at smith landing in . they are found regularly at fondulac, the east end of great slave lake, each year. in the winter of - he was to be in charge of nipigon house, but got orders beforehand to visit the posts on albany river. he set out from fort william on lake superior on his , -mile trip through the snow with an indian whose name was joe eskimo, from manitoulin island, miles away. at nipigon house he got another guide, but this one was in bad shape, spitting blood. after three days' travel the guide said: "i will go to the end if it kills me, because i have promised, unless i can get you a better guide. at wayabimika (lake savanne) is an old man named omeegi; he knows the road better than i do." when they got there, omeegi, although very old and half-blind, was willing to go on condition that they should not walk too fast. then they started for osnaburgh house on lake st. joseph, miles away. the old man led off well, evidently knew the way, but sometimes would stop, cover his eyes with his hands, look at the ground and then at the sky, and turn on a sharp angle. he proved a fine guide and brought the expedition there in good time. next winter at wayabimika (where charley de la ronde [count de la ronde.] was in charge, but was leaving on a trip of days) omeegi came in and asked for a present--"a new shirt and a pair of pants." this is the usual outfit for a corpse. he explained that he was to die before charley came back; that he would die "when the sun rose at that island" (a week ahead). he got the clothes, though every one laughed at him. a week later he put on the new garments and said: "to-day i die when the sun is over that island!" he went out, looking at the sun from time to time, placidly smoking. when the sun got to the right place he came in, lay down by the fire, and in a few minutes was dead. we buried him in the ground, to his brother's great indignation when he heard of it. he said: "you white men live on things that come out of the ground, and are buried in the ground, and properly, but we indians live on things that run above ground, and want to take our last sleep in the trees." another case of indian clairvoyance ran thus: about , when anderson was at abitibi, the winter packet used to leave montreal, january , each year, and arrive at abitibi january . this year it did not come. the men were much bothered as all plans were upset. after waiting about two weeks, some of the indians and half-breeds advised anderson to consult the conjuring woman, mash-kou-tay ish-quay (prairie woman) a flathead from stuart lake, b. c. he went and paid her some tobacco. she drummed and conjured all night. she came in the morning and told him: "the packet is at the foot of a rapid now, where there is open water; the snow is deep and the travelling heavy, but it will be here to-morrow when the sun is at that point." sure enough, it all fell out as she had told. this woman married a hudson's bay man named macdonald, and he brought her to lachine, where she bore him sons; then he died of small-pox, and sir george simpson gave orders that she should be sent up to abitibi and there pensioned for as long as she lived. she was about at the time of the incident. she many times gave evidence of clairvoyant power. the priest said he "knew about it, and that she was helped by the devil." a gruesome picture of indian life is given in the following incident. one winter, or years ago, a band of algonquin indians at wayabimika all starved to death except one squaw and her baby; she fled from the camp, carrying the child, thinking to find friends and help at nipigon house. she got as far as a small lake near deer lake, and there discovered a cache, probably in a tree. this contained one small bone fish-hook. she rigged up a line, but had no bait. the wailing of the baby spurred her to action. no bait, but she had a knife; a strip of flesh was quickly cut from her own leg, a hole made through the ice, and a fine jack-fish was the food that was sent to this devoted mother. she divided it with the child, saving only enough for bait. she stayed there living on fish until spring, then safely rejoined her people. the boy grew up to be a strong man, but was cruel to his mother, leaving her finally to die of starvation. anderson knew the woman; she showed him the sear where she cut the bait. a piece of yet, more ancient history was supplied him in northern ontario, and related to me thus: anderson was going to kakabonga in june, , and camped one night on the east side of birch lake on the ottawa, about miles north-east of grand lake post. he and his outfit of two canoes met pah-pah-tay, chief of the grand lake indians, travelling with his family. he called anderson's attention to the shape of the point which had one good landing-place, a little sandy bay, and told him the story he heard from his people of a battle that was fought there with the iroquois long, long ago. four or five iroquois war-canoes, filled with warriors, came to this place on a foray for scalps. their canoes were drawn up on the beach at night. they lighted fires and had a war-dance. three grand lake algonquins, forefathers of pah-pah-tay, saw the dance from, hiding. they cached their canoe, one of them took a sharp flint--"we had no knives or axes then"--swam across to the canoes, and cut a great hole in the bottom of each. the three then posted themselves at three different points in the bushes, and began whooping in as many different ways as possible. the iroquois, thinking it a great war-party, rushed to their canoes and pushed off quickly. when they were in deep water the canoes sank and, as the warriors swam back ashore, the algonquins killed them one by one, saving alive only one, whom they maltreated, and then let go with a supply of food, as a messenger to his people, and to carry the warning that this would be the fate of every iroquois that entered the algonquin country. chapter ix mosquitoes reference to my smith landing journal for june shows the following: "the spring is now on in full flood, the grass is high, the trees are fully leaved, flowers are blooming, birds are nesting, and the mosquitoes are a terror to man and beast." if i were to repeat all the entries in that last key, it would make dreary and painful reading; i shall rather say the worst right now, and henceforth avoid the subject. every traveller in the country agrees that the mosquitoes are a frightful curse. captain back, in (journal, p. ), said that the sand-flies and mosquitoes are the worst of the hardships to which the northern traveller is exposed. t. hutchins, over a hundred years ago, said that no one enters the barren grounds in the summer, because no man can stand the stinging insects. i had read these various statements, but did not grasp the idea until i was among them. at smith landing, june , mosquitoes began to be troublesome, quite as numerous as in the worst part of the new jersey marshes. an estimate of those on the mosquito bar over my bed, showed to , trying to get at me; day and night, without change, the air was ringing with their hum. this was early in the season. on july , on nyarling river, they were much worse, and my entry was as follows: "'on the back of billy's coat, as he sat paddling before me, i counted a round mosquitoes boring away; about as many were on the garments of his head and neck, a much less number on his arms and legs. the air about was thick with them; at least as many more, fully , , singing and stinging and filling the air with a droning hum. the rest of us were equally pestered. "'the major, fresh, ruddy, full-blooded, far over pounds in plumpness, is the best feeding ground for mosquitoes i (or they, probably) ever saw; he must be a great improvement on the smoke-dried indians. no matter where they land on him they strike it rich, and at all times a dozen or more bloated bloodsuckers may be seen hanging like red currants on his face and neck. he maintains that they do not bother him, and scoffs at me for wearing a net. they certainly do not impair his health, good looks, or his perennial good humour, and i, for one, am thankful that his superior food-quality gives us a corresponding measure of immunity." at salt river one could kill with a stroke of the palm and at times they obscured the colour of the horses. a little later they were much worse. on square inches of my tent i counted mosquitoes, and the whole surface was similarly supplied; that is, there were , on the tent and apparently as many more flying about the door. most of those that bite us are killed but that makes not the slightest perceptible difference in their manners or numbers. they reminded me of the klondike gold-seekers. thousands go; great numbers must die a miserable death; not more than one in , can get away with a load of the coveted stuff, and yet each believes that he is to be that one, and pushes on. dr. l. . howard tells us that the mosquito rarely goes far from its birthplace. that must refer to the miserable degenerates they have in new jersey, for these of the north offer endless evidence of power to travel, as well as to resist cold and wind. on july , , we camped on a small island on great slave lake. it was about one-quarter mile long, several miles from mainland, at least half a mile from any other island, apparently all rock, and yet it was swarming with mosquitoes. here, as elsewhere, they were mad for our blood; those we knocked off and maimed, would crawl up with sprained wings and twisted legs to sting as fiercely as ever, as long as the beak would work. we thought the stinging pests of the buffalo country as bad as possible, but they proved mild and scarce compared with those we yet had to meet on the arctic barrens of our ultimate goal. each day they got worse; soon it became clear that mere adjectives could not convey any idea of their terrors. therefore i devised a mosquito gauge. i held up a bare hand for seconds by the watch, then counted the number of borers on the back; there were to . each day added to the number, and when we got out to the buffalo country, there were to on the one side of the hand and elsewhere in proportion. on the nyarling, in early july, the number was increased, being now to . on great slave lake, later that month, there were to . but when we reached the barren grounds, the land of open breezy plains and cold water lakes, the pests were so bad that the hand held up for seconds often showed from to long-billed mosquitoes boring away into the flesh. it was possible to number them only by killing them and counting the corpses. what wonder that all men should avoid the open plains, that are the kingdom of such a scourge. yet it must not be thought that the whole country is similarly and evenly filled. there can be no doubt that they flock and fly to the big moving creatures they see or smell. maybe we had gathered the whole mosquito product of many acres. this is shown by the facts that if one rushes through thick bushes for a distance, into a clear space, the mosquitoes seem absent at first. one must wait a minute or so to gather up another legion. when landing from a boat on the northern lakes there are comparatively few, but even in a high wind, a walk to the nearest hilltop results in one again moving in a cloud of tormentors. does not this readiness to assemble at a bait suggest a possible means of destroying them? every one, even the seasoned natives, agree that they are a terror to man and beast; but, thanks to our flyproof tents, we sleep immune. during the day i wear my net and gloves, uncomfortably hot, but a blessed relief from the torment. it is easy to get used to those coverings; it is impossible to get used to the mosquitoes. for july i find this note: "the mosquitoes are worse now than ever before; even jarvis, preble, and the indians are wearing face protectors of some kind. the major has borrowed preble's closed net, much to the latter's discomfiture, as he himself would be glad to wear it." this country has, for months, the finest climate in the world, but / of these are ruined by the malignancy of the fly plague. yet it is certain that knowledge will confer on man the power to wipe them out. no doubt the first step in this direction is a thorough understanding of the creature's life-history. this understanding many able mien are working for. but there is another line of thought that should not be forgotten, though it is negative--many animals are immune. which are they? our first business is to list them if we would learn the why of immunity. frogs are among the happy ones. one day early in june i took a wood-frog in my hand. the mosquitoes swarmed about. in a few seconds were on my hand digging away; were on my forefinger, on my thumb; between these was the frog, a creature with many resemblances to man--red blood, a smooth, naked, soft skin, etc.--and yet not a mosquito attacked it. scores had bled my hand before one alighted on the frog, and it leaped off again as though the creature were red hot. the experiment repeated with another frog gave the same result. why? it can hardly be because the frog is cold-blooded, for many birds also seem, to be immune, and their blood is warmer than man's. next, i took a live frog and rubbed it on my hand over an area marked out with lead pencil; at first the place was wet, but in a few seconds dry and rather shiny. i held up my hand till mosquitoes had alighted on it and begun to bore; of these, alighted on the froggy place, at once tumbled off in haste, but one, no. , did sting me there. i put my tongue to the frog's back; it was slightly bitter. i took a black-gilled fungus from a manure pile to-day, rubbed a small area, and held my hand bare till mosquitoes had settled and begun to sting; of these alighted on the fungus juice, but moved off at once, except the last; it stung, but at that time the juice was dry. many other creatures, including some birds, enjoy immunity, but i note that mosquitoes did attack a dead crane; also they swarmed onto a widgeon plucked while yet warm, and bored in deep; but i did not see any filling with blood. there is another kind of immunity that is equally important and obscure. in the summer of , dr. clinton l. bagg, of new york, went to newfoundland for a fishing trip. the codroy country was, as usual, plagued with mosquitoes, but as soon as the party crossed into the garnish river valley, a land of woods and swamps like the other, the mosquitoes had disappeared. dr. bagg spent the month of august there, and found no use for nets, dopes, or other means of fighting winged pests; there were none. what the secret was no one at present knows, but it would be a priceless thing to find. now, lest i should do injustice to the northland that will some day be an empire peopled with white men, let me say that there are three belts of mosquito country the barren grounds, where they are worst and endure for / months; the spruce forest, where they are bad and continue for months, and the great arable region of wheat, that takes in athabaska and saskatchewan, where the flies are a nuisance for or weeks, but no more so than they were in ontario, michigan, manitoba, and formerly england; and where the cultivation of the land will soon reduce them to insignificance, as it has invariably done in other similar regions. it is quite remarkable in the north-west that such plagues are most numerous in the more remote regions, and they disappear in proportion as the country is opened up and settled. finally, it is a relief to know that these mosquitoes convey no disease--even the far-spread malaria is unknown in the region. why did i not take a "dope" or "fly repellent," ask many of my friends. in answer i can only say i have never before been where mosquitoes were bad enough to need one. i had had no experience with fly-dope. i had heard that they are not very effectual, and so did not add one to the outfit. i can say now it was a mistake to leave any means untried. next time i carry "dope." the following recipe is highly recommended: pennyroyal, one part, oil of tar, " " spirits of camphor, " " sweet oil, or else vaseline, three parts. their natural enemies are numerous; most small birds prey on them; dragon-flies also, and the latter alone inspire fear in the pests. when a dragon-fly comes buzzing about one's head the mosquitoes move away to the other side, but it makes no considerable difference. on buffalo river i saw a boatman or water-spider seize, and devour a mosquito that fell within reach; which is encouraging, because, as a rule, the smaller the foe, the deadlier, and the only creature that really affects the whole mosquito nation is apparently a small red parasite that became more and more numerous as the season wore on. it appeared in red lumps on the bill and various parts of the stinger's body, and the victim became very sluggish. specimens sent to dr. l. . howard, the authority on mosquitoes, elicited the information that it was a fungus, probably new to science. but evidently it is deadly to the culex. more power to it, and the cause it represents; we cannot pray too much for its increase. now to sum up: after considering the vastness of the region affected--three-quarters of the globe--and the number of diseases these insects communicate, one is inclined to say that it might be a greater boon to mankind to extirpate the mosquito than to stamp out tuberculosis. the latter means death to a considerable proportion of our race, the former means hopeless suffering to all mankind; one takes off each year its toll of the weaklings the other spares none, and in the far north at least has made a hell on earth of the land that for six months of each year might be a human paradise. chapter x a bad case my unsought fame as a medicine man continued to grow. one morning i heard a white voice outside asking, "is the doctor in?" billy replied: "mr. seton is inside." on going forth i met a young american who thus introduced himself: "my name is y------, from michigan. i was a student at ann arbor when you lectured there in . don't suppose you remember me; i was one of the reception committee; but i'm mighty glad to meet you out here." after cordial greetings he held up his arm to explain the call and said: "i'm in a pretty bad way." "let's see." he unwound the bandage and showed a hand and arm swollen out of all shape, twice the natural size, and of a singular dropsical pallor. "have you any pain?" "i can't sleep from the torture of it." "where does it hurt now?" "in the hand." "how did you get it?" "it seemed to come on after a hard crossing of lake athabaska. we had to row all night." i asked one or two more questions, really to hide my puzzlement. "what in the world is it?" i said to myself; "all so fat and puffy." i cudgelled my brain for a clue. as i examined the hand in silence to play for time and conceal my ignorance, he went on: "what i'm afraid of is blood-poisoning. i couldn't get out to a doctor before a month, and by that time i'll be one-armed or dead. i know which i'd prefer." knowing, at all events, that nothing but evil could come of fear, i said: "now see here. you can put that clean out of your mind. you never saw blood-poisoning that colour, did you?" "that's so," and he seemed intensely relieved. while i was thus keeping up an air of omniscience by saying nothing, major jarvis came up. "look at this, jarvis," said i; "isn't it a bad one? "phew," said the major, "that's the worst felon i ever saw." like a gleam from heaven came the word felon. that's what it was, a felon or whitlow, and again i breathed freely. turning to the patient with my most cock-sure professional air, i said: "now see, y., you needn't worry; you've hurt your finger in rowing, and the injury was deep and has set up a felon. it is not yet headed up enough; as soon as it is i'll lance it, unless it bursts of itself (and inwardly i prayed it might burst). can you get any linseed meal or bran?" "afraid not." "well, then, get some clean rags and keep the place covered with them dipped in water as hot as you can stand it, and we'll head it up in twenty-four hours; then in three days i'll have you in good shape to travel." the last sentence, delivered with the calm certainty of a man who knows all about it and never made a mistake, did so much good to the patient that i caught a reflex of it myself. he gave me his good hand and said with emotion: "you don't know how much good you have done me. i don't mind being killed, but i don't want to go through life a cripple." "you say you haven't slept?" i asked. "not for three nights; i've suffered too much." "then take these pills. go to bed at ten o'clock and take a pill; if this does not put you to sleep, take another at . . if you are still awake at , take the third; then you will certainly sleep." he went off almost cheerfully. next morning he was back, looking brighter. "well," i said, "you slept last night, all right." "no," he replied, "i didn't; there's opium in those pills, isn't there?" "yes." "i thought so. here they are. i made up my mind i'd see this out in my sober senses, without any drugs." "good for you," i exclaimed in admiration. "they talk about indian fortitude. if i had given one of those indians some sleeping pills, he'd have taken them all and asked for more. but you are the real american stuff, the pluck that can't be licked, and i'll soon have you sound as a dollar." then he showed his immense bladder-like hand. "i'll have to make some preparation, and will operate in your shanty at o'clock," i said, thinking how very professional it sounded. the preparation consisted of whetting my penknife and, much more important, screwing up my nerves. and now i remembered my friend's brandy, put the flask in my pocket, and went to the execution. he was ready. "here," i said; "take a good pull at this brandy." "i will not," was the reply. "i'm man enough to go through on my mettle." "'oh! confound your mettle," i thought, for i wanted an excuse to take some myself, but could not for shame under the circumstances. "are you ready?" he laid his pudding-y hand on the table. "you better have your indian friend hold that hand." "i'll never budge," he replied, with set teeth, and motioned the indian away. and i knew he would not flinch. he will never know (till he reads this, perhaps) what an effort it cost me. i knew only i must cut deep enough to reach the pus, not so deep as to touch the artery, and not across the tendons, and must do it firmly, at one clean stroke. i did. it was a horrid success. he never quivered, but said: "is that all? that's a pin-prick to what i've been through every minute for the last week." i felt faint, went out behind the cabin, and--shall i confess it?--took a long swig of brandy. but i was as good as my promise: in three days he was well enough to travel, and soon as strong as ever. i wonder if real doctors ever conceal, under an air of professional calm, just such doubts and fears as worried me. chapter xi the second buffalo hunt though so trifling, the success of our first buffalo hunt gave us quite a social lift. the chiefs were equally surprised with the whites, and when we prepared for a second expedition, kiya sent word that though he could not act as guide, i should ride his own trained hunter, a horse that could run a trail like a hound, and was without guile. i am, always suspicious of a horse (or man) without guile. i wondered what was the particular weakness of this exceptionally trained, noble, and guileless creature. i have only one prejudice in horseflesh--i do not like a white one. so, of course, when the hunter arrived he was, white as marble, from mane to tail and hoofs; his very eyes were of a cheap china colour, suggestive of cataractine blindness. the only relief was a morbid tinge of faded shrimp pink in his nostrils and ears. but he proved better than he looked. he certainly did run tracks by nose like a hound, provided i let him choose the track. he was a lively walker and easy trotter, and would stay where the bridle was dropped, so i came to the conclusion that kiya was not playing a joke on me, but really had lent me his best hunter, whose sepulchral whiteness i could see would be of great advantage in snow time when chiefly one is supposed to hunt. not only kiya, but pierre squirrel, the head chief, seemed to harbour a more kindly spirit. he now suddenly acquired a smattering of english and a fair knowledge of french. he even agreed to lead us through his own hunting grounds to the big buffalo range, stipulating that we be back by july , as that was treaty day, when all the tribe assembled to receive their treaty money, and his presence as head chief was absolutely necessary. we were advised to start from fort smith, as the trail thence was through a dryer country; so on the morning of june , at . , we left the fort on our second buffalo hunt. major a. m. jarvis, mr. e. a. preble, corporal selig, chief pierre squirrel, and myself, all mounted, plus two pack-horses, prepared for a week's campaign. riding ahead in his yellow caftan and black burnoose was pierre squirrel on his spirited charger, looking most picturesque. but remembering that his yellow caftan was a mosquito net, his black burnoose a hudson's bay coat, and his charger an ornery indian cayuse, robbed the picture of most of its poetry. we marched westerly miles through fine, dry, jack-pine wood, then, miles through mixed poplar, pine, and spruce, and came to the slave river opposite point gravois. thence we went a mile or so into similar woods, and after another stretch of muskegs. we camped for lunch at . , having covered miles. at two we set out, and reached salt river at three, but did not cross there. it is a magnificent stream, feet wide, with hard banks and fine timber on each side; but its waters are brackish. we travelled north-westerly, or northerly, along the east banks for an hour, but at length away from it on a wide prairie, a mile or more across here, but evidently extending much farther behind interruptions of willow clumps. probably these prairies join, with those we saw on the beaulieu trip. they are wet now, though a horse can go anywhere, and the grass is good. we camped about six on a dry place back from the river. at night i was much interested to hear at intervals the familiar kick-kick-kick-kick of the yellow rail in the adjoining swamps. this must be its northmost range; we did not actually see it. here i caught a garter-snake. preble says it is the same form as that at edmonton. our guide was as much surprised to see me take it in my hands, as he was to see me let it go unharmed. next morning, after a short hour's travel, we came again to salt river and proceeded to cross. evidently squirrel had selected the wrong place, for the sticky mud seemed bottomless, and we came near losing two of the horses. after two hours we all got across and went on, but most of the horses had shown up poorly, as spiritless creatures, not yet recovered from the effects of a hard winter. our road now lay over the high upland of the salt mountain, among its dry and beautiful woods. the trip would have been glorious but for the awful things that i am not allowed to mention outside of chapter ix. pierre proved a pleasant and intelligent companion; he did his best, but more than once shook his head and said: "chevaux no good." we covered miles before night, and all day we got glimpses of some animal on our track, yards behind in the woods. it might easily have been a wolf, but at night he sneaked into camp a forlorn and starving indian dog. next day we reached the long looked-for little buffalo river. several times of late pierre had commented on the slowness of our horses and enlarged on the awful muskega that covered the country west of the little buffalo. now he spoke out frankly and said we had been days coming miles when the road was good; we were now coming to very bad roads and had to go as far again. these horses could not do it, and get him back to fort smith for july --and back at any price he must be. he was willing to take the whole outfit half a day farther westward, or, if we preferred it, he would go afoot or on horseback with the pick of the men and horses for a hasty dash forward; but to take the whole outfit on to the buffalo country and get back on time was not possible. this was a bad shake. we held a council of war, and the things that were said of that indian should have riled him if he understood. he preserved his calm demeanour; probably this was one of the convenient times when all his english forsook him. we were simply raging: to be half-way to our goal, with abundance of provisions, fine weather, good health and everything promising well, and then to be balked because our guide wanted to go back. i felt as savage as the others, but on calmer reflection pointed out that pierre told us before starting that he must be back for treaty day, and even now he was ready to do his best. then in a calm of the storm (which he continued to ignore) pierre turned to me and said: "why don't you go back and try the canoe route? you can go down the great river to grand detour, then portage miles over to the buffalo, go down this to the nyarling, then up the nyarling into the heart of the buffalo country; days will do it, and it will be easy, for there is plenty of water and no rapids," and he drew a fairly exact map which showed that he knew the country thoroughly. there was nothing to be gained by going half a day farther. to break up our party did not fit in at all with our plans, so, after another brief stormy debate in which the guide took no part, we turned without crossing the little buffalo, and silently, savagely, began the homeward journey; as also did the little indian dog. next morning we crossed the salt river at a lower place where was a fine, hard bottom. that afternoon we travelled for miles through a beautiful and level country, covered with a forest of large poplars, not very thick; it will some day be an ideal cattle-range, for it had rank grass everywhere, and was varied by occasional belts of jack-pine. in one of these preble found a nest with six eggs that proved to be those of the bohemian chatterer. these he secured, with photograph of the nest and old bird. it was the best find of the journey. the eggs proved of different incubation--at least a week's difference--showing that the cool nights necessitated immediate setting. we camped at salt river mouth, and next afternoon were back at fort smith, having been out five days and seen nothing, though there were tracks of moose and bear in abundance. here our guide said good-bye to us, and so did the indian dog. chapter xii bezkya and the pills during this journey i had successfully treated two of the men for slight ailments, and squirrel had made mental note of the fact. a result of it was that in the morning an old, old, black-looking indian came hobbling on a stick to my tent and, in husky chipewyan, roughly translated by billy, told me that he had pains in his head and his shoulder and his body, and his arms and his legs and his feet, and he couldn't hunt, couldn't fish, couldn't walk, couldn't eat, couldn't lie, couldn't sleep, and he wanted me to tackle the case. i hadn't the least idea of what ailed the old chap, but conveyed no hint of my darkness. i put on my very medical look and said: "exactly so. now you take these pills and you will find a wonderful difference in the morning." i had some rather fierce rhubarb pills; one was a dose but, recognising the necessity for eclat, i gave him two. he gladly gulped them down in water. the indian takes kindly to pills, it's so easy to swallow them, so obviously productive of results, and otherwise satisfactory. then, the old man hobbled off to his lodge. a few hours later he was back again, looking older and shakier than ever, his wet red eyes looking like plague spots in his ashy brown visage or like volcanic eruptions in a desert of dead lava, and in husky, clicking accents he told billy to tell the okimow that the pills were no good--not strong enough for him. "well," i said, "he shall surely have results this time." i gave him three big ones in a cup of hot tea. all the indians love tea, and it seems to help them. under its cheering power the old man's tongue was loosened. he talked more clearly, and billy, whose knowledge of chipewyan is fragmentary at best, suddenly said: "i'm afraid i made, a mistake. bezkya says the pills are too strong. can't you give him something to stop them? "goodness," i thought; "here's a predicament," but i didn't know what to do. i remembered a western adage, "when you don't know a thing to do, don't do a thing." i only said: "tell bezkya to go home, go to bed, and stay there till to-morrow, then come here again." away went the indian to his lodge. i felt rather uneasy that day and night, and the next morning looked with some eagerness for the return of bezkya. but he did not come and i began to grow unhappy. i wanted some evidence that i had not done him an injury. i wished to see him, but professional etiquette forbade me betraying myself by calling on him. noon came and no bezkya; late afternoon, and then i sallied forth, not to seek him, but to pass near his lodge, as though i were going to the hudson's bay store. and there, to my horror, about the lodge i saw a group of squaws, with shawls over their heads, whispering, together. as i went by, all turned as one of them pointed at me, and again they whispered. "oh, heavens!" i thought; "i've killed the old man." but still i would not go in. that night i did not sleep for worrying about it. next morning i was on the point of sending billy to learn the state of affairs, when who should come staggering up but old bezkya. he was on two crutches now, his complexion was a dirty gray, and his feeble knees were shaking, but he told billy--yes, unmistakably this time--to tell the okimow that that was great medicine i had given him, and he wanted a dose just like it for his wife. chapter xiii fort smith and the social queen several times during our river journey i heard reference to an extraordinary woman in the lower country, one who gave herself great airs, put on style, who was so stuck up, indeed, that she had "two pots, one for tea, one for coffee." such incredible pomposity and arrogance naturally invited sarcastic comment from all the world, and i was told i should doubtless see this remarkable person at fort smith. after the return from buffalo hunt no. , and pending arrangements for hunt no. , saw more of fort smith than i wished for, but endeavoured to turn the time to account by copying out interesting chapters from the rough semi-illegible, perishable manuscript accounts of northern life called "old-timers." the results of this library research work appear under the chapter heads to which they belong. at each of these northern posts there were interesting experiences in store for me, as one who had read all the books of northern travel and dreamed for half a lifetime of the north; and that was--almost daily meeting with famous men. i suppose it would be similar if one of these men were to go to london or washington and have some one tell him: that gentle old man there is lord roberts, or that meek, shy, retiring person is speaker cannon; this on the first bench is lloyd-george, or that with the piercing eyes is aldrich, the uncrowned king of america. so it was a frequent and delightful experience to meet with men whose names have figured in books of travel for a generation. this was roderick macfarlane, who founded fort anderson, discovered the macfarlane rabbit, etc.; here was john schott, who guided caspar whitney; that was hanbury's head man; here was murdo mckay, who travelled with warburton pike in the barrens and starved with him on peace river; and so with many more. very few of these men had any idea of the interest attaching to their observations. their notion of values centres chiefly on things remote from their daily life. it was very surprising to see how completely one may be outside of the country he lives in. thus i once met a man who had lived sixteen years in northern ontario, had had his chickens stolen every year by foxes, and never in his life had seen a fox. i know many men who live in wolf country, and hear them at least every week, but have never seen one in twenty years' experience. quite recently i saw a score of folk who had lived in the porcupiniest part of the adirondacks for many summers and yet never saw a porcupine, and did not know what it was when i brought one into their camp. so it was not surprising to me to find that although living in a country that swarmed with moose, in a village which consumes at least a hundred moose per annum, there were at fort smith several of the hudson's bay men that had lived on moose meat all their lives and yet had never seen a live moose. it sounds like a new yorker saying he had never seen a stray cat. but i was simply dumfounded by a final development in the same line. quite the most abundant carpet in the forest here is the uva-ursi or bear-berry. its beautiful evergreen leaves and bright red berries cover a quarter of the ground in dry woods and are found in great acre beds. it furnishes a staple of food to all wild things, birds and beasts, including foxes, martens, and coyotes; it is one of the most abundant of the forest products, and not one hundred yards from the fort are solid patches as big as farms, and yet when i brought in a spray to sketch it one day several of the hudson's bay officers said: "where in the world did you get that? it must be very rare, for i never yet saw it in this country." a similar remark was made about a phoebe-bird. "it was never before seen in the country"; and yet there is a pair nesting every quarter of a mile from athabaska landing to great slave lake. fort smith, being the place of my longest stay, was the scene of my largest medical practice. one of my distinguished patients here was jacob mckay, a half-breed born on red river in . he left there in to live years at rat portage. then he went to norway house, and after years moved to athabaska in . in he headed a special government expedition into the barren grounds to get some baby musk-ox skins. he left fort rae, april , , and, travelling due north with dogrib indians some miles, found musk-ox on may , and later saw many hundreds. they killed calves for their pelts, but no old ones. mckay had to use all his influence to keep the indians from slaughtering wholesale; indeed, it was to restrain them that he was sent. he now lives at fort resolution. one morning the chief came and said he wanted me to doctor a sick woman in his lodge. i thought sick women a good place for an amateur to draw the line, but squirrel did not. "il faut venir; elle est bien malade." at length i took my pill-kit and followed him. around his lodge were a score of the huge sled dogs, valuable animals in winter, but useless, sullen, starving, noisy nuisances all summer. if you kick them out of your way, they respect you; if you pity them, they bite you. they respected us. we entered the lodge, and there sitting by the fire were two squaws making moccasins. one was old and ugly as sin; the second, young and pretty as a brown fawn. i looked from one to the other in doubt, and said: "laquelle est la malade?" then the pretty one replied in perfect english: "you needn't talk french here; i speak english,' which she certainly did. french is mostly used, but the few that speak english are very proud of it and are careful to let you know. "are you ill?" i asked. "the chief thinks i am," was the somewhat impatient reply, and she broke down in a coughing fit. "how long have you had that?" i said gravely. "what?" i tapped my chest for reply. "oh! since last spring." "and you had it the spring before, too, didn't you?" "why, yes! (a pause). but that isn't what bothers me." "isn't your husband kind to you?" "yes--sometimes." "is this your husband?" "no! f----- b----- is; i am k-----." again she was interrupted by coughing. "would you like something to ease that cough?" i asked. "no! it isn't the body that's sick; it's the heart." "do you wish to tell me about it?" "i lost my babies." "'when?" "two years ago. i had two little ones, and both died in one month. i am left much alone; my husband is away on the transport; our lodge is nearby. the chief has all these dogs; they bark at every little thing and disturb me, so i lie awake all night and think about my babies. but that isn't the hardest thing." "what is it?" she hesitated, then burst out: "the tongues of the women. you don't know what a hell of a place this is to live in. the women here don't mind their work; they sit all day watching for a chance to lie about their neighbours. if i am seen talking to you now, a story will be made of it. if i walk to the store for a pound of tea, a story is made of that. if i turn my head, another story; and everything is carried to my husband to make mischief. it is nothing but lies, lies, lies, all day, all night, all year. women don't do that way in your country, do they?" "no," i replied emphatically. "if any woman in my country were to tell a lie to make another woman unhappy, she would be thought very, very wicked." "i am sure of it," she said. "i wish i could go to your country and be at rest." she turned to her work and began talking to the others in chipewyan. now another woman entered. she was dressed in semi-white style, and looked, not on the ground, as does an indian woman, on seeing a strange man, but straight at me. "bon jour, madame," i said. "i speak ingliss," she replied with emphasis. "indeed! and what is your name?" "i am madame x-------." and now i knew i was in the presence of the stuckup social queen. after some conversation she said: "i have some things at home you like to see." "where is your lodge?" i asked. "lodge," she replied indignantly; "i have no lodge. i know ze indian way. i know ze half-breed way. i know ze white man's way. i go ze white man's way. i live in a house--and my door is painted blue." i went to her house, a by log cabin; but the door certainly was painted blue, a gorgeous sky blue, the only touch of paint in sight. inside was all one room, with a mud fireplace at one end and some piles of rags in the corners for beds, a table, a chair, and some pots. on the walls snow-shoes, fishing-lines, dried fish in smellable bunches, a portrait of the okapi from outing, and a musical clock that played with painful persistence the first three bars of "god save the king." everywhere else were rags, mud, and dirt. "you see, i am joost like a white woman," said the swarthy queen. "i wear boots (she drew her bare brown feet and legs under her) and corsets. zey are la," and she pointed to the wall, where, in very truth, tied up with a bundle of dried fish, were the articles in question. not simply boots and corsets, but high-heeled louis quinze slippers and french corsets. i learned afterward how they were worn. when she went shopping to the h. b. co. store she had to cross the "parade" ground, the great open space; she crowded her brown broad feet into the slippers, then taking a final good long breath she strapped on the fearfully tight corsets outside of all. now she hobbled painfully across the open, proudly conscious that the eyes of the world were upon her. once in the store she would unhook the corsets and breathe comfortably till the agonized triumphant return parade was in order. this, however, is aside; we are still in the home of the queen. she continued to adduce new evidences. "i am just like a white woman. i call my daughter darrr-leeng." then turning to a fat, black-looking squaw by the fire, she said: "darrr-leeng, go fetch a pail of vaw-taire." but darling, if familiar with that form of address, must have been slumbering, for she never turned or moved a hair's-breadth or gave a symptom of intelligence. now, at length it transpired that the social leader wished to see me professionally. "it is ze nairves," she explained. "zere is too much going on in this village. i am fatigue, very tired. i wish i could go away to some quiet place for a long rest." it was difficult to think of a place, short of the silent tomb, that would be obviously quieter than fort smith. so i looked wise, worked on her faith with a pill, assured her that she would soon feel much better, and closed the blue door behind me. with chief squirrel, who had been close by in most of this, i now walked back to my tent. he told me of many sick folk and sad lodges that needed me. it seems that very few of these people are well. in spite of their healthy forest lives they are far less sound than an average white community. they have their own troubles, with the white man's maladies thrown in. i saw numberless other cases of dreadful, hopeless, devastating diseases, mostly of the white man's importation. it is heart-rending to see so much human misery and be able to do nothing at all for it, not even bring a gleam of hope. it made me feel like a murderer to tell one after another, who came to me covered with cankerous bone-eating sores, "i can do nothing"; and i was deeply touched by the simple statement of the chief pierre squirrel, after a round of visits: "you see how unhappy we are, how miserable and sick. when i made this treaty with your government, i stipulated that we should have here a policeman and a doctor; instead of that you have sent nothing but missionaries." chapter xiv rabbits and lynxes in the north-west there are no rabbits in the north-west. this statement, far from final, is practically true to-day, but i saw plenty of lynxes, and one cannot write of ducks without mentioning water. all wild animals fluctuate greatly in their population, none more so than the snowshoe or white-rabbit of the north-west. this is rabbit history as far back as known: they are spread over some great area; conditions are favourable; some unknown influence endows the females with unusual fecundity; they bear not one, but two or three broods in a season, and these number not or , but or each brood. the species increases far beyond the powers of predaceous birds or beasts to check, and the rabbits after or years of this are multiplied into untold millions. on such occasions every little thicket has a rabbit in it; they jump out at every or feet; they number not less than to the acre on desirable ground, which means over , to the square mile, and a region as large as alberta would contain not less than , , fat white bunnies. at this time one man can readily kill or rabbits in a day, and every bird and beast of prey is slaughtering rabbits without restraint. still they increase. finally, they are so extraordinarily superabundant that they threaten their own food supply as well as poison all the ground. a new influence appears on the scene; it is commonly called the plague, though it is not one disease but many run epidemic riot, and, in a few weeks usually, the rabbits are wiped out. this is an outline of the established routine in rabbit vital statistics. it, of course, varies greatly in every detail, including time and extent of territory involved, and when the destruction is complete it is an awful thing for the carnivores that have lived on the bunny millions and multiplied in ratio with their abundance. of all the northern creatures none are more dependent on the rabbits than is the canada lynx. it lives on rabbits, follows the rabbits, thinks rabbits, tastes like rabbits, increases with them, and on their failure dies of starvation in the unrabbited woods. it must have been a hibernian familiar with the north that said: "a lynx is nothing but an animated rabbit anyway." the rabbits of the mackenzie river valley reached their flood height in the winter of - . that season, it seems, they actually reached billions. late the same winter the plague appeared, but did not take them at one final swoop. next winter they were still numerous, but in there seemed not one rabbit left alive in the country. all that summer we sought for them and inquired for them. we saw signs of millions in the season gone by; everywhere were acres of saplings barked at the snow-line; the floor of the woods, in all parts visited, was pebbled over with pellets; but we saw not one woodrabbit and heard only a vague report of that an indian claimed he had seen in a remote part of the region late in the fall. then, since the lynx is the logical apex of a pyramid of rabbits, it naturally goes down when the rabbits are removed. these bobtailed cats are actually starving and ready to enter any kind of a trap or snare that carries a bait. the slaughter of lynxes in its relation to the rabbit supply is shown by the h. b. company fur returns as follows: in , number of skins taken , " " , " " , " " , " " , " " , " " , " " , " " , remembering, then, that the last of the rabbits were wiped out in the winter of - , it will be understood that there were thousands of starving lynxes roaming about the country. the number that we saw, and their conditions, all helped to emphasise the dire story of plague and famine. some of my notes are as follows: may th, athabaska river, on roof of a trapper's hut found the bodies of lynxes. may th, young lynx shot to-day, female, very thin, weighed only / lbs., should have weighed . in its stomach nothing but the tail of a white-footed mouse. liver somewhat diseased. in its bowels at least one tapeworm. june d, a young male lynx shot to-day by one of the police boys, as previously recorded. starving; it weighed only lbs. june th, adult female lynx killed, weighed lbs.; stomach contained a redsquirrel, a chipmunk, and a bog-lemming. (synaptomys borealis.) june th, young male lynx, weight lbs., shot by preble on smith landing; had in its stomach a chipmunk (borealis) and small young of the same, apparently a week old; also a score of pinworms. how did it get the chipmunk family without digging them out? june th, on salt mt. found the dried-up body of a lynx firmly held in a bear trap. june th, one of the jarvis bear-cub skins was destroyed by the dogs, except a dried-up paw, which he threw out yesterday. this morning one of the men shot a starving lynx in camp. its stomach contained nothing but the bear paw thrown out last night. these are a few of my observations; they reflect the general condition--all were starving. not one of them had any rabbit in its stomach; not one had a bellyful; none of the females were bearing young this year. to embellish these severe and skeletal notes, i add some incidents supplied by various hunters of the north. let us remember that the lynx is a huge cat weighing to or even lbs., that it is an ordinary cat multiplied by some or diameters, and we shall have a good foundation for comprehension. murdo mckay has often seen or lynxes together in march, the mating season. they fight, and caterwaul like a lot of tomcats. the uncatlike readiness of the lynx to take to water is well known; that it is not wholly at home there is shown by the fact that if one awaits a lynx at the landing he is making for, he will not turn aside in the least, but come right on to land, fight, and usually perish. the ancient feud between cat and dog is not forgotten in the north, for the lynx is the deadly foe of the fox and habitually kills it when there is soft snow and scarcity of easier prey. its broad feet are snowshoes enabling it to trot over the surface on reynard's trail. the latter easily runs away at first, but sinking deeply at each bound, his great speed is done in or miles; the lynx keeps on the same steady trot and finally claims its victim. john bellecourt related that in the january of , at a place miles south of smith landing, he saw in the snow where a lynx bad run down and devoured a fox. a contribution by t. anderson runs thus: in late march, , an indian named amil killed a caribou near fort rae. during his absence a lynx came along and gorged itself with the meat, then lay down alongside to sleep. a silver fox came next; but the lynx sprang on him and killed him. when amil came back he found the fox and got a large sum for the skin; one shoulder was torn. he did not see the lynx but saw the tracks. the same old-timer is authority for a case in which the tables were turned. a desert indian on the headwaters of the gatineau went out in the early spring looking for beaver. at a well-known pond he saw a lynx crouching on a log, watching the beaver hole in the ice. the indian waited. at length a beaver came up cautiously and crawled out to a near bunch of willows; the lynx sprang, but the beaver was well under way and dived into the hole with the lynx hanging to him. after a time the indian took a crotched pole and fished about under the ice; at last he found something soft and got it out; it was the lynx drowned. belalise ascribes another notable achievement to this animal. one winter when hunting caribou near fond du lac with an indian named tenahoo (human tooth), they saw a lynx sneaking along after some caribou; they saw it coming but had not sense enough to run away. it sprang on the neck of a young buck; the buck bounded away with the lynx riding, but soon fell dead. the hunters came up; the lynx ran off. there was little blood and no large wound on the buck; probably its neck was broken. the indian said the lynx always kills with its paw, and commonly kills deer. david macpherson corroborates this and maintains that on occasion it will even kill moose. in southern settlements, where the lynx is little known, it is painted as a fearsome beast of limitless ferocity, strength, and activity. in the north, where it abounds and furnishes staple furs and meat, it is held in no such awe. it is never known to attack man. it often follows his trail out of curiosity, and often the trapper who is so followed gets the lynx by waiting in ambush; then it is easily killed with a charge of duck-shot. when caught in a snare a very small club is used to "add it to the list." it seems tremendously active among logs and brush piles, but on the level ground its speed is poor, and a good runner can overtake one in a few hundred yards. david macpherson says that last summer he ran down a lynx on a prairie of willow river (mackenzie), near providence. it had some yards start; he ran it down in about a mile, then it turned to fight and he shot it. other instances have been recorded, and finally, as noted later, i was eye-witness of one of these exploits. since the creature can be run down on hard ground, it is not surprising to learn that men on snow-shoes commonly pursue it successfully. as long as it trots it is safe, but when it gets alarmed and bounds it sinks and becomes exhausted. it runs in a circle of about a mile, and at last takes to a tree where it is easily killed. at least one-third are taken in this way; it requires half an hour to an hour, there must be soft snow, and the lynx must be scared so he leaps; then he sinks; if not scared he glides along on his hairy snow-shoes, refuses to tree, and escapes in thick woods, where the men cannot follow quickly. chapter xv ebb and flow of animal life throughout this voyage we were struck by the rarity of some sorts of animals and the continual remarks that three, five, or six years ago these same sorts were extremely abundant; and in some few cases the conditions were reversed. for example, during a week spent at fort smith, preble had out a line of mouse-traps every night and caught only one shrew and one meadowmouse in the week. four years before he had trapped on exactly the same ground, catching or meadowmice every night. again, in it was possible to see muskrats any fine evening. in , though continually on the lookout, i saw less than a score in six months. redsquirrels varied in the same way. of course, the rabbits themselves were the extreme case, millions in , none at all in . the present, then, was a year of low ebb. the first task was to determine whether this related to all mammalian life. apparently not, because deermice, lynxes, beaver, and caribou were abundant. yet these are not their maximum years; the accounts show them to have been so much more numerous last year. there is only one continuous statistical record of the abundance of animals, that is the returns of the fur trade. these have been kept for over years, and if we begin after the whole continent was covered by fur-traders, they are an accurate gauge of the abundance of each species. obviously, this must be so, for the whole country is trapped over every year, all the furs are marketed, most of them through the hudson's bay company, and whatever falls into other hands is about the same percentage each year, therefore the h. b. co. returns are an accurate gauge of the relative rise and fall of the population. through the courtesy of its officials i have secured the company's returns for the years-- - inclusive. i take as the starting-point, as that was the first year when the whole region was covered by the hudson's bay company to the exclusion of all important rivals. first, i have given these accounts graphic tabulation, and at once many interesting facts are presented to the eye. the rabbit line prior to is not reliable. its subsequent close coincidence with that of lynx, marten, skunk, and fox is evidently cause and effect. the mink coincides fairly well with skunk and marten. the muskrat's variation probably has relation chiefly to the amount of water, which, as is well known, is cyclic in the north-west. the general resemblance of beaver and otter lines may not mean anything. if, as said, the otter occasionally preys on the beaver, these lines should in some degree correspond. the wolf line does not manifest any special relationship and seems to be in a class by itself. the great destruction from to was probably due to strychnine, newly introduced about then. the bear, badger, and wolverine go along with little variation. probably the coon does the same; the enormous rise in from an average of , per annum. to , was most likely a result of accidental accumulation and not representative of any special abundance. finally, each and every line manifests extraordinary variability in the ' 's. it is not to be supposed that the population fluctuated so enormously from one year to another, but rather that the facilities for export were irregular. the case is further complicated by the fact that some of the totals represent part of this year and part of last; nevertheless, upon the whole, the following general principles are deducible: (a) the high points for each species are with fair regularity years apart. (b) in the different species these are not exactly coincident. (c) to explain the variations we must seek not the reason for the increase--that is normal--but for the destructive agency that ended the increase. this is different in three different groups. first. the group whose food and enemies fluctuate but little. the only examples of this on our list are the muskrat and beaver, more especially the muskrat. its destruction seems to be due to a sudden great rise of the water after the ice has formed, so that the rats are drowned; or to a dry season followed by severe frost, freezing most ponds to the bottom, so that the rats are imprisoned and starve to death, or are forced out to cross the country in winter, and so are brought within the power of innumerable enemies. how tremendously this operates may be judged by these facts. in along the mackenzie i was assured one could shoot muskrats in an hour after sundown. next winter the flood followed the frost and the rats seemed to have been wiped out. in spent months outdoors in the region and saw only muskrats the whole time; in the h. b. co. exported over millions; in , , . the fact that they totalled as high was due, no doubt, to their abundance in eastern regions not affected by the disaster. second. the group that increases till epidemic disease attacks their excessively multiplied hordes. the snowshoe-rabbit is the only well-known case today, but there is reason for the belief that once the beaver were subjected to a similar process. concerning the mice and lemmings, i have not complete data, but they are believed to multiply and suffer in the same, way. third. the purely carnivorous, whose existence is dependent on the rabbits. this includes chiefly the lynx and fox, but in less degree all the small carnivores. in some cases such as the marten, over-feeding seems as inimical to multiplication as under-feeding, and it will be seen that each year of great increase for this species coincided with a medium year for rabbits. but the fundamental and phenomenal case is that of the rabbits themselves. and in solving this we are confronted by the generally attested facts that when on the increase they have two or three broods each season and to in a brood; when they are decreasing they have but one brood and only or in that. this points to some obscure agency at work; whether it refers simply to the physical vigour of the fact, or to some uncomprehended magnetic or heliological cycle, is utterly unknown. the practical consideration for the collecting naturalist is this: beaver, muskrat, otter, fisher, raccoon, badger, wolverine, wolf, marten, fox reached the low ebb in - . all are on the upgrade; presumably the same applies to the small rodents. their decacycle will be complete in - , so that - should be the years selected by the next collecting naturalist who would visit the north. for those who will enter before that there is a reasonable prospect of all these species in fair numbers, except perhaps the lynx and the caribou. evidently the former must be near minimum now ( ) and the latter would be scarce, if it is subject to the rule of the decacycle, though it is not at all proven that such is the case. chapter xvi the pelican trip we were still held back by the dilatory ways of our indian friends, so to lose no time preble and i determined to investigate a pelican rookery. most persons associate the name pelican with tropic lands and fish, but ornithologists have long known that in the interior of the continent the great white pelican ranges nearly or quite to the arctic circle. the northmost colony on record was found on an island of great slave lake (see preble, "n.a. fauna," ), but this is a very small one. the northmost large colony, and the one made famous by travellers from alexander mackenzie downward, is on the great island that splits the smith rapids above fort smith. here, with a raging flood about their rocky citadel, they are safe from all spoilers that travel on the earth; only a few birds of the air need they fear, and these they have strength to repel. on june we set out to explore this. preble, billy, and myself, with our canoe on a wagon, drove miles back on the landing trail and launched the canoe on the still water above mountain portage. pelican island must be approached exactly right, in the comparatively slow water above the rocky island, for feet away on each side is an irresistible current leading into a sure-death cataract. but billy was a river pilot and we made the point in safety. drifted like snow through the distant woods were the brooding birds, but they arose before we were near and sailed splendidly overhead in a sweeping, wide-fronted rank. as nearly as i could number them, there were , but evidently some were elsewhere, as this would not allow a pair to each nest. we landed safely and found the nests scattered among the trees and fallen timbers. one or two mother birds ran off on foot, but took wing as soon as clear of the woods--none remained. the nests numbered , and there was evidence of others long abandoned. there were eggs, not counting rotten ones, lying outside; nearly all had eggs in the nest; had ; had ; had . one or two shells were found in the woods, evidently sucked by gulls or ravens. all in the nests were near hatching. one little one had his beak out and was uttering a hoarse chirping; a dozen blue-bottle flies around the hole in the shell were laying their eggs in it and on his beak., this led us to examine all the nests that the flies were buzzing around, and in each case (six) we found the same state of affairs, a young one with his beak out and the flies "blowing" around it. all of these were together in one corner, where were a dozen nests, probably another colony of earlier arrival. we took about a dozen photos of the place (large and small). then i set my camera with the long tube to get the old ones, and we went to lunch at the other end of the island. it was densely wooded and about an acre in extent, so we thought we should be forgotten. the old ones circled high overhead but at last dropped, i thought, back to the nests. after an hour and a half i returned to the ambush; not a pelican was there. two ravens flew high over, but the pelicans were far away, and all as when we went away, leaving the young to struggle or get a death-chill as they might. so much for the pious pelican, the emblem of reckless devotion--a common, dirty little cock sparrow would put them all to shame. we brought away only the rotten eggs. about half of the old pelicans had horns on the bill. on the island we saw a flock of white-winged crossbills and heard a song-sparrow. gulls were seen about. the white spruce cones littered the ground and were full of seed, showing that no redsquirrel was on the island. we left successfully by dashing out exactly as we came, between the two dangerous currents, and got well away. chapter xvii the third buffalo hunt the indians are simply large children, and further, no matter how reasonable your proposition, they take a long time to consider it and are subject to all kinds of mental revulsion. so we were lucky to get away from fort smith on july with young francois bezkya as guide. he was a full-blooded chipewyan indian, so full that he had knowledge of no other tongue, and billy had to be go-between. bezkya, the son of my old patient, came well recommended as a good man and a moose-hunter. a "good man" means a strong, steady worker, as canoeman or portager. he may be morally the vilest outcast unhung; that in no wise modifies the phrase "he is a good man." but more: the present was a moosehunter; this is a wonderfully pregnant phrase. moose-hunting by fair stalking is the pinnacle of woodcraft. the crees alone, as a tribe, are supposed to be masters of the art; but many of the chipewyans are highly successful. one must be a consummate trailer, a good shot, have tireless limbs and wind and a complete knowledge of the animal's habits and ways of moving and thinking. one must watch the wind, without ceasing, for no hunter has the slightest chance of success if once the moose should scent him. this last is fundamental, a three-times sacred principle. not long ago one of these chipewyans went to confessional. although a year had passed since last he got cleaned up, he could think of nothing to confess. oh! spotless soul! however, under pressure of the priest, he at length remembered a black transgression. the fall before, while hunting, he went to the windward of a thicket that seemed likely to hold his moose, because on the lee, the proper side, the footing happened to be very bad, and so he lost his moose. yes! there was indeed a dark shadow on his recent past. a man may be a good hunter, i.e., an all-round trapper and woodman, but not a moose-hunter. at fort smith are two or three scores of hunters, and yet i am told there are only three moose-hunters. the phrase is not usually qualified; he is, or is not, a moose-hunter. just as a man is, or is not, an oxford m.a. the force, then, of the phrase appears, and we were content to learn that young bezkya, besides knowing the buffalo country, was also a good man and a moose-hunter. we set out in two canoes, bezkya and jarvis in the small one, billy, selig, preble, and i in the large one, leaving the other police boys to make fort resolution in the h. b. steamer. being the th of july, the usual torrential rains set in. during the worst of it we put in at salt river village. it was amusing to see the rubbish about the doors of these temporarily deserted cabins. the midden-heaps of the cave-men are our principal sources of information about those by-gone races; the future ethnologist who discovers salt river midden-heaps will find all the usual skulls, bones, jaws, teeth, flints, etc., mixed with moccasin beads from venice, brass cartridges from new england, broken mirrors from france, eley cap-boxes from london, copper rings, silver pins, lead bullets, and pewter spoons, and interpersed with them bits of telephone wires and the fragments of gramophone discs. i wonder what they will make of the last! eight miles farther we camped in the rain, reaching the buffalo portage next morning at , and had everything over its miles by o'clock at night. it is easily set down on paper, but the uninitiated can scarcely realise the fearful toil of portaging. if you are an office man, suppose you take an angular box weighing or pounds; if a farmer, double the weight, poise it on your shoulders or otherwise, as you please, and carry it half a mile on a level pavement in cool, bright weather, and i am mistaken if you do not find yourself suffering horribly before the end of a quarter-mile; the last part of the trip will have been made in something like mortal agony. remember, then, that each of these portagers was carrying to pounds of broken stuff, not half a mile, but several miles, not on level pavement, but over broken rocks, up banks, through quagmires and brush--in short, across ground that would be difficult walking without any burden, and not in cool, clear weather, but through stifling swamps with no free hand to ease the myriad punctures of his body, face, and limbs whenever unsufficiently protected from the stingers that roam in clouds. it is the hardest work i ever saw performed by human beings; the burdens are heavier than some men will allow their horses to carry. yet all this frightful labour was cheerfully gone through by white men, half-breeds, and indians alike. they accept it as a part of their daily routine. this fact alone is enough to guarantee the industrial future of the red-man when the hunter life is no longer possible. next day we embarked on the little buffalo river, beginning what should have been and would have been a trip of memorable joys but for the awful, awful, awful--see chapter ix. the little buffalo is the most beautiful river in the whole world except, perhaps, its affluent, the nyarling. this statement sounds like the exaggeration of mere impulsive utterance. perhaps it is; but i am writing now after thinking the matter over for two and a half years, during, which time i have seen a thousand others, including the upper thames, the afton, the seine, the arno, the tiber, the iser, the spree, and the rhine. a hundred miles long is this uncharted stream; fifty feet its breadth of limpid tide; eight feet deep, crystal clear, calm, slow, and deep to the margin. a steamer could ply on its placid, unobstructed flood, a child could navigate it anywhere. the heavenly beauty of the shores, with virgin forest of fresh, green spruces towering a hundred feet on every side, or varied in open places with long rows and thick-set hedges of the gorgeous, wild, red, athabaska rose, made a stream that most canoemen, woodmen, and naturalists would think without a fault or flaw, and with every river beauty in its highest possible degree. not trees and flood alone had strenuous power to win our souls; at every point and bank, in every bend, were living creatures of the north, beaver and bear, not often seen but abundant; moose tracks showed from time to time and birds were here in thousands. rare winter birds, as we had long been taught to think them in our southern homes; here we found them in their native land and heard not a few sweet melodies, of which in faraway ontario, new jersey, and maryland we had been favoured only with promising scraps when wintry clouds were broken by the sun. nor were the old familiar ones away--flicker, sapsucker, hairy woodpecker, kingfisher, least flycatcher, alder flycatcher, robin, crow, and horned owl were here to mingle their noises with the stranger melodies and calls of lincoln sparrow, fox sparrow, olive-sided flycatcher, snipe, rusty blackbird, and bohemian waxwing. never elsewhere have i seen horned owls so plentiful. i did not know that there were so many bear and beaver left; i never was so much impressed by the inspiring raucous clamour of the cranes, the continual spatter of ducks, the cries of gulls and yellowlegs. hour after hour we paddled down that stately river adding our / miles to its mile speed; each turn brought to view some new and lovelier aspect of bird and forest life. i never knew a land of balmier air; i never felt the piney breeze more sweet; nowhere but in the higher mountains is there such a tonic sense abroad; the bright woods and river reaches were eloquent of a clime whose maladies are mostly foreign-born. but alas! i had to view it all swaddled, body, hands, and head, like a bee-man handling his swarms. songs were muffled, scenes were dimmed by the thick, protecting, suffocating veil without which men can scarcely live. ten billion dollars would be all too small reward, a trifle totally inadequate to compensate, mere nominal recognition of the man who shall invent and realise a scheme to save this earthly paradise from this its damning pest and malediction. chapter xviii down to fundamentals at . a. m., miles from the portage, we came to the clew-ee, or white fish river; at . p. m. made the sass tessi, or bear river, and here camped, having covered fully miles. now for the first time we were all together, with leisure to question our guide and plan in detail. but all our mirth and hopes were rudely checked by corporal selig, who had entire charge of the commissary, announcing that there were only two days' rations left. in the dead calm that followed this bomb-shell we all did some thinking; then a rapid fire of questions demonstrated the danger of having a guide who does not speak our language. it seems that when asked how many days' rations we should take on this buffalo hunt he got the idea how many days to the buffalo. he said five, meaning five days each way and as much time as we wished there. we were still two days from our goal. now what should we do? scurry back to the fort or go ahead and trust to luck? every man present voted "go ahead on half rations." we had good, healthy appetites; half rations was veritable hardship; but our hollow insides made hearty laughing. preble disappeared as soon as we camped, and now at the right time he returned and silently threw at the cook's feet a big -pound pike. it was just right, exactly as it happens in the most satisfactory books and plays. it seems that he always carried a spoon-hook, and went at once to what he rightly judged the best place, a pool at the junction of the two rivers. the first time he threw he captured the big fellow. later he captured three smaller ones in the same place, but evidently there were no more. that night we had a glorious feast; every one had as much as he could eat, chiefly fish. next morning we went on / miles farther, then came to the mouth of the nyarling tessi, or underground river, that joins the buffalo from the west. this was our stream; this was the highway to the buffalo country. it was a miniature of the river we were leaving, but a little quicker in current. in about miles we came to a rapid, but were able to paddle up. about miles farther was an immense and ancient log-jamb that filled the stream from bank to bank for yards. what will be the ultimate history of this jamb? it is added to each year, the floods have no power to move it, logs in water practically never rot, there is no prospect of it being removed by natural agencies. i suspect that at its head the river comes out of a succession of such things, whence its name underground river., around this jamb is an easy portage. we were far now from the haunts of any but indians on the winter hunt, so were surprised to see on this portage trail the deep imprints of a white man's boot. these were made apparently within a week, by whom i never learned. on the bank not far away we saw a lynx pursued overhead by two scolding redsquirrels. lunch consisted of what remained of the pike, but that afternoon bezkya saw two brown cranes on a meadow, and manoeuvring till they were in line killed both with one shot of his rifle at over yards, the best shot i ever knew an indian to make. still, two cranes totalling pounds gross is not enough meat to last five men a week, so we turned to our moosehunter. "yes, he could get a moose." he went on in the small canoe with billy; we were to follow, and if we passed his canoe leave a note. seven miles above the log-jamb, the river forked south and west; here a note from the guide sent us up the south fork; later we passed his canoe on the bank and knew that he had landed and was surely on his way "to market." what a comfortable feeling it was to remember that bezkya was a moose-hunter! we left word and travelled till , having come miles up from the river's mouth. our supper that night was crane, a little piece of bread each, some soup, and some tea. at the hunters came back empty-handed. yes, they found a fresh moose track, but the creature was so pestered by clouds of -------- that he travelled continually as fast as he could against the wind. they followed all day but could not overtake him. they saw a beaver but failed to get it. no other game was found. things were getting serious now, since all our food consisted of crane, tin of brawn, pound of bread, pounds of pork, with some tea, coffee, and sugar, not more than one square meal for the crowd, and we were men far from supplies, unless our hunting proved successful, and going farther every day. next morning (july ) each man had coffee, one lady's finger of bread, and a single small slice of bacon. hitherto from choice i had not eaten bacon in this country, although it was a regular staple served at each meal. but now, with proper human perversity, i developed an extraordinary appetite for bacon. it seemed quite the most delicious gift of god to man. given bacon, and i was ready to forgo all other foods. nevertheless, we had divided the last of it. i cut my slice in two, revelled in half, then secretly wrapped the other piece in paper and hid it in the watch-pocket of my vest, thinking "the time is in sight when the whole crowd will be thankful to have that scrap of bacon among them." (as a matter of fact, they never got it, for five days later we found a starving dog and he was so utterly miserable that he conjured that scrap from the pocket next my heart.) we were face to face with something like starvation now; the game seemed to shun us and our store of victuals was done. yet no one talked of giving up or going back. we set out to reach the buffalo country, and reach it we would. that morning we got little teal, so our lunch was sure, but straight teal without accompaniments is not very satisfying; we all went very hungry. and with one mind we all thought and talked about the good dinners or specially fine food we once had had. selig's dream of bliss was a porterhouse steak with a glass of foaming beer; jarvis thought champagne and roast turkey spelt heaven just then; i thought of my home breakfasts and the beaux-arts at new york; but billy said he would he perfectly happy if he could have one whole bannock all to himself. preble said nothing. chapter xix white man and red. meat, but nothing more there was plenty of hollow hilarity but no word of turning back. but hold! yes, there was. there was one visage that darkened more each day, and finally the gloomy thoughts broke forth in words from the lips of--our indian guide. his recent sullen silence was now changed to open and rebellious upbraiding. he didn't come here to starve. he could do that at home. he was induced to come by a promise of plenty of flour. "all of which was perfectly true. but," he went on, "we were still days from the buffalo and we were near the head of navigation; it was a case of tramp through the swamp with our beds and guns, living on the country as we went, and if we didn't have luck the coyotes and ravens would." before we had time to discuss this prospect, a deciding step was announced, by jarvis, he was under positive orders to catch the steamer wrigley at fort resolution on the evening of july . it was now mid-day of july , and only by leaving at once and travelling all night could he cover the intervening miles. so then and there we divided the remnants of food evenly, for "bezkya was a moose-hunter." then major jarvis and corporal selig boarded the smaller canoe. we shook hands warmly, and i at least had a lump in my throat; they were such good fellows in camp, and to part this way when we especially felt bound to stick together, going each of us on a journey of privation and peril, seemed especially hard; and we were so hungry. but we were living our lives. they rounded the bend, we waved goodbye, and i have never seen them since. hitherto i was a guest; now i was in sole command, and called a council of war. billy was stanch and ready to go anywhere at any cost. so was preble. bezkya was sulky and rebellious. physically, i had been at the point of a total breakdown when i left home; the outdoor life had been slowly restoring me, but the last few days had weakened me sadly and i was not fit for a long expedition on foot. but of one thing i was sure, we must halt till we got food. a high wind was blowing and promised some respite to the moose from the little enemy that sings except when he stings, so i invited bezkya to gird up his loins and make another try for moose. nothing loath, he set off with billy. i marked them well as they went, one lithe, sinewy, active, animal-eyed; the other solid and sturdy, following doggedly, keeping up by sheer blundering strength. i could not but admire them, each in his kind. two hours later i heard two shots, and toward evening the boys came back slowly, tired but happy, burdened with the meat, for bezkya was a moosehunter. many shekels and gladly would i have given to have been on that moose hunt. had i seen it i could have told it. these men, that do it so well, never can tell it. yet in the days that followed i picked up a few significant phrases that gave glimpses of its action. through the crooked land of endless swamp this son of the woods had set out "straightaway west." a big track appeared crossing a pool, seeming fresh. "no! he go by yesterday; water in track not muddy." another track was found. "yes, pretty good; see bite alder. alder turn red in two hours; only half red." follow long. "look out, billy; no go there; wrong wind. yes, he pass one hour; see bit willow still white. stop; he pass half-hour; see grass still bend. he lie down soon. how know? oh, me know. stand here, billy. he sleep in thick willow there." then the slow crawl in absolute stillness, the long wait, the betrayal of the huge beast by the ear that wagged furiously to shake off the winged bloodsuckers. the shot, the rush, the bloody trail, the pause in the opening to sense the foe, the shots from both hunters, and the death. next day we set out in the canoe for the moose, which lay conveniently on the river bank. after pushing through the alders and poling up the dwindling stream for a couple of hours we reached the place two miles up, by the stream. it was a big bull with no bell, horns only two-thirds grown but inches across, the tips soft and springy; one could stick a knife through them anywhere outside of the basal half. bezkya says they are good to eat in this stage; but we had about pounds of good meat so did not try. the velvet on the horns is marked by a series of concentric curved lines of white hair, across the lines of growth; these, i take it, correspond with times of check by chill or hardship. we loaded our canoe with meat and pushed on toward the buffalo country for two miles more up the river. navigation now became very difficult on account of alders in the stream. bezkya says that only a few hundred yards farther and the river comes from underground. this did not prove quite correct, for i went half a mile farther by land and found no change. here, however, we did find some buffalo tracks; one went through our camp, and farther on were many, but all dated from the spring and were evidently six weeks old. there were no recent tracks, which was discouraging, and the air of gloom over our camp grew heavier. the weather had been bad ever since we left fort smith, cloudy or showery. this morning for the first time the day dawned with a clear sky, but by noon it was cloudy and soon again raining. our diet consisted of nothing but moose meat and tea; we had neither sugar nor salt, and the craving for farinaceous food was strong and growing. we were what the. natives call "flour hungry"; our three-times-a-day prospect of moose, moose, moose was becoming loathsome. bezkya was openly rebellious once more, and even my two trusties were very, very glum. still, the thought of giving up was horrible, so i made a proposition: "bezkya, you go out scouting on, foot and see if you can locate a band. i'll give you five dollars extra if you show me one buffalo." at length he agreed to go provided i would set out for fort resolution at once unless he found buffalo near. this was leaving it all in his hands. while i was considering, preble said: "i tell you this delay is playing the mischief with our barren-ground trip; we should have started for the north ten days ago," which was in truth enough to settle the matter. i knew perfectly well beforehand what bezkya's report would be. at . he returned to say he found nothing but old tracks. there were no buffalo nearer than two days' travel on foot, and he should like to return at once to fort resolution. there was no further ground for debate; every one and everything now was against me. again i had to swallow the nauseating draught of defeat and retreat. "we start northward first thing in the morning," i said briefly, and our third buffalo hunt was over. these, then, were the results so far as buffalo were concerned: old tracks as far down as last camp, plenty of old tracks here and westward, but the buffalo, as before on so many occasions, were two days' travel to the westward. during all this time i had lost no good opportunity of impressing on the men the sinfulness of leaving a camp-fire burning and of taking life unnecessarily; and now, i learned of fruit from this seeding. that night bezkya was in a better humour, for obvious reasons; he talked freely and told me how that day he came on a large blackbear which at once took to a tree. the indian had his rifle, but thought, "i can kill him, yet i can't stop to skin him or use his meat," so left him in peace. this is really a remarkable incident, almost unique. i am glad to believe that i had something to do with causing such unusual forbearance. chapter xx on the nyarling all night it rained; in the morning it was dull, foggy, and showery. everything was very depressing, especially in view of this second defeat. the steady diet of moose and tea was debilitating; my legs trembled under me. i fear i should be a poor one to stand starvation, if so slight a brunt should play such havoc with my strength. we set out early to retrace the course of the nyarling, which in spite of associated annoyances and disappointments will ever shine forth in my memory as the "beautiful river." it is hard, indeed, for words to do it justice. the charm of a stream is always within three feet of the surface and ten feet of the bank. the broad slave, then, by its size wins in majesty but must lose most all its charm; the buffalo, being fifty feet wide, has some waste water; but the nyarling, half the size, has its birthright compounded and intensified in manifold degree. the water is clear, two or three feet deep at the edge of the grassy banks, seven to ten feet in mid-channel, without bars or obstructions except the two log-jambs noted, and these might easily be removed. the current is about one mile and a half an hour, so that canoes can readily pass up or down; the scenery varies continually and is always beautiful. everything that i have said of the little buffalo applies to the nyarling with fourfold force, because of its more varied scenery and greater range of bird and other life. sometimes, like the larger stream, it presents a long, straight vista of a quarter-mile through a solemn aisle in the forest of mighty spruce trees that tower a hundred feet in height, all black with gloom, green with health, and gray with moss. sometimes its channel winds in and out of open grassy meadows that are dotted with clumps of rounded trees, as in an english park. now it narrows to a deep and sinuous bed, through alders so rank and reaching that they meet overhead and form a shade of golden green; and again it widens out into reedy lakes, the summer home of countless ducks, geese, tattlers terns, peetweets, gulls, rails, blackbirds, and half a hundred of the lesser tribes. sometimes the foreground is rounded masses of kinnikinnik in snowy flower, or again a far-strung growth of the needle bloom, richest and reddest of its tribe--the athabaska rose. at times it is skirted by tall poplar woods where the claw-marks on the trunks are witness of the many blackbears, or some tamarack swamp showing signs and proofs that hereabouts a family of moose had fed to-day, or by a broad and broken trail that told of a buffalo band passing weeks ago. and while we gazed at scribbled records, blots, and marks, the loud "slap plong" of a beaver showed from time to time that the thrifty ones had dived at our approach. on the way up jarvis had gone first in the small canoe; he saw bears, beaver, and lynx; i saw nothing but birds. on the way down, being alone, the luck came my way. at the first camp, after he left, we heard a loud "plong" in the water near the boat. bezkya glided to the spot; i followed--here was a large beaver swimming. the indian fired, the beaver plunged, and we saw nothing more of it. he told billy, who told me, that it was dead, because it did not slap with its tail as it went down. next night another splashed by our boat. this morning as we paddled we saw a little stream, very muddy, trickling into the river. bezkya said, "beaver at work on his dam there." now that we were really heading for flour, our indian showed up well. he was a strong paddler, silent but apparently cheerful, ready at all times to work. as a hunter and guide he was of course first class. about . we came on a large beaver sunning himself on a perch built of mud just above the water. he looked like a huge chestnut muskrat. he plunged at once but came up again yards farther down, took another look and dived, to be seen no more. at noon we reached our old camp, the last where all had been together. here we put up a monument on a tree, and were mortified to think we had not done so at our farthest camp. there were numbers of yellowlegs breeding here; we were surprised to see them resting on trees or flying from one branch to another. a great gray-owl sitting on a stump was a conspicuous feature of our landscape view; his white choker shone like a parson's. early in the morning we saw a kingbird. this was our northernmost record for the species. we pressed on all day, stopping only for our usual supper of moose and tea, and about the boys were ready to go on again. they paddled till dark at . camped in the rain, but every one was well pleased, for we had made miles that day and were that much nearer to flour. this journey had brought us down the nyarling and miles down the buffalo. it rained all night; next morning the sun came out once or twice but gave it up, and clouds with rain sprinklings kept on. we had struck a long spell of wet; it was very trying, and fatal to photographic work. after a delicious, appetising, and inspiring breakfast of straight moose, without even salt, and raw tea, we pushed on along the line of least resistance, i.e., toward flour. a flock of half a dozen bohemian waxwings were seen catching flies among the tall spruce tops; probably all were males enjoying a stag party while their wives were home tending eggs or young. billy shot a female bufflehead duck; she was so small-only inches in slack girth--that she could easily have entered an ordinary woodpecker hole. so that it is likely the species nest in the abandoned holes of the flicker. a redtailed hawk had its nest on a leaning spruce above the water. it was a most striking and picturesque object; doubtless the owner was very well pleased with it, but a pair of robins militant attacked him whenever he tried to go near it. a beaver appeared swimming ahead; bezkya seized his rifle and removed the top of its head, thereby spoiling a splendid skull but securing a pelt and a new kind of meat. although i was now paying his wages the beaver did not belong to me. according to the custom of the country it belonged to bezkya. he owed me nothing but service as a guide. next meal we had beaver tail roasted and boiled; it was very delicious, but rather rich and heavy. at . we reached great slave lake, but found the sea so high that it would have been very dangerous to attempt crossing to fort resolution, faintly to be seen a dozen miles away. we waited till , then ventured forth; it was only miles across and we could send that canoe at / miles an hour, but the wind and waves against us were so strong that it took / hours to make the passage. at . we landed at resolution and pitched our tent among teepees with huge dogs that barked, scratched, howled, yelled, and fought around, in, and over the tent-ropes all night long. oh, how different from the tranquil woods of the nyarling! chapter xxi fort resolution and its folk early next morning preble called on his old acquaintance, chief trader c. harding, in charge of the post. whenever we have gone to h. b. co. officials to do business with them, as officers of the company, we have found them the keenest of the keen; but whenever it is their personal affair, they are hospitality out-hospitalled. they give without stint; they lavish their kindness on the stranger from the big world. in a few minutes preble hastened back to say that we were to go to breakfast at once. that breakfast, presided over by a charming woman and a genial, generous man, was one that will not be forgotten while i live. think of it, after the hard scrabble on the nyarling! we had real porridge and cream, coffee with veritable sugar and milk, and authentic butter, light rolls made of actual flour, unquestionable bacon and potatoes, with jam and toast--the really, truly things--and we had as much as we could eat! we behaved rather badly--intemperately, i fear--we stopped only when forced to do it, and yet both of us came away with appetites. it was clear that i must get some larger craft than my canoe to cross the lake from fort resolution and take the , pounds of provisions that had come on the steamer. harding kindly offered the loan of a york boat, and with the help chiefly of charlie mcleod the white man, who is interpreter at the fort, i secured a crew to man it. but oh, what worry and annoyance it was! these great slave lake indians are like a lot of spoiled and petulant children, with the added weakness of adult criminals; they are inconsistent, shiftless, and tricky. pike, whitney, buffalo jones, and others united many years ago in denouncing them as the most worthless and contemptible of the human race, and since then they have considerably deteriorated. there are exceptions, however, as will be seen by the record. one difficulty was that it became known that on the buffalo expedition bezkya had received three dollars a day, which is government emergency pay. i had agreed to pay the regular maximum, two dollars a day with presents and keep. all came and demanded three dollars. i told them they could go at once in search of the hottest place ever pictured by a diseased and perfervid human imagination. if they went there they decided not to stay, because in an hour they were back offering to compromise. i said i could run back to fort smith (it sounds like nothing) and get all the men i needed at one dollar and a half. (i should mortally have hated to try.) one by one the crew resumed. then another bombshell. i had offended chief snuff by not calling and consulting with him; he now gave it out that i was here to take out live musk-ox, which meant that all the rest would follow to seek their lost relatives. again my crew resigned. i went to see snuff. every man has his price. snuff's price was half a pound of tea; and the crew came back, bringing, however, several new modifications in our contract. taking no account of several individuals that joined a number of times but finally resigned, the following, after they had received presents, provisions, and advance pay, were the crew secured to man the york boat on the " or " days' run to pike's portage and then carry my goods to the first lake. weeso. the jesuits called him louison d'noire, but it has been corrupted into a simpler form. "weeso" they call it, "weeso" they write it, and for "weeso" you must ask, or you will not find him. so i write it as i do "sousi" and "yum," with the true local colour. he was a nice, kind, simple old rabbit, not much use and not over-strong, but he did his best, never murmuring, and in all the mutinies and rebellions that followed he remained staunch, saying simply, "i gave my word i would go, and i will go." he would make a safe guide for the next party headed for aylmer lake. he alone did not ask rations for his wife during his absence; he said, "it didn't matter about her, as they had been married for a long time now." he asked as presents a pair of my spectacles, as his eyes were failing, and a marble axe. the latter i sent him later, but he could not understand why glasses that helped me should not help him. he acted as pilot and guide, knowing next to nothing about either. francois d'noire, son of weeso, a quiet, steady, inoffensive chap, but not strong; nevertheless, having been there once with us, he is now a competent guide to take any other party as far as pike's portage. c., a sulky brute and a mischief-maker. he joined and resigned a dozen times that day, coming back on each occasion with a new demand. s., grandson of the chief, a sulky good-for-nothing; would not have him again at any price; besides the usual wages, tobacco, food, etc., he demanded extra to support his wife during his absence. the wife, i found, was a myth. t., a sulky good-for-nothing. beaulieu, an alleged grandson of his grandfather. a perpetual breeder of trouble; never did a decent day's work the whole trip. insolent, mutinous, and overbearing, till i went for him with intent to do bodily mischief; then he became extremely obsequious. like the rest of the foregoing, he resigned and resumed at irregular intervals. yum (william), freesay; the best of the lot; a bright, cheerful, intelligent, strong indian, boy. he and my old standby, billy loutit, did virtually all the handling of that big boat. any one travelling in that country should secure yum if they can. he was worth all the others put together. chapter xxii the chipewyans, their speech and writing sweeping generalisations are always misleading, therefore i offer some now, and later will correct them by specific instances. these chipewyans are dirty, shiftless, improvident, and absolutely honest. of the last we saw daily instances in crossing the country. valuables hung in trees, protected only from weather, birds, and beasts, but never a suggestion that they needed protection from mankind. they are kind and hospitable among themselves, but grasping in their dealings with white men, as already set forth. while they are shiftless and lazy, they also undertake the frightful toil of hunting and portaging. although improvident, they have learned to dry a stock of meat and put up a scaffold of white fish for winter use. as a tribe they are mild and inoffensive, although they are the original stock from which the apaches broke away some hundreds of years ago before settling in the south. they have suffered greatly from diseases imported by white men, but not from whiskey. the hudson's bay company has always refused to supply liquor to the natives. what little of the evil traffic there has been was the work of free-traders. but the royal mounted police have most rigorously and effectually suppressed this. nevertheless, chief trader anderson tells me that the mackenzie valley tribes have fallen to less than half their numbers during the last century. it is about ten, years since they made the treaty that surrendered their lands to the government. they have no reserves, but are free to hunt as their fathers did. i found several of the older men lamenting the degeneracy of their people. "our fathers were hunters and our mothers made good moccasins, but the young men are lazy loafers around the trading posts, and the women get money in bad ways to buy what they should make with their hands." the chipewyan dialects are peculiarly rasping, clicking, and guttural, especially when compared with cree. every man and woman and most of the children among them smoke. they habitually appear with a pipe in their mouth and speak without removing it, so that the words gurgle out on each side of the pipe while a thin stream goes sizzling through the stem. this additional variant makes it hopeless to suggest on paper any approach to their peculiar speech. the jesuits tell me that it was more clicked and guttural fifty years ago, but that they are successfully weeding out many of the more unpleasant catarrhal sounds. in noting down the names of animals, i was struck by the fact that the more familiar the animal the shorter its name. thus the beaver, muskrat, rabbit, and marten, on which they live, are respectively tsa, dthen, ka, and tha. the less familiar (in a daily sense) red fox and weasel are nak-ee-they, noon-dee-a, tel-ky-lay; and the comparatively scarce musk-ox and little weasel, at-huh-le-jer-ray and tel-ky-lay-azzy. all of which is clear and logical, for the name originally is a description, but the softer parts and sharp angles are worn down by the attrition of use--the more use they have for a word the shorter it is bound to get. in this connection it is significant that "to-day" is to-ho-chin-nay, and "to-morrow" kom-pay. the chipewyan teepee is very distinctive; fifty years ago all were of caribou leather, now most are of cotton; not for lack of caribou, but because the cotton does not need continual watching to save it from the dogs. of the fifty teepees at fort chipewyan, one or two only were of caribou but many had caribou-skin tops, as these are less likely to bum than those of cotton. the way they manage the smoke is very clever; instead of the two fixed flaps, as among the plains river indians, these have a separate hood which is easily set on any side (see iii). chief squirrel lives in a lodge that is an admirable combination of the white men's tent with its weather-proof roof and the indian teepee with its cosy fire. (see cut, p. .) not one of these lodges that i saw, here or elsewhere, had the slightest suggestion of decoration. for people who spend their whole life on or near the water these are the worst boatmen i ever saw. the narrow, thick paddle they make, compared with the broad, thin iroquois paddle, exactly expressed the difference between the two as canoemen. the chipewyan's mode of using it is to sit near the middle and make or perhaps strokes on one side, then change to the other side for the same, and so on. the line made by the canoes is an endless zigzag. the idea of paddling on one side so dexterously that the canoe goes straight is yet on an evolutionary pinnacle beyond their present horizon. in rowing, their way is to stand up, reach forward with the -pound / -foot oar, throw all the weight on it, falling backward into the seat. after half an hour of this exhausting work they must rest to minutes. the long, steady, strong pull is unknown to them in every sense. their ideas of sailing a boat are childish. tacking is like washing, merely a dim possibility of their very distant future. it's a sailing wind if behind; otherwise it's a case of furl and row. by an ancient, unwritten law the whole country is roughly divided among the hunters. each has his own recognised hunting ground, usually a given river valley, that is his exclusive and hereditary property; another hunter may follow a wounded animal into it, but not begin a hunt there or set a trap upon it. most of their time is spent at the village, but the hunting ground is visited at proper seasons. fifty years ago they commonly went half naked. how they stood the insects i do not know, and when asked they merely grinned significantly; probably they doped themselves with grease. this religious training has had one bad effect. inspired with horror of being "naked" savages, they do not run any sinful risks, even to take a bath. in all the six months i was among them i never saw an indian's bare arms, much less his legs. one day after the fly season was over i took advantage of the lovely weather and water to strip off and jump into a lake by our camp; my indians modestly turned their backs until i had finished. if this mock modesty worked for morality one might well accept it, but the old folks say that it operates quite the other way. it has at all events put an end to any possibility of them taking a bath. maybe as a consequence, but of this i am not sure, none of these indians swim. a large canoe-load upset in crossing great slave lake a month after we arrived and all were drowned. like most men who lead physical lives, and like all meat-eating savages, these are possessed of a natural proneness toward strong drink. an interesting two-edged boomerang illustration of this was given by an unscrupulous whiskey trader. while travelling across country he ran short of provisions but fortunately came to a chipewyan lodge. at first its owner had no meat to spare, but when he found that the visitor had a flask of whiskey he offered for it a large piece of moose meat; when this was refused he doubled the amount, and after another refusal added some valuable furs and more meat till one hundred dollars worth was piled up. again the answer was "no." then did that indian offer the lodge and everything he had in it, including his wife. but the trader was obdurate. "why didn't you take it," said the friend whom he told of the affair; "the stuff would have netted five hundred dollars, and all for one flask of whiskey." "not much," said the trader, "it was my last flask i wouldn't 'a' had a drop for myself. but it just shows, how fond these indians are of whiskey." while some of the chipewyans show fine physique, and many do great feats of strength and endurance, they seem on the whole inferior to whites. thus the strongest portager on the river is said to be billy loutit's brother george. at athabaska landing i was shown a house on a hill, half a mile away, to which he had carried on his back pounds of flour without stopping. some said it was only pounds, but none made it less. as george is only three-quarters white, this is perhaps not a case in point. but during our stay at fort smith we had several athletic meets of indians and whites, the latter represented by preble and the police boys, and no matter whether in running, walking, high jumping, broad jumping, wrestling, or boxing, the whites were ahead. as rifle-shots, also, the natives seem far inferior. in the matter of moose-hunting only, as already noted, the red-man was master. this, of course, is a matter of life-long training. a white man brought up to it would probably do as well as an indian even in this very indian department. these tribes are still in the hunting and fishing stage; they make no pretence of agriculture or stockraising. except that they wear white man's clothes and are most of them nominally roman catholics, they live as their fathers did years ago. but there is one remarkable circumstance that impressed me more and more--practically every chipewyan reads and writes his own language. this miracle was inborn on me slowly. on the first buffalo hunt we had found a smoothened pole stuck in the ground by the trail. it was inscribed as herewith. "what is that sousi?" "it's a notice from chief william that swiggert wants men on the portage," and he translated it literally: "the fat white man scows, small white man scows, gone down, men wanted for rapids, johnnie bolette this letter for you. (signed) chief william." each of our guides in succession had shown a similar familiarity with the script of his people, and many times we found spideresque characters on tree or stone that supplied valuable information. they could, however tell me nothing of its age or origin, simply "we all do it; it is easy." at fort resolution i met the jesuit fathers and got the desired chance of learning about the chipewyan script. first, it is not a true alphabet, but a syllabic; not letters, but syllables, are indicated by each character; characters are all that are needed to express the whole language. it is so simple and stenographic that the fathers often use it as a rapid way of writing french. it has, however, the disadvantage of ambiguity at times. any indian boy can learn it in a week or two; practically all the indians use it. what a commentary on our own cumbrous and illogical spelling, which takes even a bright child two or three years to learn! now, i already knew something of the cree syllabic invented by the rev. james evans, methodist missionary on lake winnipeg in the ' s, but cree is a much less complex language; only characters are needed, and these are so simple that an intelligent cree can learn to write his own language in one day. in support, of this astounding statement i give, first, the characters which cover every fundamental sound in their language and then a sample of application. while crude and inconcise, it was so logical and simple that in a few years the missionary had taught practically the whole cree nation to read and write. and lord dufferin, when the matter came before him during his north-west tour, said enthusiastically: "there have been men buried in westminster abbey with national honours whose claims to fame were far less than those of this devoted missionary, the man who taught a whole nation to read and write." these things i knew, and now followed up my jesuit source of information. "who invented this?" "i don't know for sure. it is in general use." "was it a native idea?" "oh, no; some white man made it." "where? here or in the south?" "it came originally from the crees, as near as we can tell." "was it a cree or a missionary that first thought of it?" "i believe it was a missionary." "frankly, now, wasn't it invented in by rev. james evans, methodist missionary to the crees on lake winnipeg?" oh, how he hated to admit it, but he was too honest to deny it. "yes, it seems to me it was some name like that. 'je ne sais pas.'" reader, take a map of north america, a large one, and mark off the vast area bounded by the saskatchewan, the rockies, the hudson bay, and the arctic circle, and realise that in this region, as large as continental europe outside of russia and spain, one simple, earnest man, inspired by the love of him who alone is perfect love, invented and popularised a method of writing that in a few years--in less than a generation, indeed--has turned the whole native population from ignorant illiterates to a people who are proud to read and write their own language. this, i take it, is one of the greatest feats of a civiliser. the world has not yet heard, much less comprehended, the magnitude of the achievement; when it does there will be no name on the canadian roll of fame that will stand higher or be blazoned more brightly than that of james evans the missionary. chapter xxiii the dogs of fort resolution it sounds like the opening of an epic poem but it is not. the chipewyan calender is divided in two seasons--dog season and canoe season. what the horse is to the arab, what the reindeer is to the lap and the yak to the thibetan, the dog is to the chipewyan for at least one-half of the year, until it is displaced by the canoe. during dog season the canoes are piled away somewhat carelessly or guarded only from the sun. during canoe season the dogs are treated atrociously. let us remember, first, that these are dogs in every doggy sense, the worshipping servants of man, asking nothing but a poor living in return for abject love and tireless service, as well as the relinquishment of all family ties and natural life. in winter, because they cannot serve without good food, they are well fed on fish that is hung on scaffolds in the fall in time to be frozen before wholly spoiled. the journeys they will make and the devoted service they render at this time is none too strongly set forth in butler's "cerf vola" and london's "call of the wild." it is, indeed, the dog alone that makes life possible during the white half-year of the boreal calender. one cannot be many days in the north without hearing tales of dog prowess, devotion, and heroism. a typical incident was related as follows by thomas anderson: over thirty years ago, chief factor george mctavish and his driver, jack harvey, were travelling from east main to rupert's house ( miles) in a blizzard so thick and fierce that they could scarcely see the leading dog. he was a splendid, vigorous creature, but all at once he lay down and refused to go. the driver struck him, but the factor reproved the man, as this dog had never needed the whip. the driver then went ahead and found open water only a few feet from the dogs, though out of sight. after that they gave the leader free rein, surrendered themselves to his guidance, and in spite of the blinding blizzard they struck the flagpole of rupert's between and that night, only a little behind time. many of the wild wolf traits still remain with them. they commonly pair; they bury surplus food; the mothers disgorge food for the young; they rally to defend one of their own clan against a stranger; and they punish failure with death. a thousand incidents might be adduced to show that in the north there is little possibility of winter travel without dogs and little possibility of life without winter travel. but april comes with melting snows and may with open rivers and brown earth everywhere; then, indeed, the reign of the dog is over. the long yellow-birch canoe is taken down from the shanty roof or from a sheltered scaffold, stitched, gummed, and launched; and the dogs are turned loose to fend for themselves. gratitude for past services or future does not enter into the owner's thoughts to secure a fair allowance of food. all their training and instinct prompts them to hang about camp, where, kicked, stoned, beaten, and starved, they steal and hunt as best they may, until the sad season of summer is worn away and merry winter with its toil and good food is back once more. from leaving fort macmurray we saw daily the starving dog, and i fed them when i could. at smith landing the daily dog became a daily fifty. one big fellow annexed us. "i found them first," he seemed to say, and no other dog came about our camp without a fight. of course he fared well on our scraps, but many a time it made my heart ache and my food-store suffer to see the gaunt skeletons in the bushes, just beyond his sphere of influence, watching for a chance to rush in and secure a mouthful of--anything to stay the devastating pang. my journal of the time sets forth in full detail the diversity of their diet, not only every possible scrap of fish and meat or whatsoever smelled of fish or meat, but rawhide, leather, old boots, flour-bags, potato-peelings, soap, wooden fragments of meat-boxes, rags that have had enough animal contact to be odorous. an ancient dishcloth, succulent with active service, was considered a treat to be bolted whole; and when in due course the cloth was returned to earth, it was intact, bleached, purged, and purified as by chemic fires and ready for a new round of benevolences. in some seasons the dogs catch rabbits enough to keep them up. but this year the rabbits were gone. they are very clever at robbing fish-nets at times, but these were far from the fort. reduced to such desperate straits for food, what wonder that cannibalism should be common! not only the dead, but the sick or disabled of their own kind are torn to pieces and devoured. i was told of one case where a brutal driver disabled one of his dogs with heavy blows; its companions did not wait till it was dead before they feasted. it is hard to raise pups because the mothers so often devour their own young; and this is a charge i never heard laid to the wolf, the ancestor of these dogs, which shows how sadly the creature has been deteriorated by contact with man. there seems no length to which they will not go for food. politeness forbids my mentioning the final diet for which they scramble around the camp. never in my life before have i seen such utter degradation by the power of the endless hunger pinch. nevertheless--and here i expect the reader to doubt, even as i did when first i heard it, no matter how desperate their straits-these gormandisers of unmentionable filth, these starvelings, in their dire extremity will turn away in disgust from duck or any other web-footed water-fowl. billy loutit had shot a pelican; the skin was carefully preserved and the body guarded for the dogs, thinking that this big thing, weighing or pounds, would furnish a feast for one or two. the dogs knew me, and rushed like a pack of wolves at sight of coming food. the bigger ones fought back the smaller. i threw the prize, but, famished though they were, they turned away as a man might turn from a roasted human hand. one miserable creature, a mere skeleton, sneaked forward when the stronger ones were gone, pulled out the entrails at last, and devoured them as though he hated them. i can offer no explanation. but the hudson's bay men tell me it is always so, and i am afraid the remembrance of the reception accorded my bounty that day hardened my heart somewhat in the days that followed. on the nyarling we were too far from mankind to be bothered with dogs, but at fort resolution we reentered their country. the following from my journal records the impression after our enforced three days' stay: "tuesday, july , .--fine day for the first time since july . at last we pulled out of fort resolution ( . a. m.). i never was so thankful to leave a place where every one was kind. i think the maddest cynophile would find a cure here. it is the worst dog-cursed spot i ever saw; not a square yard but is polluted by them; no article can be left on the ground but will be carried off, torn up, or defiled; the four corners of our tent have become regular stopping places for the countless canines, and are disfigured and made abominable, so that after our escape there will be needed many days of kindly rain for their purification. there certainly are several hundred dogs in the village; there are about teepees and houses with to dogs at each, and each at the mission and h. b. co. in a short walk, about yards, i passed dogs. "there is not an hour or ten minutes of day or night that is not made hideous with a dog-fight or chorus of yelps. there are about six different clans of dogs, divided as their owners are, and a dogrib dog entering the yellow-knife or chipewyan part of the camp is immediately set upon by all the residents. now the clansmen of the one in trouble rush to the rescue and there is a battle. indians of both sides join in with clubs to belabour the fighters, and the yowling and yelping of those discomfited is painful to hear for long after the fight is over. it was a battle like this, i have been told, which caused the original split of the tribe, one part of which went south to become the apaches of arizona. the scenes go on all day and all night in different forms. a number of dogs are being broken in by being tied up to stakes. these keep up a heart-rending and peculiar crying, beginning with a short bark which melts into a yowl and dies away in a nerve-racking wail. this ceases not day or night, and half a dozen of these prisoners are within a stone's throw of our camp. "the favourite place for the clan fights seems to be among the guy-ropes of our tent; at least half a dozen of these general engagements take place every night while we try to sleep. "everything must be put on the high racks eight feet up to be safe from them; even empty tins are carried off, boots, hats, soap, etc., are esteemed most toothsome morsels, and what they can neither eat, carry off, nor destroy, they defile with elaborate persistency and precision." a common trick of the indians when canoe season arrives is, to put all the family and one or two of the best dogs in the canoes, then push away from the shore, leaving the rest behind. those so abandoned come howling after the canoes, and in unmistakable pleadings beg the heartless owners to take them in. but the canoes push off toward the open sea, aiming to get out of sight. the dogs howl sadly on the shore, or swim after them till exhausted, then drift back to the nearest land to begin the summer of hardship. if rabbits are plentiful they get along; failing these they catch mice or fish; when the berry season comes they eat fruit; the weaker ones are devoured by their brethren; and when the autumn arrives their insensate owners generally manage to come back and pick up the survivors, feeding them so that they are ready for travel when dog-time begins, and the poor faithful brutes, bearing no grudge, resume at once the service of their unfeeling masters. all through our voyage up great slave lake we daily heard the sad howling of abandoned dogs, and nightly, we had to take steps to prevent them stealing our food and leathers. more than once in the dim light, i was awakened by a rustle, to see sneaking from my tent the gray, wolfish form of some prowling dog, and the resentment i felt at the loss inflicted, was never more than to make me shout or throw a pebble at him. one day, as we voyaged eastward (july ) in the tal-thel-lay narrows of great slave lake, we met canoes and york boats of indians going west. a few hours afterward as, we were nooning on an island (we were driven to the islands now) there came a long howling from the rugged main shore, a mile away to the east of us; then it increased to a chorus of wailing, and we knew that the indians had that morning abandoned their dogs there. the wailing continued, then we saw a tiny black speck coming from the far shore. when it was half-way across the ice-cold bay we could hear the gasps of a tired swimmer. he got along fairly, dodging the cakes of ice, until within about yards, when his course was barred by a long, thin, drifting floe. he tried to climb on it, but was too weak, then he raised his voice in melancholy howls of despair. i could not get to him, but he plucked up heart at length, and feebly paddling went around till he found an opening, swam through and came on, the slowest dog swimmer i ever saw. at last he struck bottom and crawled out. but he was too weak and ill to eat the meat that i had ready prepared for him. we left him with food for many days and sailed away. another of the dogs that tried to follow him across was lost in the ice; we heard his miserable wailing moans as he was carried away, but could not help him. my indians thought nothing of it and were amused at my solicitude. a couple of hours later we landed on the rugged east coast to study our course through the ice. at once., we were met by four dogs that trotted along the shore to where we landed. they did not seem very gaunt; one, an old yellow female, carried something in her mouth; this she never laid down, and growled savagely when any of the others came near. it proved to be the blood-stained leg of a new-killed dog, yellow like herself. as we pulled out a big black-and-white fellow looked at us wistfully from a rocky ledge; memories of bingo, whom he resembled not a little, touched me. i threw him a large piece of dried meat. he ate it, but not ravenously. he seemed in need, not of food, but of company. a few miles farther on we again landed to study the lake; as we came near we saw the dogs, not four but six, now racing to meet us. i said to preble: "it seems to me it would be the part of mercy to shoot them all." he answered: "they are worth nothing now, but you shoot one and its value would at once jump up to one hundred dollars. every one knows everything that is done in this country. you would have six hundred dollars' damages to pay when you got back to fort resolution." i got out our stock of fresh fish. the indians, seeing my purpose, said: "throw it in the water and see them dive." i did so and found that they would dive into several feet of water and bring up the fish without fail. the yellow female was not here, so i suppose she had stayed to finish her bone. when we came away, heading for the open lake, the dogs followed us as far as they could, then gathering on a flat rock, the end of a long point, they sat down, some with their backs to us; all raised their muzzles and howled to the sky a heart-rending dirge. i was thankful to lose them in the distance. chapter xxiv the voyage across the lake hitherto i have endeavoured to group my observations on each subject; i shall now for a change give part of the voyage across great slave lake much, as it appears in my journal. "july , .--left fort resolution at . a. m. in the york boat manned by indians and billy loutit, besides preble and myself, in all; ready with mast and sail for fair wind, but also provided with heavy -foot oars for head-winds and calm. harding says we should make pike's portage in or days. "reached moose island at . chiefly by rowing; camped. a large dog appeared on the bank. freesay recognised it as his and went ashore with a club. we heard the dog yelping. freesay came back saying: 'he'll go home now.' "at . went on but stopped an unnecessary half-hour at a saw-mill getting plank for seats. reached the big, or main, river at . ; stopped for tea again till . , then rowed up the river till . ; rested minutes, rowed till . ; rested minutes, rowed till ; then got into the down current of the north branch or mouth of the slave; down then we drifted till , then landed and made another meal, the fourth to-day, and went on drifting at . . "at . we heard a ruffed grouse drumming, the last of the season, also a bittern pumping, some cranes trumpeting, and a wood frog croaking. snipe were still whirring in the sky. saw common tern. "at . , still light, we camped for the night and made another meal. the indians went out and shot muskrats, making the total of these i have seen in the country. this is the very lowest ebb. why are they so scarce? their low epoch agrees with that of the rabbits. "july .--rose at (it should have been , but the indians would not rouse); sailed north through the marsh with a light east breeze. at noon this changed to a strong wind blowing from the north, as it has done with little variation ever since i came to the country. these indians know little of handling a boat and resent any suggestion. they maintain their right, to row or rest, as they please, and land when and where they think best. we camped on a sand-bar and waited till night; most exasperating when we are already behind time. the indians set a net, using for tie-strings the bark of the willow (salix bebbiana). they caught a jack-fish. reached stony island at night, after many stops and landings. the indians land whenever in doubt and make a meal (at my expense), and are in doubt every two hours or so. they eat by themselves and have their own cook. billy cooks for us, i.e., preble, weeso, and myself. among the crew i hear unmistakable grumblings about the food, which is puzzling, as it is the best they ever had in their lives; there is great variety and no limit to the quantity. "made meals and miles to-day, rowing , sailing . "july .--left stony island at . ; could not get the crew started sooner; sailing with a light breeze which soon died down and left us on a sea of glass. i never before realised how disgusting a calm could be. "camped at . on one of the countless, unnamed, uncharted islands of the lake. it is very beautiful in colour, red granite, spotted with orange and black lichen on its face, and carpeted with caribou moss and species of cetraria, great patches of tripe-de-roche, beds of saxifrage, long trailers, and masses of bearberry, empetrum, ground cedar, juniper, cryptograma, and many others; while the trees, willow, birch, and spruce are full of character and drawing. sky and lake are in colour worthy of these rich details, the bird life is well represented and beautiful; there is beauty everywhere, and 'only man is vile.' "i am more and more disgusted with my indian crew; the leader in mischief seems to be young beaulieu. yesterday he fomented a mutiny because i did not give them 'beans,' though i had given them far more than promised, and beans were never mentioned. still, he had discovered a bag of them among my next month's stores, and that started him. "to-day, when sick of seeing them dawdling two hours over a meal when there are meals a day, i gave the order to start. beaulieu demanded insolently: 'oh! who's boss?' my patience was worn out. i said: 'i am, and i'll show you right now,' and proceeded to do so, meaning to let him have my fist with all the steam i could get back of it. but he did not wait. at a safe distance he turned and in a totally different manner said: 'i only want to know; i thought maybe the old man (the guide). i'll do it, all ri, all ri,' and he smiled and smiled. "oh! why did i not heed pike's warning to shun all beaulieus; they rarely fail to breed trouble. if i had realised all this last night before coming to the open lake i would have taken the whole outfit back to resolution and got rid of the crowd. we could do better with another canoe and two men, and at least make better time than this ( miles a day). "yesterday the indian boys borrowed my canoe, my line, and in my time, at my expense, caught a big fish, but sullenly disregarded the suggestion that, i should have a piece of it. "each of them carries a winchester and blazes at every living thing that appears. they have volleyed all day at every creature big enough to afford a mouthful--ducks, gulls, loons, fish, owls, terns, etc.--but have hit nothing. loons are abundant in the water and are on the indians' list of ducks, therefore good food. they are wonderfully expert at calling them. this morning a couple of loons appeared flying far to the east. the indians at once began to mimic their rolling whoo-ooo-whoo-ooo; doing it to the life. the loons began to swing toward us, then to circle, each time nearer. then all the callers stopped except claw-hammer, the expert; he began to utter a peculiar cat-like wail. the loons responded and dropped their feet as though to alight. then at yards the whole crew blazed away with their rifles, doing no damage whatever. the loons turned away from these unholy callers, and were none the worse, but wiser. "this scene was repeated many times during the voyage. when the loons are on the water the indians toll them by flashing a tin pan from the bushes behind which the toller hides till the bird is in range. i saw many clever tollings but i did not see a loon killed. "july .--i got up at , talked strong talk, so actually got away at . . plenty grumbling, many meals to-day, with many black looks and occasional remarks in english: 'grub no good.' three days ago these men were starving on one meal a day, of fish and bad flour; now they have bacon, dried venison, fresh fish, fresh game, potatoes, flour, baking powder, tea, coffee, milk, sugar, molasses, lard, cocoa, dried apples, rice, oatmeal, far more than was promised, all ad libitum, and the best that the h. b. co. can supply, and yet they grumble. there is only one article of the food store to which they have not access; that is a bag of beans which i am reserving for our own trip in the north where weight counts for so much. beaulieu smiles when i speak to him, but i know he is at the bottom of all this mischief. to day they made meals and miles--this is magnificent. "about . a pair of wild geese (canada) appeared on a bay. the boys let off a whoop of delight and rushed on them in canoe and in boat as though these were their deadliest enemies. i did not think much of it until i noticed that the geese would not fly, and it dawned on me that they were protecting their young behind their own bodies. a volley of shot-guns and winchesters and one noble head fell flat on the water, another volley and the gander fell, then a wild skurrying, yelling, and shooting for some minutes resulted in the death of the two downlings. "i could do nothing to stop them. i have trouble enough in matters that are my business and this they consider solely their own. it is nothing but kill, kill, kill every living thing they meet. one cannot blame them in general, since they live by hunting, and in this case they certainly did eat every bit of all four birds, even to their digestive organs with contents; but it seemed hard to have the devotion of the parents made their death trap when, after all, we were not in need of meat. "july .--rose at ; had trouble on my hands at once. the indians would not get up till , so we did not get away till . . beaulieu was evidently instructing the crew, for at the third breakfast all together (but perhaps ) shouted out in english, 'grub no good! "i walked over, to them, asked who spoke; no one answered; so, i reviewed the bargain, pointed out that i had given more than agreed, and added: 'i did not promise you beans, but will say now that if you work well i'll give you a bean feast once in a while.' "they all said in various tongues and ways, 'that's all ri.' beaulieu said it several times, and smiled and smiled. "if the mythical monster that dwells in the bottom of great slave lake had reached up its long neck now and taken this same half-breed son of belial, i should have said, 'well done, good and faithful monster,' and the rest of our voyage would have been happier. oh! what a lot of pother a beneficent little bean can make. "at noon that day billy announced that it was time to give me a lobstick; a spruce was selected on a slate island and trimmed to its proper style, then inscribed: e. t. seton e. a. preble w. c. loutit july "now i was in honour bound to treat, the crew. i had neither the power nor the wish to give whiskey. tobacco was already provided, so i seized the opportunity of smoothing things by announcing a feast of beans, and this, there was good reason to believe, went far in the cause of peace. "at . for the first time a fair breeze sprang up or rather lazily got up. joyfully then we raised our mast and sail. the boys curled up to sleep, except beaulieu. he had his fiddle and now he proceeded to favour us with 'a life on the ocean wave,' 'the campbells are coming,' etc., in a manner worthy of his social position and of his fiddle. when not in use this aesthetic instrument (in its box) knocks about on deck or underfoot, among pots and pans, exposed in all weather; no one seems to fear it will be injured. "at the usual dead calm was restored. we rowed till we reached et-then island at , covering two miles more or in all to-day. i was unwilling to stop now, but the boys, said they would row all day sunday if i would camp here, and then added, 'and if the wind rises to-night we'll go on.' "at o'clock i was already in bed for the night, though of course it was broad daylight. preble had put out a line of mouse-traps, when the cry was raised by the indians now eating their th meal: chim-pal-le! hurra! chilla quee!' ('sailing wind! hurra, boys!'). "the camp was all made, but after such a long calm a sailing wind was too good to miss. in minutes every tent was torn down and bundled into the boat. at . we pulled out under a fine promising breeze; but alas! for its promise! at . the last vestige of it died away and we had to use the oars to make the nearest land, where we tied up at p. m. "that night old weeso said to me, through billy, the interpreter: 'to-morrow is sunday, therefore he would like to have a prayer-meeting after breakfast.' "'tell him,' i said, 'that i quite approve of his prayer-meeting, but also it must be understood that if the good lord sends us a sailing wind in the morning that is his way of letting us know we should sail.' "this sounded so logical that weeso meekly said, 'all right.' "sure enough, the morning dawned with a wind and we got away after the regular sullen grumbling. about . the usual glassy calm set in and weeso asked me for a piece of paper and a pencil. he wrote something in chipewyan on the sheet i gave, then returned the pencil and resumed his pilotic stare at the horizon, for his post was at the rudder. at length he rolled the paper into a ball, and when i seemed not observing dropped it behind him overboard. "'what is the meaning of that, billy?' i whispered. "'he's sending a prayer to jesus for wind.' half an hour afterward a strong head-wind sprang up, and weeso was severely criticised for not specifying clearly what was wanted. "there could be no question now about the propriety of landing. old weeso took all the indians off to a rock, where, bareheaded and in line, they kneeled facing the east, and for half an hour he led them in prayer, making often the sign of the cross. the headwind died away as they came to the boat and again we resumed the weary rowing, a labour which all were supposed to share, but it did not need an expert to see that beaulieu, snuff, and terchon merely dipped their oars and let them drift a while; the real rowing of that cumbrous old failure of a sailboat was done by billy loutit and yum freesay." chapter xxv crossing the lake--its natural history all day long here, as on the nyarling, i busied myself with compass and sketch-book, making the field notes, sketches, and compass surveys from which my various maps were compiled; and preble let no chance go by of noting the changing bird and plant life that told us we quit the canadian fauna at stony island and now were in the hudsonian zone. this is the belt of dwindling trees, the last or northmost zone of the forest, and the spruce trees showed everywhere that they were living a life-long battle, growing and seeding, but dwarfed by frost and hardships. but sweet are the uses of adversity, and the stunted sprucelings were beautified, not uglified, by their troubles. i never before realised that a whole country could be such a series of charming little japanese gardens, with tiny trees, tiny flowers, tiny fruits, and gorgeous oriental rugs upon the earth and rocks between. i photographed one group of trees to illustrate their dainty elfish dwarfishness, but realising that no one could guess the height without a scale, i took a second of the same with a small indian sitting next it. weeso is a kind old soul; so far as i could see he took no part in the various seditions, but he was not an inspiring guide. one afternoon he did something that made a final wreck of my confidence. a thunderstorm was rumbling in the far east. black clouds began travelling toward us; with a line of dark and troubled waters below, the faint breeze changed around and became a squall. weeso looked scared and beckoned to freesay, who came and took the helm. nothing happened. we were now running along the north shore of et-then, where are to be seen the wonderful , -foot cliffs described and figured by captain george back in . they are glorious ramparts, wonderful in size and in colour, marvellous in their geological display. flying, and evidently nesting among the dizzy towers, were a few barn-swallows and phoebe-birds. this cliff is repeated on oot-sing-gree-ay, the next island, but there it is not on the water's edge. it gives a wonderful echo which the indians (not to mention myself) played with, in childish fashion. on sunday, july, we made a new record, meals and miles. on july we made only meals and miles and camped in the narrows tal-thel-lay. these are a quarter of a mile wide and have a strong current running westerly. this is the place which back says is a famous fishing ground and never freezes over, even in the hardest winters. here, as at all points, i noted the indian names, not only because they were appropriate, but in hopes of serving the next traveller. i found an unexpected difficulty in writing them down, viz.: no matter how i pronounced them, old weeso and freesay, my informants, would say, "yes, that is right." this, i learned, was out of politeness; no matter how you mispronounce their words it is good form to say, "that's it; now you have it exactly." the indians were anxious to put out a net overnight here, as they could count on getting a few whitefish; so we camped at . . it is difficult to convey to an outsider the charm of the word "whitefish." any northerner will tell you that it is the only fish that is perfect human food, the only food that man or dog never wearies of, the only lake food that conveys no disorder no matter how long or freely it is used. it is so delicious and nourishing that there is no fish in the world that can even come second to it. it is as far superior in all food qualities to the finest salmon or trout as a first-prize, gold-medalled, nut-fed thoroughbred sussex bacon-hog is to the roughest, toughest, boniest old razor-backed land-pike that ever ranged the woods of arkansas. that night the net yielded whitefish and trout. the latter, being to pounds each, would have been reckoned great prizes in any other country, but now all attention was on the whitefish. they certainly were radiantly white, celestial in color; their backs were a dull frosted silver, with here and there a small electric lamp behind the scales to make its jewels sparkle. the lamps alternated with opals increased on the side; the bellies were of a blazing mother-of-pearl. it would be hard to imagine a less imaginative name than "white" fish for such a shining, burning opalescence. indian names are usually descriptive, but their name for this is simply "the fish." all others are mere dilutes and cheap imitations, but the coregonus is at all times and par excellence "the fish." nevertheless, in looking at it i could not help feeling that this is the fat swine, or the beef durham of its kind. the head, gills, fins, tail, vital organs and bones all were reduced to a minimum and the meat parts enlarged and solidified, as though they were the product of ages of careful breeding by man to produce a perfect food fish, a breeding that has been crowned with the crown of absolute success. the indians know, for the best of reasons, the just value of every native food. when rabbits abound they live on them but do not prosper; they call it "starving on rabbits." when caribou meat is plenty they eat it, but crave flour. when moose is at hand they eat it, and are strong. when jack-fish, sucker, conies, and trout are there, they take them as a variant; but on whitefish, as on moose, they can live with out loathing, and be strong. the indian who has his scaffold hung with whitefish when winter comes, is accounted rich. "and what," says the pessimist, "is the fly in all this precious ointment?" alasl it is not a game fish; it will not take bait, spoon, or fly, and its finest properties vanish in a few hours after capture. the whitefish served in the marble palaces of other lands is as mere dish-water to champagne, when compared with the three times purified and ten times intensified dazzling silver coregonus as it is landed on the bleak shores of those far-away icy lakes. so i could not say 'no' to the indian boys when they wanted to wait here, the last point at which they could be sure of a catch. that night ( d july) five canoes and two york boats of indians landed at the narrows. these were dogribs of chief vital's band; all told they numbered about thirty men, women, and children; with them were twenty-odd dogs, which immediately began to make trouble. when one is in texas the topic of conversation is, "how are the cattle?" in the klondike, "how is your claim panning out?" and in new york, "how are you getting on with your novel?" on great slave lake you say, "where are the caribou?" the indians could not tell; they had seen none for weeks, but there was still much ice in the east end of the lake which kept them from investigating. they had plenty of dried caribou meat but were out of tea and tobacco. i had come prepared for this sort of situation, and soon we had a fine stock of dried venison. these were the indians whose abandoned dogs made so much trouble for us in the days that followed. at p. m. of d of july we were stopped by a long narrow floe of broken ice. without consulting me the crew made for the shore. it seemed they were full of fears: "what if they should get caught in that floe, and drift around for days? what if a wind should arise (it had been glassy calm for a week)? what if they could', not get back?" etc., etc. preble and i climbed a hill for a view. the floe was but half a mile wide, very loose, with frequent lanes. "preble, is there any reason why we should not push through this floe using poles to move the cakes?" "none whatever." on descending, however, i found the boys preparing to camp for "a couple of days," while the ice melted or drifted away somewhere. so i said, "you get right into this boat now and push off; we can easily work our way through." they made no reply, simply looked sulkier than ever, and proceeded to start a fire for meal no. . "weeso," i said, "get into your place and tell your men to follow." the old man looked worried and did nothing, he wanted to do right, but he was in awe of his crew. then did i remember how john macdonald settled the rebellion on the river. "get in there," i said to preble and billy. "come on, weeso." we four jumped into the boat and proceeded to push off with all the supplies. authorities differ as to the time it took for the crew to make up their minds. two seconds and eleven seconds are perhaps the extremes of estimate. they came jumping aboard as fast as they could. we attacked the floe, each with a lodge-pole; that is, billy and preble did in the bow, while freesay and i did at the rear; and in thirty-five minutes we had pushed through and were sailing the open sea. the next day we had the same scene repeated with less intensity, in this case because freesay sided with me. what would i not give to have had a crew of white men. a couple of stout norwegian sailors would have done far better than this whole outfit of reds. when we stopped for supper no. a tiny thimbleful of down on two pink matches ran past, and at once the mother, a peetweet, came running in distress to save her young. the brave beaulieu fearlessly seized a big stick and ran to kill the little one. i shouted out, "stop that," in tones that implied that i owned the heaven, the earth, the sea, and all that in them is, but could not have saved the downling had it not leaped into the water and dived out of sight. it came up two feet away and swam to a rock of safety, where it bobbed its latter end toward its adversaries and the open sea in turn. i never before knew that they could dive. about eight o'clock we began to look for a good place to camp and make meal no. . but the islands where usually we found refuge from the dogs were without wood, and the shores were too rugged and steep or had no dry timber, so we kept going on. after trying one or two places the indians said it was only a mile to indian mountain river (der-sheth tessy), where was a camp of their friends. i was always glad of a reason for pushing on, so away we went. my crew seized their rifles and fired to let their village know we were coming. the camp came quickly into view, and volley after volley was fired and returned. these indians are extremely poor and the shots cost and cents each. so this demonstration totalled up about $ . . as we drew near the village of lodges the populace lined up on shore, and then our boys whispered, "some white men." what a peculiar thrill it gave me! i had seen nothing but indians along the route so far and expected nothing else. but here were some of my own people, folk with whom i could talk. they proved to be my american friend from smith landing, he whose hand i had lanced, and his companion, a young englishman, who was here with him prospecting for gold and copper. "i'm all right now," he said, and, held up the hand with my mark on it, and our greeting was that of white men meeting among strangers in a far foreign land. as soon as we were ashore a number of indians came to offer meat for tobacco. they seemed a lot of tobacco-maniacs. "tzel-twee" at any price they must have. food they could do without for a long time, but life without smoke was intolerable; and they offered their whole dried product of two caribou, concentrated, nourishing food enough to last a family many days, in exchange for half a pound of nasty stinking, poisonous tobacco. two weeks hence, they say, these hills will be alive with caribou; alas! for them, it proved a wholly erroneous forecast. y.'s guide is sousi king beaulieu (for pedigree, see warburton pike); he knows all this country well and gave us much information about the route. he says that this year the caribou cows went north as usual, but the bulls did not. the season was so late they did not think it worth while; they are abundant yet at artillery lake. he recognised me as the medicine man, and took an early opportunity of telling me what a pain he had. just where, he was not sure, but it was hard to bear; he would like some sort of a pain-killer. evidently he craved a general exhilarator. next morning we got away at a. m. after the usual painful scene about getting up in the middle of the night, which was absurd, as there was no night. next afternoon we passed the great white fall at the mouth of hoar frost river; the indians call it dezza kya. if this is the beverly falls of back, his illustrator was without information; the published picture bears not the slightest resemblance to it. at three in the afternoon of july th, the twelfth day after we had set out on the "three or four day run" from resolution, this exasperating and seemingly interminable voyage really did end, and we thankfully beached our york boat at the famous lobstick that marks the landing of pike's portage. chapter xxvi the lynx at bay one of the few rewarding episodes of this voyage took place on the last morning, july . we were half a mile from charleston harbour when one of the indians said "cheesay" (lynx) and pointed to the south shore. there, on a bare point a quarter mile away, we saw a large lynx walking quietly along. every oar was dropped and every rifle seized, of course, to repeat the same old scene; probably it would have made no difference to the lynx, but i called out: "hold on there! i'm going after that cheesay." calling my two reliables, preble and billy, we set out in the canoe, armed, respectively, with a shotgun, a club, and a camera. when we landed the lynx was gone. we hastily made a skirmishing line in the wood where the point joined the mainland, but saw no sign of him, so concluded that he must be hiding on the point. billy took the right shore, preble the left, i kept the middle. then we marched toward the point but saw nothing. there were no bushes except a low thicket of spruce, some feet across and or feet high. this was too dense to penetrate standing, so i lay down on my breast and proceeded to crawl in under the low boughs. i had not gone six feet before a savage growl warned me back, and there, just ahead, crouched the lynx. he glared angrily, then rose up, and i saw, with a little shock, that he had been crouching on the body of another lynx, eating it. photography was impossible there, so i took a stick and poked at him; he growled, struck at the stick, but went out, then dashed across the open for the woods. as he went i got photograph no. . now i saw the incredible wonder i had heard of--a good runner can outrun a lynx. preble was a sprinter, and before the timber yards off was reached that lynx was headed and turned; and preble and billy were driving him back into my studio. he made several dashes to escape, but was out-manoeuvred and driven onto the far point, where he was really between the devils and the deep sea. here he faced about at bay, growling furiously, thumping his little bobtail from side to side, and pretending he was going to spring on us. i took photo no. at yards. he certainly did look very fierce, but i thought i knew the creature, as well as the men who were backing me. i retired, put a new film in place, and said: "now, preble, i'm going to walk up to that lynx and get a close photo. if he jumps for me, and he may, there is nothing can save my beauty but you and that gun." preble with characteristic loquacity says, "go ahead." then i stopped and began slowly approaching the desperate creature we held at bay. his eyes were glaring green, his ears were back, his small bobtail kept twitching from side to side, and his growls grew harder and hissier, as i neared him. at feet he gathered his legs under him as for a spring, and i pressed the button getting, no. . then did the demon of ambition enter into my heart and lead me into peril. that lynx at bay was starving and desperate. he might spring at me, but i believed that if he did he never would reach me alive. i knew my man--this nerved me--and i said to him: "i'm not satisfied; i want him to fill the finder. are you ready?" "yep." so i crouched lower and came still nearer, and at feet made no. . for some strange reason, now the lynx seemed less angry than he had been. "he didn't fill the finder; i'll try again," was my next. then on my knees i crawled up, watching the finder till it was full of lynx. i glanced at the beast; he was but feet away. i focused and fired. and now, oh, wonder! that lynx no longer seemed annoyed; he had ceased growling and simply looked bored. seeing it was over, preble says, "now where does he go? to the museum?" "no, indeed!" was the reply. "he surely has earned his keep; turn him loose. it's back to the woods for him." we stood aside; he saw his chance and dashed for the tall timber. as he went i fired the last film, getting no. ; and so far as i know that lynx is alive and well and going yet. chapter xxvii the last of that indian crew carved on the lobstick of the landing were many names famous in the annals of this region, pike, maltern, mckinley, munn, tyrrel among them. all about were evidences of an ancient and modern camp--lodge poles ready for the covers, relics and wrecks of all sorts, fragments of canoes and sleds, and the inevitable stray indian dog. first we made a meal, of course; then i explained to the crew that i wanted all the stuff carried over the portage, miles, to the first lake. at once there was a row; i was used to that. there had been a row every morning over getting up, and one or two each day about other details. now the evil face of beaulieu showed that his tongue was at work again. but i knew my lesson. "you were brought to man the boat and bring my stuff over this portage. so do it and start right now." they started / miles with heavy loads, very heavy labour i must admit, back then in four hours to make another meal, and camp. next morning another row before they would get up and take each another load. but canoe and everything were over by noon. and then came the final scene. in all the quarrels and mutinies, old weeso had been faithful to me. freesay had said little or nothing, and had always worked well and cheerfully. weeso was old and weak, freesay young and strong, and therefore he was the one for our canoe. i decided it would pay to subsidise weeso to resign in favour of the younger man. but, to be sure, first asked freesay if he would like to come with me to the land of the musk-ox. his answer was short and final, "yes," but he could not, as his uncle had told him not to go beyond this portage. that settled it. the childlike obedience to their elders is admirable, but embarrassing at times. so weeso went after all, and we got very well acquainted on that long trip. he was a nice old chap. he always meant well; grinned so happily, when he was praised, and looked so glum when he was scolded. there was little of the latter to do; so far as he knew, he did his best, and it is a pleasure now to conjure up his face and ways. his cheery voice, at my tent door every morning, was the signal that billy had the breakfast within ten minutes of ready. "okimow, to" (chief, here is water), he would say as he set down the water for my bath and wondered what in the name of common sense should make the okimow need washing every morning. he himself was of a cleaner kind, having needed no bath during the whole term of our acquaintance. there were two peculiarities of the old man that should make him a good guide for the next party going northward. first, he never forgot a place once he had been there, and could afterward go to it direct from any other place. second, he had the most wonderful nose for firewood; no keen-eyed raven or starving wolf could go more surely to a marrow-bone in cache, than could weeso to the little sticks in far away hollows or granite clefts. again and again, when we landed on the level or rocky shore and all hands set out to pick up the few pencil-thick stems of creeping birch, roots of annual plants, or wisps of grass to boil the kettle, old weeso would wander off by himself and in five minutes return with an armful of the most amazingly acceptable firewood conjured out of the absolutely timberless, unpromising waste. i never yet saw the camp where he could not find wood. so he proved good stuff; i was glad we had brought him along. and i was equally glad now to say good-bye to the rest of the crew. i gave them provisions for a week, added a boiling of beans, and finally the wonderful paper in which i stated the days they had worked for me, and the kind of service they had rendered, commended freesay, and told the truth about beaulieu. "dat paper tell about me," said that worthy suspiciously. "yes," i said, "and about the others; and it tells harding to pay you as agreed." we all shook hands and parted. i have not seen them since, nor do i wish to meet any of them again, except freesay. my advice to the next traveller would be: get white men for the trip and one indian for guide. when alone they are manageable, and some of them, as seen already, are quite satisfactory, but the more of them the worse. they combine, as pike says, the meanest qualities of a savage and an unscrupulous moneylender. the worst one in the crowd seems most readily followed by the others. chapter xxviii geological forces at work it seems to me that never before have i seen the geological forces of nature so obviously at work. elsewhere i have seen great valleys, cliffs, islands, etc., held on good evidence to be the results of such and such powers formerly very active; but here on the athabaska i saw daily evidence of these powers in full blast, ripping, tearing reconstructing, while we looked on. all the way down the river we saw the process of undermining the bank, tearing down the trees to whirl them again on distant northern shores, thus widening the river channel until too wide for its normal flood, which in time, drops into a deeper restricted channel, in the wide summer waste of gravel and sand. ten thousand landslides take place every spring, contributing their tons of mud to the millions that the river is deporting to the broad catch basins called the athabaska and great slave lakes. many a tree has happened to stand on the very crack that is the upmost limit of the slide and has in consequence been ripped in two. many an island is wiped out and many a one made in these annual floods. again and again we saw the evidence of some island, continued long enough to raise a spruce forest, suddenly receive a -foot contribution from its erratic mother; so the trees were buried to the arm-pits. many times i saw where some frightful jam of ice had planed off all the trees; then a deep overwhelming layer of mud had buried the stumps and grown in time a new spruce forest. now the mighty erratic river was tearing all this work away again, exposing all its history. in the delta of the slave, near fort resolution, we saw the plan of delta work. millions of tons of mud poured into the deep translucent lake have filled it for miles, so that it is scarcely deep enough to float a canoe; thousands of huge trees, stolen from the upper forest, are here stranded as wing-dams that check the current and hold more mud. rushes grow on this and catch more mud. then the willows bind it more, and the sawing down of the outlet into the mackenzie results in all this mud being left dry land. this is the process that has made all the lowlands at the mouth of great slave and athabaska rivers. and the lines of tree trunks to-day, preparing for the next constructive annexation of the lake, are so regular that one's first thought is that this is the work of man. but these are things that my sketches and photographs will show better than words. when later we got onto the treeless barrens or tundra, the process was equally evident, though at this time dormant, and the chief agent was not running water, but the giant jack frost. chapter xxix pike's portage part of my plan was to leave a provision cache every hundred miles, with enough food to carry us miles, and thus cover the possibility of considerable loss. i had left supplies at chipewyan, smith, and resolution, but these were settlements; now we were pushing off into the absolute wilderness, where it was unlikely we should see any human beings but ourselves. now, indeed, we were facing all primitive conditions. other travellers have made similar plans for food stores, but there are three deadly enemies to a cache--weather, ravens, and wolverines., i was prepared for all three. water-proof leatheroid cases were to turn the storm, dancing tins and lines will scare the ravens, and each cache tree was made unclimbable to wolverines by the addition of a necklace of charms in the form of large fish-hooks, all nailed on with points downward. this idea, borrowed from, tyrrell, has always proved a success; and not one of our caches was touched or injured. tyrrell has done much for this region; his name will ever be linked with its geography and history. his map of the portage was a godsend, for now we found that our guide had been here only once, and that when he was a child, with many resultant lapses of memory and doubts about the trail. my only wonder was that he remembered as much as he did. here we had a sudden and unexpected onset of black flies; they appeared for the first time in numbers, and attacked us with a ferocity that made the mosquitoes seem like a lot of baby butterflies in comparison. however, much as we may dislike the latter, they at least do not poison us or convey disease (as yet), and are repelled by thick clothing. the black flies attack us like some awful pestilence walking in darkness, crawling in and forcing themselves under our clothing, stinging and poisoning as they go. they are, of course, worst near the openings in our armour, that is necks, wrists, and ankles. soon each of us had a neck like an old fighting bull walrus; enormously swollen, corrugated with bloats and wrinkles, blotched, bumpy, and bloody, as disgusting as it was painful. all too closely it simulated the ravages of some frightful disease, and for a night or two the torture of this itching fire kept me from sleeping. three days, fortunately, ended the black fly reign, and left us with a deeper sympathy for the poor egyptians who on account of their own or some other bodies' sins were the victims of "plagues of flies." but there was something in the camp that amply offset these annoyances; this was a spirit of kindness and confidence. old weeso was smiling and happy, ready at all times to do his best; his blundering about the way was not surprising, all things considered, but his mistakes did not matter, since i had tyrrell's admirable maps. billy, sturdy, strong, reliable, never needed to be called twice in the morning. no matter what the hour, he was up at once and cooking the breakfast in the best of style, for an a cook he was. and when it came to the portages he would shoulder his or pounds each time. preble combined the mental force of the educated white man with the brawn of the savage, and although not supposed to do it, he took the same sort of loads as billy did. mine, for the best of reasons, were small, and consisted chiefly of the guns, cameras, and breakables, or occasionally, while they were transporting the heavy stuff, i acted as cook. but all were literally and figuratively in the same boat, all paddled all day, ate the same food worked the same hours, and imbued with the same spirit were eager to reach the same far goal. from this on the trip was ideal. we were / days covering the small lakes and portages ( miles) that lie between the two great highways, great slave lake and artillery lake; and camped on the shore of the latter on the night of july . two of these lakes had not been named by the original explorers. i therefore exercised my privilege and named them, respectively, "loutit" and "weeso," in honour of my men. the country here is cut up on every side with caribou trails; deep worn like the buffalo trails on the plains, with occasional horns and bones; these, however, are not so plentiful as were the relics of the buffalo. this, it proved, was because the caribou go far north at horn-dropping time, and they have practically no bones that the wolves cannot crush with their teeth. although old tracks were myriad-many, there were no new ones. weeso said, however, "in about four days the shores of this lake will be alive with caribou." it will show the erratic nature of these animals when i say that the old man was all wrong; they did not appear there in numbers until many weeks later, probably not for two months. here, at the foot of artillery lake, we were near the last of the timber, and, strange to say, we found some trees of remarkably large growth. one, a tamarac, was the largest and last seen; the other, a spruce--pike's lobstick--was inches in girth, foot from the ground. at this camp weeso complained that he was feeling very sick; had pains in his back. i could not make out what was the matter with him, but billy said sagaciously, "i think if you give him any kind of a pill he will be all right. it doesn't matter what, so long as it's a pill." of course "cathartic" is good blind play in case of doubt. he got a big, fierce rhubarb, and all went well. chapter xxx caribou-land at last on the morning of august we launched on artillery lake, feeling, for the tenth time, that now we really were on the crowning stretch of our journey, that at last we were entering the land of the caribou. over the deep, tranquil waters of the lake we went, scanning the painted shores with their dwindling remnants of forest. there is something inspiring about the profundity of transparency in these lakes, where they are feet deep their bottoms are no more obscured than in an ordinary eastern brook at inches. on looking down into the far-below world, one gets the sensation of flight as one skims overhead in the swift canoe. and how swift that elegant canoe was in a clear run i was only now finding out. all my previous estimates had been too low. here i had the absolute gauge of tyrrell's maps and found that we four paddling could send her, not / , but / or miles an hour, with a possibility of when we made an effort. as we spun along the south-east coast of the lake, the country grew less rugged; the continuous steep granite hills were replaced by lower buttes with long grassy plains between; and as i took them in, i marvelled at their name--the barrens; bare of trees, yes, but the plains were covered with rich, rank grass, more like new england meadows. there were stretches where the herbage was rank as on the indiana prairies, and the average pasture of the bleaker parts was better than the best of central wyoming. a cattleman of the west would think himself made if he could be sure of such pastures on his range, yet these are the barren grounds. at we passed the splendid landmark of beaver lodge mountain. its rosy-red granite cliffs contrast wonderfully with its emerald cap of verdant grass and mosses, that cover it in tropical luxuriance, and the rippling lake about it was of mediterranean hues. we covered the last miles in hour and minutes, passed the deserted indian village, and landed at last woods by . p. m. the edge of the timber is the dividing line between the hudsonian and the arctic zones, it is the beginning of the country we had come to see; we were now in the land of the caribou. at this point we were prepared to spend several days, leave a cache, gather a bundle of choice firewood, then enter on the treeless plains. that night it stormed; all were tired; there was no reason to bestir ourselves; it was when we arose. half an hour later billy came to my tent and said, "mr. seton, here's some deer." i rushed to the door, and there, with my own eyes, i saw on a ridge a mile away four great, caribou standing against the sky. we made for a near hill and met preble returning; he also had seen them. from a higher view-point the proved part of a band of . then other bands came in view, , , , , and so on; each valley had a scattering few, all travelling slowly southward or standing to enjoy the cool breeze that ended the torment of the flies. about , were in sight. these were my first caribou, the first fruits of , miles of travel. weeso got greatly excited; these were the forerunners of the vast herd. he said, "plenty caribou now," and grinned like a happy child. i went in one direction, taking only my camera. at least caribou trotted within feet of me. billy and weeso took their rifles intent on venison, but the caribou avoided them and or shots were heard before they got a young buck. all that day i revelled in caribou, no enormous herds but always a few in sight. the next day weeso and i went to the top ridge eastward. he with rifle, i with camera. he has a vague idea of the camera's use, but told billy privately that "the rifle was much better for caribou." he could not understand why i should restrain him from blazing away as long as the ammunition held out. "didn't we come to shoot?" but he was amenable to discipline, and did as i wished when he understood. now on the top of that windy ridge i sat with this copper-coloured child of the spruce woods, to watch these cattle of the plains. the caribou is a travelsome beast, always in a hurry, going against the wind. when the wind is west, all travel west; when it veers, they veer. now the wind was northerly, and all were going north, not walking, not galloping--the caribou rarely gallops, and then only for a moment or two; his fast gait is a steady trot a -mile gait, making with stops about miles an hour. but they are ever on the move; when you see a caribou that does not move, you know at once it is not a caribou; it's a rock. we sat down on the hill at . in a few minutes a cow caribou came trotting from the south, caught the wind at yards, and dashed away. in minutes another, in minutes a young buck, in minutes more a big buck, in minutes a great herd of about appeared in the south. they came along at full trot, lined to pass us on the southeast. at half a mile they struck our scent and all recoiled as though we were among them. they scattered in alarm, rushed south again, then, gathered in solid body, came on as before, again to spring back and scatter as they caught the taint of man. after much and various running, scattering, and massing, they once more charged the fearsome odour and went right through it. now they passed at yards and gave the chance for a far camera shot. the sound of their trampling was heard a long way off--half a mile--but at yards i could not distinguish the clicking of the feet, whereas this clicking was very plainly to be heard from the band that passed within yards of me in the morning. they snort a good deal and grunt a little, and, notwithstanding their continual haste, i noticed that from time to time one or two would lie down, but at once jump up and rush on when they found they were being left behind. many more single deer came that day, but no more large herds. about . a fawn of this year ( / or months) came rushing up from the north, all alone. it charged up a hill for yards, then changed its mind and charged down again, then raced to a bunch of tempting herbage, cropped it hastily, dashed to a knoll, left at an angle, darted toward us till within yards, then dropped into a thick bed of grass, where it lay as though it had unlimited time. i took one photograph, and as i crawled to get one nearer, a shot passed over my head, and the merry cackle told me that weeso had yielded to temptation and had 'collected' that fawn. a young buck now came trotting and grunting toward us till within paces, which proved too much for weeso, who then and there, in spite of repeated recent orders, started him on the first step toward my museum collection. i scolded him angrily, and he looked glum and unhappy, like a naughty little boy caught in some indiscretion which he cannot understand. he said nothing to me then, but later complained to billy, asking, "what did we come for?" next morning at dawn i dreamed i was back in new york and that a couple of cats were wailing under my bedroom window. their noise increased so that i awoke, and then i heard unaccountable caterwauls. they were very loud and near, at least one of the creatures was. at length i got up to see. here on the lake a few yards from the tent was a loon swimming about, minutely inspecting the tent and uttering at intervals deep cat-like mews in expression of his curiosity. the south wind had blown for some days before we arrived, and the result was to fill the country with caribou coming from the north. the day after we came, the north wind set in, and continued for three days, so that soon there was not a caribou to be found in the region. in the afternoon i went up the hill to where weeso left the offal of his deer. a large yellowish animal was there feeding. it disappeared over a rock and i could get no second view of it. it may have been a wolf, as i saw a fresh wolf trail near; i did not, however, see the animal's tail. in the evening preble and i went again, and again the creature was there, but disappeared as mysteriously as before when we were yards away. where it went we could not guess. the country was open and we scoured it with eye and glass, but saw nothing more of the prowler. it seemed to be a young arctic wolf, yellowish white in colour, but tailless, next day, at noon preble and billy returned bearing the illusive visitor; it was a large lynx. it was very thin and yet, after bleeding, weighed pounds. but why was it so far from the forest, miles or more, and a couple of miles from this little grove that formed the last woods? this is another evidence of the straits the lynxes are put to for food, in this year of famine. chapter xxxi good-bye to the woods the last woods is a wonderfully interesting biological point or line; this ultimate arm of the forest does not die away gradually with uncertain edges and in steadily dwindling trees. the latter have sent their stoutest champions to the front, or produced, as by a final effort, some giants for the line of battle. and that line, with its sentinels, is so marked that one can stand with a foot on the territory of each combatant, or, as scientists call them, the arctic region and the cold temperate. and each of the embattled kings, jack-frost and sombre-pine, has his children in abundance to possess the land as he wins it. right up to the skirmish line are they. the low thickets of the woods are swarming with tree-sparrows, redpolls, robins, hooded sparrows, and the bare plains, a few yards away, are peopled and vocal with birds to whom a bush is an abomination. lap-longspur, snowbird, shorelarks, and pipits are here soaring and singing, or among the barren rocks are ptarmigan in garments that are painted in the patterns of their rocks. there is one sombre fowl of ampler wing that knows no line--is at home in the open or in the woods. his sonorous voice has a human sound that is uncanny; his form is visible afar in the desert and sinister as a gibbet; his plumage fits in with nothing but the night, which he does not love. this evil genius of the land is the raven of the north. its numbers increased as we reached the barrens, and the morning after the first caribou was killed, no less than were assembled at its offal. an even more interesting bird of the woods is the hooded sparrow, interesting because so little known. here i found it on its breeding-grounds, a little late for its vernal song, but in september we heard its autumnal renewal like the notes of its kinsmen, white-throat and white-crowned sparrows, but with less whistling, and more trilled. in all the woods of the hudsonian zone we found it evidently at home. but here i was privileged to find the first nest of the species known to science. the victory was robbed of its crown, through the nest having fledglings instead of eggs, but still it was the ample reward of hours of search. of course it was on the ground, in the moss and creeping plants, under some bushes of dwarf birch, screened by spruces. the structure closely resembled that of the whitethroat was lined with grass and fibrous roots; no down, feathers, or fur were observable. the young numbered four. the last woods was the limit of other interesting creatures--the ants. wherever one looks on the ground, in a high, dry place, throughout the forest country, from athabaska landing northward along our route, there is to be seen at least one ant to the square foot, usually several. three kinds seem common--one red-bodied, another a black one with brown thorax, and a third very small and all black. they seem to live chiefly in hollow logs and stumps, but are found also on marshes, where their hills are occasionally so numerous as to form dry bridges across. i made many notes on the growth of timber here and all along the route; and for comparison will begin at the very beging. in march, , at my home in connecticut, i cut down an oak tree (q. palustris) that was feet high, inches in diameter, and yet had only rings of annual growth. in the bitterroot mountains of idaho, where i camped in september, , a yellow pine feet inches high was inches in circumference at base. it had rings and whorls of branches corresponding exactly with the rings. at the same place i measured a balsam fir-- feet high, inches in diameter at inches from the ground. it had annual rings and or possibly whorls of branches. the most vigorous upward growth of the trunk corresponded exactly with the largest growth of wood in the stump. thus ring no. was / inch wide and whorl no. had over feet of growth, below it on the trunk were others which had but inches. on the stump most growth was on north-east side; there it was inches, from pith to bark next on east / inches, on south inches, north / inches, west / inches, least on north-west side, inches. the most light in this case came from the north-east. this was in the land of mighty timber. on great slave river, the higher latitude is offset by lower altitude, and on june , , while among the tall white spruce trees i measured one of average size-- feet high, feet inches in girth a foot from the ground ( feet / inches in diameter), and many black poplars nearly as tall were feet in girth. but the stunting effect of the short summer became marked as we went northward. at fort smith, june , i cut down a jackpine that was feet high, inch in diameter, with annual rings at the bottom; feet up it had rings and whorls. in all it appeared to have whorls, which is puzzling. of these were in the lower part. this tree grew in dense shade. at fort resolution we left the canadian region of large timber and entered the stunted spruce, as noted, and at length on the timber line we saw the final effort of the forests to combat jack frost in his own kingdom. the individual history of each tree is in three stages: first, as a low, thick, creeping bush sometimes ten feet across, but only a foot high. in this stage it continues until rooted enough and with capital enough to send up a long central shoot; which is stage no. . this central shoot is like a noah's ark pine; in time it becomes the tree and finally the basal thicket dies, leaving the specimen in stage no. . a stem of one of the low creepers was cut for examination; it was inches through and years old. some of these low mats of spruce have stems inches through. they must be fully years old. a tall, dead, white spruce at the camp was feet high and inches in diameter at feet from the ground. its rings were hard to count, they were so thin. the central ones were thickest, there being to the inmost inch of radius; on the outside to the north rings made only / an inch and made one inch. numbers and , counting from the outside, were two or three times as thick as those outside of them and much thicker than the next within; they must have represented years of unusual summers. no. also was of great size. what years these corresponded with one could not guess, as the tree was a long time dead. another, a dwarf but feet high, was inches through. it had rings plus a -inch hollow which we reckoned at about rings of growth; rings made only / inches; the outmost of the was inches in from the outside of the wood. those on the outer two inches were even smaller, so as to be exceedingly difficult to count. this tree was at least years old; our estimates varied, according to the data, from to years. these, then, are the facts for extremes. in idaho or connecticut it took about years to produce the same amount of timber as took years on the edge of the arctic zone. chapter xxxii the treeless plains on august we left camp last woods. our various specimens, with a stock of food, were secured, as usual, in a cache high in two trees, in this case those already used by tyrrell seven years before, and guarded by the magic necklace of cod hooks. by noon (in hours) we made fifteen miles, camping far beyond twin buttes. all day long the boat shot through water crowded with drowned gnats. these were about to the square inch near shore and for about twenty yards out, after that to the square foot for two hundred or three hundred yards still farther from shore, and for a quarter mile wide they were to the square yard. this morning the wind turned and blew from the south. at p. m. we saw a band of some caribou travelling southward; these were the first seen for two or three days. after this we saw many odd ones, and about o'clock a band of or . at night we camped on casba river, having covered miles in hours and minutes. the place, we had selected for camp proved to be a caribou crossing. as we drew near a dozen of them came from the east and swam across. a second band of now appeared. we gave chase. they spurted; so did we. our canoe was going over miles an hour, and yet was but slowly overtaking them. they made the water foam around them. their heads, necks, shoulders, backs, rumps, and tails were out. i never before saw land animals move so fast in the water. a fawn in danger of being left behind reared up on its mother's back and hung on with forefeet. the leader was a doe or a young buck, i could not be sure which; the last was a big buck. they soon struck bottom and bounded along on the shore. it was too dark for a picture. as we were turning in for the night caribou came trotting and snorting through the camp. half of them crossed the water, but the rest turned back when billy shouted. later a band of two hundred passed through and around our tents. in the morning billy complained that he could not sleep all night for caribou travelling by his tent and stumbling over the guy ropes. from this time on we were nearly always in sight of caribou, small bands or scattering groups; one had the feeling that the whole land was like this, on and on and on, unlimited space with unlimited wild herds. a year afterward as i travelled in the fair state of illinois, famous for its cattle, i was struck by the idea that one sees far more caribou in the north than cattle, in illinois. this state has about , square miles, of land and , , cattle; the arctic plains have over , , square miles of prairie, which, allowing for the fact that i saw the best of the range, would set, the caribou number at over , , . there is a, good deal of evidence that this is not far from the truth. the reader may recollect the original postulate of my plan. other travellers have gone, relying on the abundant caribou, yet saw none, so starved. i relied on no caribou, i took plenty of groceries, and because i was independent, the caribou walked into camp nearly every day, and we lived largely on their meat, saving our groceries for an emergency, which came in an unexpected form. one morning when we were grown accustomed to this condition i said to billy: "how is the meat?" "nearly gone. we'll need another caribou about thursday." "you better get one now to be ready thursday. i do not like it so steaming fresh. see, there's a nice little buck on that hillside." "no, not him; why he is nearly half a mile off. i'd have to pack him in. let's wait till one comes in camp." which we did, and usually got our meat delivered near the door.' caribou meat fresh, and well prepared, has no superior, and the ideal way of cooking it is of course by roasting. fried meat is dried meat, boiled meat is spoiled meat, roast meat is best meat. how was it to be roasted at an open fire without continued vigilance? by a very simple contrivance that i invented at the time and now offer for the use of all campers. a wire held the leg; on the top of the wire was a paddle or shingle of wood; above that, beyond the heat, was a cord. the wind gives the paddle a push; it winds up the cord, which then unwinds itself. this goes on without fail and without effort, never still, and the roast is perfect. thus we were living on the fat of many lands and on the choicest fat of this. and what a region it is for pasture. at this place it reminds one of texas. open, grassy plains, sparser reaches of sand, long slopes of mesquite, mesas dotted with cedars and stretches of chapparal and soapweed. only, those vegetations here are willow, dwarf birch, tiny spruce, and ledum, and the country as a whole is far too green and rich. the emerald verdure of the shore, in not a few places, carried me back, to the west coast of ireland. chapter xxxiii the unknown the daily observations of route and landmark i can best leave for record on my maps. i had one great complaint against previous explorers (except tyrrell); that is, they left no monuments. aiming to give no ground of complaint against us, we made monuments at all important points. on the, night of august we camped at cairn bay on the west side of casba lake, so named because of the five remarkable glacial cairns or conical stone-piles about it. on the top of one of these i left a monument, a six-foot pillar of large stones. on the afternoon of august we passed the important headland that i have called "tyrrell point." here we jumped off his map into the unknown. i had, of course, the small chart drawn by sir george back in , but it was hastily made under great difficulties, and, with a few exceptions, it seemed impossible to recognize his landscape features. next day i explored the east arm of clinton-colden and discovered the tributary that i have called "laurier river," and near its mouth made a cairn enclosing a caribou antler with inscription "e. t. seton, aug., ." future travellers on this lake will find, as i did, that the conical butte in the eastern part is an important landmark. it is a glacial dump about feet above the general level, which again is feet above the water, visible and recognizable from nearly all parts of the lake. thus we went on day by day, sometimes detained by head or heavy winds, but making great progress in the calm, which nearly always came in the evening; and miles a day we went, led on and stimulated by the thirst to see and know. "i must see what is over that ridge," "i must make sure that this is an island," or "maybe from that lookout i shall see lake aylmer, or a band of caribou, yes, or even a band of musk-ox." always there was some reward, and nearly always it was a surprise. from time to time we came on snowbirds with their young broods, evidently at home. ptarmigan abounded. parry's groundsquirrel was found at nearly all points, including the large islands. the laplongspur swarmed everywhere; their loud "chee chups" were the first sounds to greet us each time we neared the land. and out over all the lake were loons, loons, loons. four species abound here; they caterwaul and yodel all day and all night, each in its own particular speech, from time to time a wild hyena chorus from the tranquil water in the purple sunset haze suggested, that a pack of goblin hounds were chivying a goblin buck, but it turned out always to be a family of red-throated loons, yodelling their inspiring marching song. one day when at gravel mountain, old weeso came to camp in evident fear--"far off he had seen a man." in this country a man must mean an eskimo; with them the indian has a long feud; of them he is in terror. we never learned the truth; i think he was mistaken. once or twice the long howl of the white wolf sounded from the shore, and every day we saw a few caribou. a great many of the single caribou were on the small islands. in six cases that came under close observation the animal in question had a broken leg. a broken leg generally evidences recent inroads by hunters, but the nearest indians were miles to the south, and the nearest eskimo miles to the north. there was every reason to believe that we were the only human beings in that vast region, and certainly we had broken no legs. every caribou fired at ( ) had been secured and used. there is only one dangerous large enemy common in this country; that is the white wolf. and the more i pondered it, the more it seemed sure that the wolves had broken the caribous' legs. how! this is the history of each case: the caribou is so much swifter than the wolves that the latter have no chance in open chase; they therefore adopt the stratagem of a sneaking surround and a drive over the rocks or a precipice, where the caribou, if not actually killed, is more or less disabled. in some cases only a leg is broken, and then the caribou knows his only chance is to reach the water. here his wonderful powers of swimming make him easily safe, so much so that the wolves make no attempt to follow. the crippled deer makes for some island sanctuary, where he rests in peace till his leg is healed, or it may be, in some cases, till the freezing of the lake brings him again into the power of his floe. these six, then, were the cripples in hospital, and i hope our respectful behaviour did not inspire them with a dangerously false notion of humanity. on the island that i have called owl-and-hare, we saw the first white owl and the first arctic hare. in this country when you see a tree, you know perfectly well it is not a tree; it's the horns of a caribou. an unusually large affair of branches appeared on an island in the channel to aylmer. i landed, camera in hand; the caribou was lying down in the open, but there was a tuft of herbage yards from him, another at yards. i crawled to the first and made a snapshot, then, flat as a rug, sneaked my way to the one estimated at yards. the click of the camera, alarmed the buck; he rose, tried the wind, then lay down again, giving me another chance. having used all the films, i now stood up. the caribou dashed away and by a slight limp showed that he was in sanctuary. the -yard estimate proved too long; it was only yards, which put my picture a little out of focus. there never was a day, and rarely an hour of each day, that we did not see several caribou. and yet i never failed to get a thrill at each fresh one. "there's a caribou," one says with perennial intensity that is evidence of perennial pleasure in the sight. there never was one sighted that did not give us a happy sense of satisfaction--the thought "this is what we came for." chapter xxxiv aylmer lake one of my objects was to complete the ambiguous shore line of aylmer lake. the first task was to find the lake. so we left the narrows and pushed on and on, studying the back map, vainly trying to identify points, etc. once or twice we saw gaps ahead that seemed to open into the great inland sea of aylmer. but each in turn proved a mere bay.--on august we left the narrows; on the th and th we journeyed westward seeking the open sea. on the morning of the th we ran into the final end of the farthest bay we could discover and camped at the mouth of a large river entering in. as usual, we landed--preble, billy, and i--to study topography, weeso to get firewood, and curiously enough, there was more firewood here than we had seen since leaving artillery lake. the reason of this appeared later. i was utterly puzzled. we had not yet found aylmer lake, and had discovered an important river that did not seem to be down on any map. we went a mile or two independently and studied the land from all the high hills; evidently we had crossed the only great sheet of water in the region. about noon, when all had assembled at camp, i said: "preble, why, isn't this lockhart's river, at the western extremity of aylmer lake?" the truth was dawning on me. he also had been getting light and slowly replied: "i have forty-nine reasons why it is, and none at all why it isn't." there could be no doubt of it now. the great open sea of aylmer was a myth. back never saw it; he passed in a fog, and put down with a query the vague information given him by the indians. this little irregular lake, much like clinton-colden, was aylmer. we had covered its length and were now at its farthest western end, at the mouth of lockhart's river. how i did wish that explorers would post up the names of the streets; it is almost as bad as in new york city. what a lot of time we might have saved had we known that sandy bay was in back's three-fingered peninsula! resolving to set a good example i left a monument at the mouth of the river. the kind of stone made it easy to form a cross on top. this will protect it from wandering indians; i do not know of anything that will protect it from wandering white men. chapter xxxv the musk-ox in the afternoon, preble, billy, and i went northward on foot to look for musk-ox. a couple of miles from camp i left the others and went more westerly. after wandering on for an hour, disturbing longspurs, snowbirds, pipits, groundsquirrel, and caribou, i came on a creature that gave me new thrills of pleasure. it was only a polar hare, the second we had seen; but its very scarceness here, at least this year, gave it unusual interest, and the hare itself helped the feeling by letting me get near it to study, sketch, and photograph. it was exactly like a prairie hare in all its manners, even to the method of holding its tail in running, and this is one of the most marked and distinctive peculiarities of the different kinds. on the th of august we left lockhart's river, knowing now that the north arm of the lake was our way. we passed a narrow bay out of which there seemed to be a current, then, on the next high land, noted a large brown spot that moved rather quickly along. it was undoubtedly some animal with short legs, whether a wolverine a mile away, or a musk-ox two miles away, was doubtful. now did that canoe put on its six-mile gait, and we soon knew for certain that the brown thing was a musk-ox. we were not yet in their country, but here was one of them to meet us. quickly we landed. guns and cameras were loaded. "don't fire till i get some pictures--unless he charges," were the orders. and then we raced after the great creature grazing from us. we had no idea whether he would run away or charge, but knew that our plan was to remain unseen as long as possible. so, hiding behind rocks when he looked around, and dashing forward when he grazed, we came unseen within two hundred yards, and had a good look at the huge woolly ox. he looked very much like an ordinary buffalo, the same in colour, size, and action. i never was more astray in my preconcept of any animal, for i had expected to see something like a large brown sheep. my, first film was fired. then, for some unknown reason, that musk-ox took it into his head to travel fast away from us, not even stopping to graze; he would soon have been over a rocky ridge. i nodded to preble. his rifle rang; the bull wheeled sharp about with an angry snort and came toward us. his head was up, his eye blazing, and he looked like a south african buffalo and a prairie bison combined, and seemed to get bigger at every moment. we were safely hidden behind rocks, some fifty yards from him now, when i got my second snap. realising the occasion, and knowing my men, i said: "now, preble, i am going to walk up to that bull and get a close picture. he will certainly charge me, as i shall be nearest and in full view. there is only one combination that can save my life: that is you and that rifle." then with characteristic loquacity did preble reply: "go ahead." i fixed my camera for twenty yards and quit the sheltering rock. the bull snorted, shook his head, took aim, and just before the precious moment was to arrive a heavy shot behind me, rang out, the bull staggered and fell, shot through the heart, and weeso cackled aloud in triumph. how i cursed the meddling old fool. he had not understood. he saw, as he supposed, "the okimow in peril of his life," and acted according to the dictates of his accursedly poor discretion. never again shall he carry a rifle with me. so the last scene came not, but we had the trophy of a musk-ox that weighed nine hundred pounds in life and stood five feet high at the shoulders--a world's record in point of size. now we must camp perforce to save the specimen. measurements, photos, sketches, and weights were needed, then the skinning and preparing would be a heavy task for all. in the many portages afterwards the skull was part of my burden; its weight was actually forty pounds, its heaviness was far over a hundred. what extraordinary luck we were having. it was impossible in our time limit to reach the summer haunt of the caribou on the arctic coast, therefore the caribou came to us in their winter haunt on the artillery lake. we did not expect to reach the real musk-ox country on the lower back river, so the musk-ox sought us out on aylmer lake. and yet one more piece of luck is to be recorded. that night something came in our tent and stole meat. the next night billy set a trap and secured the thief--an arctic fox in summer coat. we could not expect to go to him in his summer home, so he came to us. while the boys were finishing the dressing of the bull's hide, i, remembering the current from the last bay, set out on foot over the land to learn the reason. a couple of miles brought me to a ridge from which i made the most important geographical discovery of the journey. stretching away before me to the far dim north-west was a great, splendid river--broad, two hundred yards wide in places, but averaging seventy or eighty yards across--broken by white rapids and waterfalls, but blue deep in the smoother stretches and emptying into the bay we had noticed. so far as the record showed, i surely was the first white man to behold it. i went to the margin; it was stocked with large trout. i followed it up a couple of miles and was filled with the delight of discovery. "earl grey river"', i have been privileged to name it after the distinguished statesman, now governor-general of canada. then and there i built a cairn, with a record of my visit, and sitting on a hill with the new river below me, i felt that there was no longer any question of the expedition's success. the entire programme was carried out. i had proved the existence of abundance of caribou, had explored aylmer lake, had discovered two great rivers, and, finally, had reached the land of the musk-ox and secured a record-breaker to bring away. this i felt was the supreme moment of the journey. realizing the farness of my camp, from human abode--it could scarcely have been farther on the continent--my thoughts flew back to the dear ones at home, and my comrades, the men of the camp-fire club. i wondered if their thoughts were with me at the time. how they must envy me the chance of launching into the truly unknown wilderness, a land still marked on the maps as "unexplored!" how i enjoyed the thoughts of their sympathy over our probable perils and hardships, and imagined them crowding around me with hearty greetings on my safe return! alas! for the rush of a great city's life and crowds, i found out later that these, my companions, did not even know that i had been away from new york. chapter xxxvi the arctic prairies and my farthest north camp musk-ox provided many other items of interest besides the great river, the big musk-ox, and the arctic fox. here preble secured a groundsquirrel with its cheek-pouches full of mushrooms and shot a cock ptarmigan whose crop was crammed with leaves of willow and birch, though the ground was bright with berries of many kinds. the last evening we were there a white wolf followed billy into camp, keeping just beyond reach of his shotgun; and, of course, we saw caribou every hour or two. "all aboard," was the cry on the morning of august , and once more we set out. we reached the north arm of the lake, then turned north-eastward. in the evening i got photos of a polar hare, the third we had seen. the following day (august ), at noon, we camped in sandhill bay, the north point of aylmer lake and the northernmost point of our travels by canoe. it seems that we were the fourth party of white men to camp on this spot. captain george back, - . stewart and anderson, . warburton pike, . e. t. seton, . all day long we had seen small bands of caribou. a score now appeared on a sandhill half a mile away; another and another lone specimen trotted past our camp. one of these stopped and gave us an extraordinary exhibition of agility in a sort of st. vitus's jig, jumping, kicking, and shaking its head; i suspect the nose-worms were annoying it. while we lunched, a fawn came and gazed curiously from a distance of yards. in the after-noon preble returned from a walk to say that the caribou were visible in all directions, but not in great bands. next morning i was awakened by a caribou clattering through camp within feet of my tent. after breakfast we set off on foot northward to seek for musk-ox, keeping to the eastward of the great fish river. the country is rolling, with occasional rocky ridges and long, level meadows in the lowlands, practically all of it would be considered horse country; and nearly every meadow had two or three grazing caribou. about noon, when six or seven miles north of aylmer, we halted for rest and lunch on the top of the long ridge of glacial dump that lies to the east of great fish river. and now we had a most complete and spectacular view of the immense open country that we had come so far to see. it was spread before us like a huge, minute, and wonderful chart, and plainly marked with the processes of its shaping-time. imagine a region of low archaean hills, extending one thousand miles each way, subjected for thousands of years to a continual succession of glaciers, crushing, grinding, planing, smoothing, ripping up and smoothing again, carrying off whole ranges of broken hills, in fragments, to dump them at some other point, grind them again while there, and then push and hustle them out of that region into some other a few hundred miles farther; there again to tumble and grind them together, pack them into the hollows, and dump them in pyramidal piles on plains and uplands. imagine this going on for thousands of years, and we shall have the hills lowered and polished, the valleys more or less filled with broken rocks. now the glacial action is succeeded by a time of flood. for another age all is below water, dammed by the northern ice, and icebergs breaking from the parent sheet carry bedded in them countless boulders, with which they go travelling south on the open waters. as they melt the boulders are dropped; hill and hollow share equally in this age-long shower of erratics. nor does it cease till the progress of the warmer day removes the northern ice-dam, sets free the flood, and the region of archaean rocks stands bare and dry. it must have been a dreary spectacle at that time, low, bare hills of gneiss, granite, etc.; low valleys half-filled with broken rock and over everything a sprinkling of erratic boulders; no living thing in sight, nothing green, nothing growing, nothing but evidence of mighty power used only to destroy. a waste of shattered granite spotted with hundreds of lakes, thousands of lakelets, millions of ponds that are marvellously blue, clear, and lifeless. but a new force is born on the scene; it attacks not this hill or rock, or that loose stone, but on every point of every stone and rock in the vast domain, it appears--the lowest form of lichen, a mere stain of gray. this spreads and by its own corrosive power eats foothold on the granite; it fructifies in little black velvet spots. then one of lilac flecks the pink tones of the granite, to help the effect. soon another kind follows--a pale olive-green lichen that fruits in bumps of rich brown velvet; then another branching like a tiny tree--there is a ghostly kind like white chalk rubbed lightly on, and yet another of small green blots, and one like a sprinkling of scarlet snow; each, in turn, of a higher and larger type, which in due time prepares the way for mosses higher still. in the less exposed places these come forth, seeking the shade, searching for moisture, they form like small sponges on a coral reef; but growing, spread and change to meet the changing contours of the land they win, and with every victory or upward move, adopt some new refined intensive tint that is the outward and visible sign of their diverse inner excellences and their triumph. ever evolving they spread, until there are great living rugs of strange textures and oriental tones; broad carpets there are of gray and green; long luxurious lanes, with lilac mufflers under foot, great beds of a moss so yellow chrome, so spangled with intense red sprigs, that they might, in clumsy hands, look raw. there are knee-deep breadths of polytrichum, which blends in the denser shade into a moss of delicate crimson plush that baffles description. down between the broader masses are bronze-green growths that run over each slight dip and follow down the rock crannies like streams of molten brass. thus the whole land is overlaid with a living, corrosive mantle of activities as varied as its hues. for ages these toil on, improving themselves, and improving the country by filing down the granite and strewing the dust around each rock. the frost, too, is at work, breaking up the granite lumps; on every ridge there is evidence of that--low, rounded piles of stone which plainly are the remnants of a boulder, shattered by the cold. thus, lichen, moss, and frost are toiling to grind the granite surfaces to dust. much of this powdered rock is washed by rain into the lakes and ponds; in time these cut their exits down, and drain, leaving each a broad mud-flat. the climate mildens and the south winds cease not, so that wind-borne grasses soon make green meadows of the broad lake-bottom flats. the process climbs the hill-slopes; every little earthy foothold for a plant is claimed by some new settler, until each low hill is covered to the top with vegetation graded to its soil, and where the flowering kinds cannot establish themselves, the lichen pioneers still maintain their hold. rarely, in the landscape, now, is any of the primitive colour of the rocks; even the tall, straight cliffs of aylmer are painted and frescoed with lichens that flame and glitter with purple and orange, silver and gold. how precious and fertile the ground is made to seem, when every square foot of it is an exquisite elfin garden made by the little people, at infinite cost, filled with dainty flowers and still later embellished with delicate fruit. one of the wonderful things about these children of the barrens is the great size of fruit and flower compared with the plant. the cranberry, the crowberry, the cloudberry, etc., produce fruit any one of which might outweigh the herb itself. nowhere does one get the impression that these are weeds, as often happens among the rank growths farther south. the flowers in the wildest profusion are generally low, always delicate and mostly in beds of a single species. the lalique jewelry was the sensation of the paris exposition of . yet here is lalique renewed and changed for every week in the season and lavished on every square foot of a region that is a million square miles in extent. not a cranny in a rock but is seized on at once by the eager little gardeners in charge and made a bed of bloom, as though every inch of room were priceless. and yet nature here exemplifies the law that our human gardeners are only learning: "mass your bloom, to gain effect." as i stood on that hill, the foreground was a broad stretch of old gold--the shining sandy yellow of drying grass--but it was patched with large scarlet mats of arctous that would put red maple to its reddest blush. there was no highland heather here, but there were whole hillsides of purple red vaccinium, whose leaves were but a shade less red than its luscious grape-hued fruit. here were white ledums in roods and acre beds; purple mairanias by the hundred acres, and, framed in lilac rocks, were rich, rank meadows of golden-green by the mile. there were leagues and leagues of caribou moss, pale green or lilac, and a hundred others in clumps, that, seeing here the glory of the painted mosses, were simulating their ways, though they themselves were the not truly mosses at all. i never before saw such a realm of exquisite flowers so exquisitely displayed, and the effect at every turn throughout the land was colour, colour, colour, to as far outdo the finest autumn tints of new england as the colorado canyon outdoes the hoosac gorge. what nature can do only in october, elsewhere, she does here all season through, as though when she set out to paint the world she began on the barrens with a full palette and when she reached the tropics had nothing left but green. thus at every step one is wading through lush grass or crushing prairie blossoms and fruits. it is so on and on; in every part of the scene, there are but few square feet that do not bloom with flowers and throb with life; yet this is the region called the barren lands of the north. and the colour is an index of its higher living forms, for this is the chosen home of the swans and wild geese; many of the ducks, the ptarmigan, the laplongspur and snowbunting. the blue lakes echo with the wailing of the gulls and the eerie magic calling of the loons. colonies of lemmings, voles, or groundsquirrels are found on every sunny slope; the wolverine and the white wolf find this a land of plenty, for on every side, as i stood on that high hill, were to be seen small groups of caribou. this was the land and these the creatures i had come to see. this was my farthest north and this was the culmination of years of dreaming. how very good it seemed at the time, but how different and how infinitely more delicate and satisfying was the realisation than any of the day-dreams founded on my vision through the eyes of other men. chapter xxxvii facing homeward on this hill we divided, preble and billy going northward; weeso and i eastward, all intent on finding a herd of musk-ox; for this was the beginning of their range. there was one continual surprise as we journeyed--the willows that were mere twigs on aylmer lake increased in size and were now plentiful and as high as our heads, with stems two or three inches thick. this was due partly to the decreased altitude and partly to removal from the broad, cold sheet of aylmer, which, with its july ice, must tend to lower the summer temperature. for a long time we tramped eastward, among hills and meadows, with caribou. then, at length, turned south again and, after a -mile tramp, arrived in camp at . , having seen no sign whatever of musk-ox, although this is the region where pike found them common; on july , , at the little lake where we lunched, his party killed seven out of a considerable band. at . that night preble and billy returned. they had been over icy river, easily recognised by the thick ice still on its expansions, and on to musk-ox lake, without seeing any fresh tracks of a musk-ox. as they came into camp a white wolf sneaked away. rain began at and continued a heavy storm all night. in the morning it was still in full blast, so no one rose until . , when billy, starved out of his warm bed, got up to make breakfast. soon i heard him calling: "mr. seton, here's a big wolf in camp!" "bring him in here," i said. then a rifle-shot was heard, another, and billy appeared, dragging a huge white wolf. (he is now to be seen in the american museum.) all that day and the next night the storm raged. even the presence of caribou bands did not stimulate us enough to face the sleet. next day it was dry, but too windy to travel. billy now did something that illustrates at once the preciousness of firewood, and the pluck, strength, and reliability of my cook. during his recent tramp he found a low, rocky hollow full of large, dead willows. it was eight miles back; nevertheless he set out, of his own free will; tramped the eight miles, that wet, blustery day, and returned in five and one-half hours, bearing on his back a heavy load, over pounds of most acceptable firewood. sixteen miles afoot for a load of wood! but it seemed well worth it as we revelled in the blessed blaze. next day two interesting observations were made; down by the shore i found the midden-heap of a lemming family. it contained about four hundred pellets: their colour and dryness, with the absence of grass, showed that they dated from winter. in the evening the four of us witnessed the tragic end of a lap-longspur. pursued by a fierce skua gull, it unfortunately dashed out over the lake. in vain then it darted up and down, here and there, high and low; the skua followed even more quickly. a second skua came flying to help, but was not needed. with a falcon-like swoop, the pirate seized the longspur in his bill and bore it away to be devoured at the nearest perch. at . a. m., august , , surrounded by scattering caribou, we pushed off from our camp at sand hill bay and began the return journey. at wolf-den point we discovered a large and ancient wolf-den in the rocks; also abundance of winter sign of musk-ox. that day we made forty miles and camped for the night on the sand hill mountain in tha-na-koie, the channel that joins aylmer and clinton-colden. here we were detained by high winds until the th. this island is a favourite caribou crossing, and billy and weeso had pitched their tents right on the place selected by the caribou for their highway. next day, while scanning the country from the top of the mount, i saw three caribou trotting along. they swam the river and came toward me. as billy and weeso were in their tents having an afternoon nap, i thought it would be a good joke to stampede the caribou on top of them, so waited behind a rock, intending to jump out as soon as they were past me. they followed the main trail at a trot, and i leaped out with "horrid yells" when they passed my rock, but now the unexpected happened. "in case of doubt take to the water" is caribou wisdom, so, instead of dashing madly into the tents, they made three desperate down leaps and plunged into the deep water, then calmly swam for the other shore, a quarter of a mile away. this island proved a good place for small mammals. here preble got our first specimen of the white lemming. large islands usually prove better for small mammals than the mainland. they have the same conditions to support life, but being moated by the water are usually without the larger predatory quadrupeds. the great central inland of clinton-colden proved the best place of all for groundsquirrels. here we actually found them in colonies. on the th and th we paddled and surveyed without ceasing and camped beyond the rapid at the exit of clinton-colden. the next afternoon we made the exit rapids of casba lake. preble was preparing to portage them, but asked weeso, "can we run them?" weeso landed, walked to a view-point, took a squinting look and said, "ugh!" (yes). preble rejoined, "all right! if he says he can, he surely can. that's the indian of it. a white man takes risks; an indian will not; if it is risky he'll go around." so we ran the rapids in safety. lighter each day, as the food was consumed, our elegant canoe went faster. when not detained by heavy seas or miles a day was our journey. on august we made our last miles in one hour and / minutes. on september , in spite of head-winds, we made miles in / hours and in the evening we skimmed over the glassy surface of artillery lake, among its many beautiful islands and once more landed at our old ground--the camp in the last woods. chapter xxxviii the first woods how shall i set forth the feelings it stirred? none but the shipwrecked sailor, long drifting on the open sea, but come at last to land, can fully know the thrill it gave us. we were like starving indians suddenly surrounded by caribou. wood--timber--fuel--galore! it was hard to realise--but there it was, all about us, and in the morning we were awakened by the sweet, sweet, home-like song of the robins in the trees, singing their "cheerup, cheerily," just as they do it in ontario and connecticut. our cache was all right; so, our stock of luxuries was replenished. we now had unlimited food as well as unlimited firewood; what more could any one ask? yet there was more. the weather was lovely; perfect summer days, and the mosquitoes were gone, yes, now actually nets and flybars were discarded for good. on every side was animal life in abundance; the shimmering lake with its loons and islands would fit exactly the indian's dream of the heavenly hunting-grounds. these were the happy halcyon days of the trip, and we stayed a week to rest and revel in the joys about us. in the morning i took a long walk over the familiar hills; the various skeletons we had left were picked bare, evidently by gulls and ravens, as no bones were broken and even the sinews were left. there were many fresh tracks of single caribou going here and there, but no trails of large bands. i sent weeso off to the indian village, two miles south. he returned to say that it was deserted and that, therefore, the folk had gone after the caribou, which doubtless were now in the woods south of artillery lake. again the old man was wholly astray in his caribou forecast. that night there was a sharp frost; the first we had had. it made nearly half an inch of ice in all kettles. why is ice always thickest on the kettles? no doubt because they hold a small body of very still water surrounded by highly conductive metal. billy went "to market" yesterday, killing a nice, fat little caribou. this morning on returning to bring in the rest of the meat we found that a wolverine had been there and lugged the most of it away. the tracks show that it was an old one accompanied by one or maybe two young ones. we followed them some distance but lost all trace in a long range of rocks. the wolverine is one of the typical animals of the far north. it has an unenviable reputation for being the greatest plague that the hunter knows. its habit of following to destroy all traps for the sake of the bait is the prime cause of man's hatred, and its cleverness in eluding his efforts at retaliation give it still more importance. it is, above all, the dreaded enemy of a cache, and as already seen, we took the extra precaution of putting our caches up trees that were protected by a necklace of fishhooks. most northern travellers have regaled us with tales of this animal's diabolical cleverness and wickedness. it is fair to say that the malice, at least, is not proven; and there is a good side to wolverine character that should be emphasized; that is, its nearly ideal family life, coupled with the heroic bravery of the mother. i say "nearly" ideal, for so far as i can learn, the father does not assist in rearing the young. but all observers agree that the mother is absolutely fearless and devoted. more than one of the hunters have assured me that it is safer to molest a mother bear than a mother wolverine when accompanied by the cubs. bellalise, a half-breed of chipewyan, told me that twice he had found wolverine dens, and been seriously endangered by the mother. the first was in mid-may, , near fond du lac, north side of lake athabaska. he went out with an indian to bring in a skiff left some miles off on the shore. he had no gun, and was surprised by coming on an old wolverine in a slight hollow under the boughs of a green spruce. she rushed at him, showing all her teeth, her eyes shining blue, and uttering sounds like those of a bear. the indian boy hit her once with a stick, then swung himself out of danger up a tree. bellalise ran off after getting sight of the young ones; they were four in number, about the size of a muskrat, and pure white. their eyes were open. the nest was just such as a dog might make, only six inches deep and lined with a little dry grass. scattered around were bones and fur, chiefly of rabbits. the second occasion was in , within three miles of chipewyan, and, as before, about the middle of may. the nest was much like the first one; the mother saw him coming, and charged furiously, uttering a sort of coughing. he shot her dead; then captured the young and examined the nest; there were three young this time. they were white like the others. not far from this camp, we found a remarkable midden-yard of lemmings. it was about feet by feet, the ground within the limits was thickly strewn with pellets, at the rate of to the square inch, but nowhere were they piled up. at this reckoning, there were over , , but there were also many outside, which probably raised the number to , , . each pellet was long, brown, dry, and curved, i.e., the winter type. the place, a high, dry, very sheltered hollow, was evidently the winter range of a colony of lemmings that in summer went elsewhere, i suppose to lower, damper grounds. after sunset, september , a bunch of three or four caribou trotted past the tents between us and the lake, yards from us; billy went after them, as, thanks to the wolverine, we were out of meat, and at one shot secured a fine young buck. his last winter's coat was all shed now, his ears were turning white and the white areas were expanding on feet and buttocks; his belly was pure white. on his back and rump, chiefly the latter, were the scars of bots. i could not see that they affected the skin or, hair in the least. although all of these caribou seem to have the normal foot-click, preble and i worked in vain with the feet of this, dead one to make the sound; we could not by any combination of movement, or weight or simulation of natural conditions, produce anything like a "click." that same day, as we sat on a hill, a cow caribou came curiously toward us. at yards she circled slowly, gazing till she got the wind yards to one side, then up went her tail and off she trotted a quarter of a mile, but again drew nearer, then circled as before till a second time the wind warned her to flee. this she did three or four times before trotting away; the habit is often seen. next afternoon, billy and i saw a very large buck; his neck was much swollen, his beard flowing and nearly white. he sighted us afar, and worked north-west away from us, in no great alarm. i got out of sight, ran a mile and a half, headed him off, then came on him from the north, but in spite of all i could do by running and yelling, he and his band ( cows with calves) rushed galloping between me and the lake, yards away. he was too foxy to be driven back into that suspicious neighbourhood. thus we had fine opportunities for studying wild life. in all these days there was only one unfulfilled desire: i had not seen the great herd of caribou returning to the woods that are their winter range. this herd is said to rival in numbers the buffalo herds of story, to reach farther than the eye can see, and to be days in passing a given point; but it is utterly erratic. it might arrive in early september. it was not sure to arrive until late october, when the winter had begun. this year all the indications were that it would be late. if we were to wait for it, it would mean going out on the ice. for this we were wholly unprepared. there were no means of getting the necessary dogs, sleds, and fur garments; my business was calling me back to the east. it was useless to discuss the matter, decision was forced on me. therefore, without having seen that great sight, one of the world's tremendous zoological spectacles the march in one body of millions of caribou--i reluctantly gave the order to start. on september we launched the ann seton on her homeward voyage of , upstream miles. chapter xxxix farewell to the caribou all along the shore of artillery lake we saw small groups of caribou. they were now in fine coat; the manes on the males were long and white and we saw two with cleaned antlers; in one these were of a brilliant red, which i suppose meant that they were cleaned that day and still bloody. we arrived at the south end of artillery lake that night, and were now again in the continuous woods what spindly little stuff it looked when we left it; what superb forest it looked now--and here we bade good-bye to the prairies and their caribou. now, therefore, i shall briefly summarise the information i gained about this notable creature. the species ranges over all the treeless plains and islands of arctic america. while the great body is migratory, there are scattered individuals in all parts at all seasons. the main body winters in the sheltered southern third of the range, to avoid the storms, and moves north in the late spring, to avoid the plagues of deer-flies and mosquitoes. the former are found chiefly in the woods, the latter are bad everywhere; by travelling against the wind a certain measure of relief is secured, northerly winds prevail, so the caribou are kept travelling northward. when there is no wind, the instinctive habit of migration doubtless directs the general movement. how are we to form an idea of their numbers? the only way seems to be by watching the great migration to its winter range. for the reasons already given this was impossible in my case, therefore, i array some of the known facts that will evidence the size of the herd. warburton pike, who saw them at mackay lake, october , , says: "i cannot believe that the herds [of buffalo] on the prairie ever surpassed in size la foule (the throng) of the caribou. la foule had really come, and during its passage of six days i was able to realize what an extraordinary number of these animals still roam the barren grounds." from figures and facts given me by h. t. munn, of brandon, manitoba, i reckon that in three weeks following july , , he saw at artillery lake (n. latitude / degrees, w. long. degrees) not less than , , caribou travelling southward; he calls this merely the advance guard of the great herd. colonel jones (buffalo jones), who saw the herd in october at clinton-colden, has given me personally a description that furnishes the basis for an interesting calculation of their numbers. he stood on a hill in the middle of the passing throng, with a clear view ten miles each way and it was one army of caribou. how much further they spread, he did not know. sometimes they were bunched, so that a hundred were on a space one hundred feet square; but often there would be spaces equally large without any. they averaged at least one hundred caribou to the acre; and they passed him at the rate of about three miles an hour. he did not know how long they were in passing this point; but at another place they were four days, and travelled day and night. the whole world seemed a moving mass of caribou. he got the impression at last that they were standing still and he was on a rocky hill that was rapidly running through their hosts. even halving these figures, to keep on the safe side, we find that the number of caribou in this army was over , , . yet it is possible that there are several such armies. in which case they must indeed out-number the buffalo in their palmiest epoch. so much for their abundance to-day. to what extent are they being destroyed? i looked into this question with care. first, of the indian destruction. in the chipewyan population, according to kennicott, was , . thomas anderson, of fort smith, showed me a census of the mackenzie river indians, which put them at , in . official returns of the canadian government give them in at , , as follows: peel . . . . . . . . . . arctic red river . . . . . . good hope . . . . . . . . norman . . . . . . . . . wrigley . . . . . . . . . simpson . . . . . . . . . rae . . . . . . . . . . liard and nelson . . . . . . yellowknives . . . . . . . dogribs . . . . . . . . . chipewyans . . . . . . . . hay river . . . . . . . . ----- , of these the hay river and liard indians, numbering about , can scarcely be considered caribou-eaters, so that the indian population feeding on caribou to-day is about , , less than half what it was years ago. of these not more than are hunters. the traders generally agree that the average annual kill of caribou is about or per man, not more. when george sanderson, of fort resolution, got one year, it was the talk of the country; many got none. thus , per annum killed by the indians is a liberal estimate to-day. there has been so much talk about destruction by whalers that i was careful to gather all available information. several travellers who had visited hershell island told me that four is the usual number of whalers that winter in the north-east of point barrow. sometimes, but rarely, the number is increased to eight or ten, never more. they buy what caribou they can from eskimo, sometimes aggregating or carcasses in a winter, and would use more if they could get them, but they cannot, as the caribou herds are then far south. this, e. sprake jones, william hay, and others, are sure represents fairly the annual destruction by whalers on the north coast. only one or two vessels of this traffic go into hudson's bay, and these with those of hershell are all that touch caribou country, so that the total destruction by whalers must be under , head per annum. the eskimo kill for their own use. franz boas ("handbook of american indians") gives the number of eskimo in the central region at , . of these not more than are hunters. if we allow their destruction to equal that of the indians, it is liberal, giving a total of , caribou killed by native hunters. as the whites rarely enter the region, this is practically all the destruction by man. the annual increase of , , caribou must be several millions and would so far overbalance the hunter toll that the latter cannot make any permanent difference. there is, moreover, good evidence that the native destruction has diminished. as already seen, the tribes which hunt the barren-ground caribou, number less than one-half of what they did years ago. since then, they have learned to use the rifle, and this, i am assured by all the traders, has lessened the destruction. by the old method, with the spear in the water, or in the pound trap, one native might kill caribou in one day, during the migrations; but these methods called for woodcraft and were very laborious. the rifle being much easier, has displaced the spear; but there is a limit to its destruction, especially with cartridges at five cents to seven cents each, and, as already seen, the hunters do not average caribou each in a year. thus, all the known facts point to a greatly diminished slaughter to-day when compared with that of years ago. this, then, is my summary of the barren-ground caribou between the mackenzie river and hudson's bay. they number over , , , and may be double of that. they are in primitive conditions and probably never more numerous than now. the native destruction is less now than formerly and never did make any perceptible difference. finally, the matter has by no means escaped the attention of the wide-awake canadian government represented by the minister of the interior and the royal north-west mounted police. it could not be in better hands; and there is no reason to fear in any degree a repetition of the buffalo slaughter that disgraced the plains of the united states. chapter xl old fort reliance to fort resolution all night the storm of rain and snow raged around our camp on the south shore of artillery lake, but we were up and away in the morning in spite of it. that day, we covered five portages (they took two days in coming out). next day we crossed lake harry and camped three-quarters of a mile farther on the long portage. next day, september , we camped (still in storm) at the lobstick landing of great slave lake. how tropically rich all this vegetation looked after the "land of little sticks." rain we could face, but high winds on the big water were dangerous, so we were storm-bound until september , when we put off, and in two hours were at old fort reliance, the winter quarters of sir george back in - . in the far north the word "old" means "abandoned" and the fort, abandoned long ago, had disappeared, except the great stone chimneys. around one of these that intrepid explorer and hunter-buffalo jones-had built a shanty in . there it stood in fairly good condition, a welcome shelter from the storm which now set in with redoubled fury. we soon had the big fireplace aglow and, sitting there in comfort that we owed to him, and surrounded by the skeletons of the wolves that he had killed about the door in that fierce winter time, we drank in hot and copious tea the toast: long life and prosperity to our host so far away, the brave old hunter, "buffalo jones." the woods were beautiful and abounded with life, and the three days we spent there were profitably devoted to collecting, but on september we crossed the bay, made the short portage, and at night camped miles away, on the home track. next morning we found a camp of indians down to the last of their food. we supplied them with flour and tobacco. they said that no caribou had come to the lake, showing how erratic is the great migration. in the afternoon we came across another band in still harder luck. they had nothing whatever but the precarious catch of the nets, and this was the off-season. again we supplied them, and these were among the unexpected emergencies for which our carefully guarded supplies came in. in spite of choppy seas we made from to miles a day, and camped on tal-thel-lay the evening of september . that night as i sat by the fire the moon rose in a clear sky and as i gazed on her calm bright disc something seemed to tell me that at that moment the dear ones far away were also looking on that radiant face. on the st we were storm-bound at et-then island, but utilised the time collecting. i gathered a lot of roots of pulsatilla and calypso. here billy amused us by catching wiskajons in an old-fashioned springle that dated from the days when guns were unknown; but the captured birds came back fearlessly each time after being released. all that day we had to lie about camp, keeping under cover on account of the rain. it was dreary work listening to the surf ceaselessly pounding the shore and realising that all these precious hours were needed to bring us to fort resolution, where the steamer was to meet us on the th. on the d it was calmer and we got away in the gray dawn at . . we were now in weeso's country, and yet he ran us into a singular pocket that i have called weeso's trap--a straight glacial groove a mile long that came to a sudden end and we had to go back that mile. the old man was much mortified over his blunder, but he did not feel half so badly about it as i did, for every hour was precious now. what a delight it was to feel our canoe skimming along under the four paddles. three times as fast we travelled now as when we came out with the bigger boat; / miles an hour was frequently our rate and when we camped that night we had covered miles since dawn. on kahdinouay we camped and again a storm arose to pound and bluster all night. in spite of a choppy sea next day we reached the small island before the final crossing; and here, perforce, we stayed to await a calmer sea. later we heard that during this very storm a canoe-load of indians attempted the crossing and upset; none were swimmers, all were drowned. we were not the only migrants hurrying southward. here for the first time in my life i saw wild swans, six in a flock. they were heading southward and flew not in very orderly array, but ever changing, occasionally forming the triangle after the manner of geese. they differ from geese in flapping more slowly, from white cranes in flapping faster, and seemed to vibrate only the tips of the wings. this was on the d. next day we saw another flock of seven; i suppose that in each case it was the old one and young of the year. as they flew they uttered three different notes: a deep horn-like "too" or "coo," a higher pitched "coo," and a warble-like "tootle-tootle," or sometimes simply "tee-tee." maybe the last did not come from the swans, but no other birds were near; i suppose that these three styles of notes came from male, female, and young. next morning flocks of swans flew overhead toward the south-west. they totalled ; were the most in one flock. in this large flock i saw a quarrel no. turned back and struck no. , his long neck bent and curled like a snake, both dropped downward several feet then , and left that flock. i suspect they were of another family. but, later, as we entered the river mouth we had a thrilling glimpse of swan life. flock after flock came in view as we rounded the rush beds; flocks in all we saw, none had less than in it, nearly swans in sight, at once, and all rose together with a mighty flapping of strong, white wings, and the chorus of the insignificant "too-too-tees" sailed farther southward, probably to make the great swan tryst on hay river. no doubt these were the same flocks as those observed on the previous days, but still it rejoiced my heart to see even that many. i had feared that the species was far gone on the trail of the passenger pigeon. but this is anticipating. we were camped still on the island north of the traverse, waiting for possible water. all day we watched in vain, all night the surf kept booming, but at three in the morning the wind dropped, at four it was obviously calmer. i called the boys and we got away before six; dashing straight south in spite of rolling seas we crossed the -mile stretch in / hours, and turning westward reached stony island by noon. thence southward through ever calmer water our gallant boat went spinning, reeling off the level miles up the river channel, and down again on its south-west branch, in a glorious red sunset, covering in one day the journeys of four during our outgoing, in the supposedly far speedier york boat. faster and faster we seemed to fly, for we had the grand incentive that we must catch the steamer at any price that night. weeso now, for the first time, showed up strong; knowing every yard of the way he took advantage of every swirl of the river; in and out among the larger islands we darted, and when we should have stopped for the night no man said "stop", but harder we paddled. we could smell the steamer smoke, we thought, and pictured her captain eagerly scanning the offing for our flying canoe; it was most inspiring and the ann seton jumped up to miles an hour for a time. so we went; the night came down, but far away were the glittering lights of fort resolution, and the steamer that should end our toil. how cheering. the skilly pilot and the lusty paddler slacked not-- miles we had come that day--and when at last some , nearly , paddled miles brought us stiff and weary to the landing it was only to learn that the steamer, notwithstanding bargain set and agreed on, had gone south two days before. chapter xli going up the lower slave what we thought about the steamboat official who was responsible for our dilemma we did not need to put into words; for every one knew of the bargain and its breach: nearly every one present had protested at the time, and the hardest things i felt like saying were mild compared with the things already said by that official's own colleagues. but these things were forgotten in the hearty greetings of friends and bundles of letters from home. it was eight o'clock, and of course black night when we landed; yet it was midnight when we thought of sleep. fort resolution is always dog-town; and now it seemed at its worst. when the time came to roll up in our blankets, we were fully possessed of the camper's horror of sleeping indoors; but it was too dark to put up a tent and there was not a square foot of ground anywhere near that was not polluted and stinking of "dog-sign," so very unwillingly i broke my long spell of sleeping out, on this st day, and passed the night on the floor of the hudson's bay company house. i had gone indoors to avoid the "dog-sign" and next morning found, alas, that i had been lying all night on "cat-sign." i say lying; i did not sleep. the closeness of the room, in spite of an open window, the novelty, the smells, combined with the excitement of letters from home, banished sleep until morning came, and, of course, i got a bad cold, the first i had had all summer. here i said "good-bye" to old weeso. he grinned affably, and when i asked what he would like for a present said, "send me an axe like yours," there were three things in my outfit that aroused the cupidity of nearly every indian, the winchester rifle, the peterboro canoe and the marble axe, "the axe that swallows its face." weeso had a rifle, we could not spare or send him a canoe, so i promised to send him the axe. post is slow, but it reached him six months later and i doubt not is even now doing active service. having missed the last steamer, we must go on by canoe. canoeing up the river meant "tracking" all the way; that is, the canoe must be hauled up with a line, by a man walking on the banks; hard work needing not only a strong, active man, but one who knows the river. through the kindness of j. mcleneghan, of the swiggert trading company, i was spared the horrors of my previous efforts to secure help at fort resolution, and george sanderson, a strong young half-breed, agreed to take me to fort smith for $ . a day and means of returning. george was a famous hunter and fisher, and a "good man" to travel. i marked his broad shoulders and sinewy, active form with joy, especially in view of his reputation. in one respect he was different from all other half-breeds that i ever knew--he always gave a straight answer. ask an ordinary half-breed, or western white man, indeed, how far it is to such a point, his reply commonly is, "oh, not so awful far," or "it is quite a piece," or "it aint such a hell of a ways," conveying to the stranger no shadow of idea whether it is a hundred yards, a mile, or a week's travel. again and again when sanderson was asked how far it was to a given place, he would pause and say, "three miles and a half," or "little more than eight miles," as the case might be. the usual half-breed when asked if we could make such a point by noon would say "maybe. i don't know. it is quite a piece." sanderson would say, "yes," or "no, not by two miles," according to circumstances; and his information was always correct; he knew the river "like a book." on the afternoon of september we left "dogtown" with sanderson in weeso's place and began our upward journey. george proved as good as his reputation. the way that active fellow would stride along the shore, over logs and brush, around fallen trees, hauling the canoe against stream some three or four miles an hour was perfectly fine; and each night my heart was glad and sang the old refrain, "a day's march nearer home." the toil of this tracking is second only to that of portageing. the men usually relieve each other every minutes. so billy and george were the team. if i were going again into that country and had my choice these two again would be my crew. once or twice i took the track-line myself for a quarter of an hour, but it did not appeal to me as a permanent amusement. it taught me one thing that i did not suspect, namely, that it is much harder to haul a canoe with three inches of water under her keel than with three feet. in the former case, the attraction of the bottom is most powerful and evident. the experience also explained the old sailor phrase about the vessel feeling the bottom: this i had often heard, but never before comprehended. all day we tracked, covering to miles between camps and hourly making observations on the wild life of the river. small birds and mammals were evidently much more abundant than in spring, and the broad, muddy, and sandy reaches of the margin were tracked over by chipmunks, weasels, foxes, lynxes, bear, and moose. a lynx, which we surprised on a sand-bar, took to the water without hesitation and swam to the mainland. it went as fast as a dog, but not nearly so fast as a caribou. a large fox that we saw crossing the river proved very inferior to the lynx in swimming speed. the two portages, ennuyeux and detour, were duly passed, and on the morning of october , as we travelled, a sailboat hove into sight. it held messrs. thomas christy, c. harding, and stagg. we were now within days of fort smith, so i took advantage of the opportunity to send sanderson back. on the evening of the d we came to salt river, and there we saw pierre squirrel with his hundred dogs and at p. m., october , arrived at fort smith. chapter xlii fort smith and the tug here again we had the unpleasant experience of sleeping indoors, a miserable, sleepless, stifling night, followed by the inevitable cold. next day we rode with our things over the portage to smith landing. i had secured the tug ariel to give us a lift, and at p. m., october , pulled out for the next stretch of the river, ourselves aboard the tug, the canoe with a cargo towed behind. that night we slept at the saw-mill, perforce, and having had enough of indoors, i spread my, blankets outside, with the result, as i was warned, that every one of the numerous dogs came again and again, and passed, his opinion on my slumbering form. next night we selected an island to camp on, the men did not want to stay on the mainland, for "the woods are full of mice and their feet are so cold when they run over your face as you sleep." we did not set up our tents that time but lay on the ground; next morning at dawn, when i looked around, the camp was like a country graveyard, for we were all covered with leaves, and each man was simply a long mound. the dawn came up an ominous rose-red. i love not the rosy dawn; a golden dawn or a chill-blue dawn is happy, but i fear the dawn of rose as the red headlight of a storm. it came; by . the rain had set in and steadily fell all day. the following morning we had our first accident. the steamer with the loaded canoe behind was rushing up a rapid. a swirl of water upset the canoe, and all our large packs were afloat. all were quickly recovered except a bag of salted skins. these sank and were seen no more. on october we arrived at fort chipewyan. as we drew near that famous place of water-fowl, the long strings and massed flocks of various geese and ducks grew more and more plentiful; and at the fort itself we found their metropolis. the hudson's bay company had killed and salted about waveys or snow geese; each of the loutit families, about ; not less than , waveys will be salted down this fall, besides honkers, white-fronts and ducks. each year they reckon on about , waveys, in poor years they take , to , , in fat years , . the snow and white-fronted geese all had the white parts of the head more or less stained with orange. only one blue goose had been taken. this i got; it is a westernmost record. no swans had been secured this year; in fact, i am told that they are never taken in the fall because they never come this way, though they visit the east end of the lake; in the spring they come by here and about are taken each year. chipewyan was billy loutit's home, and the family gave a dance in honour of the wanderer's return. here i secured a tall half-breed, gregoire daniell, usually known as "bellalise," to go with me as far as athabaska landing. there was no good reason why we should not leave chipewyan in three hours. but the engineer of my tug had run across an old friend; they wanted to have a jollification, as of course the engine was "hopelessly out of order." but we got away at next day--my four men and the tug's three. at the wheel was a halfbreed--david macpherson--who is said to be a natural-born pilot, and the best in the country. although he never was on the upper slave before, and it is an exceedingly difficult stream with its interminable, intricate, shifting shallows, crooked, narrow channels, and impenetrable muddy currents, his "nose for water" is so good that he brought us through at full speed without striking once. next time he will be qualified to do it by night. in the grove where we camped after sundown were the teepee and shack of an indian (chipewyan) brayno (probably brenaud). this is his hunting and trapping ground, and has been for years. no one poaches on it; that is unwritten law; a man may follow a wounded animal into his neighbour's territory, but not trap there. the nearest neighbour is miles off. he gets or silver foxes every year, a few lynx, otter, marten, etc. bellalise was somewhat of a character. about feet in height, with narrow, hollow chest, very large hands and feet and a nervous, restless way of flinging himself about. he struck me as a man who was killing himself with toil beyond his physical strength. he was strongly recommended by the hudson's bay company people as a "good man," i liked his face and manners, he was an intelligent companion, and i was glad to have secured him. at the first and second camps he worked hard. at the next he ceased work suddenly and went aside; his stomach was upset. a few hours afterwards he told me he was feeling ill. the engineer, who wanted him to cut wood, said to me, "that man is shamming." my reply was short: "you have known him for months, and think he is shamming; i have known him for hours and i know he is not that kind of a man." he told me next morning, "it's no use, i got my breast crushed by the tug a couple of weeks ago, i have no strength. at fort mckay is a good man named jiarobia, he will go with you." so when the tug left us bellalise refunded his advance and returned to chipewyan. he was one of those that made me think well of his people; and his observations on the wild life of the country showed that he had a tongue to tell, as well as eyes to see. that morning, besides the calls of honkers and waveys we heard the glorious trumpeting of the white crane. it has less rattling croak and more whoop than that of the brown crane. bellalise says that every year a few come to chipewyan, then go north with the waveys to breed. in the fall they come back for a month; they are usually in flocks of three and four; two old ones and their offspring, the latter known by their brownish colour. if you get the two old ones, the young ones are easily killed, as they keep flying low over the place. is this then the secret of its disappearance? and is it on these far breeding grounds that man has proved too hard? at lobstick point, p. m., october , the tug turned back and we three continued our journey as before, preble and billy taking turns at tracking the canoe. next day we reached fort mckay and thus marked another important stage of the journey. chapter xliii fort mckay and jiarobia fort mckay was the last point at which we saw the chipewyan style of teepee, and the first where the cree appeared. but its chief interest to us lay in the fact that it was the home of jiarobia, a capable river-man who wished to go to athabaska landing. the first thing that struck us about jiarobia--whose dictionary name by the way is elzear robillard--was that his house had a good roof and a large pile of wood ready cut. these were extremely important indications in a land of improvidence. robillard was a thin, active, half-breed of very dark skin. he was willing to go for $ . a day the round-trip ( days) plus food and a boat to return with. but a difficulty now appeared; madame robillard, a tall, dark half-breed woman, objected: "elzear had been away all summer, he should stay home now." "if you go i will run off into the backwoods with the first wild indian that wants a squaw," she threatened. "now," said rob, in choice english, "i am up against it." she did not understand english, but she could read looks and had some french, so i took a hand. "if madame will consent i will advance $ . of her husband's pay and will let her select the finest silk handkerchief in the hudson's bay store for a present." in about three minutes her cree eloquence died a natural death; she put a shawl on her head and stepped toward the door without looking at me. rob, nodded to me, and signed to go to the hudson's bay store; by which i inferred that the case was won; we were going now to select the present. to my amazement she turned from all the bright-coloured goods and selected a large black silk handkerchief. the men tell me it is always so now; fifty years ago every woman wanted red things. now all want black; and the traders who made the mistake of importing red have had to import dyes and dip them all. jiarobia, or, as we mostly call him, "rob," proved most amusing character as well as a "good man" and the reader will please note that nearly all of my single help were "good men." only when i had a crowd was there trouble. his store of anecdote was unbounded and his sense of humour ever present, if broad and simple. he talked in english, french, and cree, and knew a good deal of chipewyan. many of his personal adventures would have fitted admirably into the decameron, but are scarcely suited for this narrative. one evening he began to sing, i listened intently, thinking maybe i should pick up some ancient chanson of the voyageurs or at least a woodman's "come-all-ye." alas! it proved to be nothing but the "whistling coon." which reminds me of another curious experience at the village of fort smith. i saw a crowd of the indians about a lodge and strange noises proceeding therefrom. when i went over the folk made way for me. i entered, sat down, and found that they were crowded around a cheap gramophone which was hawking, spitting and screeching some awful rag-time music and nigger jigs. i could forgive the traders for bringing in the gramophone, but why, oh, why, did they not bring some of the simple world-wide human songs which could at least have had an educational effect? the indian group listened to this weird instrument with the profoundest gravity. if there is anything inherently comic in our low comics it was entirely lost on them. one of rob's amusing fireside tricks was thus: he put his hands together, so: (illustration). "now de' tumbs is you and your fader, de first finger is you and your mudder, ze next is you and your sister, ze little finger is you and your brudder, ze ring finger is you and your sweetheart. you and your fader separate easy, like dat; you and your brudder like dat, you and your sister like dat, dat's easy; you and your mudder like dat, dat's not so easy; but you and your sweetheart cannot part widout all everything go to hell first." later, as we passed the american who lives at fort mcmurray, jiarobia said to me: "dat man is the biggest awful liar on de river. you should hear him talk. 'one day,' he said, 'dere was a big stone floating up de muddy river and on it was tree men, and one was blind and one was plumb naked and one had no arms nor legs, and de blind man he looks down on bottom of river an see a gold watch, an de cripple he reach out and get it, and de naked man he put it in his pocket.' now any man talk dat way he one most awful liar, it is not possible, any part, no how." chapter xliv the river now we resumed our daily life of tracking, eating, tracking, camping, tracking, sleeping. the weather had continued fine, with little change ever since we left resolution, and we were so hardened to the life that it was pleasantly monotonous. how different now were my thoughts compared with those of last spring, as i first looked on this great river. when we had embarked on the leaping, boiling, muddy athabaska, in this frail canoe, it had seemed a foolhardy enterprise. how could such a craft ride such a stream for , miles? it was like a mouse mounting a monstrous, untamed, plunging and rearing horse. now we set out each morning, familiar with stream and our boat, having no thought of danger, and viewing the water, the same turbid flood, as, our servant. even as a skilful tamer will turn the wildest horse into his willing slave, so have we conquered this river and made it the bearer of our burdens. so i thought and wrote at the time; but the wise tamer is ever alert, never lulled into false security. he knows that a heedless move may turn his steed into a deadly, dangerous monster. we had our lesson to learn. that night (october ) there was a dull yellow sunset. the morning came with a strong north wind and rain that turned to snow, and with it great flocks of birds migrating from the athabaska lake. many rough-legged hawks, hundreds of small land birds, thousands of snow-birds in flocks of to , myriads of ducks and geese, passed over our heads going southward before the frost. about . the geese began to pass in ever-increasing flocks; between . and i counted flocks averaging about each ( to ) and they kept on at this rate till p. m. this would give a total of nearly , geese. it was a joyful thing to see and hear them; their legions in flight array went stringing high aloft, so high they looked not like geese, but threads across the sky, the cobwebs, indeed, that mother carey was sweeping away with her north-wind broom. i sketched and counted flock after flock with a sense of thankfulness that so many, were left alive. most were white geese, but a twentieth, perhaps, were honkers. the ducks began to pass over about noon, and became more numerous than the geese as they went on. in the midst of this myriad procession, as though they were the centre and cause of all, were two splendid white cranes, bugling as they flew. later that day we saw another band, of three, but these were all; their race is nearly run. the full moon was on and all night the wild-fowl flew. the frost was close behind them, sharp and sudden. next morning the ponds about us had ice an inch thick and we heard of it three inches at other places. but the sun came out gloriously and when at ten we landed at fort mcmurray the day was warm and perfect in its autumnal peace. miss gordon, the postmaster, did not recognise us at first. she said we all looked "so much older, it is always so with folks who go north." next morning we somehow left our tent behind. it was old and of little value, so we did not go back, and the fact that we never really needed it speaks much for the sort of weather we had to the end of the trip. a couple of moose (cow and calf) crossed the river ahead of us, and billy went off in hot pursuit; but saw no more of them. tracks of animals were extremely abundant on, the shore here. large wolves became quite numerous evidently we were now in their country. apparently they had killed a moose, as their dung was full of moose hair. we were now in the canyon of the athabaska and from this on our journey was a fight with the rapids. one by one my skilful boatmen negotiated them; either we tracked up or half unloaded, or landed and portaged, but it was hard and weary work. my journal entry for the night of the th runs thus: "i am tired of troubled waters. all day to-day and for five days back we have been fighting the rapids of this fierce river. my place is to sit in the canoe-bow with a long pole, glancing here and there, right, left, and ahead, watching ever the face of this snarling river; and when its curling green lips apart betray a yellow brown gleam of deadly teeth too near, it is my part to ply with might and main that pole, and push the frail canoe aside to where the stream is in milder, kindlier mood.' oh, i love not a brawling river any more than a brawling woman, and thoughts of the broad, calm slave, with its majestic stretches of level flood, are now as happy halcyon memories of a bright and long-gone past." my men were skilful and indefatigable. one by one we met the hard rapids in various ways, mostly by portaging, but on the morning of the th we came to one so small and short that all agreed the canoe could be forced by with poles and track-line. it looked an insignificant ripple, no more than a fish might make with its tail, and what happened in going up, is recorded as follows: chapter xlv the river shows its teeth "oct. , .--athabaska river. in the canyon. this has been a day of horrors and mercies. we left the camp early, . --long before sunrise, and portaged the first rapid. about we came to the middle rapid; this billy thought we could track up, so with two ropes he and rob were hauling us, i in bow, preble in stem; but the strong waters of the middle part whirled the canoe around suddenly, and dashed her on a rock. there was a crash of breaking timber, a roar of the flood, and in a moment preble and i and, all the stuff were in the water. "'my journals,' i shouted as i went down, and all the time the flood was boiling in my ears my thought was, 'my journals,'--'my journals.' "the moment my mouth was up again above the water, i bubbled out, 'my journals,--save my journals,' then struck out for the shore. now i saw preble hanging on to the canoe and trying to right it. his face was calm and unchanged as when setting a mousetrap. 'never mind that, save yourself,' i called out; he made no response, and, after all, it was safest to hang on to the canoe. i was swept into a shallow place at once, and got on my feet, then gained the shore. "'my journals--save them first!' i shouted to the two boys, and now remembered with horror, how, this very morning, on account of portaging, i had for the first time put all three journals in the handbag, that had disappeared, whereas the telescope that used to hold two of them, was floating high. it is the emergency that proves your man, and i learned that day i had three of the best men that ever boarded a boat. a glance showed preble in shallow water coolly hauling in the canoe. "rob and billy bounded along the rugged shores, from one ice-covered rock to another, over piles of drift logs and along steep ledges they went; like two mountain goats; the flood was spotted with floating things, but no sign of the precious journal-bag. away out was the grub-box; square and high afloat, it struck a reef. 'you save the grub,' yelled billy above the roaring, pitiless flood, and dashed on. i knew billy's head was cool and clear, so i plunged into the water, ice-cold and waist deep--and before the merciless one could snatch it along, i had the grub-box safe. meanwhile rob and billy had danced away out of sight along that wild canyon bank. i set out after them. in some eddies various articles were afloat, a cocoa tin, a milk pot, a bag of rare orchids intended for a friend, a half sack of flour, and many little things i saved at cost of a fresh wetting each time, and on the bank, thrown hastily up by the boys, were such bundles as they had been able to rescue. "i struggled on, but the pace was killing. they were young men and dog-runners; i was left behind and was getting so tired now i could not keep warm; there was a keen frost and i was wet to the skin. the chance to rescue other things came again and again. twelve times did i plunge, into that deadly cold river, and so gathered a lot of small truck. then knowing i could do little more, and realising that everything man could do would be done without me, turned back reluctantly. preble passed me at a run, he had left the canoe in a good place and had saved some bedding. "'have you seen my journal-bag?' he made a quick gesture down the river, then dashed away. alas! i knew now, the one irreplaceable part of our cargo was deep in the treacherous flood, never to be seen again. "at the canoe i set about making a fire; there was no axe to cut kindling-wood, but a birch tree was near, and a pile of shredded birch-bark with a lot of dry willow on it made a perfect fire-lay; then i opened my waterproof matchbox. oh, horrors! the fifteen matches in it were damp and soggy. i tried to dry them by blowing on them; my frozen fingers could scarcely hold them. after a time i struck one. it was soft and useless; another and another at intervals, till thirteen; then, despairing, i laid the last two on a stone in the weak sunlight, and tried to warm myself by gathering firewood and moving quickly, but it seemed useless a very death chill was on me. i have often lighted a fire with rubbing-sticks, but i needed an axe, as well as a buckskin thong for this, and i had neither. i looked through the baggage that was saved, no matches and all things dripping wet. i might go three miles down that frightful canyon to our last camp and maybe get some living coals. but no! mindful of the forestry laws, we had as usual most carefully extinguished the fire with buckets of water, and the clothes were freezing on my back. was tired out, teeth chattering. then came the thought, why despair while two matches remain? i struck the first now, the fourteenth, and, in spite of dead fingers and the sizzly, doubtful match, it cracked, blazed, and then, oh blessed, blessed birch bark!--with any other tinder my numbed hands had surely failed--it blazed like a torch, and warmth at last was mine, and outward comfort for a house of gloom. "the boys, i knew, would work like heroes and do their part as well as man could do it, my work was right here. i gathered all the things along the beach, made great racks for drying and a mighty blaze. i had no pots or pans, but an aluminum bottle which would serve as kettle; and thus i prepared a meal of such things as were saved--a scrap of pork, some tea and a soggy mass that once was pilot bread. then sat down by the fire to spend five hours of growing horror, miles from a settlement, canoe smashed, guns gone, pots and pans gone, specimens all gone, half our bedding gone, our food gone; but all these things were nothing, compared with the loss of my three precious journals; pages of observation and discovery, geographical, botanical, and zoological, drawings, valuable records made under all sorts of trying circumstances, discovery and compass survey of the beautiful nyarling river, compass survey of the two great northern lakes, discovery of two great northern rivers, many lakes, a thousand things of interest to others and priceless to me--my summer's work--gone; yes, i could bear that, but the three chapters of life and thought irrevocably gone; the magnitude of this calamity was crushing. oh, god, this is the most awful blow that could have fallen at the end of the six months' trip. "the hours went by, and the gloom grew deeper, for there was no sign of the boys. never till now did the thought of danger enter my mind. had they been too foolhardy in their struggle with the terrible stream? had they, too, been made to feel its power? my guess was near the truth; and yet there was that awful river unchanged, glittering, surging, beautiful, exactly as on so many days before, when life on it had seemed so bright. "at three in the afternoon, i saw a fly crawl down the rocks a mile away. i fed the fire and heated up the food and tea. in twenty minutes i could see that it was rob, but both his hands were empty. 'if they had found it,' i said to myself, 'they would send it back first thing, and if he had it, he would swing it aloft,' yet no, nothing but a shiny tin was in his hands and the blow had fallen. the suspense was over, anyway. i bowed my head, 'we have done what we could.' "rob came slowly up, worn out. in his hand a tin of baking-powder. across his breast was a canvas band. he tottered toward me, too tired to speak in answer to my unspoken question, but he turned and there on his back was the canvas bag that held labour of all these long toilsome months. "'i got 'em, all right,' he managed to say, smiling in a weak way. "'and the boys?' "'all right now.' "'thank god!' i broke down, and wrung his hand; 'i won't forget,' was all i could say. hot tea revived him, loosened his tongue, and i heard the story. "i knew,' he said, 'what was first to save when i seen you got ashore. me and billy we run like crazy, we see dat bag 'way out in the deep strong water. de odder tings came in de eddies, but dat bag it keep 'way out, but we run along de rocks; after a mile it came pretty near a point, and billy, he climb on a rock and reach out, but he fall in deep water and was carried far, so he had to swim for his life. i jump on rocks anoder mile to anoder point; i got ahead of de bag, den i get two logs, and hold dem between my legs for raft, and push out; but dat dam river he take dem logs very slow, and dat bag very fast, so it pass by. but billy he swim ashore, and run some more, and he make a raft; but de raft he stick on rock, and de bag he never stick, but go like hell. "'den i say, "here, billy, you give me yo' sash," and i run tree mile more, so far i loss sight of dat bag and make good raft. by'mebye billy he come shouting and point, i push out in river, and paddle, and watch, and sure dere come dat bag. my, how he travel! far out now; but i paddle and push hard and bump he came at raft and i grab him. oh! maybe i warn't glad! ice on river, frost in air, mile run on snowy rocks, but i no care, i bet i make dat boss glad when he see me." "glad! i never felt more thankful in my life! my heart swelled with gratitude to the brave boys that had leaped, scrambled, slidden, tumbled, fallen, swum or climbed over those perilous, horrible miles of icy rocks and storm-piled timbers, to save the books that, to them, seemed of so little value, but which they yet knew were, to me, the most precious of all my things. guns, cameras, food, tents, bedding, dishes, were trifling losses, and the horror of that day was turned to joy by the crowning mercy of its close. "'i won't forget you when we reach the landing, rob!' were, the meagre words that rose to my lips, but the tone of voice supplied what the words might lack. and i did not forget him or the others; and robillard said afterward, 'by gar, dat de best day's work i ever done, by gar, de time i run down dat hell river after dem dam books!'" chapter xlvi bright again in an hour the other men came, back. the rest of the day we put in drying the things, especially our bedding. we used the aluminum bottle, and an old meat tin for kettle; some bacon, happily saved, was fried on sticks, and when we turned in that night it was with light and thankful hearts, in spite of our manifold minor losses. morning dawned bright and beautiful and keen. how glorious that surging river looked in its noble canyon; but we were learning thoroughly that noble scenery means dangerous travel--and there was much noble scenery ahead; and i, at least, felt much older than before this upset. the boys put in a couple of hours repairing the canoe, then they studied the river in hopes of recovering the guns. how well the river-men seemed to know it! its every ripple and curl told them a story of the bottom and the flood. "there must be a ledge there," said billy, "just where we upset. if the guns went down at once they are there. if they were carried at all, the bottom is smooth to the second ledge and they are there." he pointed a hundred yards away. so they armed themselves with grappling-poles that had nails for claws. then we lowered rob in the canoe into the rapid and held on while he fished above the ledge. "i tink i feel 'em," said rob, again and again, but could not bring them up. then billy tried. "yes, they are there." but the current was too fierce and the hook too poor; he could not hold them. then i said: "there is only one thing to do. a man must go in at the end of the rope; maybe he can reach down. i'll never send any man into such a place, but i'll go myself." so i stripped, padded the track-line with a towel and put it around my waist, then plunged in. ouch! it was cold, and going seven miles an hour. the boys lowered me to the spot where i was supposed to dive or reach down. it was only five feet deep, but, struggle as i might, i could not get even my arm down. i ducked and dived, but i was held in the surface like a pennant on an air-blast. in a few minutes the icy flood had robbed me of all sensation in my limbs, and showed how impossible was the plan, so i gave the signal to haul me in; which they did, nearly cutting my body in two with the rope. and if ever there was a grovelling fire-worshipper, it was my frozen self when i landed. now we tried a new scheme. a tall spruce on the shore was leaning over the place; fifty feet out, barely showing, was the rock that wrecked us. we cut the spruce so it fell with its butt on the shore, and lodged against the rock. on this, now, rob and billy walked out and took turns grappling. luck was with rob. in a few minutes he triumphantly hauled up the rifle and a little later the shotgun, none the worse. now, we had saved everything except the surplus provisions and my little camera, trifling matters, indeed; so it was with feelings of triumph that we went on south that day. in the afternoon, as we were tracking up the last part of the boiler rapid, billy at the bow, rob on the shore, the line broke, and we were only saved from another dreadful disaster by billy's nerve and quickness; for he fearlessly leaped overboard, had the luck to find bottom, and held the canoe's head with all his strength. the rope was mended and a safe way was found. that time i realized the force of an indian reply to a trader who sought to sell him a cheap rope. "in the midst of a rapid one does not count the cost of the line." at night we camped in a glorious red sunset, just above the boiler rapid. on the shore was a pile of flour in sacks, inscribed in cree, "gordon his flour." here it was, the most prized foreign product in the country, lying unprotected by the highway, and no man seemed to think the owner foolish. whatever else, these indians are, they are absolutely honest. the heavenly weather of the indian summer was now upon us. we had left all storms and frost behind, and the next day, our final trouble, the lack of food, was ended. a great steamer hove in sight--at least it looked like a steamer--but, steadily coming on, it proved a scow with an awning and a stove on it. the boys soon recognised the man at the bow as william gordon, trader at fort mcmurray. we hailed him to stop when he was a quarter of a mile ahead, and he responded with his six sturdy oarsmen; but such was the force of the stream that he did not reach the shore till a quarter-mile below us. "hello, boys, what's up?" he shouted in the brotherly way that all white men seem to get when meeting another of their race in a savage land. "had an upset and lost all our food." "ho! that's easy fixed." then did that generous man break open boxes, bales, and packages and freely gave without a stint, all the things we needed: kettles, pans, sugar, oatmeal, beans, jam, etc. "how are you fixed for whiskey?" he asked, opening his own private, not-for-sale supply. "we have none and we never use it," was the reply. then i fear i fell very low in the eyes of my crew. "never use it! don't want it! you must be pretty damn lonesome in a country like this," and he seemed quite unable to grasp the idea of travellers who would not drink. thus the last of our troubles was ended. thenceforth the journey was one of warm, sunny weather and pleasant travel. each night the sun went down in red and purple fire; and each morning rose in gold on a steel-blue sky. there was only one bad side to this, that was the constant danger of forest fire. on leaving each camp--we made four every day--i put the fire out with plenty of water, many buckets. rob thought it unnecessary to take so much trouble. but great clouds of smoke were seen at several reaches of the river, to tell how dire it was that other campers had not done the same. chapter xlvii when nature smiled it seems a law that every deep valley must be next a high mountain. our sorrows ended when we quit the canyon, and then, as though in compensation, nature crammed the days with the small joys that seem so little and mean so much to the naturalist. those last few days, unmarred of the smallest hardship, were one long pearl-string of the things i came for--the chances to see and be among wild life. each night the coyote and the fox came rustling about our camp, or the weasel and woodmouse scrambled over our sleeping forms. each morning at gray dawn, gray wiskajon and his mate--always a pair came wailing through the woods, to flirt about the camp and steal scraps of meat that needed not to be stolen, being theirs by right. their small cousins, the chicadees, came, too, at breakfast time, and in our daily travelling, ruffed grouse, ravens, pine grosbeaks, bohemian chatterers, hairy woodpeckers, shrikes, tree-sparrows, linnets, and snowbirds enlivened the radiant sunlit scene. one afternoon i heard a peculiar note, at first like the "cheepy-teet-teet" of the pine grosbeak, only louder and more broken, changing to the jingling of blackbirds in spring, mixed with some bluejay "jay-jays," and a robin-like whistle; then i saw that it came from a northern shrike on the bushes just ahead of us. it flew off much after the manner of the summer shrike, with flight not truly undulatory nor yet straight, but flapping half a dozen times--then a pause and repeat. he would dive along down near the ground, then up with a fine display of wings and tail to the next perch selected, there to repeat with fresh variations and shrieks, the same strange song, and often indeed sang it on the wing, until at last he crossed the river. sometimes we rode in the canoe, sometimes tramped along the easy shore. once i came across a great homed owl in the grass by the water. he had a fish over a foot long, and flew with difficulty when be bore it off. another time i saw a horned owl mobbed by two wiskajons. spruce partridge as well as the ruffed species became common: one morning some of the former marched into camp at breakfast time. rob called them "chickens"; farther south they are called "fool hens," which is descriptive and helps to distinguish them from their neighbours--the "sage hens." frequently now we heard the toy-trumpeting and the clack of the pileated woodpecker or cock-of-the-pines, a canadian rather than a hudsonian species. one day, at our three o'clock meal, a great splendid fellow of the kind gave us a thrill. "clack-clack-clack," we heard him coming, and he bounded through the air into the trees over our camp. still uttering his loud "clack-clack-clack," he swung from tree to tree in one long festoon of flight, spread out on the up-swoop like an enormous black butterfly with white-starred wings. "clack-clack-clack," he stirred the echoes from the other shore, and ignored us as he swooped and clanged. there was much in his song of the woodpecker tang; it was very nearly the springtime "cluck-cluck" of a magnified flicker in black; and i gazed with open mouth until he thought fit to bound through the air to another woods. this was my first close meeting with the king of the woodpeckers; i long to know him better. mammals, too, abounded, but we saw their signs rather than themselves, for most are nocturnal. the redsquirrels, so scarce last spring, were quite plentiful, and the beach at all soft places showed abundant trace of weasels, chipmunks, foxes, coyotes, lynx, wolves, moose, caribou, deer. one wolf track was of special interest. it was / inches, long and travelling with it was the track of a small wolf; it vividly brought back the days of lobo and blanca, and i doubt not was another case of mates; we were evidently in the range of a giant wolf who was travelling around with his wife. another large wolf track was lacking the two inner toes of the inner hind foot, and the bind foot pads were so faint as to be lost at times, although the toes were deeply impressed in the mud. this probably meant that he, had been in a trap and was starved to a skeleton. we did not see any of these, but we did see the post-graduate evidences of their diet, and were somewhat surprised to learn that it included much fruit, especially of the uva-ursi. we also saw proof that they had eaten part of a moose; probably they had killed it. coyote abounded now, and these we saw from time to time. once i tramped up within thirty feet of a big fellow who was pursuing some studies behind a log. but again the incontrovertible-postmortem-evidence of their food habits was a surprise--the bulk of their sustenance now was berries, in one case this was mixed with the tail hairs--but no body hairs--of a chipmunk. i suppose that chipmunk escaped minus his tail. there was much evidence that all those creatures that can eat fruit were in good condition, but that flesh in its most accessible form--rabbits--was unknown, and even next best thing--the mice--were too scarce to count; this weighed with especial force on the lynxes; they alone seemed unable to eke out with fruit. the few we saw were starving and at our camp of the th we found the wretched body of one that was dead of hunger. on that, same night we had a curious adventure with a weasel. all were sitting around the camp-fire at bed-time, when i heard a distinct patter on the leaves. "something coming," i whispered. all held still, then out of the gloom came bounding a snow-white weasel. preble was lying on his back with his hands clasped behind his head and the weasel fearlessly jumped on my colleague's broad chest, and stood peering about. in a flash preble's right elbow was down and held the weasel prisoner, his left hand coming to assist. now, it is pretty well known that if you and a weasel grab each other at the same time he has choice of holds. "i have got him," said preble, then added feelingly, "but he got me first. suffering moses! the little cuss is grinding his teeth in deeper." the muffled screaming of the small demon died away as preble's strong left hand crushed out his life, but as long as there was a spark of it remaining, those desperate jaws were grinding deeper into his thumb. it seemed a remarkably long affair to us, and from time to time, as preble let off some fierce ejaculation, one of us would ask, "hello! are you two still at it," or, "how are you and your friend these times, preble?" in a few minutes it was over, but that creature in his fury seemed to have inspired himself with lock-jaw, for his teeth were so driven in and double-locked, that i had to pry the jaws apart before the hand was free. the weasel may now be seen in the american museum, and preble in the agricultural department at washington, the latter none the worse. so wore away the month, the last night came, a night of fireside joy at home (for was it not hallowe'en?), and our celebration took the form of washing, shaving, mending clothes, in preparation for our landing in the morning. chapter xlviii the end all that night of hallowe'en, a partridge drummed near my untented couch on the balsam boughs. what a glorious sound of woods and life triumphant it seemed; and why did he drum at night? simply because he had more joy than the short fall day gave him time to express. he seemed to be beating our march of victory, for were we not in triumph coming home? the gray firstlight came through the trees and showed us lying each in his blanket, covered with leaves, like babes in the woods. the gray jays came wailing through the gloom, a faroff cock-of-the-pines was trumpeting in the lovely, unplagued autumn woods; it seemed as though all the very best things in the land were assembled and the bad things all left out, so that our final memories should have no evil shade. the scene comes brightly back again, the sheltering fir-clad shore, the staunch canoe skimming the river's tranquil reach, the water smiling round her bow, as we push from this, the last of full five hundred camps. the dawn fog lifts, the river sparkles in the sun, we round the last of a thousand headlands. the little frontier town of the landing swings into view once more--what a metropolis it seems to us now!--the ann seton lands at the spot where six months ago she had entered the water. now in quick succession come the thrills of the larger life--the letters from home, the telegraph office, the hearty good-bye to the brave riverboys, and my long canoe-ride is over. i had held in my heart the wanderlust till it swept me away, and sent me afar on the back trail of the north wind; i have lived in the mighty boreal forest, with its red-men, its buffalo, its moose, and its wolves; i have seen the great lone land with its endless plains and prairies that do not know the face of man or the crack of a rifle; i have been with its countless lakes that re-echo nothing but the wail and yodel of the loons, or the mournful music of the arctic wolf. i have wandered on the plains of the musk-ox, the home of the snowbird and the caribou. these were the things i had burned to do. was i content? content!! is a man ever content with a single sip of joy long-dreamed of? four years have gone since then. the wanderlust was not stifled any more than a fire is stifled by giving it air. i have taken into my heart a longing, given shape to an ancient instinct. have i not found for myself a kingdom and become a part of it? my reason and my heart say, "go back to see it all." grant only this, that i gather again the same brave men that manned my frail canoe, and as sure as life and strength continue i shall go. [illustration: blown to bits or the lonely man of rakata] [illustration: came unexpectedly on a cavern."--page .--(_frontispiece_.)] blown to bits or the lonely man of rakata. a tale of the malay archipelago. by r.m. ballantyne, author of "blue lights, or hot work in the soudan;" "the fugitives;" "red rooney;" "the rover of the andes;" "the wild man of the west;" "the red eric;" "freaks on the fells;" "the young trawler;" "dusty diamonds;" "the battery and the boiler;" "post haste;" "black ivory;" "the iron horse;" "fighting the flames;" "the lifeboat;" etc. etc. with illustrations by the author. _eighth thousand_. london: james nisbet & co., berners street. . [_all rights reserved_.] preface. the extremely violent nature of the volcanic eruption in krakatoa in , the peculiar beauty of those parts of the eastern seas where the event occurred, the wide-spread influences of the accompanying phenomena, and the tremendous devastation which resulted, have all inspired me with a desire to bring the matter, in the garb of a tale, before that portion of the juvenile world which accords me a hearing. for most of the facts connected with the eruption which have been imported into my story, i have to acknowledge myself indebted to the recently published important and exhaustive "report" of the krakatoa committee, appointed by the royal society to make a thorough investigation of the whole matter in all its phases. i have also to acknowledge having obtained much interesting and useful information from the following among other works:--_the malay archipelago_, by a.r. wallace; _a naturalist's wanderings in the eastern archipelago_, by h.o. forbes; and darwin's _journal of researches_ round the world in h.m.s. "beagle." r.m. ballantyne. harrow-on-the hill, . contents. page chap. i.--the play commences, ii.--the haven in the coral ring, iii.--interesting particulars of various kinds, iv.--nigel undergoes some quite new and interesting experiences, v.--captain roy surprises and gratifies his son, who surprises a negro, and suddenly forms an astonishing resolve, vi.--the hermit of rakata introduced, vii.--wonders of the hermit's cave and island, viii.--perboewatan becomes moderately violent, ix.--describes, among other things, a singular meeting under peculiar circumstances, x.--a curious sea-going craft--the unknown voyage begun, xi.--canoeing on the sea--a mysterious night-surprise and sudden flight, xii.--weathering a storm in the open sea, xiii.--friends are met with, also pirates, and a life-or-death paddle ensues, xiv.--a new friend found--new dangers encountered and new hopes delayed, xv.--hunting the great man-monkey, xvi.--begins with a terrible fight and ends with a hasty flight, xvii.--tells of the joys, etc., of the professor in the sumatran forests, also of a catastrophe averted, xviii.--a trying ordeal--danger threatens and flight again resolved on, xix.--a terrible murder and a strange revelation, xx.--nigel makes a confidant of moses--undertakes a lonely watch and sees something wonderful, xxi.--in which the professor distinguishes himself, xxii.--a python discovered and a geyser interviewed, xxiii.--tells of volcanic fires and a strange return "home," xxiv.--an awful night and terrible morning, xxv.--adventures of the "sunshine" and an unexpected reunion, xxvi.--a climax, xxvii.--"blown to bits," xxviii.--the fate of the "sunshine," xxix.--tells chiefly of the wonderful effects of this eruption on the world at large, xxx.--coming events, etc.--wonderful changes among the islands, xxxi.--ends with a struggle between inclination and duty, xxxii.--the last, list of illustrations. vignette title. "he came unexpectedly on a cavern."--page , _frontispiece_. art on the keeling islands, _facing page_ they discover a pirates' bivouac, "do you hear?" said verkimier, sternly, blown to bits blown to bits a tale of the malay archipelago. chapter i. the play commences. blown to bits; bits so inconceivably, so ineffably, so "microscopically" small that--but let us not anticipate. about the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year , a large brig lay becalmed on the indian ocean, not far from that region of the eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes, coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the malay archipelago. two men slowly paced the brig's quarter-deck for some time in silence, as if the elemental quietude which prevailed above and below had infected them. both men were broad, and apparently strong. one of them was tall; the other short. more than this the feeble light of the binnacle-lamp failed to reveal. "father," said the tall man to the short one, "i do like to hear the gentle pattering of the reef points on the sails; it is so suggestive of peace and rest. doesn't it strike you so?" "can't say it does, lad," replied the short man, in a voice which, naturally mellow and hearty, had been rendered nautically harsh and gruff by years of persistent roaring in the teeth of wind and weather. "more suggestive to me of lost time and lee-way." the son laughed lightly, a pleasant, kindly, soft laugh, in keeping with the scene and hour. "why, father," he resumed after a brief pause, "you are so sternly practical that you drive all the sentiment out of a fellow. i had almost risen to the regions of poetry just now, under the pleasant influences of nature." "glad i got hold of 'ee, lad, before you rose," growled the captain of the brig--for such the short man was. "when a young fellow like you gets up into the clouds o' poetry, he's like a man in a balloon--scarce knows how he got there; doesn't know very well how he's to get down, an' has no more idea where he's goin' to, or what he's drivin' at, than the man in the moon. take my advice, lad, an' get out o' poetical regions as fast as ye can. it don't suit a young fellow who has got to do duty as first mate of his father's brig and push his way in the world as a seaman. when i sent you to school an' made you a far better scholar than myself, i had no notion they was goin' to teach you poetry." the captain delivered the last word with an emphasis which was meant to convey the idea of profound but not ill-natured scorn. "why, father," returned the young man, in a tone which plainly told of a gleeful laugh within him, which was as yet restrained, "it was not school that put poetry into me--if indeed there be any in me at all." "what was it, then?" "it was mother," returned the youth, promptly, "and surely you don't object to poetry in _her_." "object!" cried the captain, as though speaking in the teeth of a nor'wester. "of course not. but then, nigel, poetry in your mother _is_ poetry, an' she can _do_ it, lad--screeds of it--equal to anything that dibdin, or, or,--that other fellow, you know, i forget his name--ever put pen to--why, your mother is herself a poem! neatly made up, rounded off at the corners, french-polished and all shipshape. ha! you needn't go an' shelter yourself under _her_ wings, wi' your inflated, up in the clouds, reef-point-patterin', balloon-like nonsense." "well, well, father, don't get so hot about it; i won't offend again. besides, i'm quite content to take a very low place so long as you give mother her right position. we won't disagree about that, but i suspect that we differ considerably about the other matter you mentioned." "what other matter?" demanded the sire. "my doing duty as first mate," answered the son. "it must be quite evident to you by this time, i should think, that i am not cut out for a sailor. after all your trouble, and my own efforts during this long voyage round the cape, i'm no better than an amateur. i told you that a youth taken fresh from college, without any previous experience of the sea except in boats, could not be licked into shape in so short a time. it is absurd to call me first mate of the _sunshine_. that is in reality mr. moor's position--" "no, it isn't, nigel, my son," interrupted the captain, firmly. "mr. moor is _second_ mate. _i_ say so, an' if i, the skipper and owner o' this brig, don't know it, i'd like to know who does! now, look here, lad. you've always had a bad habit of underratin' yourself an' contradictin' your father. i'm an old salt, you know, an' i tell 'ee that for the time you've bin at sea, an' the opportunities you've had, you're a sort o' walkin' miracle. you're no more an ammytoor than i am, and another voyage or two will make you quite fit to work your way all over the ocean, an' finally to take command o' this here brig, an' let your old father stay at home wi'--wi'--" "with the poetess," suggested nigel. "just so--wi' the equal o' dibdin, not to mention the other fellow. now it seems to me--. how's 'er head?" the captain suddenly changed the subject here. nigel, who chanced to be standing next the binnacle, stooped to examine the compass, and the flood of light from its lamp revealed a smooth but manly and handsome face which seemed quite to harmonise with the cheery voice that belonged to it. "nor'-east-and-by-east," he said. "are 'ee sure, lad?" "your doubting me, father, does not correspond with your lately expressed opinion of my seamanship; does it?" "let me see," returned the captain, taking no notice of the remark, and stooping to look at the compass with a critical eye. the flood of light, in this case, revealed a visage in which good-nature had evidently struggled for years against the virulent opposition of wind and weather, and had come off victorious, though not without evidences of the conflict. at the same time it revealed features similar to those of the son, though somewhat rugged and red, besides being smothered in hair. "vulcan must be concoctin' a new brew," he muttered, as he gazed inquiringly over the bow, "or he's stirring up an old one." "what d' you mean, father?" "i mean that there's somethin' goin' on there-away--in the neighbourhood o' sunda straits," answered the captain, directing attention to that point of the compass towards which the ship's head was turned. "darkness like this don't happen without a cause. i've had some experience o' them seas before now, an' depend upon it that vulcan is stirring up some o' the fires that are always blazin' away, more or less, around the straits settlements." "by which you mean, i suppose, that one of the numerous volcanoes in the malay archipelago has become active," said nigel; "but are we not some five or six hundred miles to the sou'-west of sunda? surely the influence of volcanic action could scarcely reach so far." "so far!" repeated the captain, with a sort of humph which was meant to indicate mild contempt; "that shows how little you know, with all your book-learnin', about volcanoes." "i don't profess to know much, father," retorted nigel in a tone of cheery defiance. "why, boy," continued the other, resuming his perambulation of the deck, "explosions have sometimes been heard for hundreds, ay _hundreds_, of miles. i thought i heard one just now, but no doubt the unusual darkness works up my imagination and makes me suspicious, for it's wonderful what fools the imag--. hallo! d'ee feel _that_?" he went smartly towards the binnacle-light, as he spoke, and, holding an arm close to it, found that his sleeve was sprinkled with a thin coating of fine dust. "didn't i say so?" he exclaimed in some excitement, as he ran to the cabin skylight and glanced earnestly at the barometer. that glance caused him to shout a sudden order to take in all sail. at the same moment a sigh of wind swept over the sleeping sea as if the storm-fiend were expressing regret at having been so promptly discovered and met. seamen are well used to sudden danger--especially in equatorial seas--and to prompt, unquestioning action. not many minutes elapsed before the _sunshine_ was under the smallest amount of sail she could carry. even before this had been well accomplished a stiff breeze was tearing up the surface of the sea into wild foam, which a furious gale soon raised into raging billows. the storm came from the sunda straits about which the captain and his son had just been talking, and was so violent that they could do nothing but scud before it under almost bare poles. all that night it raged. towards morning it increased to such a pitch that one of the back-stays of the foremast gave way. the result was that the additional strain thus thrown on the other stays was too much for them. they also parted, and the fore-top-mast, snapping short off with a report like a cannon-shot, went over the side, carrying the main-topgallant-mast and all its gear along with it. chapter ii. the haven in the coral ring. it seemed as if the storm-fiend were satisfied with the mischief he had accomplished, for immediately after the disaster just described, the gale began to moderate, and when the sun rose it had been reduced to a stiff but steady breeze. from the moment of the accident onward, the whole crew had been exerting themselves to the utmost with axe and knife to cut and clear away the wreck of the masts and repair damages. not the least energetic among them was our amateur first mate, nigel roy. when all had been made comparatively snug, he went aft to where his father stood beside the steersman, with his legs nautically wide apart, his sou'-wester pulled well down over his frowning brows, and his hands in their native pockets. "this is a bad ending to a prosperous voyage," said the youth, sadly; "but you don't seem to take it much to heart, father!" "how much or little i take it to heart you know nothin' whatever about, my boy, seein' that i don't wear my heart on my coat-sleeve, nor yet on the point of my nose, for the inspection of all and sundry. besides, you can't tell whether it's a bad or a good endin', for it has not ended yet one way or another. moreover, what appears bad is often found to be good, an' what seems good is pretty often uncommon bad." "you are a walking dictionary of truisms, father! i suppose you mean to take a philosophical view of the misfortune and make the best of it," said nigel, with what we may style one of his twinkling smiles, for on nearly all occasions that young man's dark, brown eyes twinkled, in spite of him, as vigorously as any "little star" that was ever told in prose or song to do so--and much more expressively, too, because of the eyebrows of which little stars appear to be destitute. "no, lad," retorted the captain; "i take a common-sense view--not a philosophical one; an' when you've bin as long at sea as i have, you'll call nothin' a misfortune until it's proved to be such. the only misfortune i have at present is a son who cannot see things in the same light as his father sees 'em." "well, then, according to your own principle that is the reverse of a misfortune, for if i saw everything in the same light that you do, you'd have no pleasure in talking to me, you'd have no occasion to reason me out of error, or convince me of truth. take the subject of poetry, now--" "luff," said captain roy, sternly, to the man at the wheel. when the man at the wheel had gone through the nautical evolution involved in "luff," the captain turned to his son and said abruptly-- "we'll run for the cocos-keelin' islands, nigel, an' refit." "are the keeling islands far off?" "lift up your head and look straight along the bridge of your nose, lad, and you'll see them. they're an interesting group, are the keelin' islands. volcanic, they are, with a coral top-dressin', so to speak. sit down here an' i'll tell 'ee about 'em." nigel shut up the telescope through which he had been examining the thin, blue line on the horizon that indicated the islands in question, and sat down on the cabin skylight beside his father. "they've got a romantic history too, though a short one, an' are set like a gem on the bosom of the deep blue sea--" "come, father, you're drifting out of your true course--that's poetical!" "i know it, lad, but i'm only quotin' your mother. well, you must know that the keelin' islands--we call them keelin' for short--were uninhabited between fifty and sixty years ago, when a scotsman named ross, thinking them well situated as a port of call for the repair and provisioning of vessels on their way to australia and china, set his heart on them and quietly took possession in the name of england. then he went home to fetch his wife and family of six children, intendin' to settle on the islands for good. returning in with the family and fourteen adventurers, twelve of whom were english, one a portugee and one a javanee, he found to his disgust that an englishman named hare had stepped in before him and taken possession. this hare was a very bad fellow; a rich man who wanted to live like a rajah, with lots o' native wives and retainers, an' be a sort of independent prince. of course he was on bad terms at once with ross, who, finding that things were going badly, felt that it would be unfair to hold his people to the agreement which was made when he thought the whole group was his own, so he offered to release them. they all, except two men and one woman, accepted the release and went off in a gun-boat that chanced to touch there at the time. for a good while hare and his rival lived there--the one tryin' to get the dutch, the other to induce the english government to claim possession. neither dutch nor english would do so at first, but the english did it at long-last--in --and annexed the islands to the government of ceylon. "long before that date, however--before --hare left and went to singapore, where he died, leaving ross in possession--the 'king of the cocos islands' as he came to be called. in a few years--chiefly through the energy of ross's eldest son, to whom he soon gave up the management of affairs--the group became a prosperous settlement. its ships traded in cocoa-nuts (the chief produce of the islands) throughout all the straits settlements, and boat-buildin' became one of their most important industries. but there was one thing that prevented it from bein' a very happy though prosperous place, an' that was the coolies who had been hired in java, for the only men that could be got there at first were criminals who had served their time in the chain-gangs of batavia. as these men were fit for anything--from pitch-and-toss to murder--and soon outnumbered the colonists, the place was kept in constant alarm and watchfulness. for, as i dare say you know, the malays are sometimes liable to have the spirit of _amok_ on them, which leads them to care for and fear nothin', and to go in for a fight-to-death, from which we get our sayin'--_run amuck_. an' when a strong fellow is goin' about loose in this state o' mind, it's about as bad as havin' a tiger prowlin' in one's garden." "well, sometimes two or three o' these coolies would mutiny and hide in the woods o' one o' the smaller uninhabited islands. an' the colonists would have no rest till they hunted them down. so, to keep matters right, they had to be uncommon strict. it was made law that no one should spend the night on any but what was called the home island without permission. every man was bound to report himself at the guard-house at a fixed hour; every fire to be out at sunset, and every boat was numbered and had to be in its place before that time. so they went on till the year , when a disaster befell them that made a considerable change--at first for the worse, but for the better in the long-run. provin' the truth, my lad, of what i was--well, no--i was goin' to draw a moral here, but i won't! "it was a cyclone that did the business. cyclones have got a free-an'-easy way of makin' a clean sweep of the work of years in a few hours. this cyclone completely wrecked the homes of the keelin' islanders, and ross--that's the second ross, the son of the first one--sent home for _his_ son, who was then a student of engineering in glasgow, to come out and help him to put things to rights. ross the third obeyed the call, like a good son,--observe that, nigel." "all right, father, fire away!" "like a good son," repeated the captain, "an' he turned out to be a first-rate man, which was lucky, for his poor father died soon after, leavin' him to do the work alone. an' well able was the young engineer to do it. he got rid o' the chain-gang men altogether, and hired none but men o' the best character in their place. he cleared off the forests and planted the ground with cocoa-nut palms. got out steam mills, circular saws, lathes, etc., and established a system of general education with a younger brother as head-master--an' tail-master too, for i believe there was only one. he also taught the men to work in brass, iron, and wood, and his wife--a cocos girl that he married after comin' out--taught all the women and girls to sew, cook, and manage the house. in short, everything went on in full swing of prosperity, till the year , when the island-born inhabitants were about , as contented and happy as could be. "in january of that year another cyclone paid them a visit. the barometer gave them warning, and, remembering the visit of fourteen years before, they made ready to receive the new visitor. all the boats were hauled up to places of safety, and every other preparation was made. down it came, on the afternoon o' the th--worse than they had expected. many of the storehouses and mills had been lately renewed or built. they were all gutted and demolished. everything movable was swept away like bits of paper. lanes, hundreds of yards in length, were cleared among the palm trees by the whirling wind, which seemed to perform a demon-dance of revelry among them. in some cases it snapped trees off close to the ground. in others it seemed to swoop down from above, lick up a patch of trees bodily and carry them clean away, leaving the surrounding trees untouched. sometimes it would select a tree of thirty years growth, seize it, spin it round, and leave it a permanent spiral screw. i was in these regions about the time, and had the account from a native who had gone through it all and couldn't speak of it except with glaring eyeballs and gasping breath. "about midnight of the th the gale was at its worst. darkness that could be felt between the flashes of lightning. thunder that was nearly drowned by the roaring of the wind an' the crashing of everything all round. to save their lives the people had to fling themselves into ditches and hollows of the ground. mr. ross and some of his people were lying in the shelter of a wall near his house. there had been a schooner lying not far off. when mr. ross raised his head cautiously above the wall to have a look to wind'ard he saw the schooner comin' straight for him on the top of a big wave. 'hold on!' he shouted, fell flat down, and laid hold o' the nearest bush. next moment the wave burst right over the wall, roared on up to the garden, yards above highwater mark, and swept his house clean away! by good fortune the wall stood the shock, and the schooner stuck fast just before reachin' it, but so near that the end of the jib-boom passed right over the place where the household lay holdin' on for dear life and half drowned. it was a tremendous night," concluded the captain, "an' nearly everything on the islands was wrecked, but they've survived it, as you'll see. though it's seven years since that cyclone swep' over them, they're all right and goin' ahead again, full swing, as if nothin' had happened." "and is ross iii. still king?" asked nigel with much interest. "ay--at least he was king a few years ago when i passed this way and had occasion to land to replace a tops'l yard that had been carried away." "then you won't arrive as a stranger?" "i should think not," returned the captain, getting up and gazing steadily at the _atoll_ or group of islets enclosed within a coral ring which they were gradually approaching. night had descended, however, and the gale had decreased almost to a calm, ere they steered through the narrow channel--or what we may call a broken part of the ring--which led to the calm lagoon inside. nigel roy leaned over the bow, watching with profound attention the numerous phosphorescent fish and eel-like creatures which darted hither and thither like streaks of silver from beneath their advancing keel. he had enough of the naturalist in him to arouse in his mind keen interest in the habits and action of the animal life around him, and these denizens of the coral-groves were as new to him as their appearance was unexpected. "you'll find 'em very kind and hospitable, lad," said the captain to his son. "what, the fish?" "no, the inhabitants. port--port--steady!" "steady it is!" responded the man at the wheel. "let go!" shouted the captain. a heavy plunge, followed by the rattling of chains and swinging round of the brig, told that they had come to an anchor in the lagoon of the cocos-keeling islands. chapter iii. interesting particulars of various kinds. by the first blush of dawn nigel roy hastened on deck, eager to see the place in regard to which his father's narrative had awakened in him considerable interest. it not only surpassed but differed from all his preconceived ideas. the brig floated on the bosom of a perfectly calm lake of several miles in width, the bottom of which, with its bright sand and brilliant coral-beds, could be distinctly seen through the pellucid water. this lake was encompassed by a reef of coral which swelled here and there into tree-clad islets, and against which the breakers of the indian ocean were dashed into snowy foam in their vain but ceaseless efforts to invade the calm serenity of the lagoon. smaller islands, rich with vegetation, were scattered here and there within the charmed circle, through which several channels of various depths and sizes connected the lagoon with the ocean. "we shall soon have the king himself off to welcome us," said captain roy as he came on deck and gave a sailor-like glance all round the horizon and then up at the sky from the mere force of habit. "visitors are not numerous here. a few scientific men have landed now and again; darwin the great naturalist among others in , and forbes in . no doubt they'll be very glad to welcome nigel roy in this year of grace ." "but i'm not a naturalist, father, more's the pity." "no matter, lad; you're an ammytoor first mate, an' pr'aps a poet may count for somethin' here. they lead poetical lives and are fond o' poetry." "perhaps that accounts for the fondness you say they have for you, father." "just so, lad. see!--there's a boat puttin' off already: the king, no doubt." he was right. mr. ross, the appointed governor, and "king of the cocos islands," was soon on deck, heartily shaking hands with and welcoming captain roy as an old friend. he carried him and his son off at once to breakfast in his island-home; introduced nigel to his family, and then showed them round the settlement, assuring them at the same time that all its resources were at their disposal for the repair of the _sunshine_. "thank 'ee kindly," said the captain in reply, "but i'll only ask for a stick to rig up a foretop-mast to carry us to batavia, where we'll give the old craft a regular overhaul--for it's just possible she may have received some damage below the water-line, wi' bumpin' on the mast and yards." the house of the "king" was a commodious, comfortable building in the midst of a garden, in which there were roses in great profusion, as well as fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. each keeling family possessed a neat well-furnished plank cottage enclosed in a little garden, besides a boat-house at the water-edge on the inner or lagoon side of the reef, and numerous boats were lying about on the white sand. the islanders, being almost born sailors, were naturally very skilful in everything connected with the sea. there was about them a good deal of that kindly innocence which one somehow expects to find associated with a mild paternal government and a limited intercourse with the surrounding world, and nigel was powerfully attracted by them from the first. after an extensive ramble, during which mr. ross plied the captain with eager questions as to the latest news from the busy centres of civilisation--especially with reference to new inventions connected with engineering--the island king left them to their own resources till dinner-time, saying that he had duties to attend to connected with the kingdom! "now, boy," said the captain when their host had gone, "what'll 'ee do? take a boat and have a pull over the lagoon, or go with me to visit a family i'm particularly fond of, an' who are uncommon fond o' _me!"_ "visit the family, of course," said nigel. "i can have a pull any day." "come along then." he led the way to one of the neatest of the plank cottages, which stood on the highest ridge of the island, so that from the front windows it commanded a view of the great blue ocean with its breakers that fringed the reef as with a ring of snow, while, on the opposite side, lay the peaceful waters and islets of the lagoon. a shout of joyful surprise was uttered by several boys and girls at sight of the captain, for during his former visit he had won their hearts by telling them wild stories of the sea, one half of each story being founded on fact and personal experience, the other half on a vivid imagination! "we are rejoiced to see you," said the mother of the juveniles, a stout woman of mixed nationality--that of dutch apparently predominating. she spoke english, however, remarkably well, as did many of the cocos people, though malay is the language of most of them. the boys and girls soon hauled the captain down on a seat and began to urge him to tell them stories, using a style of english that was by no means equal to that of the mother. "stop, stop, let me see sister kathy first. i can't begin without her. where is she?" "somewhere, i s'pose," said the eldest boy. "no doubt of that. go--fetch her," returned the captain. at that moment a back-door opened, and a girl of about seventeen years of age entered. she was pleasant-looking rather than pretty--tall, graceful, and with magnificent black eyes. "here she comes," cried the captain, rising and kissing her. "why, kathy, how you've grown since i saw you last! quite a woman, i declare!" kathy was not too much of a woman, however, to join her brothers and sisters in forcing the captain into a seat and demanding a story on the spot. "stop, stop!" cried the captain, grasping round their waists a small boy and girl who had already clambered on his knees. "let me inquire about my old friends first--and let me introduce my son to you--you've taken no notice of _him_ yet! that's not hospitable." all eyes were turned at once on nigel, some boldly, others with a shy inquiring look, as though to say, can _you_ tell stories? "come, now," said nigel, advancing, "since you are all so fond of my father, i must shake hands with you all round." the hearty way in which this was done at once put the children at their ease. they admitted him, as it were, into their circle, and then turning again to the captain continued their clamour for a story. "no, no--about old friends first. how--how's old mother morris?" "quite well," they shouted. "fatterer than ever," added an urchin, who in england would have been styled cheeky. "yes," lisped a very little girl; "one of 'e doors in 'e house too small for she." "why, gerchin, you've learned to speak english like the rest," said the captain. "yes, father make every one learn." "well, now," continued the captain, "what about black sam?" "gone to batavia," chorused the children. "and--and--what's-'is-name?--the man wi' the nose--" a burst of laughter and, "we's _all_ got noses here!" was the reply. "yes, but you know who i mean--the short man wi' the--" "oh! with the turned _up_ nose. _i_ know," cried the cheeky boy; "you means johnson? he goed away nobody know whar'." "and little nelly drew, what of her?" a sudden silence fell on the group, and solemn eyes were turned on sister kathy, who was evidently expected to answer. "not dead?" said the captain earnestly. "no, but very _very_ ill," replied the girl. "dear nelly have never git over the loss of her brother, who--" at this point they were interrupted by another group of the captain's little admirers, who, having heard of his arrival, ran forward to give him a noisy welcome. before stories could be commenced, however, the visitors were summoned to mr. ross's house to dinner, and then the captain had got into such an eager talk with the king that evening was upon them before they knew where they were, as nigel expressed it, and the stories had to be postponed until the following day. of course beds were offered, and accepted by captain roy and nigel. just before retiring to them, father and son went out to have a stroll on the margin of the lagoon. "ain't it a nice place, nigel?" asked the former, whose kindly spirit had been stirred up to quite a jovial pitch by the gushing welcome he had received alike from old and young. "it's charming, father. quite different from what you had led me to expect." "my boy," returned the captain, with that solemn deliberation which he was wont to assume when about to deliver a palpable truism. "w'en you've come to live as long as me you'll find that everything turns out different from what people have bin led to expect. leastways that's _my_ experience." "well, in the meantime, till i have come to your time of life, i'll take your word for that, and i do hope you intend to stay a long time here." "no, my son, i don't. why do ye ask?" "because i like the place and the people so much that i would like to study it and them, and to sketch the scenery." "business before pleasure, my lad," said the captain with a grave shake of the head. "you know we've bin blown out of our course, and have no business here at all. i'll only wait till the carpenter completes his repairs, and then be off for batavia. duty first; everything else afterwards." "but you being owner as well as commander, there is no one to insist on duty being done," objected nigel. "pardon me," returned the captain, "there is a certain owner named captain david roy, a very stern disciplinarian, who insists on the commander o' this here brig performin' his duty to the letter. you may depend upon it that if a man ain't true to himself he's not likely to be true to any one else. but it's likely that we may be here for a couple of days, so i release _you_ from duty that you may make the most o' your time and enjoy yourself. by the way, it will save you wastin' time if you ask that little girl, kathy holbein, to show you the best places to sketch, for she's a born genius with her pencil and brush." "no, thank you, father," returned nigel. "i want no little girl to bother me while i'm sketching--even though she be a born genius--for i think i possess genius enough my self to select the best points for sketching, and to get along fairly well without help. at least i'll try what i can do." "please yourself, lad. nevertheless, i think you wouldn't find poor kathy a bother; she's too modest for that--moreover, she could manage a boat and pull a good oar when i was here last, and no doubt she has improved since." "nevertheless, i'd rather be alone," persisted nigel. "but why do you call her _poor_ kathy? she seems to be quite as strong and as jolly as the rest of her brothers and sisters." "ah, poor thing, these are not her brothers and sisters," returned the captain in a gentler tone. "kathy is only an adopted child, and an orphan. her name, kathleen, is not a dutch one. she came to these islands in a somewhat curious way. sit down here and i'll tell 'ee the little i know about her." father and son sat down on a mass of coral rock that had been washed up on the beach during some heavy gale, and for a few minutes gazed in silence on the beautiful lagoon, in which not only the islets, but the brilliant moon and even the starry hosts were mirrored faithfully. "about thirteen years ago," said the captain, "two pirate junks in the sunda straits attacked a british barque, and, after a fight, captured her. some o' the crew were killed in action, some were taken on board the junks to be held to ransom i s'pose, and some, jumping into the sea to escape if possible by swimming, were probably drowned, for they were a considerable distance from land. it was one o' these fellows, however, who took to the water that managed to land on the java shore, more dead than alive. he gave information about the affair, and was the cause of a gun-boat, that was in these waters at the time, bein' sent off in chase o' the pirate junks. "this man who swam ashore was a lascar. he said that the chief o' the pirates, who seemed to own both junks, was a big ferocious malay with only one eye--he might have added with no heart at all, if what he said o' the scoundrel was true, for he behaved with horrible cruelty to the crew o' the barque. after takin' all he wanted out of his prize he scuttled her, and then divided the people that were saved alive between the two junks. there were several passengers in the vessel; among them a young man--a widower--with a little daughter, four year old or so. he was bound for calcutta. being a very powerful man he fought like a lion to beat the pirates off, but he was surrounded and at last knocked down by a blow from behind. then his arms were made fast and he was sent wi' the rest into the biggest junk. "this poor fellow recovered his senses about the time the pirates were dividin' the prisoners among them. he seemed dazed at first, so said the lascar, but as he must have bin in a considerable funk himself i suspect his observations couldn't have bin very correct. anyhow, he said he was sittin' near the side o' the junk beside this poor man, whose name he never knew, but who seemed to be an englishman from his language, when a wild scream was heard in the other junk. it was the little girl who had caught sight of her father and began to understand that she was going to be separated from him. at the sound o' her voice he started up, and, looking round like a wild bull, caught sight o' the little one on the deck o' the other junk, just as they were hoistin' sail to take advantage of a breeze that had sprung up. "whether it was that they had bound the man with a piece o' bad rope, or that the strength o' samson had been given to him, the lascar could not tell, but he saw the englishman snap the rope as if it had bin a bit o' pack-thread, and jump overboard. he swam for the junk where his little girl was. if he had possessed the strength of a dozen samsons it would have availed him nothin', for the big sail had caught the breeze and got way on her. at the same time the other junk lay over to the same breeze and the two separated. at first the one-eyed pirate jumped up with an oath and fired a pistol shot at the englishman, but missed him. then he seemed to change his mind and shouted in bad english, with a diabolical laugh--'swim away; swim hard, p'raps you kitch 'im up!' of course the two junks were soon out of sight o' the poor swimmer--and that was the end of _him,_ for, of course, he must have been drowned." "but what of the poor little girl?" asked nigel, whose feelings were easily touched by the sorrows of children, and who began to have a suspicion of what was coming. "i'm just comin' to that. well, the gun-boat that went to look for the pirates sighted one o' the junks out in the indian ocean after a long search and captured her, but not a single one o' the barque's crew was to be found in her, and it was supposed they had been all murdered and thrown overboard wi' shots tied to their feet to sink them. enough o' the cargo o' the british barque was found, however, to convict her, and on a more careful search bein' made, the little girl was discovered, hid away in the hold. bein' only about four year old, the poor little thing was too frightened to understand the questions put to her. all she could say was that she wanted 'to go to father,' and that her name was kathy, probably short for kathleen, but she could not tell." "then that is the girl who is now here?" exclaimed nigel. "the same, lad. the gun-boat ran in here, like as we did, to have some slight repairs done, and kathy was landed. she seemed to take at once to motherly mrs. holbein, who offered to adopt her, and as the captain of the gun-boat had no more notion than the man-in-the-moon who the child belonged to, or what to do with her, he gladly handed her over, so here she has been livin' ever since. of course attempts have been made to discover her friends, but without success, and now all hope has been given up. the poor girl herself never speaks on the subject, but old holbein and his wife tell me she is sure that kathy has never forgotten her father. it may be so; anyhow, she has forgotten his name--if she ever knew it." next day nigel made no objections to being guided to the most picturesque spots among the coral isles by the interesting orphan girl. if she had been older he might even have fallen in love with her, an event which would have necessitated an awkward modification of the ground-work of our tale. as it was, he pitied the poor child sincerely, and not only--recognising her genius--asked her advice a good deal on the subject of art, but--recognising also her extreme youth and ignorance--volunteered a good deal of advice in exchange, quite in a paternal way! chapter iv. nigel undergoes some quite new and interesting experiences. the arrangements made on the following day turned out to be quite in accordance with the wishes and tastes of the various parties concerned. the ship's carpenter having been duly set to work on the repairs, and being inspected in that serious piece of prosaic business by the second mate, our captain was set free to charm the very souls of the juveniles by wandering for miles along the coral strand inventing, narrating, exaggerating to his heart's content. pausing now and then to ask questions irrelevant to the story in hand, like a wily actor, for the purpose of intensifying the desire for more, he would mount a block of coral, and thence, sometimes as from a throne, or platform, or pulpit, impress some profound piece of wisdom, or some thrilling point, or some exceedingly obvious moral on his followers open-mouthed and open-eyed. these were by no means idlers, steeped in the too common business of having nothing to do. no, they had regularly sought and obtained a holiday from work or school; for all the activities of social and civilised life were going on full swing--fuller, indeed, than the average swing--in that remote, scarcely known, and beautiful little gem of the indian ocean. meanwhile nigel and kathy, with sketch-books under their arms, went down to where the clear waters of the lagoon rippled on the white sand, and, launching a cockleshell of a boat, rowed out toward the islets. "now, kathy, you must let me pull," said nigel, pushing out the sculls, "for although the captain tells me you are very good at rowing, it would never do for a man, you know, to sit lazily down and let himself be rowed by a girl." "very well," said kathy, with a quiet and most contented smile, for she had not yet reached the self-conscious age--at least, as ages go in the cocos-keeling islands! besides, kathy was gifted with that charming disposition which never _objects_ to anything--anything, of course, that does not involve principle! but it was soon found that, as the cockleshell had no rudder, and the intricacies they had to wind among were numerous, frequent directions and corrections were called for from the girl. "d' you know," said nigel at last, "as i don't know where you want me to go to, it may be as well, after all, that you should row!" "very well," said kathy, with another of her innocent smiles. "i thinked it will be better so at first." nigel could not help laughing at the way she said this as he handed her the sculls. she soon proved herself to be a splendid boatwoman, and although her delicate and shapely arms were as mere pipe-stems to the great brawny limbs of her companion, yet she had a deft, mysterious way of handling the sculls that sent the cockleshell faster over the lagoon than before. "now, we go ashore here," said kathy, turning the boat,--with a prompt back-water of the left scull, and a vigorous pull of the right one,--into a little cove just big enough to hold it. the keel went with such a plump on the sand, that nigel, who sat on a forward thwart with his back landward, reversed the natural order of things by putting his back on the bottom of the boat and his heels in the air. to this day it is an unsettled question whether this was done on purpose by kathy. certain it is that _she_ did not tumble, but burst into a hearty fit of laughter, while her large lustrous eyes half shut themselves up and twinkled. "why, you don't even apologise, you dreadful creature!" exclaimed nigel, joining in the laugh, as he picked himself up. "why should i 'pologise?" asked the girl, in the somewhat broken english acquired from her adopted family. "why you not look out?" "right, kathy, right; i'll keep a sharp lookout next time. meanwhile i will return good for evil by offering my hand to help you a--hallo!" while he spoke the girl had sprung past him like a grasshopper, and alighted on the sand like a butterfly. a few minutes later and this little jesting fit had vanished, and they were both engaged with pencil and book, eagerly--for both were enthusiastic--sketching one of the most enchanting scenes that can well be imagined. we will not attempt the impossible. description could not convey it. we can only refer the reader's imagination to the one old, hackneyed but expressive, word--fairyland! one peculiarly interesting point in the scene was, that on the opposite side of the lagoon the captain could be seen holding forth to his juvenile audience. [illustration: art on the keeling islands.--page .] when a pretty long time had elapsed in absolute silence, each sketcher being totally oblivious of the other, nigel looked up with a long sigh, and said:-- "well, you _have_ chosen a most exquisite scene for me. the more i work at it, the more i find to admire. may i look now at what you have done?" "oh yes, but i have done not much. i am slow," said the girl, as nigel rose and looked over her shoulder. "why!--what--how beautiful!--but--but--what do you mean?" exclaimed the youth. "i don't understand you," said the girl, looking up in surprise. "why, kathy, i had supposed you were drawing that magnificent landscape all this time, and--and you've only been drawing a group of shells. splendidly done, i admit, but why----" he stopped at that moment, for her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "forgive me, dear child," said nigel, hurriedly; "i did not intend to hurt your feelings. i was only surprised at your preference." "you have not hurt me," returned kathy in a low voice, as she resumed her work, "but what you say calls back to me--my father was very fond of shells." she stopped, and nigel, blaming himself for having inadvertently touched some tender chord, hastened, somewhat clumsily, to change the subject. "you draw landscape also, i doubt not?" "oh yes--plenty. if you come home to me to-night, i will show you some." "i shall be only too happy," returned the youth, sitting down again to his sketch, "and perhaps i may be able to give you a hint or two--especially in reference to perspective--for i've had regular training, you know, kathy, and i dare say you have not had that here." "not what you will think much, perhaps, yet i have study a little in school, and _very_ much from nature." "well, you have been under the best of masters," returned nigel, "if you have studied much from nature. and who has been your other teacher?" "a brother of mr. ross. i think he must understand very much. he was an engineer, and has explained to me the rules of perspective, and many other things which were at first very hard to understand. but i do see them now." "perhaps then, kathleen," said nigel, in that drawling, absent tone in which artists are apt to indulge when busy at work--"perhaps you may be already too far advanced to require instruction from me." "perhaps--but i think no, for you seems to understand a great deal. but why you call me kathleen just now?" "because i suppose that is your real name--kathy being the short for it. is it not so?" "well, p'raps it is. i have hear mother holbein say so once. i like kathleen best." "then, may i call you kathleen?" "if you like." at this point both artists had become so engrossed in their occupation that they ceased to converse, and for a considerable time profound silence reigned--at least on their part, though not as regarded others, for every now and then the faint sound of laughter came floating over the tranquil lagoon from that part of the coral strand where captain roy was still tickling the fancies and expanding the imaginations and harrowing or soothing the feelings of the cocos-keeling juveniles. inferior animal life was also in ceaseless activity around the sketchers, filling the air with those indescribably quiet noises which are so suggestive of that general happiness which was originally in terrestial paradise and is ultimately to be the lot of redeemed creation. snipe and curlews were wading with jaunty step and absorbed inquiring gaze in the shallow pools. hermit crabs of several species and sizes were scuttling about searching for convenient shells in which to deposit their naturally homeless and tender tails. overhead there was a sort of sea-rookery, the trees being tenanted by numerous gannets, frigate birds, and terns--the first gazing with a stupid yet angry air; the last--one beautiful little snow-white species in particular--hovering only a few feet above the sketchers' heads, while their large black eyes scanned the drawings with the owlish look of wisdom peculiar to connoisseurs. noddies also were there, and, on the ground, lizards and spiders and innumerable ants engaged in all the varied activities connected with their several domestic arrangements. altogether it was a scene of bright peaceful felicity, which seemed to permeate nigel's frame right inward to the spinal marrow, and would have kept him entranced there at his work for several hours longer if the cravings of a healthy appetite had not warned him to desist. "now, kathleen," he said, rising and stretching himself as one is apt to do after sitting long in a constrained position, "it seems to me about time to--by the way, we've forgotten to bring something to eat!" his expression as he said this made his companion look up and laugh. "plenty cocoa-nuts," she said, pointing with her pencil to the overarching trees. "true, but i doubt my ability to climb these long straight stems; besides, i have got only a small clasp-knife, which would be but a poor weapon with which to attack the thick outer husk of the nuts." "but i have got a few without the husks in the boat," said the girl, rising and running to the place where the cockleshell had been left. she returned immediately with several nuts divested of their thick outer covering, and in the condition with which we are familiar in england. some of them were already broken, so that they had nothing to do but sit down to lunch. "here is one," said kathy, handing a nut to nigel, "that has got no meat yet in it--only milk. bore a hole in it and drink, but see you bore in the right hole." "the right hole?" echoed the youth, "are some of them wrong ones?" "oh yes, only one of the three will do. one of our crawbs knows that and has claws that can bore through the husk and shell. we calls him cocoa-nut crawb." "indeed! that is strange; i never heard before of a crab that fed on cocoa-nuts." "this one do. he is very big, and also climbs trees. it goes about most at night. perhaps you see one before you go away." the crab to which kathy referred is indeed a somewhat eccentric crustacean, besides being unusually large. it makes deep tunnels in the ground larger than rabbit burrows, which it lines with cocoa-nut fibre. one of its claws is developed into an organ of extraordinary power with which it can break a cocoa-nut shell, and even, it is said, a man's limb! it never takes all the husk off a cocoa-nut--that would be an unnecessary trouble, but only enough off the end where the three eyelets are, to enable it to get at the inside. having pierced the proper eye with one of its legs it rotates the nut round it until the hole is large enough to admit the point of its great claw, with which it continues the work. this remarkable creature also climbs the palm-trees, but not to gather nuts; that is certain, for its habits have been closely watched and it has been ascertained that it feeds only on fallen nuts. possibly it climbs for exercise, or to obtain a more extended view of its charming habitat, or simply "for fun." why not? all this and a great deal more was told to nigel by kathleen, who was a bit of a naturalist in her tendencies--as they sat there under the graceful fronds of the palm-trees admiring the exquisite view, eating and drinking cocoa-nuts. "i suppose you have plenty of other kinds of food besides this?" said nigel. "oh yes, plenty. most of the fish in our lagoon be good for eating, and so also the crawbs, and we have turtle too." "indeed! how _do_ you catch the turtle? another nut, please.--thank you." "the way we gets turtle is by the men diving for them and catching them in the water. we has pigs too--plenty, and the wild birds are some very nice."[ ] when the artists had finished they proceeded to the shore, and to their surprise and amusement found the cockleshell in possession of a piratical urchin of about four years of age in a charmingly light state of clothing. he was well known to kathleen, and it turned out that, having seen the cockle start at too great a distance to be hailed, and having set his heart on joining in the excursion, he had watched their movements, observed their landing on the islet--which was not far from the main circlet of land--and, running round till he came opposite to it, swam off and got into the boat. being somewhat tired he had lain down to rest and fallen sound asleep. on the way home this urchin's sole delight was to lean over the bow and watch the fish and coral groves over which they skimmed. in this he was imitated by nigel who, ungallantly permitting his companion to row, also leaned over the side and gazed down into the clear crystal depths with unwearying delight. for the wonderful colours displayed in those depths must be seen to be believed. not only is the eye pleased with the ever-varying formations of the coral bowers, but almost dazzled with the glittering fish--blue, emerald, green, scarlet, orange, banded, spotted, and striped--that dart hither and thither among the rich-toned sea-weed and the variegated anemones which spread their tentacles upwards as if inviting the gazer to come down! among these, crabs could be seen crawling with undecided motion, as if unable to make up their minds, while in out of the way crevices clams of a gigantic size were gaping in deadly quietude ready to close with a snap on any unfortunate creature that should give them the slightest touch. nigel was sharply awakened from his dream by a sudden splash. looking up he observed that the small boy was gone. with a bound he stood erect, one foot on the gunwale and hands clasped ready to dive, when a glance revealed the fact that kathy was smiling broadly! "don't jump!" she said. "he is only after a fish." even while she spoke nigel saw the brown little fellow shooting about like a galvanised tadpole, with a small harpoon in his hand! next moment he appeared on the surface shouting and spluttering, with a splendid fish on the end of his harpoon! both were hauled into the boat, and very soon after they drew near to land. in the shallow water nigel observed some remarkable creatures which resembled hedgehogs, having jaws armed with formidable teeth to enable them to feed, kathy said, on coral insects. file-fishes also drew his attention particularly. these were magnificently striped and coloured, and apparently very fearless. "what convenient tails they have to lay hold of," remarked our hero, as they slowly glided past one; "i believe i could catch it with my hand!" stooping swiftly as he spoke, he dipped his arm into the water, and actually did grasp the fish by its tail, but dropped it again instantly--to the shrieking delight of the urchin and kathy,--for the tail was armed with a series of sharp spines which ran into his hand like lancets. this was an appropriate conclusion to a day that would have been otherwise too enjoyable. poor nigel's felicity was further diluted when he met his father. "we'll have to sleep a-board to-night," said the captain, "for there's a fair breeze outside which seems likely to hold, and the mast has been temporarily rigged up, so we'll have to up anchor, and away by break of day to-morrow." nigel's heart sank. "to-morrow! father?" "ay, to-morrow. business first, pleasure afterwards." "well, i suppose you are right, but it seems almost a shame to leave such a heaven upon earth as this in such a hurry. besides, is it not unkind to such hospitable people to bolt off after you've got all that you want out of them?" "can't help that, lad-- "dooty first, an' fun to follow, that's what beats creation hollow." "come father, don't say that you quote _that_ from mother!" "no more i do, my boy. it's my own--homemade. i put it together last night when i couldn't sleep for your snorin'." "don't tell fibs, father. you know i never snore. but--really--are we to start at daylight?" "we are, if the wind holds. but you may stay as late as you choose on shore to-night." nigel availed himself of the opportunity to see as much of the place and people as was possible in the limited time. next morning the good though damaged brig was running in the direction of sunda straits before a stiff and steady breeze. footnotes: [footnote : we recommend those who desire more curious information on the fauna and flora of the keeling islands to apply to henry o. forbes' most interesting book, _a naturalist's wanderings in the eastern archipelago_.--(sampson low.)] chapter v. captain roy surprises and gratifies his son, who surprises a negro, and suddenly forms an astonishing resolve. arrived in batavia--the low-lying seaport and capital of the dutch island of java--captain roy had his brig examined, and found that the damage she had sustained was so serious that several months would probably elapse before she would be again ready for sea. "now, nigel, my lad," said the old gentleman, on the morning after the examination had been made, "come down below with me; i want to have a confabulation with 'ee." "why, father," said the youth, when seated at the small cabin table opposite his rugged parent, "you seem to be in an unusually solemn frame of mind this morning. has anything happened?" "nothin', boy--nothin'. leastwise nothin' in particular. you know all about the brig, an' what a deal o' repair she's got to undergo?" "of course i do. you know i was present when you talked the matter over with that fellow--what's-'is-name--that gave you his report." "just so. well now, nigel, you don't suppose, do you, that i'm goin' to keep you here for some months knockin' about with nothin' to do--eatin' your grub in idleness?" "certainly not," said the youth, regarding the stern countenance of his parent with an amused look. "i have no intention of acting such an ignoble part, and i'm surprised at you askin' the question, for you know i am not lazy--at least not more so than average active men--and there must be plenty of work for me to do in looking after the cargo, superintending repairs, taking care of the ship and men. i wonder at you, father. you must either have had a shock of dotage, or fallen into a poetical vein. what is a first mate fit for if--" "nigel," said captain roy, interrupting, "i'm the owner an' commander of the _sunshine_, besides bein' the paternal parent of an impertinent son, and i claim to have the right to do as i please--therefore, hold your tongue and listen to me." "all right, father," replied the young man, with a benignant grin; "proceed, but don't be hard upon me; spare my feelings." "well now, this is how the land lies," said the old seaman, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands before him. "as mr. moor and i, with the stooard and men, are quite sufficient to manage the affairs o' the brig, and as we shall certainly be here for a considerable time to come, i've made up my mind to give you a holiday. you're young, you see, an' foolish, and your mind needs improvin'. in short, you want a good deal o' the poetry knocked out o' you, for it's not like your mother's poetry by any means, so you needn't flatter yourself--not built on the same lines by a long way. well--where was i?" "only got the length of the holiday yet, father." "only, indeed. you ungrateful dog! it's a considerable length to get, that, isn't it? well, i also intend to give you some money, to enable you to move about in this curious archipelago--not much, but enough to keep you from starvation if used with economy, so i recommend you to go into the town, make general inquiries about everything and everywhere, an' settle in your mind what you'll do, for i give you a rovin' commission an' don't want to be bothered with you for some time to come." "are you in earnest, father?" asked nigel, who had become more interested while the captain unfolded his plan. "never more in earnest in my life--except, p'raps, when i inquired over twenty years ago whether you was a boy or a gurl." "well, now, that _is_ good of you, father. of course i need not say that i am charmed at the prospect you open up to me. and--and when may i start?" "at once. up anchor and away to-night if you choose." "but--where?" "anywhere--everywhere, java, sumatra, borneo--all malaysia before you where to choose. now be off, and think over it, for i've got too much to do to waste time on you at present," said the captain, rising, "and, stay--nigel." "well?" said the youth, looking back as he was about to leave the cabin. "whatever you do, don't grow poetical about it. you know it is said somewhere, that mischief is found for idle hands to do." "all right, father. i'll keep clear of poetry--leave all that sort o' nonsense to _you_. i'll-- "i'll flee temptation's siren voice, throw poesy to the crows, and let my soul's ethereal fire gush out in sober prose." it need scarcely be said that our hero was not slow to take advantage of the opportunity thus thrown in his way. he went off immediately through the town, armed with the introduction of his father's well-known name, and made inquiries of all sorts of people as to the nature, the conditions, the facilities, and the prospects of travel in the malay archipelago. in this quest he found himself sorely perplexed for the very good reason that "all sorts" of people, having all sorts of ideas and tastes, gave amazingly conflicting accounts of the region and its attractions. wearied at last with his researches, he sauntered towards afternoon in the direction of the port, and began in a listless sort of way to watch the movements of a man who was busily engaged with a boat, as if he were making preparations to put to sea. now, whatever philosophers may say to the contrary, we hold strongly to the opinion that likings and dislikings among men and women and children are the result of some profound occult cause which has nothing whatever to do with experience. no doubt experience may afterwards come in to modify or intensify the feelings, but it is not the originating cause. if you say it is, how are we to account for love at first sight? beauty has nothing necessarily to do with it, for men fall in love at first sight with what the world calls plain women--happily! character is not the cause, for love assails the human breast, ofttimes, before the loved object has uttered a word, or perpetrated a smile, or even fulminated a glance to indicate character. so, in like manner, affection may arise between man and man. it was so on this occasion with nigel roy. as he stood abstractedly gazing at the boatman he fell in love with him--at least he took a powerful fancy to him, and this was all the more surprising that the man was a negro,--a woolly-headed, flat-nosed, thick-lipped nigger! we would not for a moment have it supposed that it is unnatural to love such a man. quite the reverse. but when such a man is a perfect stranger, has never uttered a word in one's presence, or vouchsafed so much as a glance, and is gravely, stolidly engaged in the unsavoury work of greasing some of the tackling of a boat, it does seem unaccountable that he should be unwittingly capable of stirring up in another man's bosom feelings of ardent goodwill, to put it mildly. after watching him for some time, nigel under an almost involuntary impulse shouted "hullo!" "hullo!" replied the negro, looking up with a somewhat stern frown and a pout of his thick lips, as much as to say--"who are _you_?" nigel smiled, and made that suggestive motion with his forefinger which signifies "come here." the frown fled and the pout became a smile as the negro approached, wiping his hands on a piece of cotton-waste. "what you want wi' _me_, sar?" he asked. "well, upon my word," said nigel, somewhat perplexed, "i can't very well say. i suppose something must have been in my mind, but--anyhow, i felt a desire to have a talk with you; that is, if you can spare the time." the first part of this reply induced a slight recurrence of the frown and pout, but at its conclusion the black brow cleared and the mouth expanded to such a gum-and-teeth-exposing extent that nigel fairly burst into a laugh. "you's bery good, sar," said the man, "an' i's hab much pleasure to make your acquaintance.--der an't no grease on 'em now." the last remark had reference to the enormous black paw which he held out. nigel at once grasped it and shook it heartily. "i's bery fond ob a talk, sar," continued the negro, "so as you wants one, heabe ahead." thus encouraged, our hero began by remarking that he seemed to be preparing for a trip. "dat's zackly what i's a-doin', sar." "a long one?" "well, dat depends on what you call short. goin' to sunda straits, which p'raps you know, sar, is nigh a hundred miles fro' here." "and what may you be going to do there?" asked nigel. "goin' home to krakatoa." "why, i thought that was an uninhabited island. i passed close to it on my way here, and saw no sign of inhabitants." "da's cause i was absint fro' home. an' massa he keeps indoors a good deal." "and pray who is massa?" asked nigel. "sar," said the negro, drawing up his square sturdy frame with a look of dignity; "fair-play is eberyt'ing wid me. you've ax me a heap o' questions. now's my--turn. whar you comes fro'?" "from england," replied nigel. "an' whar you go to?" "well, you've posed me now, for i really don't know where i'm going to. in fact that is the very thing i have been trying to find out all day, so if you'll help me i'll be much obliged." here nigel explained his position and difficulties, and it was quite obvious, judging from the glittering eyes and mobile mouth, that he poured his tale into peculiarly sympathetic ears. when he had finished, the negro stood for a considerable time gazing in meditative silence at the sky. "yes," he said at last, as if communing with himself, "i t'ink--i ain't quite sure, but i t'ink--i may ventur'." "whatever it is you are thinking about," remarked nigel, "you may venture to say anything you like to _me_." the negro, who, although comparatively short of stature, was herculean in build, looked at the youth with an amused expression. "you're bery good, sar, but da's not what i's t'inkin' ob. i's t'inkin' whedder i dar' ventur' to introdoce you to my massa. he's not fond o' company, an' it might make 'im angry, but he came by a heaby loss lately an' p'raps he may cond'send to receibe you. anyhow you 'd be quite safe, for he's sure to be civil to any friend ob mine." "is he then so fierce?" asked nigel, becoming interested as well as amused. "fierce! no, he's gentle as a lamb, but he's awrful when he's roused--tigers, crokindiles, 'noceroses is nuffin' to him!" "indeed! what's his name, and what does he do? how does he live?" the negro shook his head. "da's more'n i dar tell till i ax his leave, sar. i kin only say de peepil around calls 'im the hermit ob rakata, 'cause he libs by his self (wid me, ob course, but _i_ counts for nuffin), close under de ole volcano ob krakatoa. dey tink--some ob de foolish peepil--dat he hab sold his-self to de dibil, but i knows better. he's a good man, and you'd hab great fun if you stop wid him. now, what i's a-gwine to advise you is, come wid me an' see de hermit. if he lets you stop, good. if not, i fetch you ober to de main land--whar you please--an' you kin come back here or go whar you choose. its wort' your while to take your chance, anyhow." the negro said this with such an earnest look that nigel made up his mind on the spot to accept this curious invitation. "i'll go!" he exclaimed with sudden energy. "when do you start?" "to-morrer at daybreak, sar." "well, i shall have to talk it over first with my father, but i'm sure he won't object, so you may look out for me here at daybreak. shall i have to fetch any provisions with me for the voyage?" "no, nuffin'. boat's crammed wi' grub. but you'd better bring a gun o' some sort an' a 'volver, an' a big knife, an' a mortal big appetite, for a man's no good widout dat." "i always carry that about with me," said the youth, "whatever else i may leave behind; and i'll see to the other things.--by the way, what's your name?" "moses." "is that all?" "isn't dat enuff?" returned the negro with a look of dignity. "quite; but i have the advantage of you there, moses, for i have two names--nigel roy." "well, i don't see much use ob two, but which does you like to be called by--nadgel or roy?" "whichever you please, moses; i'll answer to either. so now, good-bye for the present, and look out for me to-morrow at daylight." "good-bye, massa nadgel, till to-morrer." the negro waved his hand and, sauntering slowly back to his boat, remarked in an undertone, "i lub dat young feller!" saying which, he resumed his greasing operations. of course captain roy made no objection to his son's proposal, though he freely gave his opinion that it was a wild-goose chase. "however, lad, please yourself and you'll please me," he added; "and now, be particular to bear in mind that you've got to write to me every time you get within hail of a post-office or a passing ship or steamer that may chance to be comin' this way, and in each letter be sure to tell me where you're goin' to next, so as i may send a letter there to you in case i want you to return sudden or otherwise. we mustn't lose touch, you see. you needn't write long screeds. i only want to know your whereabouts from time to time. for the rest--you can spin it out in yarns when you come back." chapter vi. the hermit of rakata introduced. nothing worthy of particular note occurred during the boat-voyage along the northern shore of java to sunda straits. a fair, steady breeze wafted them westward, and, on the morning of the third day, they came in sight of the comparatively small uninhabited island of krakatoa. the boat in which they voyaged, although a little one, had a small portion of the bow decked over, so that our hero and his sable friend could find shelter from the night air when disposed to sleep and from the fierce rays of the sun at noon. by the advice of his father, nigel had changed his sailor costume for the "shore-goin' toggery" in which he had landed on the keeling islands, as being more suitable to his new character as a traveller, namely, a white cloth cap with a peak in front and a curtain behind to protect his neck, a light-grey tunic belted at the waist, and a pair of strong canvas trousers. he had also purchased an old-fashioned double-barrelled fowling-piece, muzzle-loading and with percussion locks. "for you see, nigel," the captain had said, "it's all very well to use breech-loaders when you've got towns and railways and suchlike to supply you wi' cartridges, but when you've got to cruise in out-o'-the-way waters, there's nothin' like the old style. it's not difficult to carry a few thousand percussion-caps an' a bullet-mould about wi' you wherever you go. as to powder, why, you'll come across that 'most everywhere, an' lead too; and, for the matter o' that, if your life depended on it you could shove a handful of gravel or a pen-knife or tooth-pick into your gun an' blaze away, but with a breech-loader, if you run out o' cartridges, where are you?" so, as nigel could not say where he was, the percussion-gun had been purchased. the peak of rakata--the highest in the island--a little over feet, came in sight first; gradually the rest of the island rose out of the horizon, and ere long the rich tropical verdure became distinguishable. krakatoa--destined so soon to play a thrilling part in the world's history; to change the aspect of the heavens everywhere; to attract the wondering gaze of nearly all nations, and to devastate its immediate neighbourhood--is of volcanic origin, and, at the time we write of ( ) was beginning to awaken from a long, deep slumber of two hundred years. its last explosion occurred in the year . since that date it had remained quiet. but now the tremendous subterranean forces which had originally called it into being were beginning to reassert their existence and their power. vulcan was rousing himself again and beginning once more to blow his bellows. so said some of the sailors who were constantly going close past the island and through sunda straits, which may be styled the narrows of the world's highway to the china seas. subterranean forces, however, are so constantly at work more or less violently in those regions that people took little notice of these indications in the comparatively small island of krakatoa, which was between five and six miles long by four broad. as we have said, it was uninhabited, and lying as it does between sumatra and java, about sixteen miles from the former and over twenty miles from the latter, it was occasionally visited by fishermen. the hermit whom nigel was about to visit might, in some sort, be counted an inhabitant, for he had dwelt there many years, but he lived in a cave which was difficult of access, and held communication with no one. how he spent his time was a mystery, for although his negro servant went to the neighbouring town of anjer in java for supplies, and sometimes to batavia, as we have seen, no piece of inanimate ebony from the forest could have been less communicative than he. indeed, our hero was the first to unlock the door of his lips, with that key of mysterious sympathy to which reference has already been made. some of the bolder of the young fishermen of the neighbouring coasts had several times made futile efforts to find out where and how the hermit lived, but the few who got a glimpse of him at a distance brought back such a report that a kind of superstitious fear of him was generated which kept them at a respectful distance. he was ten feet high, some romancers said, with shoulders four feet broad, a chest like a sugar-hogshead, and a countenance resembling a compound of orang-utan and tiger. of course our hero knew nothing of these rumours, and as moses declined to give any information regarding his master beyond that already given, he was left to the full play of his imagination. moses was quite candid about it. he made no pretence to shroud things in mystery. "you mus' know, massa nadgel," he said, as they slowly drew near to the island, "i's 'fraid ob 'im dough i lub 'im." "but why do you love him, moses?" "'cause he sabe my life an' set me free." "indeed? well, that is good reason. and why do you fear him?" "da's what i don' know, massa," replied the negro with a puzzled look. "is he harsh, then?" "no." "passionate?" "no. gentle as a lamb." "strong?" "yes--oh! mighty strong an' big." "surely you're not afraid of his giving you a licking, moses?" "oh no," returned the negro, with a smile of expansive benignity; "i's not 'fraid ob dat. i's bin a slabe once, got used to lickin's. don't care nuffin' at all for a lickin'!" "then it must be that you're afraid of hurting his feelings, moses, for i know of no other kind of fear." "pr'aps da's it!" said the negro with a bright look, "now i wouldn't wonder if you's right, massa nadgel. it neber come into my head in dat light before. i used to be t'ink, t'inkin' ob nights--when i's tired ob countin' my fingers an' toes--but i couldn't make nuffin' ob it. _now_ i knows! it's 'fraid i am ob hurtin' his feelin's." in the excess of his satisfaction at the solution of this long-standing puzzle, moses threw back his head, shut his eyes, opened his enormous mouth and chuckled. by the time he had reversed this process they were sufficiently near to krakatoa to distinguish all its features clearly, and the negro began to point out to nigel its various localities. there were three prominent peaks on it, he said, named respectively, perboewatan about feet high, at the northern end of the island; danan, near the centre, feet; and rakata, at the southern end, over feet. it was high up on the sides of the last cone that the residence of the hermit was situated. "and you won't tell me your master's name?" said nigel. moses shook his woolly head. "no, sar, no. i's 'fraid ob him--he! he! 'fraid ob hurtin' his feelin's!" "well, never mind; i'll find it out from himself soon. by the way, what were you telling me about explosions yesterday when that little white gull came to admire your pretty face, and took off our attention?" "well, i dun know. not got much to tell, only dar's bin rumblin' an' grumblin's an' heavin's lately in de mountains as didn't use to be, an' cracks like somet'in' bustin' down blow, an' massa he shook 'is head two or free times an' look solemn. he don't often do dat--shook 'is head, i mean--for he mostly always looks solemn." a few minutes later the boat, running through a narrow opening among the rocks into a small circular harbour not more than fifty yards in diameter, rested its keel gently on a little bed of pure yellow sand. the shore there was so densely covered with bushes that the harbour might easily have been passed without being observed. jumping ashore, moses made the painter fast to a tree. "what a quiet, cosy place!" said nigel, as he sprang on the beach and looked admiringly round. "yes, an' not easy to find if you don't knows 'im. we will leabe de boat here,--no danger ob bein' tooked away--an' den go up to de cave." "is it far?" asked nigel. "a good bit--near de top ob de mountain,"--answered the negro, who looked at his companion somewhat uneasily. "why, what's the matter, moses?" "nuffin'--oh! nuffin'--but--but when massa axes you who you is, an' what you bin up to, an' whar your a-gwine to, an' what wages you want, jist you answer 'im in a sorter permiscuous way, an' don't be too partikler." "wages! man, what d' ye mean?" "well, you'll 'scuse me, sar," returned the negro with an air of profound humility, "but my massa lost a old sarvint--a nigger like myself--only last munt', an' he wants to go on one ob his usual expeditions jus' now, so he sends me to batavia to git anoder man--'a good one, you know,' says massa,--an' as you, sar, was good 'nuff to ax me what you should do, an' you looked a pritty smart man, i----" "you scoundrel!" cried nigel, interrupting him, "do you really mean to tell me that you've brought me here as a hired servant?" "well, not zackly," returned moses, with solemn simplicity, "you needn't ax no wages unless you like." "but what if i don't want to take service?" demanded our hero, with a savage frown. "you kin go home agin," answered moses, humbly. nigel could contain himself no longer. as he observed the man's deprecatory air, and thought of his own position, he burst into a fit of hearty laughter, whereupon the negro recovered himself and smiled the smile of the guiltless. "come," said nigel at last. "lead on, you rascal! when i see your master i shall know what to say." "all right, massa nadgel, but mind what you say, else i won't answer for de consikences. foller me an' look arter your feet, for de road is roughish." the negro's last remark was unquestionably true, for the road--if a mere footpath merits the name--was rugged in the extreme--here winding round the base of steep cliffs, there traversing portions of luxuriant forest, elsewhere skirting the margin of the sea. moses walked at such a pace that nigel, young and active though he was, found it no easy matter to keep up with him. pride, however, forbade him to show the slightest sign of difficulty, and made him even converse now and then in tones of simulated placidity. at last the path turned abruptly towards the face of a precipice and seemed to terminate in a small shallow cave. any one following the path out of mere curiosity would have naturally imagined that the cave was the termination of it; and a very poor termination too, seeing that it was a rather uninteresting cave, the whole of the interior of which could be seen at a single glance from its mouth. but this cave served in reality as a blind. climbing by one or two projecting points, the negro, closely followed by nigel, reached a narrow ledge and walked along it a short distance. on coming to the end of the ledge he jumped down into a mass of undergrowth, where the track again became visible--winding among great masses of weatherworn lava. here the ascent became very steep, and moses put on what sporting men call a spurt, which took him far ahead of nigel, despite the best efforts of the latter to keep up. still our hero scorned to run or call out to his guide to wait, and thereby admit himself beaten. he pushed steadily on, and managed to keep the active moses in view. presently the negro stepped upon a platform of rock high up on the cliffs, where his form could be distinctly seen against the bright sky. there nigel observed that he was joined by a man whose tall commanding figure seemed in such a position to be of gigantic proportions. the two stood engaged in earnest conversation while watching nigel. the latter immediately slackened his pace, in order at once to recover breath and approach with a leisurely aspect. "the wild man of the island, i suppose," he thought as he drew near; but on coming still nearer he saw that he must be mistaken, for the stranger who advanced to meet him with gracious ease and self-possession was obviously a gentleman, and dressed, not unlike himself, in a sort of mixed travelling and shooting costume. "i must apologise, mr. roy, for the presumption of my man, in bringing you here under something like false pretences," said the stranger, holding out his hand, which nigel shook heartily. "moses, i find, has failed to execute my commission, and has partially deceived you; but as you are now here, the least i can do is to bid you welcome, and offer you the hospitality of my roof." there was something so courteous and kindly in the tone and manner of the stranger, and something so winning in his soft gentle tones, which contrasted strangely with his grand towering figure and massive bearded countenance, that nigel felt drawn to him instantly. indeed there was a peculiar and mysterious something about him which quite fascinated our hero as he looked up at him, for, bordering on six feet though nigel was, the stranger stood several inches above him. "you are very kind," said the visitor, "and i don't think that moses can fairly be charged with deceiving me, although he has been somewhat unwise in his way of going about this business, for i had told him i wanted to see something of these regions, and perhaps it may be to my advantage to travel in your service--that is, if i can be of any use to you; but the time at my disposal may be too limited." "how much time have you to spare?" asked the stranger. "well, say perhaps three months." "that will do," returned his questioner, looking thoughtfully at the ground. "we will talk of this hereafter." "but--excuse me," said nigel, "your man spoke of you as a hermit--a sort of--of--forgive me--a wild-man-of-the-island, if i may--" "no, i didn't, massa nadgel," said the negro, the edge of whose flat contradiction was taken off by the extreme humility of his look. "well," returned nigel, with a laugh; "you at least gave me to understand that other people said something of that sort." "da's right, massa nadgel--kite right. you're k'rect _now_." "people have indeed got some strange ideas about me, i believe," interposed the hermit, with a grave almost sad expression and tone. "but come, let me introduce you to my hermitage and you shall judge for yourself." so saying, this singular being turned and led the way further up the rugged side of the peak of rakata. after about five minutes' walk in silence, the trio reached a spot where there was a clear view over the tree-tops, revealing the blue waters of the strait, with the java shores and mountains in the distance. behind them there yawned, dark and mysterious, a mighty cavern, so black and high that it might well suggest a portal leading to the regions below, where vulcan is supposed to stir those tremendous fires which have moulded much of the configuration of the world, and which are ever seething--an awful inferno--under the thin crust of the globe on which we stand. curiously formed and large-leaved trees of the tropics, with their pendent parasites, as well as rank grasses, sprouting from below and hanging from above, partially concealed this cavern from nigel when he first turned towards it, but a few steps further on he could see it in all its rugged grandeur. "my home," said the hermit, with a very slight smile and the air of a prince, as he turned towards his visitor and waved his hand towards it. "a magnificent entrance at all events," said nigel, returning the smile with something of dubiety, for he was not quite sure that his host was in earnest. "follow me," said the hermit, leading the way down a narrow well-worn path which seemed to lose itself in profound darkness. after being a few minutes within the cavern, however, nigel's eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and he perceived that the roof rapidly lowered, while its walls narrowed until they reached a spot which was not much wider than an ordinary corridor. here, however, it was so dark that it was barely possible to see a small door in the right-hand wall before which they halted. lifting a latch the hermit threw the door wide open, and a glare of dazzling light almost blinded the visitor. passing through the entrance, nigel followed his guide, and the negro let the heavy door shut behind him with a clang that was depressingly suggestive of a prison. "again i bid you welcome to my home," said the hermit, turning round and extending his hand, which nigel mechanically took and pressed, but without very well knowing what he did, for he was almost dumfounded by what he saw, and for some minutes gazed in silence around him. and, truly, there was ground for surprise. the visitor found himself in a small but immensely high and brilliantly lighted cavern or natural chamber, the walls of which were adorned with drawings of scenery and trees and specimens of plants, while on various shelves stood innumerable stuffed birds, and shells, and other specimens of natural history. a table and two chairs stood at one end of the cave, and, strangest of all, a small but well-filled book-case ornamented the other end. "arabian nights!" thought nigel. "i _must_ be dreaming." his wandering eyes travelled slowly round the cavern until they rested at last on the door by which they had entered, beside which stood the negro with a broad grin on his sable visage. chapter vii. wonders of the hermit's cave and island. the thing that perhaps surprised nigel most in this strange cavern was the blaze of light with which it was filled, for it came down direct through a funnel-shaped hole in the high roof and bore a marvellous resemblance to natural sunshine. he was well aware that unless the sun were shining absolutely in the zenith, the laws of light forbade the entrance of a _direct_ ray into such a place, yet there were the positive rays, although the sun was not yet high in the heavens, blinding him while he looked at them, and casting the shadows of himself and his new friends on the floor. there was the faintest semblance of a smile on the hermit's face as he quietly observed his visitor, and waited till he should recover self-possession. as for moses--words are wanting to describe the fields of teeth and gum which he displayed, but no sound was suffered to escape his magnificent lips, which closed like the slide of a dark lantern when the temptation to give way to feeling became too strong. "my cave interests you," said the hermit at last. "it amazes me," returned our hero, recovering himself and looking earnestly at his host, "for you seem not only to have all the necessaries of life around you in your strange abode, but many of the luxuries; among them the cheering presence of sunshine--though how you manage to get it is beyond my powers of conception." "it is simple enough, as you shall see," returned the hermit. "you have heard of the saying, no doubt, that 'all things are possible to well-directed labour'?" "yes, and that 'nothing can be achieved without it.'" "well, i have proved that to some extent," continued the hermit. "you see, by the various and miscellaneous implements on my shelves, that i am given to dabbling a little in science, and thus have made my lonely home as pleasant as such a home can be--but let us not talk of these matters just now. you must be hungry. have you had breakfast?" "no, we have not--unless, at least, you count a sea biscuit dipped in salt water a breakfast. after all, that may well be the case, for hermits are noted for the frugality of their fare." "i am not a genuine hermit," remarked his host gravely. "men do indeed call me the hermit of rakata, because i dwell alone here under the shadow of this particular cone of krakatoa, but i do not ape the austere life of the conventional hermit, as you see, either in my domestic arrangements or food. come, your breakfast is ready. from my outlook i saw your boat approaching some hours ago, and knew that it was mine, so i made ready for your arrival, though i did not guess that moses was bringing me a guest instead of a servant!" so saying, he led the way through a short natural passage to an inner cave, the entrance to which, like the outer one, was boarded. on opening a small door, nigel was again greeted as before with brilliant rays of sunshine, and, in addition, with a gush of odours that were exceedingly grateful to a hungry man. a low "ho! ho!" behind him told that his black companion was equally gratified. the inner cave or mess-room, as the host styled it, combined dining-room and kitchen, for while in one corner stood a deal table with plates, cups, etc., but no tablecloth, in another stood a small stove, heated by an oil lamp, from which issued puffing and sputtering sounds, and the savoury odours above referred to. nigel now perceived that although his strange host necessarily spoke a good deal while welcoming him and offering him the hospitalities of his abode, he was by no means communicative. on the contrary, it was evident that he was naturally reserved and reticent, and that although polite and gentle in the extreme, there was a quiet grave dignity about him which discouraged familiarity. it must not be supposed, however, that he was in any degree morosely silent. he was simply quiet and undemonstrative, said little except when asked questions, and spoke, alike to nigel and moses, in the soft, low, kindly tones with which one might address very young people. going to the stove he took a coffee-pot therefrom and set it on the table. at the same time, moses, without requiring to be told, opened the oven and brought forth fried fish, meat of some kind, and cakes of he knew not what, but cared little, for their excellence was unquestionable. during the meal that followed, nigel ventured as far as politeness permitted--indeed a little further, if truth must be told--to inquire into the circumstances and motives of his entertainer in taking up his abode in such a strange place, but he soon found that his eccentric friend was not one who could be "pumped." without a touch of rudeness, and in the sweetest of voices, he simply assumed an absent manner and changed the subject of discourse, when he did not choose to reply, by drawing attention to some irrelevant matter, or by putting a counter question which led away from the subject. nigel also found that his host never laughed and rarely smiled, though, when he did so the smile was so slight as merely to indicate a general feeling of urbanity and goodwill, and it was followed instantly by a look of gravity, if not sadness. altogether the guest was much perplexed about the host at first, and somewhat constrained in consequence, but gradually he began to feel at ease. another discovery that he soon made was, that the hermit treated moses not as a servant, but as if he were in all respects an equal and a comrade. after eating for some time in silence, and having tried to draw out his host without success, nigel changed his tactics and said-- "you were so kind as to speak of me as your guest, mr.---- mr.---- i beg pardon, may i--" "my name is van der kemp," said the hermit quietly. "well, mr. van der kemp, i must tell you that i am quite willing to accept the position for which moses hired me--" "no, i didn't," contradicted the negro, flatly yet very gently, both in tone and manner, for long residence with the hermit had apparently imbued him with something of his spirit. "well, then," said nigel, "the position for which moses _should have_ hired some one else. ('k'rect _now_' whispered moses.) of course i do not intend to ask for or accept wages, and also, of course, i accept the position on the understanding that you think me fit for the service. may i ask what that service is to be, and where you think of going to?" "the service," returned the hermit slowly and with his eyes fixed on the floor as if pondering his reply, "is to accompany me as my attendant and companion, to take notes as occasion may serve, and to paddle a canoe." at this reply our hero almost laughed, but was prevented from doing so by his host asking abruptly if he understood canoeing. "well, yes. at least i can manage what in england is known as the rob roy canoe, having possessed one in my boyhood." "that will do," returned the hermit gravely. "can you write shorthand?" "i can. a friend of mine, a reporter on one of the london dailies, once gave me a few lessons, and, becoming fond of the subject, i followed it up." "that is well; you did well. it is of immense advantage to a man, whatever his position in life, that he should be able to write shorthand with facility. especially useful is it in commerce. i know that, having had some experience of commercial life." at this point in the conversation nigel was startled by what was to him an absolutely new sensation, namely a shaking or trembling of the whole cavern, accompanied by faint rumbling sounds as if in deeper caverns below him. he glanced quickly at his host and at the negro, but to his surprise these remarkable men seemed not to be aware of the shaking, although it was severe enough to cause some of the furniture to rattle. observing his look of surprise, moses remarked, with a benignant though capacious smile, "mountain's got de mulligrumps pritty bad jist now." "we are pretty well accustomed to that," said the host, observing that nigel turned to him for an explanation. "no doubt you are aware that this region is celebrated for earthquakes and volcanoes, so much so that the inhabitants pay little attention to them unless they become unusually violent. this island of krakatoa is itself the fragment of an extinct volcano; but the term 'extinct' is scarcely applicable to volcanoes, for it is well known that many which were for centuries supposed to be extinct have awakened to sudden and violent activity--'quiescent' might be a more appropriate term." "yes," said moses, ceasing to masticate for purposes of speech; "dem 'stinkt volcanoes hab got an okard habit ob unstinkin' dereselves hereabouts when you don' 'spect it of 'em. go on, massa. i ax yer pard'n for 'truptin'." the hermit's peculiar good-natured little smile played for a moment on his massive features, and then faded away as he continued-- "perhaps you may have heard that this is the very heart of the district that has long been recognised as the greatest focus of volcanic activity on the globe?" "i have heard something of the sort," answered nigel, "but i confess that my knowledge is limited and my mind hazy on the subject." "i doubt it not," returned his friend, "for geographical and scientific training in primary schools anywhere is not what it might be. the island of java, with an area about equal to that of england, contains no fewer than forty-nine great volcanic mountains, some of which rise to , feet above the sea-level. many of these mountains are at the present time active ('yes, much _too_ active,' muttered the negro), and more than half of them have been seen in eruption since java was occupied by europeans. hot springs, mud-volcanoes, and vapour-vents abound all over the island, whilst earthquakes are by no means uncommon. there is a distinct line in the chain of these mountains which seems to point to a great fissure in the earth's crust, caused by the subterranean fires. this tremendous crack or fissure crosses the straits of sunda, and in consequence we find a number of these vents--as volcanic mountains may be styled--in the island of sumatra, which you saw to the nor'ard as you came along. but there is supposed to be another great crack in the earth's crust--indicated by several volcanic mountains--which crosses the other fissure almost at right angles, and at the exact point where these two lines intersect _stands this island of krakatoa_! "i emphasise the fact," continued the hermit after a pause, "first, because, although this has been a quiescent volcano since the year , and people have come to regard it as extinct, there are indications now which lead me to believe that its energy is reviving; and, second, because this focus where fissures cross each other--this krakatoa island--is in reality part of the crater of an older and much larger volcanic mountain, which must have been literally blown away in prehistoric times, and of which krakatoa and the neighbouring islets of varlaten, polish hat, lang island, and the rest, are but the remnants of the great crater ring. if these rumblings and minor earthquakes, which i have noticed of late--and the latest of which you have just experienced--are the precursors of another explosion, my home here may be rendered untenable." "hi!" exclaimed moses, who had been listening with open mouth and eyes to this discourse, which was obviously news to him, "i hope, massa, he ain't a-gwine to 'splode to-day--anyhow, not till after breakfast!" "you must have studied the subject of volcanoes a good deal, i suppose, from what you say," observed nigel. "naturally; living as i do almost on the top of one. my library, which i will show you presently, contains many interesting works on the subject. but come, if you have finished we will ascend the peak of rakata and i will introduce you to my sunshine." he rose and led his guest back to the outer cavern, leaving moses still busy with knife and fork, apparently meditating on the pleasure of breakfasting with the prospect of a possible and immediate explosion. in passing through the first chamber, nigel observed, in a natural recess, the library just referred to. he also noted that, besides stuffed birds and other specimens and sea-shells, there were chisels, saws, hammers, and other tools, besides something like a forge and carpenter's bench in a side-chamber opening out of the large one, which he had not at first seen--from all which he concluded that the hermit was imbued with mechanical as well as scientific and literary tastes. at the further and darker end of the outer cave there was a staircase, partly natural, and partly improved by art, which led upward into profound darkness. "let me take your hand here," said the hermit, looking down upon his guest with his slight but winning smile; "it is a rough and dark staircase. you will be apt to stumble." nigel placed his hand in that of his host with perfect confidence, and with a curious feeling--aroused, probably, by the action--of having returned to the days of childhood. the stair was indeed rugged as well as winding, and so pitchy dark that the youth could not have advanced at all without stumbling, unless his host had held him all the way. at last a glimmer of light was seen in the distance. it seemed to increase suddenly, and in a few moments the two emerged from total darkness into dazzling sunshine. when nigel looked round him he saw that they had gained a plateau, high up on the very summit of the mountain, which appeared to be absolutely inaccessible by any means save that by which they had reached it. "this is what i call my observatory," said the hermit, turning to his guest. "we have passed right through the peak of rakata, and reached its northern side, which commands, as you see, a view of all the northern part of the island. i come here often in the night to study the face of the heavens, the moon, and stars, and meditate on their mysterious maker, whose ways are indeed wonderful and past finding out; but all which must, in the nature of things, be _right_." as this was the first mention that the hermit had made of the creator, and the reference was one requiring more thought than nigel had yet bestowed on it, he made no rejoinder. "have you studied astronomy, mr. roy?" "no--at least not more of it than was needful for navigation. but pray, sir, do not call me mr. roy," said the youth, with a somewhat embarrassed air. "if i am to be your assistant and familiar companion for two or three months, i hope that you will agree to call me nigel. your man has done so already without asking leave!" "i will, on one condition." "and that is--?" "that you also dispense with the 'mr.' and 'sir,' and call me van der kemp." "agreed," said nigel, "though it does not seem so appropriate in me as in you, considering the difference of our years." "look here," said the hermit, turning abruptly to a small wooden shed which had hitherto escaped the youth's observation, so covered was it with overhanging boughs and tropical creeping plants, "these are my astronomical instruments." he pointed to a table in the hut on which stood several telescopes--and microscopes as well--one of the former being a large instrument, certainly not less than six feet long, with a diameter of apparently six or eight inches. "here, you see, i have the means of investigating the wonders of nature in her grandest as well as her minutest scales. and there," he added, pointing to a couple of large reflecting mirrors in strong wooden frames, erected on joints in such a way that they could be turned in any direction,--"there you have the secret of my sunshine. one of these mirrors catches the sunshine direct and reflects it on the other, which, as you see, is so arranged that it transmits the rays down the natural funnel or chimney into the cave. by means of chains connected with the mechanism, and extending below, i can change the direction of the mirrors as the sun changes its place in the sky, without requiring to come up here." "very ingenious!" said nigel; "but how do you manage when the mountain comes between you and the sun, as i see it cannot fail to do during some part of the day?" "simply enough," returned the hermit, pointing to a distant projecting cliff or peak. "on yon summit i have fixed four mirrors similar to these. when the sun can no longer be reflected from this pair, the first of the distant mirrors takes it up and shoots a beam of light over here. when the sun passes from that, the second mirror is arranged to catch and transmit it, and so on to the fourth. after that i bid good-bye to the sun, and light my lamp!" nigel felt an almost irresistible tendency to smile at this, but the grave simplicity of the man forbade such familiarity. "look yonder," continued the hermit, sweeping one of his long arms towards sumatra, "in that direction runs the line of volcanic disturbance--the fissure of which i have already spoken. focus this telescope to suit your sight. now, do you see the little island away there to the nor'-west?" "yes." "well, that is _varlaten_. i mentioned it when at breakfast. sweep your glass round to the nor'ard, the little island there is _polish hat_, and you see _lang island_ in the nor'-east. these, with krakatoa, are merely the higher parts still remaining above water of the ring or lip of the ancient crater. this will give you some idea what an enormous mountain the original of this old volcano must have been. this island-mountain is estimated to have been twenty-five miles in circumference, and , to , feet high. it was blown into the air in , and this island, with the few islets i have pointed out, is all that remains of it! now, cast your eye down the centre of the island on which we stand; you see several cones of various sizes. these are ancient vents, supposed to be extinct--" "but one of them, the one furthest away," interrupted nigel, steadying his telescope on the branch of a tree, "seems to be anything but extinct, for i see a thin column of white smoke or steam rising from it." "that is just what i was going to point out. they call that perboewatan. it is the lowest peak on the island, about feet high, and stands, i should say, in the very centre of the ancient crater, where are the two fissures i have mentioned. for two hundred years perboewatan has not smoked like that, and, slight though it is at present, i cannot help thinking that it indicates an impending eruption, especially when i consider that earthquakes have become more numerous of late years, and there was one in which was so violent as to damage seriously the lighthouse on java's first point." "then you have resided here for some time?" said nigel. "yes, for many years," replied the hermit, in a low, sad tone. "but is it wise in you to stay if you think an explosion so likely? don't you needlessly run considerable risk?" "i do not fear to die." nigel looked at his new friend in surprise, but there was not a shadow of boastfulness or affectation either in his look or tone. "besides," he continued, "the explosion may be but slight, and perboewatan is, as you see, about four miles off. people in the neighbourhood of the straits and passing ships are so accustomed to volcanic explosions on a more or less grand scale that they will never notice this little cloud hanging over krakatoa. those who, like myself, know the ancient history of the island, regard it in a more serious light, but we may be wrong. come, now, we will descend again and have a ramble over part of the island. it will interest you. not many men have penetrated its luxuriant forests or know their secrets. i have wandered through them in all directions, and can guide you. indeed, moses could do that as well as i, for he has lived with me many years. come." returning to the cavern they found that the active negro had not only finished his breakfast, but had washed the dishes and cleared up the kitchen, so that he was quite ready to shoulder a wallet and a gun when his master bade him prepare for a day in the forest. it is not, however, our intention to follow the trio thither. matters of greater interest, if not importance, claim our attention at present. let it suffice to say, therefore, that after a most delightful day, spent in wandering amongst the luxuriant tropical vegetation with which the island was densely covered, visiting one of the extinct craters, bathing in one of the numerous hot springs, and collecting many objects of interest to the hermit, in the shape of botanical and geological specimens, they returned in the evening to their cavern-house not only ready but eager for sustenance and repose. chapter viii. perboewatan becomes moderately violent. the cave was enshrouded in almost total darkness when they entered it, but this was quickly dispelled, to nigel's no little surprise, by the rays of a magnificent oil lamp, which moses lighted and placed on the table in the larger cave. a smaller one of the same kind already illuminated the kitchen. not much conversation was indulged in during the progress of the supper that was soon spread upon the rude table. the three men, being uncommonly hungry and powerfully robust, found in food a sufficient occupation for their mouths for some time. after supper they became a little, but not much, more sociable, for, although nigel's active mind would gladly have found vent in conversation, he experienced some difficulty in making headway against the discouragement of van der kemp's very quiet disposition, and the cavernous yawns with which moses displayed at once his desire for slumber and his magnificent dental arrangements. "we always retire early to rest after a day of this sort," said the hermit at last, turning to his guest. "do you feel disposed for bed?" "indeed i do," said nigel, with a half-suppressed yawn, that was irresistibly dragged out of him by the sight of another earthquake on the negro's face. "come, then, i will show you your berth; we have no bedrooms here," said the hermit, with a sort of deprecatory smile, as he led the way to the darker end of the cavern, where he pointed to a little recess in which there was a pile of something that smelt fresh and looked like heather, spread on which there was a single blanket. "sailors are said to be indifferent to sheets. you won't miss them, i daresay?" "not in the least," returned nigel, with a laugh. "good-night," he added, shaking hands with his host and suppressing another yawn, for moses' face, even in the extreme distance, was irresistibly infectious! our hero was indifferent not only to sheets, but also, in certain circumstances, to the usual habiliments of night. indeed, while travelling in out-of-the-way regions he held it to be a duty to undress but partially before turning in, so that he might be ready for emergencies. on lying down he found his mattress, whatever it was, to be a springy, luxurious bed, and was about to resign himself to slumber when he observed that, from the position in which he lay, he could see the cavern in all its extent. opening his half-closed eyes, therefore, he watched the proceedings of his host, and in doing so, as well as in speculating on his strange character and surroundings, he became somewhat wakeful. he saw that van der kemp, returning to the other end of the cave, sat down beside the lamp, the blaze of which fell full on his fine calm countenance. a motion of his head brought moses to him, who sat down beside him and entered into earnest conversation, to judge from his gestures, for nothing could be heard where nigel lay save the monotonous murmur of their voices. the hermit did not move. except for an occasional inclination of the head he appeared to be a grand classic statue, but it was otherwise with the negro. his position in front of the lamp caused him to look if possible even blacker than ever, and the blackness was so uniform that his entire profile became strongly pronounced, thus rendering every motion distinct, and the varied pouting of his huge lips remarkably obvious. the extended left hand, too, with the frequent thrusting of the index finger of the other into the palm, was suggestive of argument, and of much reasoning effort--if not power. after about half-an-hour of conversation, moses arose, shook his master by the hand, appeared to say "good-night" very obviously, yawned, and retired to the kitchen, whence, in five minutes or so, there issued sounds which betokened felicitous repose. meanwhile his master sat motionless for some time, gazing at the floor as if in meditation. then he rose, went to his book-case and took down a large thick volume, which he proceeded to read. nigel had by that time dropped into a drowsy condition, yet his interest in the doings of his strange entertainer was so great that he struggled hard to keep awake, and partially succeeded. "i wonder," he muttered, in sleepy tones, "if that's a f--fam--'ly bible he's reading--or--or--a vol'm o' the en--encyclopida brit--" he dropped off at this point, but, feeling that he had given way to some sort of weakness, he struggled back again into wakefulness, and saw that the hermit was bending over the large book with his massive brow resting on the palms of both hands, and his fingers thrust into his iron-grey hair. it was evident, however, that he was not reading the book at that moment, for on its pages was lying what seemed to be a miniature or photograph case, at which he gazed intently. nigel roused himself to consider this, and in doing so again dropped off--not yet soundly, however, for curiosity induced one more violent struggle, and he became aware of the fact that the hermit was on his knees with his face buried in his hands. the youth's thoughts must have become inextricably confused at this point, yet their general drift was indicated by the muttered words: "i--i'm glad o' that--a good sign--an'--an' it's _not_ th' encyclop----." here morpheus finally conquered, and he sank into dreamless repose. how long this condition lasted he could not tell, but he was awakened violently by sensations and feelings of dread, which were entirely new to him. the bed on which he rested seemed to heave under him, and his ears were filled by sharp rattling sounds, something like--yet very different from--the continuous roll of musketry. starting up, he sprang into the large cavern where he found van der kemp quietly tightening his belt and moses hastily pulling on his boots. "sometin's bu'sted an' no mistake!" exclaimed the latter. "an eruption from one of the cones," said the hermit. "i have been for a long time expecting it. come with us." he went swiftly up the staircase and passages which led to the observatory as he spoke. the scene that met their eyes on reaching the ledge or plateau was sublime in the extreme, as well as terrific. "as i thought," said van der kemp, in a low tone. "it is perboewatan that has broken out." "the cone from which i observed smoke rising?" asked nigel. "the same. the one over the very centre of the old crater, showing that we were wrong in supposing it to be extinct: it was only slumbering. it is in what vulcanologists term moderate eruption now, and, perhaps, may prove a safety-valve which will prevent a more violent explosion." that the cone of perboewatan was indeed in a state of considerable activity, worthy of a stronger term than "moderate," was very obvious. although at a distance, as we have said, of four miles, the glare of its fires on the three figures perched near the top of rakata was very intense, while explosion after explosion sent molten lava and red-hot rocks, pumice, and dust, high into the thickening air--clouds of smoke and steam being vomited forth at the same time. the wind, of which there was very little, blew it all away from the position occupied by the three observers. "what if the wind were to change and blow it all this way?" asked nigel, with very pardonable feelings of discomfort. "we could return to the cavern," said the hermit. "but what if rakata itself should become active?" it was evident from the very solemn expression on the negro's face that he awaited the reply to nigel's question with some anxiety. "rakata," answered the hermit thoughtfully, "although the highest cone, is the one most distant from the great centre of activity. it is therefore not likely that the volcanic energy will seek a vent here while there are other cones between us and perboewatan. but we shall soon see whether the one vent is likely to suffice. there is undoubtedly no diminution in the explosions at present." there certainly was not, for the voice of the speaker was almost drowned by the horrible din caused, apparently, by the hurtling of innumerable fragments of rock and stones in the air, while a succession of fiery flashes, each followed by a loud explosion, lit up the dome-shaped mass of vapour that was mounting upwards and spreading over the sky. vivid flashes of lightning were also seen playing around the vapour-column. at the same time, there began a fall of fine white dust, resembling snow, which soon covered the foliage and the ground of all the lower part of the island. the sea around was also ere long covered with masses of pumice, which, being very light, floated away into the indian ocean, and these were afterwards encountered in large quantities by various vessels passing through sunda straits. the scientific committee, which ultimately wrote on the details of this eruption in krakatoa, mention this first outburst as being a phase of moderate activity, similar to that which is said to have been exhibited for some months during the years and , and they added that "the outburst was one of considerable violence, especially at its commencement," that falls of dust were noticed at the distance of three hundred miles, and that "the commander of the german war-vessel _elizabeth_ estimated the height of the dust-column issuing from the volcano at kilometres ( , feet or about miles)."[ ] to our hero, however, and to moses, the outburst seemed anything but "moderate," and that night as they two sat together in the cave after supper, listening with awe-struck faces to the cannonading and wild musketry going on as it seemed under their very feet, the negro solemnly imparted to nigel in a low whisper that he thought "de end ob de wurld hab come at last!" returning at that moment from his observatory, to which he had ascended for a few minutes to view the scene through one of his glasses, van der kemp relieved their anxieties somewhat by remarking, in his quiet manner, that there was a distinct diminution in the violence of the explosions, and that, from his knowledge and experience of other volcanoes in java, sumatra, and elsewhere, he thought it probable they had seen the worst of it at that time, and that none of the other cones would be likely to break out. "i'm glad to hear you say so," observed nigel, "for although the sight is extremely magnificent and very interesting, both from a scientific and artistic point of view, i cannot help thinking that we should be safer away from this island at present--at least while the volcano is active." the hermit smiled almost pitifully. "i do not apprehend danger," he said, "at least nothing unusual. but it happens that my business requires me to leave in the course of a few days at any rate, so, whether the eruption becomes fiercer or feebler, it will not matter to us. i have preparations to make, however, and i have no doubt you won't object to remain till all is ready for a start?" "oh, as to that," returned the youth, slightly hurt by the implied doubt as to his courage, "if _you_ are willing to risk going off the earth like a skyrocket, i am quite ready to take my chance of following you!" "an' moses am de man," said the negro, smiting his broad chest with his fist, "what's ready to serve as a rocket-stick to bof, an' go up along wid you!" the hermit made the nearest approach to a laugh which nigel had yet seen, as he left the cave to undertake some of the preparations above referred to. footnotes: [footnote : see _the eruption of krakatoa and subsequent phenomena_, p. . (trübner and co., london.)] chapter ix. describes, among other things, a singular meeting under peculiar circumstances. there is unquestionably a class of men--especially englishmen--who are deeply imbued with the idea that the universe in general, and our world in particular, has been created with a view to afford them what they call fun. "it would be great fun," said an english commercial man to a friend who sat beside him, "to go and have a look at this eruption. they say it is krakatoa which has broken out after a sleep of two centuries, and as it has been bursting away now for nearly a week, it is likely to hold on for some time longer. what would you say to charter a steamer and have a grand excursion to the volcano?" the friend said he thought it would indeed be "capital fun!" we have never been able to ascertain who these englishmen were, but they must have been men of influence, or able to move men of influence, for they at once set to work and organised an excursion. the place where this excursion was organised was batavia. although that city was situated in java, nearly a hundred miles distant from krakatoa, the inhabitants had not only heard distinctly the explosions of the volcano, but had felt some quakings of the earth and much rattling of doors and windows, besides a sprinkling of ashes, which indicated that the eruption, even in that eruptive region, was of unusual violence. they little imagined to what mighty throes the solid rocks of krakatoa were yet to be subjected before those volcanic fires could find a vent. meanwhile, as we have said, there was enough of the unusual in it to warrant our merchants in their anticipation of a considerable amount of fun. a steamer was got ready; a number of sightseeing enthusiasts were collected, and they set forth on the morning of the th of may. among these excursionists was our friend captain david roy--not that _he_ was addicted to running about in search of "fun," but, being unavoidably thrown idle at the time, and having a poetical turn of mind--derived from his wife--he thought he could not do better than take a run to the volcano and see how his son was getting along. the party reached the scene of the eruption on the morning of the th, having witnessed during the night several tolerably strong explosions, which were accompanied by earthquake shocks. it was found that krakatoa and all the adjoining islands were covered with a fine white dust, like snow, and that the trees on the northern part of the former island and varlaten had been to a great extent deprived of their leaves and branches by falling pumice, while those on lang island and polish hat, as well as those on the peak of rakata, had to a great extent escaped--no doubt owing to the prevailing direction of the wind. it was soon seen that perboewatan on krakatoa was the cone in active eruption, and the steamer made for its neighbourhood, landing her party within a short distance of its base. explosions were occurring at intervals of from five to ten minutes. each explosion being accompanied by an uncovering of the molten lava in the vent, the overhanging steam-cloud was lighted up with a grand glow for a few seconds. some of the party, who seemed to be authorities on such matters, estimated that the vapour-column rose to a height of nearly , feet, and that fragments of pumice were shot upwards to a height of feet. "that's a sign that the violence of the eruption is diminished," remarked the young merchant, who was in search of fun, as he prepared to wade ankle-deep in the loose pumice up the slopes of the cone. "diminished!" repeated our captain, who had fraternised much with this merchant during their short voyage. "if that's what you call diminishin', i shouldn't like to be here when it's increasin'." "pooh!" exclaimed the merchant, "that's nothing. i've seen, at other volcanoes, pieces of pumice blown up so high that they've been caught by the upper currents of the atmosphere and carried away in an opposite direction to the wind that was blowing below at the time. ay, i believe that dust is sometimes blown _miles_ up into the air." as captain roy thought that the merchant was drawing the long bow he made no reply, but changed the subject by asking what was the height of perboewatan. "three hundred feet or thereabouts," replied his friend. "i hope my son will have the sense to clear out of the island if things look like gittin' worse," muttered the captain, as an unusually violent explosion shook the whole side of the cone. "no fear of him," returned the merchant. "if he is visiting the hermit of rakata, as you tell me, he'll be safe enough. although something of a dare-devil, the hermit knows how to take care of himself. i'm afraid, however, that you'll not find it so easy to 'look up' your son as you seem to think. just glance round at these almost impenetrable forests. you don't know what part of the island he may be in just now; and you might as well look for a needle in a bundle of hay as look for him there. he is probably at the other end of krakatoa--four or five miles off--on the south side of rakata, where the hermit's cave is supposed to be, for no one seems to be quite sure as to its whereabouts. besides, you'll have to stick by the excursionists if you wish to return to batavia." captain roy paused for a moment to recover breath, and looking down upon the dense tropical forest that stretched between him and the peak of rakata, he shook his head, and admitted that the merchant was right. turning round he addressed himself once more to the ascent of the cone, on the sides of which the whole excursion party now straggled and struggled, remarking, as he panted along, that hill-climbing among ashes and cinders didn't "come easy to a sea-farin' man." now, nothing was more natural than that van der kemp and his guest should be smitten with the same sort of desire which had brought these excursionists from batavia. the only thing that we do not pretend to account for is the strange coincidence that they should have been so smitten, and had so arranged their plans, that they arrived at perboewatan almost at the same time with the excursionists--only about half an hour before them! their preliminary walk, however, through the tangled, almost impassable, forest had been very slow and toilsome, and having been involved in its shadow from daybreak, they were, of course, quite unaware of the approach of the steamer or the landing of the excursion party. "if the volcano seems quieting down," said nigel to his host, "shall you start to-morrow?" "yes; by daybreak. even if the eruption does _not_ quiet down i must set out, for my business presses." nigel felt much inclined to ask what his business was, but there was a quiet something in the air of the hermit, when he did not choose to be questioned, which effectually silenced curiosity. falling behind a little, till the negro came up with him, nigel tried to obtain information from him, for he felt that he had a sort of right to know at least something about the expedition in which he was about to act a part. "do you know, moses, what business your master is going about?" he asked, in a low voice. "no more nor de man ob de moon, massa nadgel," said moses, with an air at once so truthful and so solemn that the young man gave it up with a laugh of resignation. on arriving at perboewatan, and ascending its sides, they at last became aware of the approach of the excursion steamer. "strange," muttered the hermit, "vessels don't often touch here." "perhaps they have run short of water," suggested nigel. "even if they had it would not be worth their while to stop here for that," returned the hermit, resuming the ascent of the cone after an intervening clump of trees had shut out the steamer from view. it was with feelings of profound interest and considerable excitement that our hero stood for the first time on the top of a volcanic cone and gazed down into its glowing vent. the crater might be described as a huge basin of feet in diameter. from the rim of this basin on which the visitors stood the sides sloped so gradually inward that the flat floor at the bottom was not more than half that diameter. this floor--which was about feet below the upper edge--was covered with a black crust, and in the centre of it was the tremendous cavity--between one and two hundred feet in diameter--from which issued the great steam-cloud. the cloud was mixed with quantities of pumice and fragments of what appeared to be black glass. the roar of this huge vent was deafening and stupendous. if the reader will reflect on the wonderful hubbub that can be created even by a kitchen kettle when superheated, and on the exasperating shrieks of a steamboat's safety-valve in action, or the bellowing of a fog-horn, he may form some idea of the extent of his incapacity to conceive the thunderous roar of krakatoa when it began to boil over. when to this awful sound there were added the intermittent explosions, the horrid crackling of millions of rock-masses meeting in the air, and the bubbling up of molten lava--verily it did not require the imagination of a dante to see in all this the very vomiting of gehenna! so amazed and well-nigh stunned was nigel at the sights and sounds that he neither heard nor saw the arrival of the excursionists, until the equally awe-stricken moses touched him on the elbow and drew his attention to several men who suddenly appeared on the crater-brim not fifty yards off, but who, like themselves, were too much absorbed with the volcano itself to observe the other visitors. probably they took them for some of their own party who had reached the summit before them. nigel was yet looking at these visitors in some surprise, when an elderly nautical man suddenly stood not twenty yards off gazing in open-mouthed amazement, past our hero's very nose, at the volcanic fires. "hallo, father!" shouted the one. "zounds! nigel!" exclaimed the other. both men glared and were speechless for several seconds. then nigel rushed at the captain, and the captain met him half-way, and they shook hands with such hearty goodwill as to arrest in his operations for a few moments a photographer who was hastily setting up his camera! yes, science has done much to reveal the marvellous and arouse exalted thoughts in the human mind, but it has also done something to crush enthusiasts and shock the romantic. veracity constrains us to state that there he was, with his tripod, and his eager haste, and his hideous black cloth, preparing to "take" perboewatan on a "dry plate"! and he "took" it too! and you may see it, if you will, as a marvellous frontispiece to the volume by the "krakatoa committee"--a work which is apparently as exhaustive of the subject of krakatoa as was the great explosion itself of those internal fires which will probably keep that volcano quiet for the next two hundred years. but this was not the great eruption of krakatoa--only a rehearsal, as it were. "what brought you here, my son?" asked the captain, on recovering speech. "my legs, father." "don't be insolent, boy." "it's not insolence, father. it's only poetical licence, meant to assure you that i did not come by 'bus or rail though you did by steamer! but let me introduce you to my friend, mr.----" he stopped short on looking round, for van der kemp was not there. "he goed away wheneber he saw de peepil comin' up de hill," said moses, who had watched the meeting of father and son with huge delight. "but you kin interdooce _me_ instead," he added, with a crater-like smile. "true, true," exclaimed nigel, laughing. "this is moses, father, my host's servant, and my very good friend, and a remarkably free-and-easy friend, as you see. he will guide us back to the cave, since van der kemp seems to have left us." "who's van der kemp?" asked the captain. "the hermit of rakata, father--that's his name. his father was a dutchman and his mother an english or irish woman--i forget which. he's a splendid fellow; quite different from what one would expect; no more like a hermit than a hermit-crab, except that he lives in a cave under the peak of rakata, at the other end of the island. but you must come with us and pay him a visit. he will be delighted to see you." "what! steer through a green sea of leaves like that?" said the captain, stretching his arm towards the vast forest that lay stretched out below them, "and on my legs, too, that have been used all their lives to a ship's deck? no, my son. i will content myself with this lucky meetin'. but, i say, nigel, lad," continued the old man, somewhat more seriously, "what if the peak o' ra--ra, what's-'is-name, should take to spoutin' like this one, an' you, as you say, livin' under it?" "ha! das 'zackly what _i_ say," interposed moses. "das what i oftin says to massa, but he nebber answers. he only smile. massa's not always so purlite as he might be!" "there is no fear," said nigel, "not at present, anyhow, for van der kemp says that the force of this eruption is diminishing--" "it don't look much like it," muttered the captain, as the volcano at that moment gave vent to a burst which seemed like a sarcastic laugh at the hermit's opinion, and sent the more timid of the excursionists sprawling down the cinder-slope in great alarm. "there's reason in what you say, father," said nigel, when the diminution of noise rendered speech more easy; "and after all, as we start off on our travels to-morrow, your visit could not have been a long one." "where do you go first?" asked the captain. "not sure. do _you_ know, moses?" "no; no more 'n de man ob de moon. p'r'aps borneo. he go dar sometimes." at this point another roar from the volcano, and a shout from the leader of the excursionists to return on board, broke up the conference. "well, lad, i'm glad i've seen you. don't forget to write your whereabouts. they say there's a lot o' wild places as well as wild men and beasts among them islands, so keep your weather-eye open an' your powder dry. good-bye, nigel. take care of him, moses, and keep him out o' mischief if ye can--which is more than ever i could. good-bye, my boy." "good-bye, father." they shook hands vigorously. in another minute the old seaman was sailing down the cinder-cone at the rate of fourteen knots an hour, while his son, setting off under the guidance of moses towards a different point of the compass, was soon pushing his way through the tangled forest in the direction of the hermit's cave. chapter x. a curious sea-going craft--the unknown voyage begun. it was early next morning when van der kemp and his man left their couches and descended to the shore, leaving their visitor enjoying the benefit of that profound slumber which bids defiance to turmoil and noise, however stupendous, and which seems to be the peculiar privilege of healthy infants and youthful seamen. perboewatan had subsided considerably towards morning, and had taken to that internal rumbling, which in the feline species indicates mitigated indignation. the hermit had therefore come to the conclusion that the outburst was over, and went with moses to make arrangements for setting forth on his expedition after breakfast. they had scarcely left the cave when nigel awoke. feeling indisposed for further repose, he got up and went out in that vague state of mind which is usually defined as "having a look at the weather." whether or not he gathered much information from the look we cannot tell, but, taking up his short gun, which stood handy at the entrance of the cave, he sauntered down the path which his host had followed a short time before. arrived at the shore, he observed that a branch path diverged to the left, and appeared to run in the direction of a high precipice. he turned into it, and after proceeding through the bushes for a short way he came quite unexpectedly on a cavern, the mouth of which resembled, but was much higher and wider than that which led to the hermit's home. just as he approached it there issued from its gloomy depths a strange rumbling sound which induced him to stop and cock his gun. a curious feeling of serio-comic awe crept over him as the idea of a fiery dragon leaped into his mind! at the same time, the fancy that the immense abyss of darkness might be one of the volcanic vents diminished the comic and increased the serious feeling. ere long the sound assumed the definite tone of footsteps, and the dragon fancy seemed about to become a reality when he beheld a long narrow thing of uncertain form emerging from the darkness. "it must be coming out tail-foremost!" he muttered, with a short laugh at his semi-credulity. another instant and the hermit emerged into the blazing sunshine, and stood pictured against the intense darkness like a being of supernatural radiance, with the end of a long narrow canoe on his shoulder. as nigel passed round a bush to reach him he perceived the dark form of moses emerging from the depths and supporting the body of the canoe. "i see you are active and an early riser," said the hermit, with a nod of approval on seeing our hero. "i almost took you for a krakatoa monster!" said nigel, as they came out in front of the cavern and laid the canoe on the ground. "why, you've got here one of the craft which we in england call a rob roy canoe!" "it is fashioned on the same pattern," said the hermit, "but with one or two alterations of my own devising, and an improvement--as i think--founded on what i have myself seen, when travelling with the eskimos of greenland." van der kemp here pointed out that the canoe was not only somewhat broader than the kind used in england, but was considerably longer, and with three openings or manholes in the deck, so that it was capable of holding three persons. also, that there was a large rounded mass of wood fixed in front of the three manholes. "these saddles, as i call them," said the hermit, "have been suggested to me by the eskimos, who, instead of wearying their arms by supporting the double-bladed paddle continuously, rest it on the saddle and let it slide about thereon while being used. thus they are able to carry a much longer and heavier paddle than that used in the rob roy canoe, the weight of which, as it rests on the saddle, is not felt. moreover it does not require nearly so much dip to put it in the water. i have heard of a sort of upright with a universal joint being applied to the english canoe, but it seems to me a much more clumsy and much less effective, because rigid, contrivance than the eskimo saddle. inside, under the deck, as i will show you by and by, i have lighter and shorter paddles for use when in narrow rivers, but i prefer the long heavy paddle when traversing great stretches of ocean." "you don't mean to say you ever go to sea in an eggshell like that!" exclaimed nigel in surprise. "indeed we do," returned the hermit, "and we are fitted out for longish voyages and rough weather. besides, it is not so much of an eggshell as you suppose. i made it myself, and took care that it should be fit for the work required of it. the wood of which it is made, although light, is very tough, and it is lined with a skin of strong canvas which is fixed to the planks with tar. this makes the craft watertight as well as strong. the ribs also are very light and close together, and every sixth rib is larger and stronger than the others and made of tougher wood. all these ribs are bound together by longitudinal pieces, or laths, of very tough wood, yet so thin that the whole machine is elastic without being weak. besides this, there are two strong oiled-canvas partitions, which divide the canoe into three water-tight compartments, any two of which will float it if the third should get filled." "is this then the craft in which you intend to voyage?" asked nigel. "it is. we shall start in an hour or two. i keep it in this cave because it is near the landing-place. but come, you will understand things better when you see us making our arrangements. of course you understand how to manage sails of every kind?" "if i did not it would ill become me to call myself a sailor," returned our hero. "that is well, because you will sit in the middle, from which position the sail is partly managed. i usually sit in the bow to have free range for the use of my gun, if need be, and moses steers." van der kemp proceeded down the track as he said this, having, with the negro, again lifted the canoe on his shoulder. a few minutes' walk brought them to the beach at the spot where nigel had originally landed. here a quantity of cargo lay on the rocks ready to be placed in the canoe. there were several small bags of pemmican, which van der kemp had learned to make while travelling on the prairies of north america among the red indians,--for this singular being seemed to have visited most parts of the habitable globe during his not yet very long life. there were five small casks of fresh water, two or three canisters of gunpowder, a small box of tea and another of sugar, besides several bags of biscuits. there were also other bags and boxes which did not by their appearance reveal their contents, and all the articles were of a shape and size which seemed most suitable for passing through the manholes, and being conveniently distributed and stowed in the three compartments of the canoe. there was not very much of anything, however, so that when the canoe was laden and ready for its voyage, the hermit and his man were still able to raise and carry it on their shoulders without the assistance of nigel. there was one passenger whom we have not yet mentioned, namely, a small monkey which dwelt in the cave with the canoe, and which, although perfectly free to come and go when he pleased, seldom left the cave except for food, but seemed to have constituted himself the guardian of the little craft. spinkie, as moses had named him, was an intensely affectionate creature, with a countenance of pathetic melancholy which utterly belied his character, for mischief and fun were the dominating qualities of that monkey. he was seated on a water-cask when nigel first caught sight of him, holding the end of his long tail in one hand, and apparently wiping his nose with it. "is that what he is doing?" asked nigel of the negro. "oh no, massa nadgel," said moses. "spinkie nebber ketch cold an' hab no need ob a pocket-hangkitcher. he only tickles his nose wid 'is tail. but he's bery fond ob doin' dat." being extremely fond of monkeys, nigel went forward to fondle him, and spinkie being equally fond of fondling, resigned himself placidly--after one interrogative gaze of wide-eyed suspicion--into the stranger's hands. a lifelong friendship was cemented then and there. after stowing the cargo the party returned to the upper cavern, leaving the monkey to guard the canoe. "an' he's a good defender ob it," said moses, "for if man or beast happen to come near it when spinkie's in charge, dat monkey sets up a skriekin' fit to cause a 'splosion ob perboewatan!" breakfast over, the hermit put his cave in order for a pretty long absence, and they again descended to the shore, each man carrying his bed on his shoulder. each bed, however, was light and simple. it consisted merely of one blanket wrapped up in an oil-cloth sheet. besides, an old-fashioned powder-flask and shot belt. van der kemp and nigel had slung a bullet-pouch on their shoulders, and carried small hatchets and hunting-knives in their belts. moses was similarly armed, with this difference, that his _couteau de chasse_ bore stronger resemblance to an ancient roman sword than a knife, and his axe was of larger size than the hatchets of his companions. launching the canoe, the hermit and his man held it fast at either end while nigel was directed to take his place in the central of the three openings or manholes. he did so and found himself seated on a flat board on the bottom of the canoe, which was so shallow that the deck scarcely rose as high as his waist. round the manhole there was a ledge of thin wood, about three inches high, to which a circular apron of oiled canvas was attached. "yes, you'd better understand that thing before we start," said van der kemp, observing that nigel was examining the contrivance with some curiosity. "it's an apron to tie round you in bad weather to keep the water out. in fine weather it is rolled as you see it now round the ledge. undo the buckle before and behind and you will see how it is to be used." acting as directed, nigel unbuckled the roll and found that he was surrounded by a sort of petticoat of oil-skin which could be drawn up and buckled round his chest. in this position it could be kept by a loop attached to a button, or a wooden pin, thrust through the coat. "you see," explained the hermit, "the waves may wash all over our deck and round our bodies without being able to get into the canoe while we have these things on--there are similar protections round the other holes." "i understand," said nigel. "but how if water gets in through a leak below?" "do you see that brass thing in front of you?" returned the hermit. "that is a pump which is capable of keeping under a pretty extensive leak. the handle unships, so as to be out of the way when not wanted. i keep it here, under the deck in front of me, along with mast and sails and a good many other things." as he spoke he raised a plank of the deck in front of the foremost hole, and disclosed a sort of narrow box about six feet long by six inches broad. the plank was hinged at one end and fastened with a hook at the other so as to form a lid to the box. the hole thus disclosed was not an opening into the interior of the canoe, but was a veritable watertight box just under the deck, so that even if it were to get filled with water not a drop could enter the canoe itself. but the plank-lid was so beautifully fitted, besides shutting tightly down on indiarubber, that the chance of leakage through that source was very remote. although very narrow, this box was deep, and contained a variety of useful implements; among them a slender mast and tiny sail, which could be rendered still smaller by means of reef points. all these things were fitted into their respective places with so keen an eye to economy of space that the arrangement cannot be better described than by the familiar phrase--_multum, in parvo._ "we don't use the sails much; we depend chiefly on this," said the hermit, as he seated himself in the front hole and laid the long, heavy, double-bladed paddle on the saddle in front of him. moses uses a single blade, partly because it is handier for steering and partly because he has been accustomed to it in his own land. you are at liberty to use which you prefer." "thanks, i will follow the lead of moses, for i also have been accustomed to the single blade and prefer it--at least while i am one of three. if alone, i should prefer the double blade." "now, moses, are you ready?" asked the hermit. "all ready, massa." "get in then and shove off. come along, spinkie." the monkey, which all this time had been seated on a rock looking on with an expression of inconsolable sorrow, at once accepted the invitation, and with a lively bound alighted on the deck close to the little mast, which had been set up just in front of nigel, and to which it held on when the motions of the canoe became unsteady. "you need not give yourself any concern about spinkie," said the hermit, as they glided over the still water of the little cove in which the canoe and boat were harboured. "he is quite able to take care of himself." bounding the entrance to the cove and shooting out into the ocean under the influence of van der kemp's powerful strokes, they were soon clear of the land, and proceeded eastward at a rate which seemed unaccountable to our hero, for he had not sufficiently realised the fact that in addition to the unusual physical strength of van der kemp as well as that of moses, to say nothing of his own, the beautiful fish-like adaptation of the canoe to the water, the great length and leverage of the bow paddle, and the weight of themselves as well as the cargo, gave this canoe considerable advantage over other craft of the kind. about a quarter of an hour later the sun arose in cloudless splendour on a perfectly tranquil sea, lighted up the shores of java, glinted over the mountains of sumatra, and flooded, as with a golden haze, the forests of krakatoa--emulating the volcanic fires in gilding the volumes of smoke that could be seen rolling amid fitful mutterings from perboewatan, until the hermit's home sank from view in the western horizon. chapter xi. canoeing on the sea--a mysterious night-surprise and sudden flight. at first the voyagers paddled over the glassy sea in almost total silence. nigel was occupied with his own busy thoughts; speculating on the probable end and object of their voyage, and on the character, the mysterious life, and unknown history of the man who sat in front of him wielding so powerfully the great double-bladed paddle. van der kemp himself was, as we have said, naturally quiet and silent, save when roused by a subject that interested him. as for moses, although quite ready at any moment to indulge in friendly intercourse, he seldom initiated a conversation, and spinkie, grasping the mast and leaning against it with his head down, seemed to be either asleep or brooding over his sorrows. only a few words were uttered now and then when nigel asked the name of a point or peak which rose in the distance on either hand. it seemed as if the quiescence of sea and air had fallen like a soft mantle on the party and subdued them into an unusually sluggish frame of mind. they passed through the sunda straits between sumatra and java--not more at the narrowest part than about thirteen miles wide--and, in course of time, found themselves in the great island-studded archipelago beyond. about noon they all seemed to wake up from their lethargic state. van der kemp laid down his paddle, and, looking round, asked nigel if he felt tired. "not in the least," he replied, "but i feel uncommonly hungry, and i have just been wondering how you manage to feed when at sea in so small a craft." "ho! ho!" laughed moses, in guttural tones, "you soon see dat--i 'spose it time for me to get out de grub, massa?" "yes, moses--let's have it." the negro at once laid down his steering paddle and lifted a small square hatch or lid in the deck which was rendered watertight by the same means as the lid in front already described. from the depths thus revealed he extracted a bird of some sort that had been shot and baked the day before. tearing off a leg he retained it and handed the remainder to nigel. "help you'self, massa nadgel, an' pass 'im forid." without helping himself he passed it on to van der kemp, who drew his knife, sliced off a wing with a mass of breast, and returned the rest. "always help yourself _before_ passing the food in future," said the hermit; "we don't stand on ceremony here." nigel at once fell in with their custom, tore off the remaining drumstick and began. "biskit," said moses, with his mouth full, "an' look out for spinkie." he handed forward a deep tray of the sailor's familiar food, but nigel was too slow to profit by the warning given, for spinkie darted both hands into the tray and had stuffed his mouth and cheeks full almost before a man could wink! the negro would have laughed aloud, but the danger of choking was too great; he therefore laughed internally--an operation which could not be fully understood unless seen. "'splosions of perboewatan," may suggest the thing. sorrow, grief--whatever it was that habitually afflicted that monkey--disappeared for the time being, while it devoted itself heart and soul to dinner. feelings of a somewhat similar kind animated nigel as he sat leaning back with his mouth full, a biscuit in one hand, and a drumstick in the other, and his eyes resting dreamily on the horizon of the still tranquil sea, while the bright sun blazed upon his already bronzed face. to many men the fierce glare of the equatorial sun might have proved trying, but nigel belonged to the salamander type of humanity and enjoyed the great heat. van der kemp seemed to be similarly moulded, and as for moses, he was in his native element--so was spinkie. strange as it may seem, sea-birds appeared to divine what was going on, for several specimens came circling round the canoe with great outstretched and all but motionless wings, and with solemn sidelong glances of hope which van der kemp evidently could not resist, for he flung them scraps of his allowance from time to time. "if you have plenty of provisions on board, i should like to do that too," said nigel. "do it," returned the hermit. "we have plenty of food for some days, and our guns can at any time replenish the store. i like to feed these creatures," he added, "they give themselves over so thoroughly to the enjoyment of the moment, and _seem_ to be grateful. whether they are so or not, of course, is matter of dispute. cynics will tell us that they only come to us and fawn upon us because of the memory of past favours and the hope of more to come. i don't agree with them." "neither do i," said nigel, warmly. "any man who has ever had to do with dogs knows full well that gratitude is a strong element of their nature. and it seems to me that the speaking eyes of spinkie, to whom i have just given a bit of biscuit, tell of a similar spirit." as he spoke, nigel was conveying another piece of biscuit to his own mouth, when a small brown hand flashed before him, and the morsel, in the twinkling of an eye, was transferred to the monkey's already swollen cheek--whereat moses again became suddenly "'splosive" and red, as well as black in the face, for his capacious mouth was inordinately full as usual. clear water, from one of the casks, and poured into a tin mug, washed down their cold collation, and then, refreshed and reinvigorated, the trio resumed their paddles, which were not again laid down till the sun was descending towards the western horizon. by that time they were not far from a small wooded islet near the coast of java, on which van der kemp resolved to spend the night. during the day they had passed at some distance many boats and _praus_ and other native vessels, the crews of which ceased to row for a few moments, and gazed with curiosity at the strange craft which glided along so swiftly, and seemed to them little more than a long plank on the water, but these took no further notice of our voyagers. they also passed several ships--part of that constant stream of vessels which pass westward through those straits laden with the valuable teas and rich silks of china and japan. in some cases a cheer of recognition, as being an exceptional style of craft, was accorded them, to which the hermit replied with a wave of the hand--moses and nigel with an answering cheer. there is something very pleasant in the rest which follows a day of hard and healthful toil. our maker has so ordained it as well as stated it, for is it not written, "the sleep of the labouring man is sweet"? and our travellers experienced the truth of the statement that night in very romantic circumstances. the small rocky islet, not more than a few hundred yards in diameter, which they now approached had several sheltered sandy bays on its shore, which were convenient for landing. the centre was clothed with palm-trees and underwood, so that fuel could be procured, and cocoa-nuts. "sometimes," said the hermit, while he stooped to arrange the fire, after the canoe and cargo had been carried to their camping-place at the edge of the bushes,--"sometimes it is necessary to keep concealed while travelling in these regions, and i carry a little spirit-lamp which enables me to heat a cup of tea or coffee without making a dangerous blaze; but here there is little risk in kindling a fire." "i should not have thought there was any risk at all in these peaceful times," said nigel, as he unstrapped his blanket and spread it on the ground under an overhanging bush. "there are no peaceful times among pirates," returned the hermit; "and some of the traders in this archipelago are little better than pirates." "where i puts your bed, massa?" asked moses, turning his huge eyes on his master. "there--under the bush, beside nigel." "an' where would _you_ like to sleep, massa spinkie?" added the negro, with a low obeisance to the monkey, which sat on the top of what seemed to be its favourite seat--a watercask. spinkie treated the question with calm contempt, turned his head languidly to one side, and scratched himself. "unpurliteness is your k'racter from skin to marrow, you son of a insolent mother!" said moses, shaking his fist, whereat spinkie, promptly making an o of his mouth, looked fierce. the sagacious creature remained where he was till after supper, which consisted of another roast fowl--hot this time--and ship's-biscuit washed down with coffee. of course spinkie's portion consisted only of the biscuit with a few scraps of cocoa-nut. having received it he quietly retired to his native wilds, with the intention of sleeping there, according to custom, till morning; but his repose was destined to be broken, as we shall see. after supper, the hermit, stretching himself on his blanket, filled an enormous meerschaum, and began to smoke. the negro, rolling up a little tobacco in tissue paper, sat down, tailor-wise, and followed his master's example, while our hero--who did not smoke--lay between them, and gazed contemplatively over the fire at the calm dark sea beyond, enjoying the aroma of his coffee. "from what you have told me of your former trading expeditions," said nigel, looking at his friend, "you must have seen a good deal of this archipelago before you took--excuse me--to the hermit life." "ay--a good deal." "have you ever travelled in the interior of the larger islands?" asked nigel, in the hope of drawing from him some account of his experiences with wild beasts or wild men--he did not care which, so long as they were wild! "yes, in all of them," returned the hermit, curtly, for he was not fond of talking about himself. "i suppose the larger islands are densely wooded?" continued nigel interrogatively. "they are, very." "but the wood is not of much value, i fancy, in the way of trade," pursued our hero, adopting another line of attack which proved successful, for van der kemp turned his eyes on him with a look of surprise that almost forced him to laugh. "not of much value in the way of trade!" he repeated--"forgive me, if i express surprise that you seem to know so little about us--but, after all, the world is large, and one cannot become deeply versed in everything." having uttered this truism, the hermit resumed his meerschaum and continued to gaze thoughtfully at the embers of the fire. he remained so long silent that nigel began to despair, but thought he would try him once again on the same lines. "i suppose," he said in a careless way, "that none of the islands are big enough to contain many of the larger wild animals." "my friend," returned van der kemp, with a smile of urbanity, as he refilled his pipe, "it is evident that you do not know much about our archipelago. borneo, to the woods and wild animals of which i hope ere long to introduce you, is so large that if you were to put your british islands, including ireland, down on it they would be engulphed and surrounded by a sea of forests. new guinea is, perhaps, larger than borneo. sumatra is only a little smaller. france is not so large as some of our islands. java, luzon, and celebes are each about equal in size to ireland. eighteen more islands are, on the average, as large as jamaica, more than a hundred are as large as the isle of wight, and the smaller isles and islets are innumerable. in short, our archipelago is comparable with any of the primary divisions of the globe, being full miles in length from east to west and about , in breadth from north to south, and would in extent more than cover the whole of europe." it was evident to nigel that he had at length succeeded in opening the floodgates. the hermit paused for a few moments and puffed at the meerschaum, while moses glared at his master with absorbed interest, and pulled at the cigarette with such oblivious vigour that he drew it into his mouth at last, spat it out, and prepared another. nigel sat quite silent and waited for more. "as to trade," continued van der kemp, resuming his discourse in a lower tone, "why, of gold--the great representative of wealth--we export from sumatra alone over , ounces annually, and among other gold regions we have a mount ophir in the malay peninsula from which there is a considerable annual export." continuing his discourse, van der kemp told a great deal more about the products of these prolific islands with considerable enthusiasm--as one who somewhat resented the underrating of his native land. "were you born in this region, van der kemp?" asked nigel, during a brief pause. "i was--in java. my father, as my name tells, was of dutch descent. my mother was irish. both are dead." he stopped. the fire that had been aroused seemed to die down, and he continued to smoke with the sad absent look which was peculiar to him. "and what about large game?" asked nigel, anxious to stir up his friend's enthusiasm again, but the hermit had sunk back into his usual condition of gentle dreaminess, and made no answer till the question had been repeated. "pardon me," he said, "i was dreaming of the days that are gone. ah! nigel; you are yet too young to understand the feelings of the old--the sad memories of happy years that can never return: of voices that are hushed for ever. no one can _know_ till he has _felt_!" "but you are not old," said nigel, wishing to turn the hermit's mind from a subject on which it seemed to dwell too constantly. "not in years," he returned; "but old, _very_ old in experience, and--stay, what was it that you were asking about? ah, the big game. well, we have plenty of that in some of the larger of the islands; we have the elephant, the rhinoceros, the tiger, the puma, that great man-monkey the orang-utan, or, as it is called here, the mias, besides wild pigs, deer, and innumerable smaller animals and birds--" the hermit stopped abruptly and sat motionless, with his head bent on one side, like one who listens intently. such an action is always infectious. nigel and the negro also listened, but heard nothing. by that time the fire had died down, and, not being required for warmth, had not been replenished. the faint light of the coming moon, which, however, was not yet above the horizon, only seemed to render darkness visible, so that the figure of moses was quite lost in the shadow of the bush behind him, though the whites of his solemn eyes appeared like two glow-worms. "do you hear anything?" asked nigel in a low tone. "oars," answered the hermit. "i hear 'im, massa," whispered the negro, "but das not su'prisin'--plenty boats about." "this boat approaches the island, and i can tell by the sound that it is a large _prau_. if it touches here it will be for the purpose of spending the night, and malay boatmen are not always agreeable neighbours. however, it is not likely they will ramble far from where they land, so we may escape observation if we keep quiet." as he spoke he emptied the remains of the coffee on the dying fire and effectually put it out. meanwhile the sound of oars had become quite distinct, and, as had been anticipated, the crew ran their boat into one of the sandy bays and leaped ashore with a good deal of shouting and noise. fortunately they had landed on the opposite side of the islet, and as the bush on it was very dense there was not much probability of any one crossing over. our voyagers therefore lay close, resolving to be off in the morning before the unwelcome visitors were stirring. as the three lay there wrapped in their blankets and gazing contemplatively at the now risen moon, voices were heard as if of men approaching. it was soon found that two of the strangers had sauntered round by the beach and were slowly drawing near the encampment. nigel observed that the hermit had raised himself on one elbow and seemed to be again listening intently. the two men halted on reaching the top of the ridges of rock which formed one side of the little bay, and their voices became audible though too far distant to admit of words being distinguishable. at the same time their forms were clearly defined against the sky. nigel glanced at van der kemp and was startled by the change that had come over him. the moonbeams, which had by that time risen above some intervening shrubs, shone full on him and showed that his usually quiet gentle countenance was deadly pale and transformed by a frown of almost tiger-like ferocity. so strange and unaccountable did this seem to our hero that he lay quite still, as if spell-bound. nor did his companions move until the strangers, having finished their talk, turned to retrace their steps and finally disappeared. then van der kemp rose with a sigh of relief. the negro and nigel also sprang up. "what's wrong, massa?" asked moses, in much anxiety. "nothing, nothing," said the hermit hurriedly. "i must cross over to see these fellows." "all right, massa. i go wid you." "no, i go alone." "not widout arms?" exclaimed the negro, laying his hand on his master's shoulder. "yes, without arms!" as he spoke he drew the long knife that usually hung at his girdle and flung it down. "now attend, both of you," he added, with sudden and almost threatening earnestness. "do not on any account follow me. i am quite able to take care of myself." next moment he glided into the bushes and was gone. "can you guess what is the matter with him?" asked nigel, turning to his companion with a perplexed look. "not more nor de man ob de moon. i nebber saw'd 'im like dat before. i t'ink he's go mad! i tell you what--i'll foller him wid a rifle an' knife and two revolvers." "you'll do nothing of the sort," said nigel, laying hold of the negro's wrist with a grip of iron; "when a man like van der kemp gives an order it's the duty of inferior men like you and me strictly to obey." "well--p'raps you're right, nadgel," returned moses calmly. "if you wasn't, i'd knock you into de middle ob nixt week for takin' a grip o' me like dat." "you'll wish yourself into the middle of next fortnight if you disobey orders," returned our hero, tightening the grip. moses threw back his head, opened his cavern, and laughed silently; at the same time he twisted his arm free with a sudden wrench. "you's awrful strong, nadgel, but you don't quite come up to niggers! howse'ber, you's right. i'll obey orders; neberdeless i'll get ready for action." so saying, the negro extracted from the canoe several revolvers, two of which he handed to nigel, two he thrust into his own belt, and two he laid handy for "massa" when he should return. "now, if you're smart at arit'metic, you'll see dat six time six am t'irty-six, and two double guns das forty--forty dead men's more 'n enuff--besides de knives." moses had barely finished these deadly preparations when van der kemp returned as quietly as he had gone. his face was still fierce and haggard, and his manner hurried though quite decided. "i have seen him," he said, in a low voice. "seen who?" asked nigel. "him whom i had hoped and prayed never more to see. my enemy! come, quick, we must leave at once, and without attracting their notice." he gave his comrades no time to put further questions, but laid hold of one end of the canoe; moses took the other end and it was launched in a few seconds, while nigel carried down such part of the lading as had been taken out. five minutes sufficed to put all on board, and that space of time was also sufficient to enable spinkie to observe from his retreat in the bushes that a departure was about to take place; he therefore made for the shore with all speed and bounded to his accustomed place beside the mast. taking their places they pushed off so softly that they might well have been taken for phantoms. a cloud conveniently hid the moon at the time. each man plied his paddle with noiseless but powerful stroke, and long before the cloud uncovered the face of the queen of night they were shooting far away over the tranquil sea. chapter xii. weathering a storm in the open sea. in profound silence they continued to paddle until there was no chance of their being seen by the party on the islet. then van der kemp rested his paddle in front of him and looked slowly round the horizon and up at the sky as if studying the weather. nigel longed to ask him more about the men they had seen, and of this "enemy" whom he had mentioned, but there was that in the hermit's grave look which forbade questioning, and indeed nigel now knew from experience that it would be useless to press him to speak on any subject in regard to which he chose to be reticent. "i don't like the look of the sky," he said at last. "we are going to have a squall, i fear." "had we not better run for the nearest land?" said nigel, who, although not yet experienced in the signs of the weather in those equatorial regions, had quite enough of knowledge to perceive that bad weather of some sort was probably approaching. "the nearest island is a good way off," returned the hermit, "and we might miss it in the dark, for daylight won't help us yet awhile. no, we will continue our course and accept what god sends." this remark seemed to our hero to savour of unreasoning contempt of danger, for the facing of a tropical squall in such an eggshell appeared to him the height of folly. he ventured to reply, therefore, in a tone of remonstrance-- "god sends us the capacity to appreciate danger, van der kemp, and the power to take precautions." "he does, nigel--therefore i intend to use both the capacity and the power." there was a tone of finality in this speech which effectually sealed nigel's lips, and, in truth, his ever-increasing trust in the wisdom, power, and resource of his friend indisposed him to further remark. the night had by this time become intensely dark, for a bank of black cloud had crept slowly over the sky and blotted out the moon. this cloud extended itself slowly, obliterating, ere long, most of the stars also, so that it was scarcely possible to distinguish any object more than a yard or two in advance of them. the dead calm, however, continued unbroken, and the few of heaven's lights which still glimmered through the obscurity above were clearly reflected in the great black mirror below. only the faint gleam of krakatoa's threatening fires was visible on the horizon, while the occasional boom of its artillery sounded in their ears. it was impossible for any inexperienced man, however courageous, to avoid feelings of awe, almost amounting to dread, in the circumstances, and nigel--as he tried to penetrate the darkness around him and glanced at the narrow craft in which he sat and over the sides of which he could dip both hands at once into the sea--might be excused for wishing, with all his heart, that he were safely on shore, or on the deck of his father's brig. his feelings were by no means relieved when van der kemp said, in a low soliloquising tone-- "the steamers will constitute our chief danger to-night. they come on with such a rush that it is not easy to make out how they are steering, so as to get out of their way in time." "but should we not hear them coming a long way off?" asked nigel. "ay. it is not during a calm like this that we run risk, but when the gale begins to blow we cannot hear, and shall not, perhaps, see very well." as he spoke the hermit lifted the covering of the forehatch and took out a small sail which he asked nigel to pass aft to the negro. "close-reef it, moses; we shall make use of the wind as long as possible. after that we will lay-to." "all right, massa," said the negro, in the same cheerful free-and-easy tone in which he was wont to express his willingness to obey orders whether trifling or important. "don' forgit spinkie, massa." "you may be sure i won't do that," replied the hermit. "come along, monkey!" evidently van der kemp had trained his dumb companion as thoroughly to prompt obedience as his black follower, for the little creature instantly bounded from its place by the mast on to the shoulder of its master, who bade it go into the place from which he had just extracted the sail. nigel could not see this--not only because of the darkness, but because of the intervention of the hermit's bulky person, but he understood what had taken place by the remark--"that's a good little fellow. keep your head down, now, while i shut you in!" from the same place van der kemp had drawn a small triangular foresail, which he proceeded to attach to the bow of the canoe--running its point out by means of tackle laid along the deck--while moses was busy reefing the mainsail. from the same repository were extracted three waterproof coats, which, when put on by the canoe-men, the tails thrust below-deck, and the aprons drawn over them and belted round their waists, protected their persons almost completely from water. "now, nigel," said the hermit, "unship the mast, reeve the halyard of this foresail through the top and then re-ship it. moses will give you the mainsail when ready, and you can hook the halyards on to it. the thing is too simple to require explanation to a sailor. i attend to the foresail and moses manages the mainsheet, but you have to mind the halyards of both, which, as you would see if it were light enough, run down alongside the mast. all i ask you to remember is to be smart in obeying orders, for squalls are sometimes very sudden here--but i doubt not that such a caution is needless." "i'll do my best," said nigel. by this time a slight puff of air had ruffled the sea, thereby intensifying, if possible, the blackness which already prevailed. the tiny sails caught the puff, causing the canoe to lean slightly over, and glide with a rippling sound through the water, while moses steered by means of his paddle. "you have put spinkie down below, i think," said nigel, who had been struck more than once with the hermit's extreme tenderness and care of the little creature. "yes, to prevent it from being washed overboard. i nearly lost the poor little thing once or twice, and now when we are likely to be caught in bad weather i put him below." "is he not apt to be suffocated?" asked nigel. "with everything made so tight to prevent water getting into the canoe, you necessarily prevent air entering also." "i see you have a mechanical turn of mind," returned the hermit. "you are right. yet in so large a canoe the air would last a considerable time to satisfy a monkey. nevertheless, i have made provision for that. there is a short tube alongside the mast, and fixed to it, which runs a little below the deck and rises a foot above it so as to be well above the wash of most waves, and in the deck near the stern there is a small hole with a cap fitted so as to turn the water but admit the air. thus free circulation of air is established below deck." suddenly a hissing sound was heard to windward. "look out, moses," said van der kemp. "there it comes. let go the sheet. keep good hold of your paddle, nigel." the warning was by no means unnecessary, for as the canoe's head was turned to meet the blast, a hissing sheet of white water swept right over the tiny craft, completely submerging it, insomuch that the three men appeared to be sitting more than waist-deep in the water. "lower the mainsail!" shouted the hermit, for the noise of wind and sea had become deafening. nigel obeyed and held on to the flapping sheet. the hermit had at the same moment let go the foresail, the flapping of which he controlled by a rope-tackle arranged for the purpose. he then grasped his single-blade paddle and aided moses in keeping her head to wind and sea. for a few minutes this was all that could be done. then the first violence of the squall passed off, allowing the deck of the little craft to appear above the tormented water. soon the waves began to rise. the mere keeping of the canoe's head to wind required all the attention of both master and man, while nigel sat waiting for orders and looking on with mingled feelings of surprise and curiosity. of course they were all three wet to the skin, for the water had got up their sleeves and down their necks; but, being warm, that mattered little, and the oiled aprons before mentioned, being securely fastened round their waists, effectually prevented any of it from getting below save the little that passed through the thickness of their own garments. no word was spoken for at least a quarter of an hour, during which time, although they rose buoyantly on the water, the waves washed continually over the low-lying deck. as this deck was flush with the gunwale, or rather, had no gunwale at all, the water ran off it as it does off a whale's back. then there came a momentary lull. "now, moses--'bout ship!" shouted van der kemp. "stand by, nigel!" "ay, ay, sir." although the canoe was long--and therefore unfitted to turn quickly--the powerful strokes of the two paddles in what may be called counteracting-harmony brought the little craft right round with her stern to the waves. "hoist away, nigel! we must run right before it now." up went the mainsail, the tiny foresail bulged out at the same moment, and away they went like the driving foam, appearing almost to leap from wave to wave. all sense of danger was now overwhelmed in nigel's mind by that feeling of excitement and wild delight which accompanies some kinds of rapid motion. this was, if possible, intensified by the crashing thunder which now burst forth and the vivid lightning which began to play, revealing from time to time the tumultuous turmoil as if in clearest moonlight, only to plunge it again in still blacker night. by degrees the gale increased in fury, and it soon became evident that neither sails nor cordage could long withstand the strain to which they were subjected. "a'most too much, massa," said the negro in a suggestive shout. "right, moses," returned his master. "i was just thinking we must risk it." "risk what? i wonder," thought nigel. he had not long to wait for an answer to his thought. "down wi' the mainsail," was quickly followed by the lowering of the foresail until not more than a mere corner was shown, merely to keep the canoe end-on to the seas. soon even this was lowered, and van der kemp used his double-blade paddle to keep them in position, at the same time telling nigel to unship the mast. "and plug the hole with that," he added, handing him a bit of wood which exactly fitted the hole in the deck. watching for another lull in the blast, the hermit at last gave the order, and round they came as before, head to wind, but not quite so easily, and nigel felt that they had narrowly escaped overturning in the operation. "keep her so, moses. you can help with your paddle, nigel, while i get ready our anchor." "anchor!" exclaimed our hero in amazement--obeying orders, however, at the same moment. the hermit either did not hear the exclamation or did not care to notice it. he quickly collected the mast and sails, with a couple of boat-hooks and all the paddles excepting two single ones. these he bound together by means of the sheets and halyards, attached the whole to a hawser,--one end of which passed through an iron ring at the bow--and tossed it into the sea--paying out the hawser rapidly at the same time so as to put a few yards between them and their floating anchor--if it may be so called--in the lee of which they prepared to ride out the gale. it was well that they had taken the precaution to put on their waterproofs before the gale began, because, while turned head to wind every breaking wave swept right over their heads, and even now while under the lee of the floating anchor they were for some time almost continually overwhelmed by thick spray. being, however, set free from the necessity of keeping their tiny craft in position, they all bowed their heads on the deck, sheltered their faces in their hands and awaited the end! whilst in this attitude--so like to that of prayer--nigel almost naturally thought of him who holds the water in the hollow of his hand, and lifted his soul to god; for, amid the roaring of the gale, the flashes of lightning, the appalling thunder, the feeling that he was in reality all but under the waves and the knowledge that the proverbial plank between him and death was of the very thinnest description, a sensation of helplessness and of dependence on the almighty, such as he had never before experienced, crept over him. what the thoughts of the hermit were he could not tell, for that strange man seldom spoke about himself; but moses was not so reticent, for he afterwards remarked that he had often been caught by gales while in the canoe, and had been attached for hours to their floating anchor, but that "dat was out ob sight de wust bust ob wedder dey'd had since dey come to lib at krakatoa, an' he had bery nigh giben up in despair!" the use of the floating breakwater was to meet the full force of the seas and break them just before they reached the canoe. in spite of this some of them were so tremendous that, broken though they were, the swirling foam completely buried the craft for a second or two, but the sharp bow cut its way through, and the water poured off the deck and off the stooping figures like rain from a duck's back. of course a good deal got in at their necks, sleeves, and other small openings, and wet them considerably, but that, as moses remarked, "was not'ing to speak ob." thus they lay tossing in the midst of the raging foam for several hours. now and then each would raise his head a little to see that the rope held fast, but was glad to lower it again. they hardly knew when day broke. it was so slow in coming, and so gloomy and dark when it did come, that the glare of the lightning-flash seemed more cheerful. it may be easily believed that there was no conversation during those hours of elemental strife, though the thoughts of each were busy enough. at last the thunder ceased, or, rather, retired as if in growling defiance of the world which it had failed to destroy. then the sky began to lighten a little, and although the wind did not materially abate in force it became more steady and equal. before noon, however, it had subsided so much that moses suggested the propriety of continuing the voyage. to this van der kemp agreed, and the floating anchor was hauled in; the large paddle was resumed by the hermit, and the dangerous process of turning the canoe was successfully accomplished. when the mast was again set up and the close-reefed main and foresails were hoisted, the light craft bounded away once more before the wind like a fleck of foam. then a gleam of sunshine forced its way through the driving clouds, and painted a spot of emerald green on the heaving sea. soon after that van der kemp opened the lid, or hatch, of the forehold, and spinkie, jumping out with alacrity, took possession of his usual seat beside the mast, to which he clung with affectionate tenacity. gradually the wind went down. reef after reef of the two sails was shaken out, and for several hours thereafter our travellers sped merrily on, plunging into the troughs and cutting through the crests of the stormy sea. chapter xiii. friends are met with, also pirates, and a life-or-death paddle ensues. in physics, as in morals, a storm is frequently the precursor of a dead calm. much to the monkey's joy, to say nothing of the men, the sun erelong asserted its equatorial power, and, clearing away the clouds, allowed the celestial blue to smile on the turmoil below. the first result of that smile was that the wind retired to its secret chambers, leaving the ships of men to flap their idle sails. then the ocean ceased to fume, though its agitated bosom still continued for some time to heave. gradually the swell went down and soon the unruffled surface reflected a dimpling smile to the sky. when this happy stage had been reached our voyagers lowered and stowed the canoe-sails, and continued to advance under paddles. "we get along wonderfully fast, van der kemp," said nigel, while resting after a pretty long spell; "but it seems to me, nevertheless, that we shall take a considerable time to reach borneo at this rate, seeing that it must be over two hundred miles away, and if we have much bad weather or contrary wind, we shan't be able to reach it for weeks--if at all." "i have been thrown somewhat out of my reckoning," returned the hermit, "by having to fly from the party on the islet, where i meant to remain till a steamer, owned by a friend of mine, should pass and pick us up, canoe and all. the steamer is a short-voyage craft, and usually so punctual that i can count on it to a day. but it may have passed us in the gale. if so, i shall take advantage of the first vessel that will agree to lend us a hand." "how!--do you get them to tow you?" "nay, that were impossible. a jerk from the tow-rope of a steamer at full speed would tear us asunder. have you observed these two strong ropes running all round our gunwale, and the bridles across with ring-bolts in them?" "i have, and did not ask their use, as i thought they were merely meant to strengthen the canoe." "so they are," continued the hermit, "but they have other uses besides--" "massa," cried moses, at this point. "you'll 'scuse me for 'truptin' you, but it's my opinion dat spinkie's sufferin' jus' now from a empty stummik!" the hermit smiled and nigel laughed. laying down his paddle the former said-- "i understand, moses. that speech means that you are suffering from the same complaint. well--get out the biscuit." "jus' de way oh de wurld," muttered the negro with a bland smile. "if a poor man obsarves an' feels for de sorrows ob anoder, he allers gits credit for t'inkin' ob hisself. neber mind, i's used to it!" evidently the unjust insinuation did not weigh heavily on the negro's spirit, for he soon began to eat with the appetite of a healthy alligator. while he was thus engaged, he chanced to raise his eyes towards the south-western horizon, and there saw something which caused him to splutter, for his mouth was too full to speak, but his speaking eyes and pointing finger caused his companions to turn their faces quickly to the quarter indicated. "a steamer!" exclaimed the hermit and nigel in the same breath. the vessel in question was coming straight towards them, and a very short time enabled van der kemp to recognise with satisfaction the steamer owned by his friend. "look here, run that to the mast-head," said van der kemp, handing a red flag to nigel. "we lie so low in the water that they might pass quite close without observing us if we showed no signal." an immediate though slight change in the course of the steamer showed that the signal had been seen. hereupon the hermit and moses performed an operation on the canoe which still further aroused nigel's surprise and curiosity. he resolved to ask no questions, however, but to await the issue of events. from the marvellous hold of the canoe, which seemed to be a magazine for the supply of every human need, moses drew a short but strong rope or cable, with a ring in the middle of it, and a hook at each end. he passed one end along to his master who hooked it to the bridle-rope at the bow before referred to. the other end was hooked to the bridle in the stern, so that the ring in the centre came close to nigel's elbow. this arrangement had barely been completed when the steamer was within hail, but no hail was given, for the captain knew what was expected of him. he reduced speed as the vessel approached the canoe, and finally came almost to a stop as he ranged alongside. "what cheer, van der kemp? d'ye want a lift to-day?" shouted the skipper, looking over the side. a nod and a wave of the hand was the hermit's reply. "heave a rope, boys--bow and stern--and lower away the tackle," was the skipper's order. a coil was flung to van der kemp, who deftly caught it and held on tight. another was flung to moses, who also caught it and held on--slack. at the same moment, nigel saw a large block with a hook attached descending towards his head. "catch it, nigel, and hook it to the ring at your elbow," said the hermit. our hero obeyed, still in surprise, though a glimmer of what was to follow began to dawn. "haul away!" shouted the skipper, and next moment the canoe was swinging in the air, kept in position by the lines in the hands of van der kemp and moses. at the same time another order was given, and the steamer went ahead full speed. it was all so suddenly done, and seemed such a reckless proceeding, that nigel found himself on the steamer's deck, with the canoe reposing beside him, before he had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to acknowledge in suitable terms the welcome greeting of the hospitable skipper. "you see, nigel," said van der kemp that night, as the two friends paced the deck together after supper, "i have other means, besides paddles and sails, of getting quickly about in the java seas. many of the traders and skippers here know me, and give me a lift in this way when i require it." "very kind of them, and very convenient," returned nigel. he felt inclined to add: "but why all this moving about?" for it was quite evident that trade was not the hermit's object, but the question, as usual, died on his lips, and he somewhat suddenly changed the subject. "d'ye know, van der kemp, that i feel as if i must have seen you somewhere or other before now, for your features seem strangely familiar to me. have you ever been in england?" "never. as i have told you, i was born in java, and was educated in hongkong at an english school. but a fancy of this sort is not very uncommon. i myself once met a perfect stranger who bore so strong a resemblance to an old friend, that i spoke to him as such, and only found out from his voice that i was mistaken." the captain of the steamer came on deck at that moment and cut short the conversation. "are you engaged, van der kemp?" he asked. "no--i am at your service." "come below then, i want to have a talk with you." thus left alone, and overhearing a loud burst of laughter at the fore part of the steamer, nigel went forward to see what was going on. he found a group of sailors round his comrade moses, apparently engaged in good-natured "chaff." "come, now, blackey," said one; "be a good fellow for once in your life an' tell us what makes your master live on a desert island like robinson crusoe, an' go about the ocean in a canoe." "look 'ere now, whitey," returned moses, "what you take me for?" "a nigger, of course." "ob course, an' you're right for once, which is sitch an unusual t'ing dat i 'dvise you go an' ax de cappen to make a note ob it in de log. i's a nigger, an' a nigger's so much more 'cute dan a white man dat you shouldn't ought to expect him to blab his massa's secrets." "right you are, moses. come, then, if you won't reweal secrets, give us a song." "couldn't t'ink ob such a t'ing," said the negro, with a solemn, remonstrant shake of the head. "why not?" "'cause i neber sing a song widout a moral, an' i don't like to hurt your feelin's by singin' a moral dat would be sure to waken up _some_ o' your consciences." "never mind that, darkey. our consciences are pretty tough. heave ahead." "but dere's a chorus," said moses, looking round doubtfully. "what o' that? we'll do our best with it--if it ain't too difficult." "oh, it's not diffikilt, but if de lazy fellers among you sings de chorus dey'll be singin' lies, an' i don't 'zackly like to help men to tell lies. howseber, here goes. it begins wid de chorus so's you may know it afore you has to sing it." so saying, moses struck two fingers on the capstan after the manner of a tuning-fork, and, holding them gravely to his ear as if to get the right pitch, began in a really fine manly voice to chant the following ditty:-- "go to work." oh when de sun am shinin' bright, and eberyt'ing am fair, clap on de steam an' go to work, an' take your proper share. de wurld hab got to go ahead, an' dem what's young and strong mus' do deir best, wid all de rest, to roll de wurld along. de lazy man does all he can to stop its whirlin' round. if he was king he'd loaf an' sing--and guzzle, i'll be bound, he always shirk de hardest work, an' t'ink he's awful clebbar, but boder his head to earn his bread, oh! no, he'll nebber, nebber. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etc. de selfish man would rader dan put out his hand to work, let women toil, an' sweat and moil--as wicked as de turk. de cream ob eberyt'ing he wants, let oders hab de skim; in fact de wurld and all it holds was only made for him. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etc. so keep de ball a-rollin', boys, an' each one do his best to make de wurld a happy one--for dat's how man is blest. do unto oders all around de t'ing what's good and true, an' oders, 'turning tit for tat, will do de same to you. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etc. the sailors, who were evidently much pleased, took up the chorus moderately at the second verse, came out strong at the third, and sang with such genuine fervour at the last that it was quite evident, as moses remarked, there was not a lazy man amongst them--at least, if they all sang conscientiously! the weather improved every hour, and after a fine run of about twenty-four hours over that part of the malay sea, our three voyagers were lowered over the steamer's side in their canoe when within sight of the great island of borneo. "i'm sorry," said the captain at parting, "that our courses diverge here, for i would gladly have had your company a little longer. good-bye. i hope we'll come across you some other time when i'm in these parts." "thanks--thanks, my friend,'" replied van der kemp, with a warm grip of the hand, and a touch of pathos in his tones. "i trust that we shall meet again. you have done me good service by shortening my voyage considerably.--farewell." "i say, moses," shouted one of the seamen, as he looked down on the tiny canoe while they were pushing off. "hallo?" "keep your heart up, for--we'll try to 'do to oders all around de t'ing what's good an' true!'" "das de way, boy--'an' oders, 'turning tit for tat, will do de same to you!'" he yelled rather than sang this at the top of his tuneful voice, and waved his hand as the sharp craft shot away over the sea. fortunately the sea was calm, for it was growing dark when they reached the shores of borneo and entered the mouth of a small stream, up which they proceeded to paddle. the banks of the stream were clothed with mangrove trees. we have said the banks, but in truth the mouth of that river had no distinguishable banks at all, for it is the nature of the mangrove to grow in the water--using its roots as legs with which, as it were, to wade away from shore. when darkness fell suddenly on the landscape, as it is prone to do in tropical regions, the gnarled roots of those mangroves assumed the appearance of twining snakes in nigel's eyes. possessing a strongly imaginative mind he could with difficulty resist the belief that he saw them moving slimily about in the black water, and, in the dim mysterious light, tree stems and other objects assumed the appearance of hideous living forms, so that he was enabled to indulge the uncomfortable fancy that they were traversing some terrestrial styx into one of dante's regions of horror. in some respects this was not altogether a fancy, for they were unwittingly drawing near to a band of human beings whose purposes, if fully carried out, would render the earth little better than a hell to many of their countrymen. it is pretty well known that there is a class of men in borneo called head hunters. these men hold the extraordinary and gruesome opinion that a youth has not attained to respectable manhood until he has taken the life of some human being. there are two distinct classes of dyaks--those who inhabit the hills and those who dwell on the sea-coast. it is the latter who recruit the ranks of the pirates of those eastern seas, and it was to the camp of a band of such villains that our adventurers were, as already said, unwittingly drawing near. they came upon them at a bend of the dark river beyond which point the mangroves gave place to other trees--but what sort of trees they were it was scarcely light enough to make out very distinctly, except in the case of the particular tree in front of which the dyaks were encamped, the roots of which were strongly illuminated by their camp fire. we say _roots_ advisedly, for this singular and gigantic tree started its branches from a complexity of aërial roots which themselves formed a pyramid some sixty feet high, before the branches proper of the tree began. if our voyagers had used oars the sharp ears of the pirates would have instantly detected them. as it was, the softly moving paddles and the sharp cutwater of the canoe made no noise whatever. the instant that van der kemp, from his position in the bow, observed the camp, he dipped his paddle deep, and noiselessly backed water. there was no need to give any signal to his servant. such a thorough understanding existed between them that the mere action of the hermit was sufficient to induce the negro to support him by a similar movement on the opposite side, and the canoe glided as quickly backward as it had previously advanced. when under the deep shadow of the bank moses thrust the canoe close in, and his master, laying hold of the bushes, held fast and made a sign to him to land and reconnoitre. creeping forward to an opening in the bushes close at hand, moses peeped through. then he turned and made facial signals of a kind so complicated that he could not be understood, as nothing was visible save the flashing of his teeth and eyes. van der kemp therefore recalled him by a sign, and, stepping ashore, whispered nigel to land. [illustration: discover a pirates' bivouac.--page .] another minute and the three travellers stood on the bank with their heads close together. "wait here for me," said the hermit, in the lowest possible whisper. "i will go and see who they are." "strange," said nigel, when he was gone; "strange that in so short a time your master should twice have to stalk strangers in this way. history repeats itself, they say. it appears to do so rather fast in these regions! does he not run a very great risk of being discovered?" "not de smallest," replied the negro, with as much emphasis as was possible in a whisper. "massa hab ride wid de vaquieros ob ameriky an' hunt wid de injuns on de rockies. no more fear ob deir ketchin' him dan ob ketchin' a streak o' lightnin'. he come back bery soon wid all de news." moses was a true prophet. within half-an-hour van der kemp returned as noiselessly as he had gone. he did not keep them long in uncertainty. "i have heard enough," he whispered, "to assure me that a plot, of which i had already heard a rumour, has nearly been laid. we fell in with the chief plotters on the islet the other night; the band here is in connection with them and awaits their arrival before carrying out their dark designs. there is nothing very mysterious about it. one tribe plotting to attack another--that is all; but as a friend of mine dwells just now with the tribe to be secretly attacked, it behoves me to do what i can to save him. i am perplexed, however. it would seem sometimes as if we were left in perplexity for wise purposes which are beyond our knowledge." "perhaps to test our willingness to _do right_," suggested nigel. "i know not," returned the hermit, as if musing, but never raising his voice above the softest whisper. "my difficulty lies here; i _must_ go forward to save the life of my friend. i must _not_ leave you at the mouth of a mangrove river to die or be captured by pirates, and yet i have no right to ask you to risk your life on my account!" "you may dismiss your perplexities then," said nigel, promptly, "for i decline to be left to die here or to be caught by pirates, and i am particularly anxious to assist you in rescuing your friend. besides, am i not your hired servant?" "the risk we run is only at the beginning," said van der kemp. "if we succeed in passing the dyaks unseen all will be well. if they see us, they will give chase, and our lives, under god, will depend on the strength of our arms, for i am known to them and have thwarted their plans before now. if they catch us, death will be our certain doom. are you prepared?" "ready!" whispered nigel. without another word the hermit took his place in the bow of the canoe. moses stepped into the stern, and our hero sat down in the middle. before pushing off, the hermit drew a revolver and a cutlass from his store-room in the bow and handed them to nigel, who thrust the first into his belt and fastened the other to the deck by means of a strap fixed there on purpose to prevent its being rolled or swept off. this contrivance, as well as all the other appliances in the canoe, had previously been pointed out and explained to him. the hermit and negro having armed themselves in similar way, let go the bushes which held them close to the bank and floated out into the stream. they let the canoe drift down a short way so as to be well concealed by the bend in the river and a mass of bushes. then they slowly paddled over to the opposite side and commenced to creep up as close to the bank as possible, under the deep shadow of overhanging trees, and so noiselessly that they appeared in the darkness like a passing phantom. but the sharp eyes of the pirates were too much accustomed to phantoms of every kind to be easily deceived. just as the canoe was about to pass beyond the line of their vision a stir was heard in their camp. then a stern challenge rolled across the river and awoke the slumbering echoes of the forest--perchance to the surprise and scaring away of some prowling beast of prey. "no need for concealment now," said van der kemp, quietly; "we must paddle for life. if you have occasion to use your weapons, nigel, take no life needlessly. moses knows my mind on this point and needs no warning. any fool can take away life. only god can give it." "i will be careful," replied nigel, as he dipped his paddle with all the muscular power at his command. his comrades did the same, and the canoe shot up the river like an arrow. a yell from the dyaks, and the noise of jumping into and pushing off their boats told that there was no time to lose. "they are strong men, and plenty of them to relieve each other," said the hermit, who now spoke in his ordinary tones, "so they have some chance of overhauling us in the smooth water; but a few miles further up there is a rapid which will stop them and will only check us. if we can reach it we shall be safe." while he was speaking every muscle in his broad back and arms was strained to the uttermost; so also were the muscles of his companions, and the canoe seemed to advance by a series of rapid leaps and bounds. yet the sound of the pursuers' oars seemed to increase, and soon the proverb "it is the pace that kills" received illustration, for the speed of the canoe began to decrease a little--very little at first--while the pursuers, with fresh hands at the oars, gradually overhauled the fugitives. "put on a spurt!" said the hermit, setting the example. the pirates heard the words and understood either them or the action that followed, for they also "put on a spurt," and encouraged each other with a cheer. moses heard the cheer, and at the same time heard the sound of the rapid to which they were by that time drawing near. he glanced over his shoulder and could make out the dim form of the leading boat, with a tall figure standing up in the bow, not thirty yards behind. "shall we manage it, moses?" asked van der kemp, in that calm steady voice which seemed to be unchangeable either by anxiety or peril. "no, massa. unpossable--widout _dis_!" the negro drew the revolver from his belt, slewed round, took rapid aim and fired. the tall figure in the bow of the boat fell back with a crash and a hideous yell. great shouting and confusion followed, and the boat dropped behind. a few minutes later and the canoe was leaping over the surges of a shallow rapid. they dashed from eddy to eddy, taking advantage of every stone that formed a tail of backwater below it, and gradually worked the light craft upward in a way that the hermit and his man had learned in the nor'-western rivers of america. "we are not safe yet," said the former, resting and wiping his brow as they floated for a few seconds in a calm basin at the head of the rapid. "surely they cannot take a boat up such a place as that!" "nay, but they can follow up the banks on foot. however, we will soon baffle them, for the river winds like a serpent just above this, and by carrying our canoe across one, two, or three spits of land we will gain a distance in an hour or so that would cost them nearly a day to ascend in boats. they know that, and will certainly give up the chase. i think they have given it up already, but it is well to make sure." "i wonder why they did not fire at us," remarked nigel. "probably because they felt sure of catching us," returned the hermit, "and when they recovered from the confusion that moses threw them into we were lost to them in darkness, besides being pretty well beyond range. i hope, moses, that you aimed low." "yes, massa--but it's sca'cely fair when life an' def am in de balance to expect me to hit 'im on de legs on a dark night. legs is a bad targit. bullet's apt to pass between 'em. howseber, dat feller won't hop much for some time to come!" a couple of hours later, having carried the canoe and baggage across the spits of land above referred to, and thus put at least half-a-day's journey between themselves and their foes, they came to a halt for the night. "it won't be easy to find a suitable place to camp on," remarked nigel, glancing at the bank, where the bushes grew so thick that they overhung the water, brushing the faces of our travellers and rendering the darkness so intense that they had literally to feel their way as they glided along. "we will encamp where we are," returned the hermit. "i'll make fast to a bush and you may get out the victuals, moses." "das de bery best word you've said dis day, massa," remarked the negro with a profound sigh. "i's pritty well tired now, an' de bery t'ought ob grub comforts me!" "do you mean that we shall sleep in the canoe?" asked nigel. "ay, why not?" returned the hermit, who could be heard, though not seen, busying himself with the contents of the fore locker. "you'll find the canoe a pretty fair bed. you have only to slip down and pull your head and shoulders through the manhole and go to sleep. you won't want blankets in this weather, and, see--there is a pillow for you and another for moses." "i cannot _see_, but i can feel," said nigel, with a soft laugh, as he passed the pillow aft. "t'ank ee, nadgel," said moses; "here--feel behind you an' you'll find grub for yourself an' some to pass forid to massa. mind when you slip down for go to sleep dat you don't dig your heels into massa's skull. dere's no bulkhead to purtect it." "i'll be careful," said nigel, beginning his invisible supper with keen appetite. "but how about _my_ skull, moses? is there a bulkhead between it and _your_ heels?" "no, but you don't need to mind, for i allers sleeps doubled up, wid my knees agin my chin. it makes de arms an' legs feel more sociable like." with this remark moses ceased to encourage conversation--his mouth being otherwise engaged. thereafter they slipped down into their respective places, laid their heads on their pillows and fell instantly into sound repose, while the dark waters flowed sluggishly past, and the only sound that disturbed the universal stillness was the occasional cry of some creature of the night or the flap of an alligator's tail. chapter xiv. a new friend found--new dangers encountered and hew hopes delayed. when grey dawn began to dispel the gloom of night, nigel roy awoke with an uncomfortable sensation of having been buried alive. stretching himself as was his wont he inadvertently touched the head of van der kemp, an exclamation from whom aroused moses, who, uncoiling himself, awoke spinkie. it was usually the privilege of that affectionate creature to nestle in the negro's bosom. with the alacrity peculiar to his race, spinkie sprang through the manhole and sat down in his particular place to superintend, perhaps to admire, the work of his human friends, whose dishevelled heads emerged simultaneously from their respective burrows. dawn is a period of the day when the spirit of man is calmly reflective. speech seemed distasteful that morning, and as each knew what had to be done, it was needless. the silently conducted operations of the men appeared to arouse fellow-feeling in the monkey, for its careworn countenance became more and more expressive as it gazed earnestly and alternately into the faces of its comrades. to all appearance it seemed about to speak--but it didn't. pushing out from the shore they paddled swiftly up stream, and soon put such a distance between them and their late pursuers that all risk of being overtaken was at an end. all day they advanced inland without rest, save at the breakfast hour, and again at mid-day to dine. towards evening they observed that the country through which they were passing had changed much in character and aspect. the low and swampy region had given place to hillocks and undulating ground, all covered with the beautiful virgin forest with its palms and creepers and noble fruit-trees and rich vegetation, conspicuous among which magnificent ferns of many kinds covered the steep banks of the stream. on rounding a point of the river the travellers came suddenly upon an interesting group, in the midst of a most beautiful woodland scene. under the trees on a flat spot by the river-bank were seated round a fire a man and a boy and a monkey. the monkey was a tame orang-utan, youthful but large. the boy was a dyak in light cotton drawers, with the upper part of his body naked, brass rings on his arms, heavy ornaments in his ears, and a bright kerchief worn as a turban on his head. the man was a sort of nondescript in a semi-european shooting garb, with a wide-brimmed sombrero on his head, black hair, a deeply tanned face, a snub nose, huge beard and moustache, and immense blue spectacles. something not unlike a cheer burst from the usually undemonstrative van der kemp on coming in sight of the party, and he waved his hand as if in recognition. the nondescript replied by starting to his feet, throwing up both arms and giving vent to an absolute roar of joy. "he seems to know you," remarked nigel, as they made for a landing-place. "yes. he is the friend i have come to rescue," replied the hermit in a tone of quiet satisfaction. "he is a naturalist and lives with the rajah against whom the pirates are plotting." "he don't look z'if he needs much rescuin'," remarked moses with a chuckle, as they drew to land. the man looked in truth as if he were well able to take care of himself in most circumstances, being of colossal bulk although somewhat short of limb. "ah! mein frond! mine brodder!" he exclaimed, in fairly idiomatic english, but with a broken pronunciation that was a mixture of dutch, american, and malay. his language therefore, like himself, was nondescript. in fact he was an american-born dutchman, who had been transported early in life to the straits settlements, had received most of his education in hongkong, was an old school-fellow of van der kemp, became an enthusiastic naturalist, and, being possessed of independent means, spent most of his time in wandering about the various islands of the archipelago, making extensive collections of animal and vegetable specimens, which he distributed with liberal hand to whatever museums at home or abroad seemed most to need or desire them. owing to his tastes and habits he had been dubbed professor by his friends. "ach! van der kemp," he exclaimed, while his coal-black eyes glittered as they shook hands, "_vat_ a booterfly i saw to-day! it beat all creation! the vay it flew--oh! but, excuse me--v'ere did you come from, and vy do you come? an' who is your frond?" he turned to nigel as he spoke, and doffed his sombrero with a gracious bow. "an englishman--nigel roy--who has joined me for a few months," said the hermit. "let me introduce you, nigel, to my good friend, professor verkimier." nigel held out his hand and gave the naturalist's a shake so hearty, that a true friendship was begun on the spot--a friendship which was rapidly strengthened when the professor discovered that the english youth had a strong leaning towards his own favourite studies. "ve vill hont an' shot togezzer, mine frond," he said, on making this discovery, "ant i vill show you v'ere de best booterflies are to be fount--oh! sooch a von as i saw to---- but, excuse me, van der kemp. vy you come here joost now?" "to save _you_" said the hermit, with a scintillation of his half-pitiful smile. "to safe _me_!" exclaimed verkimier, with a look of surprise which was greatly intensified by the rotundity of the blue spectacles. "vell, i don't feel to vant safing joost at present." "it is not that danger threatens _you_ so much as your friend the rajah," returned the hermit. "but if he falls, all under his protection fall along with him. i happen to have heard of a conspiracy against him, on so large a scale that certain destruction would follow if he were taken by surprise, so i have come on in advance of the conspirators to warn him in time. you know i have received much kindness from the rajah, so i could do no less than warn him of impending danger, and then the fact that you were with him made me doubly anxious to reach you in time." while the hermit was saying this, the naturalist removed his blue glasses, and slowly wiped them with a corner of his coat-tails. replacing them, he gazed intently into the grave countenance of his friend till he had finished speaking. "are zee raskils near?" he asked, sternly. "no. we have come on many days ahead of them. but we found a party at the river's mouth awaiting their arrival." "ant zey cannot arrife, you say, for several veeks?" "probably not--even though they had fair and steady winds." a sigh of satisfaction broke through the naturalist's moustache on hearing this. "zen i vill--_ve_ vill, you and i, mister roy,--go after ze booterflies to-morrow!" "but we must push on," remonstrated van der kemp, "for preparations to resist an attack cannot be commenced too soon." "_you_ may push on, mine frond; go ahead if you vill, but i vill not leave zee booterflies. you know veil zat i vill die--if need be--for zee rajah. ve must all die vonce, at least, and i should like to die--if i must die--in a goot cause. what cause better zan frondship? but you say joost now zere is no dancher. vell, i vill go ant see zee booterflies to-morrow. after zat, i will go ant die--if it must be--vith zee rajah." "i heartily applaud your sentiment," said nigel, with a laugh, as he helped himself to some of the food which the dyak youth and moses had prepared, "and if van der kemp will give me leave of absence i will gladly keep you company." "zank you. pass round zee victuals. my appetite is strong. it alvays vas more or less strong. vat say you, van der kemp?" "i have no objection. moses and i can easily take the canoe up the river. there are no rapids, and it is not far to the rajah's village; so you are welcome to go, nigel." "das de most 'straord'nary craze i eber know'd men inflicted wid!" said moses that night, as he sat smoking his pipe beside the dyak boy. "it passes my compr'ension what fun dey find runnin' like child'n arter butterflies, an' beetles, an' sitch like varmint. my massa am de wisest man on eart', yet _he_ go a little wild dat way too--sometimes!" moses looked at the dyak boy with a puzzled expression, but as the dyak boy did not understand english, he looked intently at the fire, and said nothing. next morning nigel entered the forest under the guidance of verkimier and the dyak youth, and the orang-utan, which followed like a dog, and sometimes even took hold of its master's arm and walked with him as if it had been a very small human being. it was a new experience to nigel to walk in the sombre shade beneath the tangled arches of the wilderness. in some respects it differed entirely from his expectations, and in others it surpassed them. the gloom was deeper than he had pictured it, but the shade was not displeasing in a land so close to the equator. then the trees were much taller than he had been led to suppose, and the creeping plants more numerous, while, to his surprise, the wild-flowers were comparatively few and small. but the scarcity of these was somewhat compensated by the rich and brilliant colouring of the foliage. the abundance and variety of the ferns also struck the youth particularly. "ah! zey are magnificent!" exclaimed verkimier with enthusiasm. "look at zat tree-fern. you have not'ing like zat in england--eh! i have found nearly von hoondred specimens of ferns. zen, look at zee fruit-trees. ve have here, you see, zee lansat, mangosteen, rambutan, jack, jambon, blimbing ant many ozers--but zee queen of fruits is zee durian. have you tasted zee durian?" "no, not yet." "ha! a new sensation is before you! stay, you vill eat von by ant by. look, zat is a durian tree before you." he pointed as he spoke to a large and lofty tree, which mr. a.r. wallace, the celebrated naturalist and traveller, describes as resembling an elm in general character but with a more smooth and scaly bark. the fruit is round, or slightly oval, about the size of a man's head, of a green colour, and covered all over with short spines which are very strong and so sharp that it is difficult to lift the fruit from the ground. only the experienced and expert can cut the tough outer rind. there are five faint lines extending from the base to the apex of the fruit, through which it may be divided with a heavy knife and a strong hand, so as to get to the delicious creamy pulp inside. there is something paradoxical in the descriptions of this fruit by various writers, but all agree that it is inexpressibly good! says one--writing of the sixteenth century--"it is of such an excellent taste that it surpasses in flavour all the other fruits of the world." another writes: "this fruit is of a hot and humid nature. to those not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions! but immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food." wallace himself says of it: "when brought into the house, the smell is so offensive that some persons can never bear to taste it. this was my own case in malacca, but in borneo i found a ripe fruit on the ground, and, eating it out of doors, i at once became a confirmed durian-eater!" this was exactly the experience of nigel roy that day, and the way in which the fruit came to him was also an experience, but of a very different sort. it happened just as they were looking about for a suitable spot on which to rest and eat their mid-day meal. verkimier was in front with the orang-utan reaching up to his arm and hobbling affectionately by his side--for there was a strong mutual affection between them. the dyak youth brought up the rear, with a sort of game-bag on his shoulders. suddenly nigel felt something graze his arm, and heard a heavy thud at his side. it was a ripe durian which had fallen from an immense height and missed him by a hairbreadth. "zank got, you have escaped!" exclaimed the professor, looking back with a solemn countenance. "i have indeed escaped what might have been a severe blow," said nigel, stooping to examine the fruit, apparently forgetful that more might follow. "come--come avay. my boy vill bring it. men are sometimes killed by zis fruit. here now ve vill dine." they sat down on a bank which was canopied by ferns. while the boy was arranging their meal, verkimier drew a heavy hunting-knife from his belt and applying it with an unusually strong hand to the durian laid it open. nigel did not at all relish the smell, but he was not fastidious or apt to be prejudiced. he tasted--and, like mr. wallace, "became a confirmed durian eater" from that day. "ve draw near to zee region vere ve shall find zee booterflies," said the naturalist, during a pause in their luncheon. "i hope we shall be successful," said nigel, helping himself to some more of what may be styled durian cream. "to judge from the weight and hardness of this fruit, i should think a blow on one's head from it would be fatal." "sometimes, not alvays. i suppose zat dyak skulls are strong. but zee wound is terrible, for zee spikes tear zee flesh dreadfully. zee dyak chief, rajah, vith whom i dwell joost now, was floored once by one, and he expected to die--but he did not. he is alife ant vell, as you shall see." as he spoke a large butterfly fluttered across the scene of their festivities. with all the energy of his enthusiastic spirit and strong muscular frame the naturalist leaped up, overturned his dinner, rushed after the coveted _specimen_, tripped over a root, and measured his length on the ground. "zat comes of too much horry!" he remarked, as he picked up his glasses, and returned, humbly, to continue his dinner. "mine frond, learn a lesson from a foolish man!" "i shall learn two lessons," said nigel, laughing--"first, to avoid your too eager haste, and, second, to copy if i can your admirable enthusiasm." "you are very goot. some more cheekin' if you please. zanks. ve most make haste viz our meal ant go to vork." the grandeur and novelty of the scenery through which they passed when they did go to work was a source of constant delight and surprise to our hero, whose inherent tendency to take note of and admire the wonderful works of god was increased by the unflagging enthusiasm and interesting running commentary of his companion, whose flow of language and eager sympathy formed a striking contrast to the profound silence and gravity of the dyak youth, as well as to the pathetic and affectionate selfishness of the man-monkey. it must not, however, be supposed that the young orang-utan was unworthy of his victuals, for, besides being an amusing and harmless companion, he had been trained to use his natural capacity for climbing trees in the service of his master. thus he ascended the tall durian trees, when ordered, and sent down some of the fruit in a few minutes--an operation which his human companions could not have accomplished without tedious delay and the construction of an ingenious ladder having slender bamboos for one of its sides, and the tree to be ascended for its other side, with splinters of bamboo driven into it by way of rounds. "zat is zee pitcher-plant," said verkimier, as nigel stopped suddenly before a plant which he had often read of but never seen. he was told by his friend that pitcher-plants were very numerous in that region; that every mountain-top abounded with them; that they would be found trailing along the ground and climbing over shrubs and stunted trees, with their elegant pitchers hanging in every direction. some of these, he said, were long and slender, others broad and short. the plant at which they were looking was a broad green one, variously tinted and mottled with red, and was large enough to hold two quarts of water. resuming the march nigel observed that the group of orchids was abundant, but a large proportion of the species had small inconspicuous flowers. some, however, had large clusters of yellow flowers which had a very ornamental effect on the sombre forest. but, although the exceptions were striking, he found that in borneo, as elsewhere, flowers were scarcer than he had expected in an equatorial forest. there were, however, more than enough of striking and surprising things to engage the attention of our hero, and arouse his interest. one tree they came to which rendered him for some moments absolutely speechless! to the intense delight of the professor, who marched his new-found sympathiser from one object of interest to another with the secret intention of surprising him, and when he had got him to the point of open-mouthed amazement he was wont to turn his spectacles full on his face, like the mouths of a blue binocular, in order to witness and enjoy his emotions! nigel found this out at last and was rather embarrassed in consequence. "zat," exclaimed the naturalist, after gazing at his friend for some time in silence, "zat is a tree vitch planted itself in mid-air and zen sent its roots down to zee ground and its branches up to zee sky!" "it looks as if it had," returned nigel; "i have seen a tree of the same kind near the coast. how came it to grow in this way?" "i know not. it is zought zat zey spring from a seed dropped by a bird into zee fork of anozer tree. zee seed grows, sends his roots down ant his branches up. ven his roots reach zee ground he lays hold, ant, ven strong enough, kills his support--zus returning efil for good, like a zankless dependent. ah! zere is much resemblance between plants and animals! com', ve must feed here," said the professor, resting his gun against one of the roots, "i had expected to find zee booterflies sooner. it cannot be helped. let us make zis our banqueting-hall. ve vill have a durian to refresh us, ant here is a bandy tree which seems to have ripe vones on it.--go," he added, turning to the orang-utan, "and send down von or two." the creature looked helplessly incapable, pitifully unwilling, scratching its side the while. evidently it was a lazy monkey. "do you hear?" said verkimier, sternly. the orang moved uneasily, but still declined to go. turning sharply on it, the professor bent down, placed a hand on each of his knees and stared through the blue goggles into the animal's face. this was more than it could stand. with a very bad grace it hobbled off to the durian tree, ascended it with a sort of lazy, lumbering facility, and hurled down some of the fruit without warning those below to look out. "my little frond is obstinate sometimes," remarked the naturalist, picking up the fruit, "but ven i bring my glasses to bear on him he alvays gives in. i never found zem fail. come now; eat, an' ve vill go to vork again. ve must certainly find zee booterflies somevere before night." [illustration: "do you hear?" said verkimier, sternly.--page .] but verkimier was wrong. it was his destiny not to find the butterflies that night, or in that region at all, for he and his companion had not quite finished their meal when a dyak youth came running up to them saying that he had been sent by the rajah to order their immediate return to the village. "alas! ve most go. it is dancherous to disobey zee rajah--ant i am sorry--very sorry--zat i cannot show you zee booterflies to-day. no matter.--go" (to the dyak youth), "tell your chief ve vill come. better lock zee next time!" chapter xv. hunting the great man-monkey. although professor verkimier had promised to return at once, he was compelled to encamp in the forest, being overtaken by night before he could reach the river and procure a boat. next morning they started at daybreak. the country over which they passed had again changed its character and become more hilly. on the summits of many of the hills dyak villages could be seen, and rice fields were met with as they went along. several gullies and rivulets were crossed by means of native bamboo bridges, and the professor explained as he went along the immense value of the bamboo to the natives. with it they make their suspension bridges, build their houses, and procure narrow planking for their floors. if they want broader planks they split a large bamboo on one side and flatten it out to a plank of about eighteen inches wide. portions of hollow bamboo serve as receptacles for milk or water. if a precipice stops a path, the dyaks will not hesitate to construct a bamboo path along the face of it, using branches of trees wherever convenient from which to hang the path, and every crevice or notch in the rocks to receive the ends of the bamboos by which it is supported. honey-bees in borneo hang their combs, to be out of danger no doubt, under the branches of the tappan, which towers above all the other trees of the forest. but the dyaks love honey and value wax as an article of trade; they therefore erect their ingenious bamboo ladder--which can be prolonged to any height on the smooth branchless stem of the tappan--and storm the stronghold of the bees with much profit to themselves, for bees'-wax will purchase from the traders the brass wire, rings, gold-edged kerchiefs and various ornaments with which they decorate themselves. when travelling, the dyaks use bamboos as cooking vessels in which to boil rice and other vegetables; as jars in which to preserve honey, sugar, etc., or salted fish and fruit. split bamboos form aqueducts by which water is conveyed to the houses. a small neatly carved piece of bamboo serves as a case in which are carried the materials used in the disgusting practice of betel-nut chewing--which seems to be equivalent to the western tobacco-chewing. if a pipe is wanted the dyak will in a wonderfully short space of time make a huge hubble-bubble out of bamboos of different sizes, and if his long-bladed knife requires a sheath the same gigantic grass supplies one almost ready-made. but the uses to which this reed may be applied are almost endless, and the great outstanding advantage of it is that it needs no other tools than an axe and a knife to work it. at about mid-day the river was reached, and they found a native boat, or prau, which had been sent down to convey them to the rajah's village. here nigel was received with the hospitality due to a friend of van der kemp, who, somehow--probably by unselfish readiness, as well as ability, to oblige--had contrived to make devoted friends in whatever part of the malay archipelago he travelled. afterwards, in a conversation with nigel, the professor, referring to those qualities of the hermit which endeared him to men everywhere, said, with a burst of enthusiasm, which almost outdid himself-- "you cannot oonderstant van der kemp. no man can oonderstant him. he is goot, right down to zee marrow--kind, amiable, oonselfish, obliging, nevair seems to zink of himself at all, ant, abof all zings, is capable. vat he vill do, he can do--vat he can do he vill do. but he is sad--very sad." "i have observed that, of course," said nigel. "do you know what makes him so sad?" the professor shook his head. "no, i do not know. nobody knows. i have tried to find out, but he vill not speak." the orang-kaya, or rich man, as this hill chief was styled, had provided lodgings for his visitors in the "head-house." this was a large circular building erected on poles. there is such a house in nearly all dyak villages. it serves as a trading-place, a strangers' room, a sleeping-room for unmarried youths, and a general council-chamber. here nigel found the hermit and moses enjoying a good meal when he arrived, to which he and the professor sat down after paying their respects to the chief. "the orang-kaya hopes that we will stay with him some time and help to defend the village," said van der kemp, when they were all seated. "of course you have agreed?" said nigel. "yes; i came for that purpose." "we's allers ready to fight in a good cause," remarked moses, just before filling his mouth with rice. "or to die in it!" added verkimier, engulfing the breast of a chicken at a bite. "but as zee pirates are not expected for some days, ve may as veil go after zee mias--zat is what zee natifs call zee orang-utan. it is a better word, being short." moses glanced at the professor out of the corners of his black eyes and seemed greatly tickled by his enthusiastic devotion to business. "i am also," continued the professor, "extremely anxious to go at zee booterflies before--" "you die," suggested nigel, venturing on a pleasantry, whereat moses opened his mouth in a soundless laugh, but, observing the professor's goggles levelled at him, he transformed the laugh into an astounding sneeze, and immediately gazed with pouting innocence and interest at his plate. "do you alvays sneeze like zat?" asked verkimier. "not allers," answered the negro simply, "sometimes i gibs way a good deal wuss. depends on de inside ob my nose an' de state ob de wedder." what the professor would have replied we cannot say, for just then a dyak youth rushed in to say that an unusually large and gorgeous butterfly had been seen just outside the village! no application of fire to gunpowder could have produced a more immediate effect. the professor's rice was scattered on the floor, and himself was outside the head-house before his comrades knew exactly what was the matter. "he's always like that," said the hermit, with a slight twinkle in his eyes. "nothing discourages--nothing subdues him. twice i pulled him out of deadly danger into which he had run in his eager pursuit of specimens. and he has returned the favour to me, for he rescued me once when a mias had got me down and would certainly have killed me, for my gun was empty at the moment, and i had dropped my knife." "is, then, the orang-utan so powerful and savage?" "truly, yes, when wounded and driven to bay," returned the hermit. "you must not judge of the creature by the baby that verkimier has tamed. a full-grown male is quite as large as a man, though very small in the legs in proportion, so that it does not stand high. it is also very much stronger than the most powerful man. you would be quite helpless in its grip, i assure you." "i hope, with the professor," returned nigel, "that we may have a hunt after them, either before or after the arrival of the pirates. i know he is very anxious to secure a good specimen for some museum in which he is interested--i forget which." as he spoke, the youth who had brought information about the butterfly returned and said a few words to moses in his native tongue. "what does he say?" asked nigel. "dat massa verkimier is in full chase, an' it's my opinion dat when he comes back he'll be wet all ober, and hab his shins and elbows barked." "why d'you think so?" "'cause dat's de way he goed on when we was huntin' wid him last year. he nebber larns fro' 'sperience." "that's a very fine-looking young fellow," remarked nigel, referring to the dyak youth who had just returned, and who, with a number of other natives, was watching the visitors with profound interest while they ate. as the young man referred to was a good sample of the youth of his tribe, we shall describe him. though not tall, he was well and strongly proportioned, and his skin was of a reddish-brown colour. like all his comrades, he wore little clothing. a gay handkerchief with a gold lace border encircled his head, from beneath which flowed a heavy mass of straight, jet-black hair. large crescent-shaped ornaments hung from his ears. his face was handsome and the expression pleasing, though the mouth was large and the lips rather thick. numerous brass rings encircled his arms above and below the elbows. his only other piece of costume was a waist-cloth of blue cotton, which hung down before and behind. it ended in three bands of red, blue, and white. there were also rows of brass rings on his legs, and armlets of white shells. at his side he wore a long slender knife and a little pouch containing the materials for betel-chewing. "yes, and he is as good as he looks," said the hermit. "his name is gurulam, and all the people of his tribe have benefited by the presence in borneo of that celebrated englishman sir james brooke,--rajah brooke as he was called,--who did so much to civilise the dyaks of borneo and to ameliorate their condition." the prophecy of moses about the professor was fulfilled. just as it was growing dark that genial scientist returned, drenched to the skin and covered with mud, having tumbled into a ditch. his knuckles also were skinned, his knees and shins damaged, and his face scratched, but he was perfectly happy in consequence of having secured a really splendid specimen of a "bootterfly" as big as his hand; the scientific name of which, for very sufficient reasons, we will not attempt to inflict on our readers, and the description of which may be shortly stated by the single word--gorgeous! being fond of verkimier, and knowing his desire to obtain a full-grown orang-utan, gurulam went off early next morning to search for one. half-a-dozen of his comrades accompanied him armed only with native spears, for their object was not to hunt the animal, but to discover one if possible, and let the professor know so that he might go after it with his rifle, for they knew that he was a keen sportsman as well as a man of science. they did not, indeed, find what they sought for, but they were told by natives with whom they fell in that a number of the animals had been seen among the tree-tops not more than a day's march into the forest. they hurried home therefore with this information, and that day--accompanied by the dyak youths, nigel, the hermit, and moses--verkimier started off in search of the mias; intending to camp out or to take advantage of a native hut if they should chance to be near one when night overtook them. descending the hill region, they soon came to more level ground, where there was a good deal of swamp, through which they passed on dyak roads. these roads consisted simply of tree-trunks laid end to end, along which the natives, being barefooted, walk with ease and certainty, but our booted hunters were obliged to proceed along them with extreme caution. the only one who came to misfortune was, as usual, the professor; and in the usual way! it occurred at the second of these tree-roads. "look, look at that remarkable insect!" exclaimed nigel, eagerly, in the innocence of his heart. the professor was in front of him; he obediently looked, saw the insect, made an eager step towards it, and next moment was flat on the swamp, while the woods rang with his companions' laughter. the remarkable insect, whatever it was, vanished from the scene, and the professor was dragged, smiling though confused, out of the bog. these things affected him little. his soul was large and rose superior to such trifles. the virgin forest into which they penetrated was of vast extent; spreading over plain, mountain, and morass in every direction for hundreds of miles, for we must remind the reader that the island of borneo is considerably larger than all the british islands put together, while its inhabitants are comparatively few. verkimier had been absolutely revelling in this forest for several months--ranging its glades, penetrating its thickets, bathing (inadvertently) in its quagmires, and maiming himself generally, with unwearied energy and unextinguishable enthusiasm; shooting, skinning, stuffing, preserving, and boiling the bones of all its inhabitants--except the human--to the great advantage of science and the immense interest and astonishment of the natives. yet with all his energy and perseverance the professor had failed, up to that time, to obtain a large specimen of a male orang-utan, though he had succeeded in shooting several small specimens and females, besides catching the young one which he had tamed. it was therefore with much excitement that he learned from a party of bees'-wax hunters, on the second morning of their expedition, that a large male mias had been seen that very day. towards the afternoon they found the spot that had been described to them, and a careful examination began. "you see," said verkimier, in a low voice, to nigel, as he went a step in advance peering up into the trees, with rifle at the "ready" and bending a little as if by that means he better avoided the chance of being seen. "you see, i came to borneo for zee express purpose of obtaining zee great man-monkey and vatching his habits.--hush! do i not hear somet'ing?" "nothing but your own voice, i think," said nigel, with a twinkle in his eye. "vell--hush! keep kviet, all of you." as the whole party marched in single file after the professor, and were at the moment absolutely silent, this order induced the display of a good many teeth. just then the man of science was seen to put his rifle quickly to the shoulder; the arches of the forest rang with a loud report; various horrified creatures were seen and heard to scamper away, and next moment a middle-sized orang-utan came crashing through the branches of a tall tree and fell dead with a heavy thud on the ground. the professor's rifle was a breechloader. he therefore lost no time in re-charging, and hurried forward as if he saw other game, while the rest of the party--except van der kemp, nigel, and gurulam--fell behind to look at and pick up the fallen animal. "look out!" whispered nigel, pointing to a bit of brown hair that he saw among the leaves high overhead. "vere? i cannot see him," whispered the naturalist, whose eyes blazed enough almost to melt his blue glasses. "do _you_ fire, mr. roy?" "my gun is charged only with small-shot, for birds. it is useless for such game," said nigel. "ach! i see!" up went the rifle and again the echoes were startled and the animal kingdom astounded, especially that portion at which the professor had fired, for there was immediately a tremendous commotion among the leaves overhead, and another orang of the largest size was seen to cross an open space and disappear among the thick foliage. evidently the creature had been hit, but not severely, for it travelled among the tree-tops at the rate of full five miles an hour, obliging the hunters to run at a rapid pace over the rough ground in order to keep up with it. in its passage from tree to tree the animal showed caution and foresight, selecting only those branches that interlaced with other boughs, so that it made uninterrupted progress, and also had a knack of always keeping masses of thick foliage underneath it so that for some time no opportunity was found of firing another shot. at last, however, it came to one of those dyak roads of which we have made mention, so that it could not easily swing from one tree to another, and the stoppage of rustling among the leaves told that the creature had halted. for some time they gazed up among the branches without seeing anything, but at last, in a place where the leaves seemed to have been thrust aside near the top of one of the highest trees, a great red hairy body was seen, and a huge black face gazed fiercely down at the hunters. verkimier fired instantly, the branches closed, and the monster moved off in another direction. in desperate anxiety nigel fired both barrels of his shot-gun. he might as well have fired at the moon. gurulam was armed only with a spear, and van der kemp, who was not much of a sportsman, carried a similar weapon. the rest of the party were still out of sight in rear looking after the dead mias. it was astonishing how little noise was made by so large an animal as it moved along. more than once the hunters had to halt and listen intently for the rustling of the leaves before they could make sure of being on the right track. at last they caught sight of him again on the top of a very high tree, and the professor got two more shots, but without bringing him down. then he was seen, quite exposed for a moment, walking in a stooping posture along the large limb of a tree, but the hunter was loading at the time and lost the chance. finally he got on to a tree whose top was covered with a dense mass of creepers which completely hid him from view. then he halted and the sound of snapping branches was heard. "you've not much chance of him now," remarked the hermit, as they all stood in a group gazing up into the tree-top. "i have often seen the mias act thus when severely wounded. he is making a nest to lie down and die in." "zen ve must shoot again," said the professor, moving round the tree and looking out for a sign of the animal. at last he seemed to have found what he wanted, for raising his rifle he took a steady aim and fired. a considerable commotion of leaves and fall of broken branches followed. then the huge red body of the mias appeared falling through, but it was not dead, for it caught hold of branches as it fell and hung on as long as it could; then it came crashing down, and alighted on its face with an awful thud. after firing the last shot verkimier had not reloaded, being too intent on watching the dying struggles of the creature, and when it fell with such violence he concluded that it was dead. for the same reason nigel had neglected to reload after firing. thus it happened that when the enormous brute suddenly rose and made for a tree with the evident intention of climbing it, no one was prepared to stop it except the dyak youth gurulam. he chanced to be standing between the mias and the tree. boldly he levelled his spear and made a thrust that would probably have killed the beast, if it had not caught the point of the spear and turned it aside. then with its left paw it caught the youth by the neck, seized his thigh with one of its hind paws, and fixed its teeth in his right shoulder. never was man rendered more suddenly and completely helpless, and death would have been his sure portion before the hunters had reloaded if van der kemp had not leaped forward, and, thrusting his spear completely through the animal's body, killed it on the spot. chapter xvi. begins with a terrible fight and ends with a hasty flight. the hunt, we need scarcely say, was abruptly terminated, and immediate preparations were made for conveying the wounded man and the two orangs to the dyak village. this was quickly arranged, for the convenient bamboo afforded ready-made poles wherewith to form a litter on which to carry them. the huge creature which had given them so much trouble, and so nearly cost them one human life, was found to be indeed of the largest size. it was not tall but very broad and large. the exact measurements, taken by the professor, who never travelled without his tape measure, were as follows:-- height from heel to top of head, feet inches. outstretched arms across chest, " " width of face, foot " girth of arm, " " girth of wrist, " the muscular power of such a creature is of course immense, as nigel and the professor had a rare chance of seeing that very evening--of which, more presently. on careful examination by nigel, who possessed some knowledge of surgery, it was found that none of gurulam's bones had been broken, and that although severely lacerated about the shoulders and right thigh, no very serious injury had been done--thanks to the promptitude and vigour of the hermit's spear-thrust. the poor youth, however, was utterly helpless for the time being, and had to be carried home. that afternoon the party reached a village in a remote part of the forest where they resolved to halt for the night, as no other resting-place could be reached before dark. while a supper of rice and fowl was being cooked by moses, van der kemp attended to the wounded man, and nigel accompanied the professor along the banks of the stream on which the village stood. having merely gone out for a stroll they carried no weapons except walking-sticks, intending to go only a short distance. interesting talk, however, on the character and habits of various animals, made them forget time until the diminution of daylight warned them to turn. they were about to do so when they observed, seated in an open place near the stream, the largest orang they had yet seen. it was feeding on succulent shoots by the water-side: a fact which surprised the professor, for his inquiries and experience had hitherto taught him that orangs never eat such food except when starving. the fat and vigorous condition in which this animal was forbade the idea of starvation. besides, it had brought a durian fruit to the banks of the stream and thrown it down, so that either taste or eccentricity must have induced it to prefer the shoots. perhaps its digestion was out of order and it required a tonic. anyhow, it continued to devour a good many young shoots while our travellers were peeping at it in mute surprise through the bushes. that they had approached so near without being observed was due to the fact that a brawling rapid flowed just there, and the mias was on the other side of the stream. by mutual consent the men crouched to watch its proceedings. they were not a little concerned, however, when the brute seized an overhanging bough, and, with what we may style sluggish agility, swung itself clumsily but lightly to their side of the stream. it picked up the durian which lay there and began to devour it. biting off some of the strong spikes with which that charming fruit is covered, it made a small hole in it, and then with its powerful fingers tore off the thick rind and began to enjoy a feast. now, with monkeys, no less than with men, there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, for the mias had just begun its meal, or, rather, its dessert, when a crocodile, which the professor had not observed and nigel had mistaken for a log, suddenly opened its jaws and seized the big monkey's leg. the scene that ensued baffles description! grasping the crocodile with its other three hands by nose, throat, and eyes, the mias almost performed the american operation of gouging--digging its powerful thumbs and fingers into every crevice and tearing open its assailant's jaws. the crocodile, taken apparently by surprise, went into dire convulsions, and making for deep water, plunged his foe therein over head and ears. nothing daunted, the mias regained his footing, hauled his victim on to a mudbank, and, jumping on his back began to tear and pommel him. there was nothing of the prize-fighter in the mias. he never clenched his fist--never hit straight from the shoulder, but the buffeting and slapping which he gave resounded all over the place. at last he caught hold of a fold of his opponent's throat, which he began to tear open with fingers and teeth. wrenching himself free with a supreme effort the crocodile shot into the stream and disappeared with a sounding splash of its tail, while the mias waded lamely to the shore with an expression of sulky indignation on its great black face. slowly the creature betook itself to the shelter of the forest, and we need scarcely add that the excited observers of the combat made no attempt to hinder its retreat. it is said that the python is the only other creature that dares to attack the orang-utan, and that when it does so victory usually declares for the man-monkey, which bites and tears it to death. the people of the village in which the hunters rested that night were evidently not accustomed to white men--perhaps had never seen them before--for they crowded round them while at supper and gazed in silent wonder as if they were watching a group of white-faced baboons feeding! they were, however, very hospitable, and placed before their visitors abundance of their best food without expecting anything in return. brass rings were the great ornament in this village--as they are, indeed, among the dyaks generally. many of the women had their arms completely covered with them, as well as their legs from the ankle to the knee. their petticoats were fastened to a coil of rattan, stained red, round their bodies. they also wore coils of brass wire, girdles of small silver coins, and sometimes broad belts of brass ring-armour. it was break of dawn next morning when our hunters started, bearing their wounded comrade and the dead orangs with them. arrived at the village they found the people in great excitement preparing for defence, as news had been brought to the effect that the pirates had landed at the mouth of the river, joined the disaffected band which awaited them, and that an attack might be expected without delay, for they were under command of the celebrated malay pirate baderoon. nigel observed that the countenance of his friend van der kemp underwent a peculiar change on hearing this man's name mentioned. there was a combination of anxiety, which was unnatural to him, and of resolution, which was one of his chief characteristics. "is baderoon the enemy whom you saw on the islet on our first night out?" asked nigel, during a ramble with the hermit that evening. "yes, and i fear to meet him," replied his friend in a low voice. nigel was surprised. the impression made on his mind since their intercourse was that van der kemp was incapable of the sensation of fear. "is he so very bitter against you?" asked nigel. "very," was the curt reply. "have you reason to think he would take your life if he could?" "i am sure he would. as i told you before, i have thwarted his plans more than once. when he hears that it is i who have warned the orang-kaya against him he will pursue me to the death--and--and i _must not_ meet him." "indeed!" exclaimed nigel, with renewed surprise. but the hermit took no note of the exclamation. anxiety had given place to a frown, and his eyes were fixed on the ground. it seemed to nigel so evident that he did not wish to pursue the subject, that he slightly changed it. "i suppose," he said, "that there is no fear of the dyaks of the village being unable to beat off the pirates now that they have been warned?" "none whatever. indeed, this is so well known to baderoon that i think he will abandon the attempt. but he will not abandon his designs on me. however, we must wait and see how god will order events." next morning spies returned to the village with the information that the pirates had taken their departure from the mouth of the river. "do you think this is an attempt to deceive us?" asked the chief, turning to van der kemp, when he heard the news. "i think not. and even should it be so, and they should return, you are ready and well able to meet them." "yes, ready--and _well_ able to meet them," replied the orang-kaya, drawing himself up proudly. "did they _all_ go in one direction?" asked van der kemp of the youths who had brought the news. "yes, all went in a body to the north--except one boat which rowed southward." "hm! i thought so. my friends, listen to me. this is no pretence. they do not mean to attack you now you are on your guard; but that boat which went south contains baderoon, and i feel certain that he means to hang about here till he gets the chance of killing me." "that is well," returned the chief, calmly. "my young men will hunt till they find where he is. then they will bring us the information and van der kemp will go out with a band and slay his enemy." "no, my friend," said the hermit, firmly; "that shall not be. i must get out of his way, and in order to do so will leave you at once, for there will be no further need for my services here." the chief looked at his friend in surprise. "well," he said, "you have a good judgment, and understand your own affairs. but you have already rendered me good service, and i will help you to fly--though such is not the habit of the dyaks! there is a trader's vessel to start for sumatra by the first light of day. will my friend go by that?" "i am grateful," answered the hermit, "but i need no help--save some provisions, for i have my little canoe, which will suffice." as this colloquy was conducted in the native tongue it was unintelligible to nigel, but after the interview with the chief the hermit explained matters to him, and bade moses get ready for a start several hours before dawn. "you see we must do the first part of our trip in the dark, for baderoon has a keen eye and ear. then we will land and sleep all day where the sharpest eye will fail to find us--and, luckily, pirates have been denied the power of scenting out their foes. when night comes we will start again and get out of sight of land before the next dawn." "mine frond," said the professor, turning his moon-like goggles full on the hermit. "i vill go viz you." "i should be only too happy to have your company," returned the hermit, "but my canoe cannot by any contrivance be made to hold more than three." "zat is no matter to me," rejoined verkimier; "you forget zee trader's boat. i vill go in zat to sumatra. ve vill find out zee port he is going to, ant you vill meet me zere. vait for me if i have not arrived--or i vill vait for you. i have longed to visit sumatra, ant vat better fronds could i go viz zan yourselfs?" "but, my good friend," returned the hermit, "my movements may not exactly suit yours. here they are,--you can judge for yourself. first i will, god permitting, cross over to sumatra in my canoe." "but it is t'ree hoondert miles across, if not more!" "no matter--there are plenty of islands on the way. besides, some passing vessel will give me a lift, no doubt. then i will coast along to one of the eastern ports, where i know there is a steamboat loading up about this time. the captain is an old friend of mine. he brought me and my companions the greater part of the way here. if i find him i will ask him to carry my canoe on his return voyage through sunda straits, and leave it with another friend of mine at telok betong on the south coast of sumatra--not far, as you know, from my home in krakatoa. then i will proceed overland to the same place, so that my friend nigel roy may see a little of the country." "ant vat if you do _not_ find your frond zee captain of zee steamer?" "why, then i shall have to adopt some other plan. it is the uncertainty of my movements that makes me think you should not depend on them." "zat is not'ing to me, van der kemp; you joost go as you say. i vill follow ant take my chance. i am use' to ooncertainties ant difficoolties. zey can not influence me." after a good deal of consideration this plan was agreed to. the professor spent part of the night in giving directions about the preserving of his specimens, which he meant to leave at the village in charge of a man whom he had trained to assist him, while van der kemp with his companions lay down to snatch a little sleep before setting out on their voyage, or, as the dyak chief persisted in calling it, their flight! when nigel had slept about five minutes--as he thought--he was awakened by moses. "don't make a noise, massa nadgel! dere may be spies in de camp for all we knows, so we mus' git off like mice. canoe's ready an' massa waitin'; we gib you to de last momint." in a few minutes our hero was sleepily following the negro through the woods to the spot where the canoe was in waiting. the night was very dark. this was in their favour,--at least as regarded discovery. "but how shall we ever see to make our way down stream?" asked nigel of the hermit in a whisper on reaching the place of embarkation. "the current will guide us. besides, i have studied the river with a view to this flight. be careful in getting in. now, moses, are you ready?" "all right, massa." "shove off, then." there was something so eerie in the subdued tones, and stealthy motions, and profound darkness, that nigel could not help feeling as if they were proceeding to commit some black and criminal deed! floating with the current, with as little noise as possible, and having many a narrow escape of running against points of land and sandbanks, they flew swiftly towards the sea, so that dawn found them among the mud flats and the mangrove swamps. here they found a spot where mangrove roots and bushes formed an impenetrable screen, behind which they spent the day, chiefly in sleep, and in absolute security. when darkness set in they again put forth, and cautiously clearing the river's mouth, were soon far out on the open sea, which was fortunately calm at the time, the slight air that blew being in their favour. "we are safe from pursuit now," said van der kemp in a tone of satisfaction, as they paused for a breathing spell. "o massa!" exclaimed moses at that moment, in a voice of consternation; "we's forgotten spinkie!" "so we have!" returned the hermit in a voice of regret so profound that nigel could scarce restrain a laugh in spite of his sympathy. but spinkie had not forgotten himself. observing probably, that these night expeditions were a change in his master's habits, he had kept an unusually watchful eye on the canoe, so that when it was put in the water, he had jumped on board unseen in the darkness, and had retired to the place where he usually slept under hatches when the canoe travelled at night. awakened from refreshing sleep at the sound of his name, spinkie emerged suddenly from the stern-manhole, right under the negro's nose, and with a sleepy "oo, oo!" gazed up into his face. "ho! dare you is, you mis'rible hyperkrite!" exclaimed moses, kissing the animal in the depth of his satisfaction. "he's here, massa, all right. now, you go to bed agin, you small bundle ob hair." the creature retired obediently to its place, and laying its little cheek on one of its small hands, committed itself to repose. van der kemp was wrong when he said they were safe. a pirate scout had seen the canoe depart. being alone and distant from the rendezvous of his commander, some time elapsed before the news could be conveyed to him. when baderoon was at length informed and had sailed out to sea in pursuit, returning daylight showed him that his intended victim had escaped. chapter xvii. tells of the joys, etc., of the professor in the sumatran forests, also of a catastrophe averted. fortunately the weather continued fine at first, and the light wind fair, so that the canoe skimmed swiftly over the wide sea that separates borneo from sumatra. sometimes our travellers proceeded at night when the distance between islets compelled them to do so. at other times they landed on one of these isles when opportunity offered to rest and replenish the water-casks. we will not follow them step by step in this voyage, which occupied more than a week, and during which they encountered without damage several squalls in which a small open boat could not have lived. beaching at last the great island of sumatra--which, like its neighbour borneo, is larger in extent than the british islands--they coasted along southwards, without further delay than was absolutely necessary for rest and refreshment, until they reached a port where they found the steamer of which they were in search just about to start on its return voyage. van der kemp committed his little craft to the care of the captain, who, after vainly advising his friend to take a free passage with him to the straits of sunda, promised to leave the canoe in passing at telok betong. we may add that spinkie was most unwillingly obliged to accompany the canoe. "now, we must remain here till our friend verkimier arrives," said the hermit, turning to nigel after they had watched the steamer out of sight. "i suppose we must," said nigel, who did not at all relish the delay--"of course we must," he added with decision. "i sees no 'ob course' about it, massa nadgel," observed moses, who never refrained from offering his opinion from motives of humility, or of respect for his employer. "my 'dvice is to go on an' let de purfesser foller." "but i promised to wait for him," said the hermit, with one of his kindly, half-humorous glances, "and you know i _never_ break my promises." "das true, massa, but you di'n't promise to wait for him for eber an' eber!" "not quite; but of course i meant that i would wait a reasonable time." the negro appeared to meditate for some moments on the extent of a "reasonable" time, for his huge eyes became huger as he gazed frowningly at the ground. then he spoke. "a 'reasonable' time, massa, is such an oncertain time--wariable, so to speak, accordin' to the mind that t'inks upon it! hows'eber, if you's _promised,_ ob coorse dat's an end ob it; for w'en a man promises, he's bound to stick to it." such devotion to principle was appropriately rewarded the very next day by the arrival of the trading prau in which the professor had embarked. "we did not expect you nearly so soon," said nigel, as they heartily shook hands. "it vas because zee vind freshen soon after ve set sail--ant, zen, ve made a straight line for zis port, w'ereas you possibly crossed over, ant zen push down zee coast." "exactly so, and that accounts for your overtaking us," said the hermit. "is that the lad baso i see down there with the crew of the prau?" "it is. you must have some strainch power of attracting frondship, van der kemp, for zee poor yout' is so fond of you zat he beg ant entreat me to take him, ant he says he vill go on vit zee traders if you refuse to let him follow you." "well, he may come. indeed, we shall be the better for his services, for i had intended to hire a man here to help to carry our things. much of our journeying, you see, must be done on foot." baso, to his great joy, thus became one of the party. we pass over the next few days, which were spent in arranging and packing their provisions, etc., in such a way that each member of the party should carry on his shoulders a load proportioned to his strength. in this arrangement the professor, much against his will, was compelled to accept the lightest load in consideration of his liability to dart off in pursuit of creeping things and "bootterflies" at a moment's notice. the least damageable articles were also assigned to him in consideration of his tendency at all times to tumble into bogs and stumble over fallen trees, and lose himself, and otherwise get into difficulties. we also pass over part of the journey from the coast, and plunge with our travellers at once into the interior of sumatra. one evening towards sunset they reached the brow of an eminence which, being rocky, was free from much wood, and permitted of a wide view of the surrounding country. it was covered densely with virgin forest, and they ascended the eminence in order that the hermit, who had been there before, might discover a forest road which led to a village some miles off, where they intended to put up for the night. having ascertained his exact position, van der kemp led his followers down to this footpath, which led through the dense forest. the trees by which they were surrounded were varied and magnificent--some of them rising clear up seventy and eighty feet without a branch, many of them had superb leafy crowns, under any one of which hundreds of men might have found shelter. others had trunks and limbs warped and intertwined with a wild entanglement of huge creepers, which hung in festoons and loops as if doing their best to strangle their supports, themselves being also encumbered, or adorned, with ferns and orchids, and delicate twining epiphytes. a forest of smaller trees grew beneath this shade, and still lower down were thorny shrubs, rattan-palms, broad-leaved bushes, and a mass of tropical herbage which would have been absolutely impenetrable but for the native road or footpath along which they travelled. "a most suitable abode for tigers, i should think," remarked nigel to the hermit, who walked in front of him--for they marched in single file. "are there any in these parts?" "ay, plenty. indeed, it is because i don't like sleeping in their company that i am so anxious to reach a village." "are zey dangerows?" asked the professor, who followed close on nigel. "well, they are not safe!" replied the hermit. "i had an adventure with one on this very road only two years ago." "indeed! vat vas it?" asked the professor, whose appetite for anecdote was insatiable. "do tell us about it." "with pleasure. it was on a pitch-dark night that it occurred. i had occasion to go to a neighbouring village at a considerable distance, and borrowed a horse from a friend----" "anozer frond!" exclaimed the professor; "vy, van der kemp, zee country seems to be svarming vid your fronds." "i have travelled much in it and made many friends," returned the hermit. "the horse that i borrowed turned out to be a very poor one, and went lame soon after i set out. business kept me longer than i expected, and it was getting dark before i started to return. erelong the darkness became so intense that i could scarcely see beyond the horse's head, and could not distinguish the path. i therefore let the animal find his own way--knowing that he would be sure to do so, for he was going home. as we jogged along, i felt the horse tremble. then he snorted and came to a dead stop, with his feet planted firmly on the ground. i was quite unarmed, but arms would have been useless in the circumstances. suddenly, and fortunately, the horse reared, and next moment a huge dark object shot close past my face--so close that its fur brushed my cheek--as it went with a heavy thud into the jungle on the other side. i knew that it was a tiger and felt that my life, humanly speaking, was due to the rearing of the poor horse." "are ve near to zee spote?" asked the professor, glancing from side to side in some anxiety. "not far from it!" replied the hermit, "but there is not much fear of such an attack in broad daylight and with so large a party." "ve are not a very large party," returned the professor. "i do not zink i would fear much to face a tiger vid my goot rifle, but i do not relish his choomping on me unavares. push on, please." they pushed on and reached the village a little before nightfall. hospitality is a characteristic of the natives of sumatra. the travellers were received with open arms, so to speak, and escorted to the public building which corresponds in some measure to our western town-halls. it was a huge building composed largely of bamboo wooden-planks and wicker-work, with a high thatched roof, and it stood, like all the other houses, on posts formed of great tree-stems which rose eight or ten feet from the ground. "you have frunds here too, i zink," said verkimier to the hermit, as they ascended the ladder leading to the door of the hall. "well, yes--i believe i have two or three." there could be no doubt upon that point, unless the natives were consummate hypocrites, for they welcomed van der kemp and his party with effusive voice, look and gesture, and immediately spread before them part of a splendid supper which had just been prepared; for they had chanced to arrive on a festive occasion. "i do believe," said nigel in some surprise, "that they are lighting up the place with petroleum lamps!" "ay, and you will observe that they are lighting the lamps with congreve matches--at least with matches of the same sort, supplied by the dutch and chinese. many of their old customs have passed away (among others that of procuring fire by friction), and now we have the appliances of western civilisation to replace them." "no doubt steam is zee cause of zee change," remarked the professor. "that," said nigel, "has a good deal to do with most things--from the singing of a tea-kettle to the explosion of a volcano; though, doubtless, the commercial spirit which is now so strong among men is the proximate cause." "surely dese people mus' be reech," said the professor, looking round him with interest. "they are rich enough--and well off in every respect, save that they don't know very well how to make use of their riches. as you see, much of their wealth is lavished on their women in the shape of ornaments, most of which are of solid gold and silver." there could be little doubt about that, for, besides the ornaments proper, such as the bracelets and rings with which the arms of the young women were covered, and earrings, etc.,--all of solid gold and native-made--there were necklaces and collars composed of spanish and american dollars and british half-crowns and other coins. in short, these sumatran young girls carried much of the wealth of their parents on their persons, and were entitled to wear it until they should be relegated to the ranks of the married--the supposed-to-be unfrivolous, and the evidently unadorned! as this was a region full of birds, beasts, and insects of many kinds, it was resolved, for the professor's benefit, that a few days should be spent in it. accordingly, the village chief set apart a newly-built house for the visitors' accommodation, and a youth named grogo was appointed to wait on them and act as guide when they wished to traverse any part of the surrounding forest. the house was on the outskirts of the village, a matter of satisfaction to the professor, as it enabled him at once to plunge into his beloved work unobserved by the youngsters. it also afforded him a better opportunity of collecting moths, etc., by the simple method of opening his window at night. a mat or wicker-work screen divided the hut into two apartments, one of which was entirely given over to the naturalist and his _matériel_. "i vil begin at vonce," said the eager man, on taking possession. and he kept his word by placing his lamp on a table in a conspicuous position, so that it could be well seen from the outside. then he threw his window wide open, as a general invitation to the insect world to enter! moths, flying beetles, and other creatures were not slow to accept the invitation. they entered by twos, fours, sixes--at last by scores, insomuch that the room became uninhabitable except by the man himself, and his comrades soon retired to their own compartment, leaving him to carry on his work alone. "you enjoy this sort of thing?" said nigel, as he was about to retire. "enchoy it? yes--it is 'paradise regained'!" he pinned a giant moth at the moment and gazed triumphant through his blue glasses. "'paradise lost' to the moth, anyhow," said nigel with a nod, as he bade him good-night, and carefully closed the wicker door to check the incursions of uncaptured specimens. being rather tired with the day's journey, he lay down on a mat beside the hermit, who was already sound asleep. but our hero found that sleep was not easily attainable so close to an inexhaustible enthusiast, whose every step produced a rattling of the bamboo floor, and whose unwearied energy enabled him to hunt during the greater part of the night. at length slumber descended on nigel's spirit, and he lay for some time in peaceful oblivion, when a rattling crash awoke him. sitting up he listened, and came to the conclusion that the professor had upset some piece of furniture, for he could hear him distinctly moving about in a stealthy manner, as if on tip-toe, giving vent to a grumble of dissatisfaction every now and then. "what _can_ he be up to now, i wonder?" murmured the disturbed youth, sleepily. the hermit, who slept through all noises with infantine simplicity, made no answer, but a peculiar snort from the negro, who lay not far off on his other side, told that he was struggling with a laugh. "hallo, moses! are you awake?" asked nigel, in a low voice. "ho yes, massa nadgel. i's bin wakin' a good while, larfin fit to bu'st my sides. de purfesser's been agoin' on like a mad renoceros for more 'n an hour. he's arter suthin, which he can't ketch. listen! you hear 'im goin' round an' round on his tip-toes. dere goes anoder chair. i only hope he won't smash de lamp an' set de house a-fire." "veil, veil; i've missed him zee tence time. nevair mind. have at you vonce more, you aggravating leetle zing!" thus the unsuccessful man relieved his feelings, in a growling tone, as he continued to move about on tip-toe, rattling the bamboo flooring in spite of his careful efforts to move quietly. "why, verkimier, what are you after?" cried nigel at last, loud enough to be heard through the partition. "ah! i am sorry to vake you," he replied, without, however, suspending his hunt. "i have tried my best to make no noice, but zee bamboo floor is--hah! i have 'im at last!" "what is it?" asked nigel, becoming interested. "von leetle bat. he come in vis a moss----" "a what?" "a moss--a big, beautiful moss." "oh! a moth--well?" "vell, i shut zee window, capture zee moss, ant zen i hunt zee bat vith my bootterfly-net for an hour, but have only captured him zis moment. ant he is--sooch a--sooch a splendid specimen of a _very_ rar' species, zee _coelops frizii_--gootness! zere goes zee lamp!" the crash that followed told too eloquently of the catastrophe, and broke the slumbers even of the hermit. the whole party sprang up, and entered the naturalist's room with a light, for the danger from fire was great. fortunately the lamp had been extinguished in its fall, so that, beyond an overpowering smell of petroleum and the destruction of a good many specimens, no serious results ensued. after securing the _coelops frithii_, removing the shattered glass, wiping up the oil, and putting chairs and tables on their legs, the professor was urged to go to bed,--advice which, in his excitement, he refused to take until it was suggested that, if he did not, he would be totally unfit for exploring the forest next day. "vy, it is next day already!" he exclaimed, consulting his watch. "just so. now _do_ turn in." "i vill." and he did. chapter xviii. a trying ordeal--danger threatens and flight again resolved on. when the early birds are singing, and the early mists are scattering, and the early sun is rising to gladden, as with the smile of god, all things with life in earth and sea and sky--then it is that early-rising man goes forth to reap the blessings which his lazy fellow-man fails to appreciate or enjoy. among the early risers that morning was our friend moses. gifted with an inquiring mind, the negro had proceeded to gratify his propensities by making inquiries of a general nature, and thus had acquired, among other things, the particular information that the river on the banks of which the village stood was full of fish. now, moses was an ardent angler. "i lub fishing," he said one day to nigel when in a confidential mood; "i can't tell you how much i lub it. seems to me dat der's nuffin' like it for proggin' a man!" when nigel demanded an explanation of what proggin' meant, moses said he wasn't quite sure. he could "understand t'ings easy enough though he couldn't allers 'splain 'em." on the whole he thought that prog had a compound meaning--it was a combination of poke and pull "wid a flavour ob ticklin' about it," and was rather pleasant. "you see," he continued, "when a leetle fish plays wid your hook, it progs your intellec' an' tickles up your fancy a leetle. when he grabs you, dat progs your hopes a good deal. when a big fish do de same, dat progs you deeper. an' when a real walloper almost pulls you into de ribber, dat progs your heart up into your t'roat, where it stick till you land him." with surroundings and capacities such as we have attempted to describe, it is no wonder that moses sat down on the river-bank and enjoyed himself, in company with a little malay boy, who lent him his bamboo rod and volunteered to show him the pools. but there were no particular pools in that river it was a succession of pools, and fish swarmed in all of them. there were at least fifteen different species which nothing short of an ichthyologist could enumerate correctly. the line used by moses was a single fibre of bark almost as strong as gut; the hook was a white tinned weapon like a small anchor, supplied by traders, and meant originally for service in the deep sea. the bait was nothing in particular, but as the fish were not particular that was of no consequence. the reader will not be surprised, then, when we state that in an hour or so moses had had his heart progged considerably and had filled a large bag with superb fish, with which he returned, perspiring, beaming, and triumphant to breakfast. after breakfast the whole party went forth for what verkimier styled "zee business of zee day," armed with guns, spears, botanical boxes, bags, wallets, and butterfly nets. in the immediate neighbourhood of the village large clearings in the forest were planted as coffee gardens, each separated from the other for the purpose of isolation, for it seems that coffee, like the potato, is subject to disease. being covered with scarlet flowers these gardens had a fine effect on the landscape when seen from the heights behind the village. passing through the coffee grounds the party was soon in the tangled thickets of underwood through which many narrow paths had been cut. we do not intend to drag our readers through bog and brake during the whole of this day's expedition; suffice it to say that the collection of specimens made, of all kinds, far surpassed the professor's most sanguine expectations, and, as for the others, those who could more or less intelligently sympathise did so, while those who could not were content with the reflected joy of the man of science. at luncheon--which they partook of on the river-bank, under a magnificently umbrageous tree--plans for the afternoon were fixed. "we have kept together long enough, i think," said van der kemp. "those of us who have guns must shoot something to contribute to the national feast on our return." "vell, let us divide," assented the amiable naturalist. indeed he was so happy that he would have assented to anything--except giving up the hunt. "von party can go von vay, anoder can go anoder vay. i vill continue mine business. zee place is more of a paradise zan zee last. ve must remain two or tree veeks." the hermit glanced at nigel. "i fear it is impossible for me to do so," said the latter. "i am pledged to return to batavia within a specified time, and from the nature of the country i perceive it will take all the time at my disposal to reach that place so as to redeem my pledge." "ha! zat is a peety. vell, nevair mind. let us enchoy to-day. com', ve must not vaste more of it in zee mere gratification of our animal natures." acting on this broad hint they all rose and scattered in different groups--the professor going off ahead of his party in his eager haste, armed only with a butterfly net. now, as the party of natives,--including baso, who carried the professor's biggest box, and grogo, who bore his gun,--did not overtake their leader, they concluded that he must have joined one of the other parties, and, as it was impossible to ascertain which of them, they calmly went hunting on their own account! thus it came to pass that the man of science was soon lost in the depths of that primeval forest! but little cared the enthusiast for that--or, rather, little did he realise it. with perspiration streaming from every pore--except where the pores were stopped by mud--he dashed after "bootterflies" with the wisdom of solomon and the eagerness of a school-boy, and not until the shades of evening began to descend did his true position flash upon him. then, with all the vigour of a powerful intellect and an enlightened mind, he took it in at a glance--and came to a sudden halt. "vat _shall_ i do?" he asked. not even an echo answered, and the animal kingdom was indifferent. "lat me see. i have been vandering avay all dis time. now, i have not'ing to do but right-about-face and vander back." could reasoning be clearer or more conclusive? he acted on it at once, but, after wandering back a long time, he did not arrive at any place or object that he had recognised on the outward journey. meanwhile, as had been appointed, the rest of the party met a short time before dark at the rendezvous where they had lunched. "where is the professor, baso?" asked van der kemp as he came up. baso did not know, and looked at grogo, who also professed ignorance, but both said they thought the professor had gone with nigel. "i thought he was with _you_," said the latter, looking anxiously at the hermit. "he's goed an' lost hisself!" cried moses with a look of concern. van der kemp was a man of action. "not a moment to lose," he said, and organised the band into several smaller parties, each led by a native familiar with the jungle. "let this be our meeting-place," he said, as they were on the point of starting off together; "and let those of us who have fire-arms discharge them occasionally." meanwhile, the professor was walking at full speed in what he supposed to be--and in truth was--"back." he was not alone, however. in the jungle close beside him a tiger prowled along with the stealthy, lithe, sneaking activity of a cat. by that time it was not absolutely dark, but the forest had assumed a very sombre appearance. suddenly the tiger made a tremendous bound on to the track right in front of the man. whether it had miscalculated the position of its intended victim or not we cannot say, but it crouched for another spring. the professor, almost instinctively, crouched also, and, being a brave man, stared the animal straight in the face without winking! and so the two crouched there, absolutely motionless and with a fixed glare, such as we have often seen in a couple of tom-cats who were mutually afraid to attack each other. what the tiger thought at that critical and crucial moment we cannot tell, but the professor's thoughts were swift, varied, tremendous--almost sublime, and once or twice even ridiculous! "vat shall i do? deaf stares me in zee face! no veapons! only a net, ant he is _not_ a bootterfly! science, adieu! home of my chilthood, farevell! my moder--hah! zee fusees!" such were a few of the thoughts that burned but found no utterance. the last thought however led to action. verkimier, foolish man! was a smoker. he carried fusees. slowly, with no more apparent motion than the hour-hand on the face of a watch, he let his hand glide into his coat-pocket and took out the box of fusees. the tiger seemed uneasy, but the bold man never for one instant ceased to glare, and no disturbed expression or hasty movement gave the tiger the slightest excuse for a spring. bringing the box up by painfully slow degrees in front of his nose the man opened it, took out a fusee, struck it, and revealed the blue binoculars! the effect on the tiger was instantaneous and astounding. with a demi-volt or backward somersault it hurled itself into the jungle whence it had come with a terrific roar of alarm, and its tail--undoubtedly though not evidently--between its legs! heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh, the professor stood up and wiped his forehead. then he listened intently. "a shote, if mine ears deceive me not!" he said, and listened again. he was right. another shot, much nearer, was heard, and he replied with a shout to which joy as much as strength of lung gave fervour. hurrying along the track--not without occasional side-glances at the jungle--the hero was soon again in the midst of his friends; and it was not until his eyes refused to remain open any longer that he ceased to entertain an admiring circle that night with the details of his face-to-face meeting with a tiger. but verkimier's anticipations in regard to that paradise were not to be realised. the evil passions of a wicked man, with whom he had personally nothing whatever to do, interfered with his plans. in the middle of the night a native malay youth named babu arrived at the village and demanded an interview with the chief. that worthy, after the interview, conducted the youth to the hut where his visitors lived, and, rousing van der kemp without disturbing the others, bade him listen to what the young man had to say. an expression of great anxiety overspread the hermit's usually placid countenance while babu was speaking. "it is fate!" he murmured, as if communing with himself--then, after a pause--"no, there is no such thing as fate. it is, it must be, the will of god. go, young man, mention this to no one. i thank you for the kindness which made you take so long a journey for my sake." "it is not kindness, it is love that makes me serve you," returned the lad earnestly. "every one loves you, van der kemp, because that curse of mankind, _revenge_, has no place in your breast." "strange! how little man does know or guess the secret thoughts of his fellow!" said the hermit with one of his pitiful smiles. "_revenge_ no place in me!--but i thank you, boy, for the kind thought as well as the effort to save me. my life is not worth much to any one. it will not matter, i think, if my enemy should succeed. go now, babu, and god be with you!" "he will surely succeed if you do not leave this place at once," rejoined the youth, in a tone of decision. "baderoon is furious at all times. he is worse than ever just now, because you have thwarted his plans--so it is said--very often. if he knew that _i_ am now thwarting them also, he would hunt me to death. i will not leave you till you are safe beyond his reach." the hermit looked at the lad with kindly surprise. "how comes it," he said, "that you are so much interested in me? i remember seeing you two years ago, but have no recollection of having done you any service." "do you not remember that my mother was ill when you spent a night in our hut, and my little sister was dying? you nursed her, and tried your best to save her, and when you could not save her, and she died, you wept as if the child had been your own. i do not forget that, van der kemp. sympathy is of more value than service." "strangely mistaken again!" murmured the hermit. "who can know the workings of the human mind! self was mixed with my feelings--profoundly--yet my sympathy with you and your mother was sincere." "we never doubted that," returned babu with a touch of surprise in his tone. "well now, what do you propose to do, as you refuse to leave me?" asked the hermit with some curiosity. "i will go on with you to the next village. it is a large one. the chief man there is my uncle, who will aid me, i know, in any way i wish. i will tell him what i know and have heard of the pirate's intention, of which i have proof. he will order baderoon to be arrested on suspicion when he arrives. then we will detain him till you are beyond his reach. that is not unjust." "true--and i am glad to know by your last words that you are sensitive about the justice of what you propose to do. indifference to pure and simple justice is the great curse of mankind. it is not indeed the root, but it is the fruit of our sins. the suspicion that detains baderoon is more than justified, for i could bring many witnesses to prove that he has vowed to take my life, and i _know_ him to be a murderer." at breakfast-time van der kemp announced to his friends his intention of quitting the village at once, and gave an account of his interview with the malay lad during the night. this, of course, reconciled them to immediate departure,--though, in truth, the professor was the only one who required to be reconciled. "it is _very_ misfortunate," he remarked with a sigh, which had difficulty in escaping through a huge mass of fish and rice. "you see zee vonderful variety of ornizological specimens i could find here, ant zee herbareum, not to mention zee magnificent _amblypodia eumolpus_ ant ozer bootterflies--ach!-a leetle mor' feesh if you please. zanks. my frond, it is a great sacrifice, but i vill go avay viz you, for i could not joostify myself if i forzook you, ant i cannot ask you to remain vile your life is in dancher." "i appreciate your sentiments and sacrifice thoroughly," said the hermit. "so does i," said moses, helping himself to coffee; "but ob course if i didn't it would be all de same. pass de venison, massa nadgel, an' don't look as if you was goin' to gib in a'ready. it spoils my appetite." "you will have opportunities," continued van der kemp, addressing the professor, "to gather a good many specimens as we go along. besides, if you will consent to honour my cave in krakatoa with a visit, i promise you a hearty welcome and an interesting field of research. you have no idea what a variety of species in all the branches of natural history my little island contains." hereupon the hermit proceeded to enter into details of the flora, fauna, and geology of his island-home, and to expatiate in such glowing language on its arboreal and herbal wealth and beauty, that the professor became quite reconciled to immediate departure. "but how," he asked, "am i to get zere ven ve reach zee sea-coast? for your canoe holds only t'ree, as you have told me." "there are plenty of boats to be had. besides, i can send over my own boat for you to the mainland. the distance is not great." "goot. zat vill do. i am happay now." "so," remarked nigel as he went off with moses to pack up, "his 'paradise regained' is rather speedily to be changed into paradise forsaken! 'off wi' the old love and on wi' the new.' 'the expulsive power of a new affection!'" "das true, massa nadgel," observed moses, who entertained profound admiration for anything that sounded like proverbial philosophy. "de purfesser am an affectionit creeter. 'pears to me dat he lubs de whole creation. he kills an' tenderly stuffs 'most eberyt'ing he kin lay hands on. if he could only lay hold ob baderoon an' stuff an' stick him in a moozeum, he'd do good service to my massa an' also to de whole ob mankind." chapter xix. a terrible murder and a strange revelation. after letting the chief of the village know that the news just received rendered it necessary that they should proceed at once to the next town--but carefully refraining from going into particulars lest baderoon should by any means be led to suspect their intentions--the party started off about daybreak under the guidance of the malay youth babu. anxious as he was that no evil should befall his friend, nigel could not help wondering that a man of such a calm spirit, and such unquestionable courage, should be so anxious to escape from this pirate. "i can't understand it at all," he said to moses, as they walked through the forest together a little in rear of the party. "no more kin i, massa nadgel," answered the negro, with one of those shakes of the head and glares of solemn perplexity with which he was wont to regard matters that were too deep for him. "surely van der kemp is well able to take care of himself against any single foe." "das true, massa nadgel,--'gainst any half-dozen foes as well." "fear, therefore, cannot be the cause." the negro received this with a quiet chuckle. "no," said he. "massa nebber knowed fear, but ob dis you may be bery sure, massa's _allers_ got good reasons for what he does. one t'ing's sartin, i neber saw him do nuffin for fear, nor revenge, nor anger, no, nor yet for fun; allers for lub--and," added moses, after a moment's thought, "sometimes for money, when we goes on a tradin' 'spidition--but he don't make much account ob dat." "well, perhaps the mystery may be cleared up in time," said nigel, as they closed up with the rest of the party, who had halted for a short rest and some refreshment. this last consisted largely of fruit, which was abundant everywhere, and a little rice with water from sparkling springs to wash it down. in the afternoon they reached the town--a large one, with a sort of market-place in the centre, which at the time of their arrival was crowded with people. strangers, especially europeans, were not often seen in that region, so that van der kemp and his friends at once attracted a considerable number of followers. among these was one man who followed them about very unobtrusively, usually hanging well in rear of the knot of followers whose curiosity was stronger than their sense of propriety. this man wore a broad sun-hat and had a bandage round his head pulled well over one eye, as if he had recently met with an accident or been wounded. he was unarmed, with the exception of the kriss, or long knife, which every man in that region carries. this was no other than baderoon himself, who had outwitted his enemies, had somehow discovered at least part of their plans, and had hurried on in advance of them to the town, where, disguising himself as described, he awaited their arrival. babu conducted his friends to the presence of his kinsman the chief man of the town, and, having told his story, received a promise that the pirate should be taken up when he arrived and put in prison. meanwhile he appointed to the party a house in which to spend the night. baderoon boldly accompanied the crowd that followed them, saw the house, glanced between the heads of curious natives who watched the travellers while eating their supper, and noted the exact spot on the floor of the building where van der kemp threw down his mat and blanket, thus taking possession of his intended couch! he did not, however, see that the hermit afterwards shifted his position a little, and that babu, desiring to be near his friend, lay down on the vacated spot. in the darkest hour of the night, when even the owls and bats had sought repose, the pirate captain stole out of the brake in which he had concealed himself, and, kriss in hand, glided under the house in which his enemy lay. native houses, as we have elsewhere explained, are usually built on posts, so that there is an open space under the floors, which is available as a store or lumber-room. it is also unfortunately available for evil purposes. the bamboo flooring is not laid so closely but that sounds inside may be heard distinctly by any one listening below. voices were heard by the pirate as he approached, which arrested his steps. they were those of van der kemp and nigel engaged in conversation. baderoon knew that as long as his enemy was awake and conversing he might probably be sitting up and not in a position suitable to his fell purpose. he crouched therefore among some lumber like a tiger abiding its time. "why are you so anxious not to meet this man?" asked nigel, who was resolved, if possible without giving offence, to be at the bottom of the mystery. for some moments the hermit was silent, then in a constrained voice he said slowly-- "because revenge burns fiercely in my breast. i have striven to crush it, but cannot. i fear to meet him lest i kill him." "has he, then, done you such foul wrong?" "ay, he has cruelly--fiendishly--done the worst he could. he robbed me of my only child--but i may not talk of it. the unholy desire for vengeance burns more fiercely when i talk. 'vengeance is mine, saith the lord.' my constant prayer is that i may not meet him. good-night." as the hermit thus put an abrupt end to the conversation he lay down and drew his blanket over him. nigel followed his example, wondering at what he had heard, and in a few minutes their steady regular breathing told that they were both asleep. then baderoon advanced and counted the bamboo planks from the side towards the centre of the house. when looking between the heads of the people he had counted the same planks above. standing under one he looked up, listened intently for a few seconds, and drew his kriss. the place was almost pitch dark, yet the blade caught a faint gleam from without, which it reflected on the pirate's face as he thrust the long keen weapon swiftly, yet deliberately, between the bamboos. a shriek, that filled those who heard it with a thrill of horror, rang out on the silent night. at the same moment a gush of warm blood poured over the murderer's face before he could leap aside. instant uproar and confusion burst out in the neighbourhood, and spread like wildfire until the whole town was aroused. when a light was procured and the people crowded into the hut where the strangers lay, van der kemp was found on his knees holding the hand of poor babu, who was at his last gasp. a faint smile, that yet seemed to have something of gladness in it, flitted across his pale face as he raised himself, grasped the hermit's hand and pressed it to his lips. then the fearful drain of blood took effect and he fell back--dead. one great convulsive sob burst from the hermit as he leaped up, drew his knife, and, with a fierce glare in his blue eyes, rushed out of the room. vengeance would indeed have been wreaked on baderoon at that moment if the hermit had caught him, but, as might have been expected, the murderer was nowhere to be found. he was hid in the impenetrable jungle, which it was useless to enter in the darkness of night. when daybreak enabled the townspeople to undertake an organised search, no trace of him could be discovered. flight, personal safety, formed no part of the pirate's plan. the guilty man had reached that state of depravity which, especially among the natives of that region, borders close on insanity. while the inhabitants of the village were hunting far a-field for him, baderoon lay concealed among some lumber in rear of a hut awaiting his opportunity. it was not very long of coming. towards afternoon the various searching parties began to return, and all assembled in the market-place, where the chief man, with the hermit and his party, were assembled discussing the situation. "i will not now proceed until we have buried poor babu," said van der kemp. "besides, baderoon will be sure to return. i will meet him now." "i do not agree viz you, mine frond," said the professor. "zee man is not a fool zough he is a villain. he knows vat avaits him if he comes." "he will not come openly," returned the hermit, "but he will not now rest till he has killed me." even as he spoke a loud shouting, mingled with shrieks and yells, was heard at the other end of the main street. the sounds of uproar appeared to approach, and soon a crowd of people was seen rushing towards the market-place, uttering cries of fear in which the word "a-mok" was heard. at the sound of that word numbers of people--specially women and children--turned and fled from the scene, but many of the men stood their ground, and all of them drew their krisses. among the latter of course were the white men and their native companions. we have already referred to that strange madness, to which the malays seem to be peculiarly liable, during the paroxysms of which those affected by it rush in blind fury among their fellows, slaying right and left. from the terrified appearance of some of the approaching crowd and the maniac shouts in rear, it was evident that a man thus possessed of the spirit of amok was venting his fury on them. another minute and he drew near, brandishing a kriss that dripped with the gore of those whom he had already stabbed. catching sight of the white men he made straight for them. he was possessed of only one eye, but that one seemed to concentrate and flash forth the fire of a dozen eyes, while his dishevelled hair and blood-stained face and person gave him an appalling aspect. "it is baderoon!" said van der kemp in a subdued but stern tone. nigel, who stood next to him, glanced at the hermit. his face was deadly pale; his eyes gleamed with a strange, almost unearthly light, and his lips were firmly compressed. with a sudden nervous motion, unlike his usually calm demeanour, he drew his long knife, and to nigel's surprise cast it away from him. at that moment a woman who came in the madman's way was stabbed by him to the heart and rent the air with her dying shriek as she fell. no one could have saved her, the act was so quickly done. van der kemp would have leaped to her rescue, but it was too late; besides, there was no need to do so now, for the maniac, recognising his enemy, rushed at him with a shout that sounded like a triumphant yell. seeing this, and that his friend stood unarmed, as well as unmoved, regarding baderoon with a fixed gaze, nigel stepped a pace in advance to protect him, but van der kemp seized his arm and thrust him violently aside. next moment the pirate was upon him with uplifted knife, but the hermit caught his wrist, and with a heave worthy of samson hurled him to the ground, where he lay for a moment quite stunned. before he could recover, the natives, who had up to this moment held back, sprang upon the fallen man with revengeful yells, and a dozen knives were about to be buried in his breast when the hermit sprang forward to protect his enemy from their fury. but the man whose wife had been the last victim came up at the moment, and led an irresistible rush which bore back the hermit as well as his comrades, who had crowded round him, and in another minute the maniac was almost hacked to pieces. "i did not kill him--thank god!" muttered van der kemp as he left the market-place, where the relatives of those who had been murdered were wailing over their dead. after this event even the professor was anxious to leave the place, so that early next morning the party resumed their journey, intending to make a short stay at the next village. failing to reach it that night, however, they were compelled to encamp in the woods. fortunately they came upon a hill which, although not very high, was sufficiently so, with the aid of watch-fires, to protect them from tigers. from the summit, which rose just above the tree-tops, they had a magnificent view of the forest. many of the trees were crowned with flowers among which the setting sun shone for a brief space with glorious effulgence. van der kemp and nigel stood together apart from the others, contemplating the wonderful scene. "what must be the dwelling-place of the creator himself when his footstool is so grand?" said the hermit in a low voice. "that is beyond mortal ken," said nigel. "true--true. eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor mind conceived it. yet, methinks, the glory of the terrestrial was meant to raise our souls to the contemplation of the celestial." "and yet how signally it has failed in the case of baderoon," returned nigel, with a furtive glance at the hermit, whose countenance had quite recovered its look of quiet simple dignity. "would it be presumptuous if i were to ask why it is that this pirate had such bitter enmity against you?" "it is no secret," answered the hermit, in a sad tone. "the truth is, i had discovered some of his nefarious plans, and more than once have been the means of preventing his intended deeds of violence--as in the case of the dyaks whom we have so lately visited. besides, the man had done me irreparable injury, and it is one of the curious facts of human experience that sometimes those who injure us hate us because they have done so." "may i venture to ask for a fuller account of the injury he did you?" said nigel with some hesitancy. for some moments the hermit did not answer. he was evidently struggling with some suppressed feeling. turning a look full upon his young friend, he at length spoke in a low sad voice-- "i have never mentioned my grief to mortal man since that day when it pleased god to draw a cloud of thickest darkness over my life. but, nigel, there is that in you which encourages confidence. i confess that more than once i have been tempted to tell you of my grief--for human hearts crave intelligent sympathy. my faithful servant and friend moses is, no doubt, intensely sympathetic, but--but--well, i cannot understand, still less can i explain, why i shrink from making a confidant of him. certainly it is not because of his colour, for i hold that the _souls_ of men are colourless! "i need not trouble you with the story of my early life," continued the hermit. "i lost my dear wife a year after our marriage, and was left with a little girl whose lovely face became more and more like that of her mother every day she lived. my soul was wrapped up in the child. after three years i went with her as a passenger to batavia. on the way we were attacked by a couple of pirate junks. baderoon was the pirate captain. he killed many of our men, took some of us prisoners, sank the vessel, seized my child, and was about to separate us, putting my child into one junk while i was retained, bound, in the other." he paused, and gazed over the glowing tree-tops into the golden horizon, with a longing, wistful look. at the same time something like an electric shock passed through nigel's frame, for was not this narrative strangely similar in its main features to that which his own father had told him on the keeling islands about beautiful little kathleen holbein and her father? he was on the point of seizing the hermit by the hand and telling him what he knew, when the thought occurred that attacks by pirates were common enough in those seas, that other fathers might have lost daughters in this way, and that, perhaps, his suspicion might be wrong. it would be a terrible thing, he thought, to raise hope in his poor friend's breast unless he were pretty sure of the hope being well founded. he would wait and hear more. he had just come to this conclusion, and managed to subdue the feelings which had been aroused, when van der kemp turned to him again, and continued his narrative-- "i know not how it was, unless the lord gave me strength for a purpose as he gave it to samson of old, but when i recovered from the stinging blow i had received, and saw the junk hoist her sails and heard my child scream, i felt the strength of a lion come over me; i burst the bonds that held me and leaped into the sea, intending to swim to her. but it was otherwise ordained. a breeze which had sprung up freshened, and the junk soon left me far behind. as for the other junk, i never saw it again, for i never looked back or thought of it--only, as i left it, i heard a mocking laugh from the one-eyed villain, who, i afterwards found out, owned and commanded both junks." nigel had no doubt now, but the agitation of his feelings still kept him silent. "need i say," continued the hermit, "that revenge burned fiercely in my breast from that day forward? if i had met the man soon after that, i should certainly have slain him. but god mercifully forbade it. since then he has opened my eyes to see the crucified one who prayed for his enemies. and up till now i have prayed most earnestly that baderoon and i might _not_ meet. my prayer has not been answered in the way i wished, but a _better_ answer has been granted, for the sin of revenge was overcome within me before we met." van der kemp paused again. "go on," said nigel, eagerly. "how did you escape?" "escape! where was i--oh! i remember," said the hermit, awaking as if out of a dream "well, i swam after the junk until it was out of sight, and then i swam on in silent despair until so completely exhausted that i felt consciousness leaving me. then i knew that the end must be near and i felt almost glad; but when i began to sink, the natural desire to prolong life revived, and i struggled on. just as my strength began a second time to fail, i struck against something. it was a dead cocoa-nut tree. i laid hold of it and clung to it all that night. next morning i was picked up by some fishermen who were going to telok betong by the outer passage round sebesi island, and were willing to land me there. but as my business connections had been chiefly with the town of anjer, i begged of them to land me on the island of krakatoa. this they did, and it has been my home ever since. i have been there many years." "have you never seen or heard of your daughter since?" asked nigel eagerly, and with deep sympathy. "never--i have travelled far and near, all over the archipelago; into the interior of the islands, great and small, but have failed to find her. i have long since felt that she must be dead--for--for she could not live with the monsters who stole her away." a certain contraction of the mouth, as he said this, and a gleam of the eyes, suggested to nigel that revenge was not yet dead within the hermit's breast, although it had been overcome. "what was her name?" asked nigel, willing to gain time to think how he ought to act, and being afraid of the effect that the sudden communication of the news might have on his friend. "winnie--darling winnie--after her mother," said the hermit with deep pathos in his tone. a feeling of disappointment came over our hero. winnie bore not the most distant resemblance to kathleen! "did you ever, during your search," asked nigel slowly, "visit the cocos-keeling islands?" "never. they are too far from where the attack on us was made." "and you never heard of a gun-boat having captured a pirate junk and----" "why do you ask, and why pause?" said the hermit, looking at his friend in some surprise. nigel felt that he had almost gone too far. "well, you know--" he replied in some confusion, "you--you are right when you expect me to sympathise with your great sorrow, which i do most profoundly, and--and--in short, i would give anything to be able to suggest hope to you, my friend. men should _never_ give way to despair." "thank you. it is kindly meant," returned the hermit, looking at the youth with his sad smile. "but it is vain. hope is dead now." they were interrupted at this point by the announcement that supper was ready. at the same time the sun sank, like the hermit's hope, and disappeared beyond the dark forest. chapter xx. nigel makes a confidant of moses--undertakes a lonely watch and sees something wonderful. it was not much supper that nigel roy ate that night. the excitement resulting from his supposed discovery reduced his appetite seriously, and the intense desire to open a safety-valve in the way of confidential talk with some one induced a nervously absent disposition which at last attracted attention. "you vant a goot dose of kvinine," remarked verkimier, when, having satiated himself, he found time to think of others--not that the professor was selfish by any means, only he was addicted to concentration of mind on all work in hand, inclusive of feeding. the hermit paid no attention to anything that was said. his recent conversation had given vent to a flood of memories and feelings that had been pent up for many years. after supper nigel resolved to make a confidant of moses. the negro's fidelity to and love for his master would ensure his sympathy at least, if not wise counsel. "moses," he said, when the professor had raised himself to the seventh heaven by means of tobacco fumes, "come with me. i want to have a talk." "das what i's allers wantin', massa nadgel; talkin's my strong point if i hab a strong point at all." they went together to the edge of a cliff on the hill-top, whence they could see an almost illimitable stretch of tropical wilderness bathed in a glorious flood of moonlight, and sat down. on a neighbouring cliff, which was crowned with a mass of grasses and shrubs, a small monkey also sat down, on a fallen branch, and watched them with pathetic interest, tempered, it would seem, by cutaneous irritation. "moses, i am sorely in need of advice," said nigel, turning suddenly to his companion with ill-suppressed excitement. "well, massa nadgel, you _does_ look like it, but i'm sorry i ain't a doctor. pra'ps de purfesser would help you better nor me." "you misunderstand me. can you keep a secret, moses?" "i kin try--if--if he's not too diffikilt to keep." "well, then; listen." the negro opened his eyes and his mouth as if these were the chief orifices for the entrance of sound, and advanced an ear. the distant monkey, observing, apparently, that some unusual communication was about to be made, also stretched out its little head, cocked an ear, and suspended its other operations. then, in low earnest tones, nigel told moses of his belief that van der kemp's daughter might yet be alive and well, and detailed the recent conversation he had had with his master. "now, moses; what d' ye think of all that?" profundity unfathomable sat on the negro's sable brow as he replied, "massa nadgel, i don't bery well know _what_ to t'ink." "but remember, moses, before we go further, that i tell you all this in strict confidence; not a word of it must pass your lips." the awful solemnity with which nigel sought to impress this on his companion was absolutely trifling compared with the expression of that companion's countenance, as, with a long-drawn argumentative and remonstrative _oh!_ he replied:--"massa--nadgel. does you really t'ink i would say or do any mortal t'ing w'atsumiver as would injure _my_ massa?" "i'm _sure_, you would not," returned nigel, quickly. "forgive me, moses, i merely meant that you would have to be very cautious--very careful--that you do not let a word slip--by accident, you know. i believe you'd sooner die than do an intentional injury to van der kemp. if i thought you capable of _that_, i think i would relieve my feelings by giving you a good thrashing." the listening monkey cocked its ear a little higher at this, and moses, who had at first raised his flat nose indignantly in the air, gradually lowered it, while a benignant smile supplanted indignation. "you're right dere, massa nadgel. i'd die a t'ousand times sooner dan injure massa. as to your last obserwation, it rouses two idees in my mind. first, i wonder how you'd manidge to gib me a t'rashin', an' second, i wonder if your own moder would rikognise you arter you'd tried it." at this the monkey turned its other ear as if to make quite sure that it heard aright. nigel laughed shortly. "but seriously, moses," he continued; "what do you think i should do? should i reveal my suspicions to van der kemp?" "cer'nly not!" answered the negro with prompt decision. "what! wake up all his old hopes to hab 'em all dashed to bits p'raps when you find dat you's wrong!" "but i feel absolutely certain that i'm _not_ wrong!" returned nigel, excitedly. "consider--there is, first, the one-eyed pirate; second, there is--" "'scuse me, massa nadgel, dere's no occasion to go all ober it again. i'll tell you what you do." "well?" exclaimed nigel, anxiously, while his companion frowned savagely under the force of the thoughts that surged through his brain. "here's what you'll do," said moses. "well?" (impatiently, as the negro paused.) "we're on our way home to krakatoa." "yes--well?" "one ob our men leabes us to-morrer--goes to 'is home on de coast. kitch one ob de steamers dat's allers due about dis time." "well, what of that?" "what ob dat! why, you'll write a letter to your fadder. it'll go by de steamer to batavia. he gits it long before we gits home, so dere's plenty time for 'im to take haction." "but what good will writing to my father do?" asked nigel in a somewhat disappointed tone. "_he_ can't help us." "ho yes, he can," said moses with a self-satisfied nod. "see here, i'll tell you what to write. you begin, 'dear fadder--or dearest fadder--i's not quite sure ob de strengt' ob your affection. p'raps de safest way--." "oh! get on, moses. never mind that." "ho! it's all bery well for you to say dat, but de ole gen'leman'll mind it. hows'ever, put it as you t'ink best--'dear fadder, victual your ship; up anchor; hois' de sails, an' steer for de cocos-keelin' islands. go ashore; git hold ob de young 'ooman called kat'leen hobbleben--'" "holbein, moses." "what! is she moses too?" "no, no! get on, man." "well, 'dearest fadder, git a hold ob her, whateber her name is, an' carry her off body and soul, an' whateber else b'longs to her. take her to de town ob anjer an' wait dere for furder orders.' ob course for de windin' up o' de letter you must appeal agin to de state ob your affections, for, as--" "not a bad idea," exclaimed nigel. "why, moses, you're a genius! of course i'll have to explain a little more fully." "'splain what you please," said moses. "my business is to gib you de bones ob de letter; yours--bein' a scholar--is to clove it wid flesh." "i'll do it, moses, at once." "i should like," rejoined moses, with a tooth-and-gum-disclosing smile, "to see your fadder when he gits dat letter!" the picture conjured up by his vivid imagination caused the negro to give way to an explosive laugh that sent the eavesdropping monkey like a brown thunderbolt into the recesses of its native jungle, while nigel went off to write and despatch the important letter. next day the party arrived at another village, where, the report of their approach having preceded them, they were received with much ceremony--all the more that the professor's power with the rifle had been made known, and that the neighbourhood was infested by tigers. there can be little doubt that at this part of the journey the travellers must have been dogged all the way by tigers, and it was matter for surprise that so small a party should not have been molested. possibly the reason was that these huge members of the feline race were afraid of white faces, being unaccustomed to them, or, perchance, the appearance and vigorous stride of even a few stalwart and fearless men had intimidated them. whatever the cause, the party reached the village without seeing a single tiger, though their footprints were observed in many places. the wild scenery became more and more beautiful as this village was neared. although flowers as a rule were small and inconspicuous in many parts of the great forest through which they passed, the rich pink and scarlet of many of the opening leaves, and the autumn-tinted foliage which lasts through all seasons of the year, fully made up for the want of them--at least as regards colour, while the whole vegetation was intermingled in a rich confusion that defies description. the professor went into perplexed raptures, his mind being distracted by the exuberant wealth of subjects which were presented to it all at the same time. "look zere!" he cried, at one turning in the path which opened up a new vista of exquisite beauty--"look at zat!" "ay, it is a siamang ape--next in size to the orang-utan," said van der kemp, who stood at his friend's elbow. the animal in question was a fine full-grown specimen, with long jet-black glancing hair. its height might probably have been a few inches over three feet, and the stretch of its arms over rather than under five feet, but at the great height at which it was seen--not less than eighty feet--it looked much like an ordinary monkey. it was hanging in the most easy nonchalant way by one hand from the branch of a tree, utterly indifferent to the fact that to drop was to die! the instant the siamang observed the travellers it set up a loud barking howl which made the woods resound, but it did not alter its position or seem to be alarmed in any degree. "vat a 'straordinary noise!" remarked the professor. "it is indeed," returned the hermit, "and it has an extraordinary appliance for producing it. there is a large bag under its throat extending to its lips and cheeks which it can fill with air by means of a valve in the windpipe. by expelling this air in sudden bursts it makes the varied sounds you hear." "mos' vonderful! a sort of natural air-gun! i vill shoot it," said the professor, raising his deadly rifle, and there is no doubt that the poor siamang would have dropped in another moment if van der kemp had not quietly and gravely touched his friend's elbow just as the explosion took place. "hah! you tooched me!" exclaimed the disappointed naturalist, looking fiercely round, while the amazed ape sent forth a bursting crack of its air-gun as it swung itself into the tree-top and made off. "yes, i touched you, and if you _will_ shoot when i am so close to you, you cannot wonder at it--especially when you intend to take life uselessly. the time now at the disposal of my friend nigel roy will not permit of our delaying long enough to kill and preserve large specimens. to say truth, my friend, we must press on now, as fast as we can, for we have a very long way to go." verkimier was not quite pleased with this explanation, but there was a sort of indescribable power about the hermit, when he was resolved to have his way, that those whom he led found it impossible to resist. on arriving at the village they were agreeably surprised to find a grand banquet, consisting chiefly of fruit, with fowl, rice, and indian corn, spread out for them in the balai or public hall, where also their sleeping quarters were appointed. an event had recently occurred, however, which somewhat damped the pleasure of their reception. a young man had been killed by a tiger. the brute had leaped upon him while he and a party of lads were traversing a narrow path through the jungle, and had killed him with one blow of its paw. the other youths courageously rushed at the beast with their spears and axes, and, driving it off, carried the body of their comrade away. "we have just buried the young man," said the chief of the village, "and have set a trap for the tiger, for he will be sure to visit the grave." "my friends would like to see this trap," said the hermit, who, of course, acted the part of interpreter wherever they went, being well acquainted with most of the languages and dialects of the archipelago. "there will yet be daylight after you have finished eating," said the chief. although anxious to go at once to see this trap, they felt the propriety of doing justice to what had been provided for them, and sat down to their meal, for which, to say truth, they were quite ready. then they went with a large band of armed natives to see this curious tiger-trap, the bait of which was the grave of a human being! the grave was close to the outskirts of the village, and, on one side, the jungle came up to within a few yards of it. the spot was surrounded by a strong and high bamboo fence, except at one point where a narrow but very conspicuous opening had been left. here a sharp spear was so arranged beside the opening that it could be shot across it at a point corresponding with the height of a tiger's heart from the ground--as well, at least, as that point could be estimated by men who were pretty familiar with tigers. the motive power to propel this spear was derived from a green bamboo, so strong that it required several powerful men to bend it in the form of a bow. a species of trigger was arranged to let the bent bow fly, and a piece of fine cord passed from this across the opening about breast-high for a tiger. the intention was that the animal, in entering the enclosure, should become its own executioner--should commit unintentional suicide, if we may so put it. "i have an ambition to shoot a tiger," said nigel to van der kemp that evening. "do you think the people would object to my getting up into a tree with my rifle and watching beside the grave part of the night?" "i am sure that they would not. but your watch will probably be in vain, for tigers are uncommonly sagacious creatures and seem to me to have exceptional powers for scenting danger." "no matter, i will try." accordingly, a little before dark that evening our hero borrowed the professor's double-barrelled rifle, being more suitable for large game than his own gun, and sauntered with moses down to the grave where he ensconced himself in the branches of a large tree about thirty feet from the ground. the form of the tree was such, that among its forks nigel could form a sort of nest in which he could sit, in full view of the poor youth's grave, without the risk of falling to the ground even if he should chance to drop asleep. "good-night, massa nadgel," said moses as he turned to leave his companion to his solitary vigil. "see you not go to sleep." "no fear of _that_!" said nigel. "an' whateber you do, don't miss." "i'll do my best--good-night." while there was yet a little daylight, our hunter looked well about him; took note of the exact position of the fence, the entrance to the enclosure, and the grave; judged the various distances of objects, and arranged the sights of the rifle, which was already loaded with a brace of hardened balls. then he looked up through the tree-tops and wished for darkness. it came sooner than he expected. night always descends more suddenly in tropical than in temperate regions. the sun had barely dipped below the horizon when night seemed to descend like a pall over the jungle, and an indescribable sensation of eerieness crept over nigel's spirit. objects became very indistinct, and he fancied that he saw something moving on the newly-made grave. with a startled feeling he grasped his weapon, supposing that the tiger must have entered the enclosure with cat-like stealth. on second thoughts, however, he discarded the idea, for the entrance was between him and the grave, and still seemed quite visible. do what he would, however, the thought of ghosts insisted on intruding upon him! he did not believe in ghosts--oh no!--had always scouted the idea of their existence. why, therefore, did he feel uncomfortable? he could not tell. it must simply be the excitement natural to such a very new and peculiar situation. he would think of something else. he would devote his mind to the contemplation of tigers! in a short time the moon would rise, he knew--then he would be able to see better. while he was in this very uncomfortable state of mind, with the jungle wrapped in profound silence as well as gloom, there broke on the night air a wail so indescribable that the very marrow in nigel's bones seemed to shrivel up. it ceased, but again broke forth louder than before, increasing in length and strength, until his ears seemed to tingle with the sound, and then it died away to a sigh of unutterable woe. "i have always," muttered nigel, "believed myself to be a man of ordinary courage, but _now_--i shall write myself a coward, if not an ass!" he attempted to laugh at this pleasantry, but the laugh was hollow and seemed to freeze in his gullet as the wail broke forth again, ten times more hideous than at first. after a time the wail became more continuous, and the watcher began to get used to it. then a happy thought flashed into his mind--this was, perhaps, some sort of mourning for the dead! he was right. the duty of the father of the poor youth who had been killed was, for several days after the funeral, to sit alone in his house and chant from sunset till daybreak a death-dirge, or, as it is called, the _tjerita bari_. it was not till next day that this was told to him, but meanwhile the surmise afforded him instantaneous relief. as if nature sympathised with his feelings, the moon arose at the same time and dispelled the thick darkness, though it was not till much later that, sailing across a clear sky, she poured her bright beams through the tree-tops and finally rested on the dead man's grave. by that time nigel had quite recovered his equanimity, and mentally blotted out the writing of "coward" and "ass" which he had written against himself. but another trouble now assailed him. he became sleepy! half-a-dozen times at least within half-an-hour he started wide awake under the impression that he was falling off the tree. "this will never do," he exclaimed, rising to his feet, resting his rifle in a position of safety, and then stretching himself to his utmost extent so that he became thoroughly awake. after this "rouser," as he called it, he sat down again, and almost immediately fell fast asleep. how long he sat in this condition it is impossible to say, but he opened his eyes at length with an indescribable sensation that _something_ required attention, and the first thing they rested on (for daylight was dawning) was an enormous tiger not forty yards away from him, gliding like a shadow and with cat-like stealth towards the opening of the enclosure. the sight was so sudden and so unexpected that, for the moment, he was paralysed. perhaps he thought it was a dream. before he could recover presence of mind to seize his rifle, the breast of the animal had touched the fatal line; the trigger was drawn; the stout bamboo straightened with a booming sound, and the spear--or, rather, the giant arrow--was shot straight through the tiger's side! then occurred a scene which might well have induced nigel to imagine that he dreamt, for the transfixed creature bounded into the enclosure with a terrific roar that rang fearfully through the arches of the hitherto silent forest. rushing across the grave, it sprang with one tremendous bound right over the high fence, carrying the spear along with it into the jungle beyond. by that time nigel was himself again, with rifle in hand, but too late to fire. the moment he heard the thud of the tiger's descent, he slid down the tree, and, forgetful or regardless of danger, went crashing into the jungle, while the yells and shouts of hundreds of aroused natives suggested the peopling of the region with an army of fiends. but our hero had not to go far. in his haste he almost tumbled over the tiger. it was lying stone dead on the spot where it had fallen! a few minutes more and the natives came pouring round him, wild with excitement and joy. soon he was joined by his own comrades. "well, you've managed to shoot him, i see," said van der kemp as he joined the group. "alas! no. i have not fired a shot," said nigel, with a half disappointed look. "you's got de better ob him anyhow," remarked moses as he pushed to the front. "the spear got the better of him, moses." "veil now, zat is a splendid animal. lat me see," said the professor, pulling out his tape-measure. it was with difficulty that the man of science made and noted his measurements, for the people were pressing eagerly round the carcase to gratify their revenge by running their spears into the still warm body. they dipped the points in the blood and passed their krisses broadside over the creature that they might absorb the courage and boldness which were supposed to emanate from it! then they skinned it, and pieces of the heart and brain were eaten raw by some of those whose relatives had been killed by tigers. finally the skull was hacked to pieces for the purpose of distributing the teeth, which are used by the natives as charms. chapter xxi. in which the professor distinguishes himself. leaving this village immediately after the slaying of the tiger, the party continued to journey almost by forced marches, for not only was nigel roy very anxious to keep tryst with his father, and to settle the question of kathleen's identity by bringing father and daughter together, but van der kemp himself, strange to say, was filled with intense and unaccountable anxiety to get back to his island home. "i don't know how it is," he said to nigel as they walked side by side through the forest, followed by moses and the professor, who had become very friendly on the strength of a certain amount of vacant curiosity displayed by the former in regard to scientific matters--"i don't know how it is, but i feel an unusually strong desire to get back to my cave. i have often been absent from home for long periods at a time, but have never before experienced these strange longings. i say strange, because there is no such thing as an effect without a cause." "may not the cause be presentiment?" suggested nigel, who, knowing what a tremendous possibility for the hermit lay in the future, felt a little inclined to be superstitious. it did not occur to him just then that an equally, if not more, tremendous possibility lay in the future for himself--touching his recent discovery or suspicion! "i do not believe in presentiments," returned the hermit. "they are probably the result of indigestion or a disordered intellect, from neither of which complaints do i suffer--at least not consciously!" "but you have never before left home in such peculiar circumstances," said nigel. "have you not told me that this is the first time for about two hundred years that krakatoa has broken out in active eruption?" "true, but that cannot be to me the cause of longings or anxieties, for i have seen many a long-dormant crater become active without any important result either to me or to any one else." "stop, stop!" cried professor verkimier in a hoarse whisper at that moment; "look! look at zee monkeys!" monkeys are very abundant in sumatra, but the nest of them which the travellers discovered at that time, and which had called forth the professor's admiration, was enough--as moses said--to make a "renocerus laugh." the trees around absolutely swarmed with monkeys; those of a slender form and with very long tails being most numerous. they were engaged in some sort of game, swinging by arms, legs, and tails from branches, holding on to or chasing each other, and taking the most astonishing leaps in circumstances where a slip would have no doubt resulted in broken limbs or in death. "stand still! oh! _do_ stand still--like you vas petrivied," said the professor in a low voice of entreaty. being quite willing to humour him, the whole party stood immovable, like statues, and thus avoided attracting the attention of the monkeys, who continued their game. it seemed to be a sort of "follow my leader," for one big strong fellow led off with a bound from one branch to another which evidently tried the nerves of his more timid and less agile companions. they all succeeded, however, from the largest even to the smallest--which last was a very tiny creature with a pink face, a sad expression, and a corkscrew tail. for a time they bounded actively among the branches, now high now low, till suddenly the big leader took a tremendous leap, as if for the express purpose of baffling or testing his companions. it was immensely amusing to see the degrees of trepidation with which the others followed. the last two seemed quite unable to make up their minds to the leap, until the others seemed about to disappear, when one of them took heart and bounded wildly across. thus little pink-face with the corkscrew tail was left alone! twice did that little monkey make a desperate resolution to jump, and twice did its little heart fail as it measured the distance between the branches and glanced at the abyss below. its companions seemed to entertain a feeling of pity for it. numbers of them came back, as if to watch the jump and encourage the little one. a third time it made an abortive effort to spring, and looked round pitifully, whereupon moses gave vent to an uncontrollable snort of suppressed laughter. "vat you mean by zat?" growled the professor angrily. the growl and snort together revealed the intruders, and all the monkeys, except pink-face, crowding the trees above the spot where they stood, gazed down upon them with expressions in which unparalleled indignation and inconceivable surprise struggled for the mastery. then, with a wild shriek, the whole troop fled into the forest. this was too much for poor, half-petrified pink-face with the twisted tail. seeing that its comrades were gone in earnest, it became desperate, flung itself frantically into the air with an agonising squeak, missed its mark, went crashing through the slender branches and fell to the ground. fortunately these branches broke its fall so that it arose unhurt, bounded into a bush, still squeaking with alarm, and made after its friends. "why did you not shoot it, professor?" asked nigel, laughing as much at verkimier's grave expression as at the little monkey's behaviour. "vy did i not shot it?" echoed the professor. "i vould as soon shot a baby. zee pluck of zat leetle creature is admirable. it vould be a horrible shame to take his life. no! i do love to see ploock vezer in man or beast! he could not shoomp zat. he _knew_ he could not shoomp it, but he _tried_ to shoomp it. he vould not be beat, an' i vould not kill him--zough i vant 'im very mooch for a specimen." it seemed as if the professor was to be specially rewarded for his generous self-denial on this occasion, for while he was yet speaking, a soft "hush!" from van der kemp caused the whole party to halt in dead silence and look at the hermit inquiringly. "you are in luck, professor," he murmured, in a soft, low voice--very different from that hissing whisper which so many people seem to imagine is an inaudible utterance. "i see a splendid argus pheasant over there making himself agreeable to his wife!" "vare? oh! vare?" exclaimed the enthusiast with blazing eyes, for although he had already seen and procured specimens of this most beautiful creature, he had not yet seen it engage in the strange love-dance--if we may so call it--which is peculiar to the bird. "you'll never get near enough to see it if you hiss like a serpent," said the hermit. "get out your binoculars, follow me, and hold your tongue, all of you--that will be the safest plan. tread lightly." it was a sight to behold the professor crouching almost double in order to render himself less conspicuous, with his hat pushed back, and the blue glasses giving him the appearance of a great-eyed seal. he carried his butterfly-net in one hand, and the unfailing rifle in the other. fortunately the hermit's sharp and practised eye had enabled him to distinguish the birds in the distance before their advance had alarmed them, so that they were able to reach a mound topped with low bushes over which they could easily watch the birds. "zat is very koorious an' most interesting," murmured the professor after a short silence. he was right. there were two argus pheasants, a male and female--the male alone being decorated superbly. the argus belongs to the same family as the peacock, but is not so gaudy in colouring, and therefore, perhaps, somewhat more pleasing. its tail is formed chiefly by an enormous elongation of the two tail quills, and of the secondary wing feathers, no two of which are exactly the same, and the closer they are examined the greater is seen to be the extreme beauty of their markings, and the rich varied harmony of their colouring. when a male argus wishes to show off his magnificence to his spouse--or when she asks him to show it off, we know not which--he makes a circle in the forest some ten or twelve feet in diameter, which he clears of every leaf, twig, and branch. on the margin of this circus there is invariably a projecting branch, or overarching root a few feet above the ground, on which the female takes her place to watch the exhibition. this consists of the male strutting about, pluming his feathers, and generally displaying his gorgeous beauty. "vat ineffable vanity!" exclaimed the professor, after gazing for some time in silence. his own folly in thus speaking was instantly proved by the two birds bringing the exhibition to an abrupt close and hastily taking wing. not long after seeing this they came to a small but deep and rapid river, which for a time checked their progress, for there was no ford, and the porters who carried verkimier's packages seemed to know nothing about a bridge, either natural or artificial. after wandering for an hour or so along its banks, however, they found a giant tree which had fallen across the stream and formed a natural bridge. on the other side of the stream the ground was more rugged and the forest so dense that they had to walk in a sort of twilight--only a glimpse of blue sky being visible here and there through the tree-tops. in some places, however, there occurred bright little openings which swarmed with species of metallic tiger-beetles and sand-bees, and where sulphur, swallow-tailed, and other butterflies sported their brief life away over the damp ground by the water's edge. the native forest path which they followed was little better than a tunnel cut through a grove of low rattan-palms, the delicate but exceedingly tough tendrils of which hung down in all directions. these were fringed with sharp hooks which caught their clothing and tore it, or held on unrelentingly, so that the only way of escape was to step quietly back and unhook themselves. this of itself would have rendered their progress slow as well as painful, but other things tended to increase the delay. at one place they came to a tree about seven feet in diameter which lay across the path and had to be scrambled over, and this was done with great difficulty. at another, a gigantic mud-bath--the wallowing hole of a herd of elephants--obstructed the way, and a yell from one of the porters told that in attempting to cross it he had fallen in up to the waist. a comrade in trying to pull him out also fell in and sank up to the armpits. but they got over it--as resolute men always do--somehow! "zis is horrible!" exclaimed the professor, panting from his exertions, and making a wild plunge with his insect-net at some living creature. "hah! zee brute! i have 'im." the man of science was flat on his stomach as he spoke, with arm outstretched and the net pressed close to the ground, while a smile of triumph beamed through the mud and scratches on his face. "what have you got?" asked nigel, doing his best to restrain a laugh. "a splendid _ornit'optera_ a day-flying moss'," said verkimier as he cautiously rose, "vich mimics zee _trepsichrois mulciber_. ant zis very morning i caught von _leptocircus virescens_, vich derives protection from mimicking zee habits ant appearance of a dragon-fly." "what rubbish dat purfesser do talk!" remarked moses in an undertone to the hermit as they moved on again. "not such rubbish as it sounds to you, moses. these are the scientific names of the creatures, and you know as well as he does that many creatures think they find it advantageous to pretend to be what they are not. man himself is not quite free from this characteristic. indeed, you have a little of it yourself," said the hermit with one of his twinkling glances. "when you are almost terrified of your wits don't you pretend that there's nothing the matter with you?" "nebber, massa, nebber!" answered the negro with remonstrative gravity. "when i's nigh out ob my wits, so's my innards feels like nuffin' but warmish water, i gits whitey-grey in de chops, so i's told, an' blue in de lips, an' i _pretends_ nuffin'--i don't care _who_ sees it!" the track for some distance beyond this point became worse and worse. then the nature of the ground changed somewhat--became more hilly, and the path, if such it could be styled, more rugged in some places, more swampy in others, while, to add to their discomfort, rain began to fall, and night set in dark and dismal without any sign of the village of which they were in search. by that time the porters who carried verkimier's boxes seemed so tired that the hermit thought it advisable to encamp, but the ground was so wet and the leeches were so numerous that they begged him to go on, assuring him that the village could not be far distant. in another half-hour the darkness became intense, so that a man could scarcely see his fellow even when within two paces of him. ominous mutterings and rumblings like distant thunder also were heard, which appeared to indicate an approaching storm. in these circumstances encamping became unavoidable, and the order was given to make a huge fire to scare away the tigers, which were known to be numerous, and the elephants whose fresh tracks had been crossed and followed during the greater part of the day. the track of a rhinoceros and a tapir had also been seen, but no danger was to be anticipated from those creatures. "shall we have a stormy night, think you?" asked nigel, as he assisted in striking a light. "it may be so," replied the hermit, flinging down one after another of his wet matches, which failed to kindle. "what we hear may be distant thunder, but i doubt it. the sounds seem to me more like the mutterings of a volcano. some new crater may have burst forth in the sumatran ranges. this thick darkness inclines me to think so--especially after the new activity of volcanic action we have seen so recently at krakatoa. let me try your matches, nigel, perhaps they have escaped--mine are useless." but nigel's matches were as wet as those of the hermit. so were those of the professor. luckily moses carried the old-fashioned flint and steel, with which, and a small piece of tinder, a spark was at last kindled, but as they were about to apply it to a handful of dry bamboo scrapings, an extra spirt of rain extinguished it. for an hour and more they made ineffectual attempts to strike a light. even the cessation of the rain was of no avail. "vat must ve do _now_?" asked the professor in tones that suggested a wo-begone countenance, though there was no light by which to distinguish it. "grin and bear it," said nigel, in a voice suggestive of a slight expansion of the mouth--though no one could see it. "dere's nuffin' else left to do," said moses, in a tone which betrayed such a very wide expansion that nigel laughed outright. "hah! you may laugh, my yoong frond, hot if zee tigers find us out or zee elephants trample on us, your laughter vill be turned to veeping. vat is zat? is not zat vonderful?" the question and exclamation were prompted by the sudden appearance of faint mysterious lights among the bushes. that the professor viewed them as unfriendly lights was clear from the click of his rifle-locks which followed. "it is only phosphoric light," explained van der kemp. "i have often seen it thus in electric states of the atmosphere. it will probably increase--meanwhile we must seat ourselves on our boxes and do the best we can till daylight. are you there, boys?" this question, addressed to the bearers in their native tongue, was not answered, and it was found, on a _feeling_ examination, that, in spite of leeches, tigers, elephants, and the whole animal creation, the exhausted porters had flung themselves on the wet ground and gone to sleep while their leaders were discussing the situation. dismal though the condition of the party was, the appearances in the forest soon changed the professor's woe into eager delight, for the phosphorescence became more and more pronounced, until every tree-stem blinked with a palish green light, and it trickled like moonlight over the ground, bringing out thick dumpy mushrooms like domes of light. glowing caterpillars and centipedes crawled about, leaving a trail of light behind them, and fireflies darting to and fro peopled the air and gave additional animation to the scene. in the midst of the darkness, thus made singularly visible, the white travellers sat dozing and nodding on their luggage, while the cries of metallic-toned horned frogs and other nocturnal sounds peculiar to that weird forest formed their appropriate lullaby. but moses neither dozed nor nodded. with a pertinacity peculiarly his own he continued to play a running accompaniment to the lullaby with his flint and steel, until his perseverance was rewarded with a spark which caught on a dry portion of the tinder and continued to burn. by that time the phosphoric lights had faded, and his spark was the only one which gleamed through intense darkness. how he cherished that spark! he wrapped it in swaddling clothes of dry bamboo scrapings with as much care as if it had been the essence of his life. he blew upon it tenderly as though to fan its delicate brow with the soft zephyrs of a father's affection. again he blew more vigorously, and his enormous pouting lips came dimly into view. another blow and his flat nose and fat cheeks emerged from darkness. still another--with growing confidence--and his huge eyes were revealed glowing with hope. at last the handful of combustible burst into a flame, and was thrust into a prepared nest of twigs. this, communicating with a heap of logs, kindled a sudden blaze which scattered darkness out of being, and converted thirty yards of the primeval forest into a chamber of glorious light, round which the human beings crowded with joy enhanced by the unexpectedness of the event, and before which the wild things of the wilderness fled away. when daylight came at last, they found that the village for which they had been searching was only two miles beyond the spot where they had encamped. here, being thoroughly exhausted, it was resolved that they should spend that day and night, and, we need scarcely add, they spent a considerable portion of both in sleep--at least such parts of both as were not devoted to food. and here the professor distinguished himself in a way that raised him greatly in the estimation of his companions and caused the natives of the place to regard him as something of a demi-god. of course we do not vouch for the truth of the details of the incident, for no one save himself was there to see, and although we entertained the utmost regard for himself, we were not sufficiently acquainted with his moral character to answer for his strict truthfulness. as to the main event, there was no denying that. the thing happened thus:-- towards the afternoon of that same day the travellers began to wake up, stretch themselves, and think about supper. in the course of conversation it transpired that a tiger had been prowling about the village for some days, and had hitherto successfully eluded all attempts to trap or spear it. they had tethered a goat several times near a small pond and watched the spot from safe positions among the trees, with spears, bows and arrows, and blow-pipes ready, but when they watched, the tiger did not come, and when they failed to watch, the tiger did come and carried off the goat. thus they had been baffled. "mine frond," said the professor to the hermit on hearing this. "i vill shot zat tiger! i am resolved. vill you ask zee chief to show me zee place ant zen tell his people, on pain of def, not to go near it all night, for if zey do i vill certainly shot zem--by accident of course!" the hermit did as he was bid, but advised his sanguine friend against exposing himself recklessly. the chief willingly fell in with his wishes. "won't you tell us what you intend to do, professor?" asked nigel, "and let us help you." "no, i vill do it all by mineself--or die! i vill vant a shofel or a spade of some sort." the chief provided the required implement, conducted his visitor a little before sunset to the spot, just outside the village, and left him there armed with his rifle, a revolver, and a long knife or kriss, besides the spade. when alone, the bold man put off his glasses, made a careful inspection of the ground, came to a conclusion--founded on scientific data no doubt--as to the probable spot whence the tiger would issue from the jungle when about to seize the goat, and, just opposite that spot, on the face of a slope about ten yards from the goat, he dug a hole deep enough to contain his own person. the soil was sandy easy to dig, and quite dry. it was growing dusk when the professor crept into this rifle-pit, drew his weapons and the spade in after him, and closed the mouth of the pit with moist earth, leaving only a very small eye-hole through which he could see the goat standing innocently by the brink of the pool. "now," said he, as he lay resting on his elbows with the rifle laid ready to hand and the revolver beside it; "now, i know not vezer you can smell or not, but i have buried mineself in eart', vich is a non-conductor of smell. ve shall see!" it soon became very dark, for there was no moon, yet not so dark but that the form of the goat could be seen distinctly reflected in the pond. naturally the professor's mind reverted to the occasion when nigel had watched in the branches of a tree for another tiger. the conditions were different, and so, he thought, was the man! "mine yoong frond," he said mentally, "is brav', oondoubtedly, but his nerves have not been braced by experience like mine. it is vell, for zere is more dancher here zan in a tree. it matters not. i am resolf to shot zat tigre--or die!" in this resolute and heroic frame of mind he commenced his vigil. it is curious to note how frequently the calculations of men fail them--even those of scientific men! the tiger came indeed to the spot, but he came in precisely the opposite direction from that which the watcher expected, so that while verkimier was staring over the goat's head at an opening in the jungle beyond the pond, the tiger was advancing stealthily and slowly through the bushes exactly behind the hole in which he lay. suddenly the professor became aware of _something_! he saw nothing consciously, he heard nothing, but there stole over him, somehow, the feeling of a dread presence! was he asleep? was it nightmare? no, it was night-tiger! he knew it, somehow; he _felt_ it--but he could not see it. to face death is easy enough--according to some people--but to face nothing at all is at all times trying. verkimier felt it to be so at that moment. but he was a true hero and conquered himself. "come now," he said mentally, "don't be an ass! don't lose your shance by voomanly fears. keep kviet." another moment and there was a very slight sound right over his head. he glanced upwards--as far as the little hole would permit--and there, not a foot from him, was a tawny yellow throat! with a tremendous paw moving slowly forward--so slowly that it might have suggested the imperceptible movement of the hour-hand of a watch, or of a glacier. there was indeed motion, but it was not perceptible. the professor's perceptions were quick. he did not require to think. he knew that to use the rifle at such close quarters was absolutely impossible. he knew that the slightest motion would betray him. he could see that as yet he was undiscovered, for the animal's nose was straight for the goat, and he concluded that either his having buried himself was a safeguard against being smelt, or that the tiger had a cold in its head. he thought for one moment of bursting up with a yell that would scare the monster out of his seven senses--if he had seven--but dismissed the thought as cowardly, for it would be sacrificing success to safety. he knew not what to do, and the cold perspiration consequent upon indecision at a supreme moment broke out all over him. suddenly he thought of the revolver! like lightning he seized it, pointed it straight up and fired. the bullet--a large army revolver one--entered the throat of the animal, pierced the root of the tongue, crashed through the palate obliquely, and entered the brain. the tiger threw one indescribable somersault and fell--fell so promptly that it blocked the mouth of the pit, all the covering earth of which had been blown away by the shot, and verkimier could feel the hairy side of the creature, and hear the beating of its heart as it gasped its life away. but in his cramped position he could not push it aside. well aware of the tenacity of life in tigers, he thought that if the creature revived it would certainly grasp him even in its dying agonies, for the weight of its body and its struggles were already crushing in the upper part of the hole. to put an end to its sufferings and his own danger, he pointed the revolver at its side and again fired. the crash in the confined hole was tremendous--so awful that the professor thought the weapon must have burst. the struggles of the, tiger became more violent than ever, and its weight more oppressive as the earth crumbled away. again the cold perspiration broke out all over the man, and he became unconscious. it must not be supposed that the professor's friends were unwatchful. although they had promised not to disturb him in his operations, they had held themselves in readiness with rifle, revolver, and spear, and the instant the first shot was heard, they ran down to the scene of action. before reaching it the second shot quickened their pace as they ran down to the pond--a number of natives yelling and waving torches at their heels. "here he is," cried moses, who was first on the scene, "dead as mutton!" "what! the professor?" cried nigel in alarm. "no; de tiger." "where's verkimier?" asked the hermit as he came up. "i dun know, massa," said moses, looking round him vacantly. "search well, men, and be quick, he may have been injured," cried van der kemp, seizing a torch and setting the example. "let me out!" came at that moment from what appeared to be the bowels of the earth, causing every one to stand aghast gazing in wonder around and on each other. "zounds! vy don't you let me _out_?" shouted the voice again. there was an indication of a tendency to flight on the part of the natives, but nigel's asking "where _are_ you?" had the effect of inducing them to delay for the answer. "here--oonder zee tigre! kveek, i am suffocat!" instantly van der kemp seized the animal by the 'tail, and, avith a force worthy of hercules, heaved it aside as if it had been a dead cat, revealing the man of science underneath--alive and well, but dishevelled, scratched, and soiled--also, as deaf as a door-post! chapter xxii. a python discovered and a geyser interviewed. "it never rains but it pours" is a well-known proverb which finds, frequent illustration in the experience of almost every one. at all events verkimier had reason to believe in the truth of it at that time, for adventures came down on him, as it were, in a sort of deluge, more or less astounding, insomuch that his enthusiastic spirit, bathing, if we may say so, in an ocean of scientific delight, pronounced sumatra to be the very paradise of the student of nature. we have not room in this volume to follow him in the details of his wonderful experiences, but we must mention one adventure which he had on the very day after the tiger-incident, because it very nearly had the effect of separating him from his travelling companions. being deaf, as we have said--owing to the explosion of his revolver in the hole--but not necessarily dumb, the professor, after one or two futile attempts to hear and converse, deemed it wise to go to bed and spend the few conscious minutes that might precede sleep in watching van der kemp, who kindly undertook to skin his tiger for him. soon the self-satisfied man fell into a sweet infantine slumber, and dreamed of tigers, in which state he gave vent to sundry grunts, gasps, and half-suppressed cries, to the immense delight of moses, who sat watching him, indulging in a running commentary suggestive of the recent event, and giving utterance now and then to a few imitative growls by way of enhancing the effect of the dreams! "look! look! massa nadgel, he's twitchin' all ober. de tiger's comin' to him now." "looks like it, moses." "yes--an', see, he grip de 'volver--no, too soon, or de tiger's goed away, for he's stopped twichin'--dare; de tiger comes agin!" a gasp and clenching of the right hand seemed to warrant this assumption. then a yell rang through the hut; moses displayed all, and more than all his teeth, and the professor, springing up on one elbow, glared fearfully. "i'n't it awrful?" inquired moses in a low tone. the professor awoke mentally, recognised the situation, smiled an imbecile smile, and sank back again on his pillow with a sigh of relief. after that, when the skinning of the tiger was completed, the dreams appeared to leave him, and all his comrades joined him in the land of nod. he was first to awake when daylight entered their hut the following morning, and, feeling in a fresh, quiescent state of mind after the excitement of the preceding night, he lay on his back, his eyes fixed contentedly on the grand tiger-skin which hung on the opposite wall. by degrees his eyes grew wearied of that object, and he allowed them to travel languidly upwards and along the roof until they rested on the spot directly over his head, where they became fixed, and, at the same time, opened out to a glare, compared to which all his previous glaring was as nothing--for there, in the thatch, looking down upon him, was the angular head of a huge python. the snake was rolled up in a tight coil, and had evidently spent the night within a yard of the professor's head! being unable to make out what sort of snake it was, and fearing that it might be a poisonous one, he crept quietly from his couch, keeping his eyes fixed on the reptile as he did so. one result of this mode of action was that he did not see where he was going, and inadvertently thrust one finger into moses' right eye, and another into his open mouth. the negro naturally shut his mouth with a snap, while the professor opened his with a roar, and in another moment every man was on his feet blinking inquiringly. "look! zee snake!" cried the professor, when moses released him. "we must get him out of that," remarked van der kemp, as he quietly made a noose with a piece of rattan, and fastened it to the end of a long pole. with the latter he poked the creature up, and, when it had uncoiled sufficiently, he slipped the noose deftly over its head. "clear out, friends," he said, looking round. all obeyed with uncommon promptitude except the professor, who valiantly stood his ground. van der kemp pulled the python violently down to the floor, where it commenced a tremendous scuffle among the chairs and posts. the hermit kept its head off with the pole, and sought to catch its tail, but failed twice. seeing this the professor caught the tail as it whipped against his legs, and springing down the steps so violently that he snapped the cord by which the hermit held it, and drew the creature straight out--a thick monster full twelve feet long, and capable of swallowing a dog or a child. "out of zee way!" shouted the professor, making a wild effort to swing the python against a tree, but the tail slipped from his grasp, the professor fell, and the snake went crashing against a log, under which it took refuge. nigel, who was nearest to it, sprang forward, fortunately caught its tail, and, swinging it and himself round with such force that it could not coil up at all, dashed it against a tree. before it could recover from the shock, moses had caught up a hatchet and cut its head off with one blow. the tail wriggled for a few seconds, and the head gaped once or twice, as if in mild surprise at so sudden a finale. "zat is strainch--very strainch," slowly remarked the professor, as, still seated on the ground, he solemnly noted these facts. "not so _very_ strange, after all," said van der kemp; "i've seen the head of many a bigger snake cut off at one blow." "mine frond, you mistake me. it is zee vorking of physical law in zee spiritual vorld zat perplexes me. moses has cut zee brute in two--physical fact, substance can be divided. zee two parts are still alife, zerfore, zee life--zee spirit--has also been divided!" "it is indeed very strange," said nigel, with a laugh. "stranger still that you may cut a worm into several parts, and the life remains in each, but, strangest of all, that you should sit on the ground, professor, instead of rising up, while you philosophise. you are not hurt, i hope--are you?" "i razer zink i am," returned the philosopher with a faint smile; "mine onkle, i zink, is spraint." this was indeed true, and it seemed as if the poor man's wanderings were to be, for a time at least, brought to an abrupt close. fortunately it was found that a pony could be procured at that village, and, as they had entered the borders of the mountainous regions, and the roads were more open and passable than heretofore, it was resolved that the professor should ride until his ankle recovered. we must now pass over a considerable portion of time and space, and convey the reader, by a forced march, to the crater of an active volcano. by that time verkimier's ankle had recovered and the pony had been dismissed. the heavy luggage, with the porters, had been left in the low grounds, for the mountain they had scaled was over , feet above the sea-level. only one native from the plain below accompanied them as guide, and three of their porters whose inquiring minds tempted them to make the ascent. at about , feet the party reached what the natives called the dempo or edge of the volcano, whence they looked down into the sawah or ancient crater, which was a level space composed of brown soil surrounded by cliffs, and lying like the bottom of a cup feet below them. it had a sulphurous odour, and was dotted here and there with clumps of heath and rhododendrons. in the centre of this was a cone which formed the true--or modern--crater. on scrambling up to the lip of the cone and looking down some feet of precipitous rock they beheld what seemed to be a pure white lake set in a central basin of feet in diameter. the surface of this lakelet smoked, and although it reflected every passing cloud as if it were a mirror, it was in reality a basin of hot mud, the surface of which was about thirty feet below its rim. "you will soon see a change come over it," said the hermit, as the party gazed in silent admiration at the weird scene. he had scarcely spoken, when the middle of the lake became intensely black and scored with dark streaks. this, though not quite obvious at first from the point where they stood, was caused by the slow formation of a great chasm in the centre of the seething lake of mud. the lake was sinking into its own throat. the blackness increased. then a dull sullen roar was heard, and next moment the entire lake upheaved, not violently, but in a slow, majestic manner some hundreds of feet into the air, whence it fell back into its basin with an awful roar which reverberated and echoed from the rocky walls of the caldron like the singing of an angry sea. an immense volume of steam--the motive power which had blown up the lake--was at the same time liberated and dissipated in the air. the wave-circles died away on the margin of the lake, and the placid, cloud-reflecting surface was restored until the geyser had gathered fresh force for another upheaval. "amazing!" exclaimed nigel, who had gazed with feelings of awe at this curious exhibition of the tremendous internal forces with which the creator has endowed the earth. "vonderful!" exclaimed the professor, whose astonishment was such, that his eyebrows rose high above the rim of his huge blue binoculars. moses, to whom such an exhibition of the powers of nature was familiar, was, we are sorry to say, not much impressed, if impressed at all! indeed he scarcely noticed it, but watched, with intense teeth-and-gum disclosing satisfaction, the faces of two of the native porters who had never seen anything of the kind before, and whose terrified expressions suggested the probability of a precipitate flight when their trembling limbs became fit to resume duty. "will it come again soon?" asked nigel, turning to van der kemp. "every fifteen or twenty minutes it goes through that process all day and every day," replied the hermit. "but, if i may joodge from zee stones ant scoriae around," said the professor, "zee volcano is not alvays so peaceful as it is joost now." "you are right. about once in every three years, and sometimes oftener, the crops of coffee, bananas, rice, etc., in this region are quite destroyed by sulphur-rain, which covers everything for miles around the crater." "hah! it vould be too hote a place zis for us, if zat vas to happin joost now," remarked verkimier with a smile. "it cannot be far off the time now, i should think," said yan der kemp. all this talk moses translated, and embellished, to the native porters with the solemn sincerity of a true and thorough-paced hypocrite. he had scarcely finished, and was watching with immense delight the changeful aspect of their whitey-green faces, when another volcanic fit came on, and the deep-toned roar of the coming explosion was heard. it was so awesome that the countenance even of van der kemp became graver than usual. as for the two native porters, they gazed and trembled. nigel and the professor also gazed with lively expectation. moses--we grieve to record it--hugged himself internally, and gloated over the two porters. another moment and there came a mighty roar. up went the mud-lake hundreds of feet into the air; out came the steam with the sound of a thousand trombones, and away went the two porters, head ever heels, down the outer slope of the cone and across the sawah as if the spirit of evil were after them. there was no cause, however, for alarm. the mud-lake, falling back into its native cup, resumed its placid aspect and awaited its next upheaval with as much tranquillity as if it had never known disturbance in the past, and were indifferent about the future. that evening our travellers encamped in close proximity to the crater, supped on fowls roasted in an open crevice whence issued steam and sulphurous smells, and slept with the geyser's intermittent roar sounding in their ears and re-echoing in their dreams. chapter xxiii. tells of volcanic fires and a strange return "home." this tremendous introduction to volcanic fires was but the prelude to a period of eruptive action which has not been paralleled in the world's history. for a short time after this, indeed, the genial nature of the weather tended to banish from the minds of our travellers all thoughts of violence either in terrestrial or human affairs, and as the professor devoted himself chiefly to the comparatively mild occupation of catching and transfixing butterflies and beetles during the march southward, there seemed to be nothing in the wide universe above or below save peace and tranquillity--except, perhaps, in the minds of beetles and butterflies! throughout all this period, nevertheless, there were ominous growlings, grumblings, and tremors--faint but frequent--which indicated a condition of mother earth that could not have been called easy. "some of the volcanoes of java must be at work, i think," said nigel one night, as the party sat in a small isolated wood-cutter's hut discussing a supper of rice and fowls with his friends, which they were washing down with home-grown coffee. "it may be so," said van der kemp in a dubious tone; "but the sounds, though faint, seem to me a good deal nearer. i can't help thinking that the craters which have so recently opened up in krakatoa are still active, and that it may be necessary for me to shift my quarters, for my cave is little more, i suspect, than the throat of an ancient volcano." "hah! say you so, mine frond? zen i vould advise you to make no delay," said the professor, critically examining a well-picked drumstick. "you see, it is not pleasant to be blown up eizer by the terrestrial eruptions of zee vorld or zee celestial explosions of your vife.--a leetle more rice, moses if you please. zanks." "now, mine fronds," he continued, after having disposed of a supper which it might have taxed a volcano's throat to swallow, "it is viz great sorrow zat i must part from you here." "part! why?" asked the hermit in surprise. "vy, because i find zis contrie is heaven upon eart'. zat is, of course, only in a scientific point of view. zee voods are svarming, zee air is teeming, ant zee vaters are vallo'ing vit life. i cannot tear myself avay. but ve shall meet again--at telok betong, or krakatoa, or anjer, or batavia." it was found that the man of science was also a man of decision. nothing would persuade him to go a step further. the wood-cutter's hut suited him, so did the wood-cutter himself, and so, as he said, did the region around him. with much regret, therefore, and an earnest invitation from the hermit to visit his cave, and range the almost unexplored woods of his island, the travellers parted from him; and our three adventurers, dismissing all attendants and hiring three ponies, continued their journey to the southern shores of sumatra. as they advanced it soon became evident that the scene of volcanic activity was not so far distant as the island of java, for the air was frequently darkened by the falling of volcanic dust which covered the land with a greyish powder. as, however, at least sixteen volcanoes have been registered in the island of sumatra, and there are probably many others, it was impossible to decide where the scene of eruption was that caused those signs. one afternoon the travellers witnessed a catastrophe which induced them to forego all idea of spending more time in examining the country. they had arrived at a village where they found a traveller who appeared to be going about without any special object in view. he spoke english, but with a foreign accent. nigel naturally felt a desire to become sociable with him, but he was very taciturn and evidently wished to avoid intercourse with chance acquaintances. hearing that there were curious hot-water and mud springs not far off, the stranger expressed a desire to visit them. nigel also felt anxious to see them, and as one guide was sufficient for the party the stranger joined the party and they went together. the spot they were led to was evidently a mere crust of earth covering fierce subterranean fires. in the centre of it a small pond of mud was boiling and bubbling furiously, and round this, on the indurated clay, were smaller wells and craters full of boiling mud. the ground near them was obviously unsafe, for it bent under pressure like thin ice, and at some of the cracks and fissures the sulphurous vapour was so hot that the hand could not be held to it without being scalded. nigel and the stranger walked close behind the native guide, both, apparently, being anxious to get as near as possible to the central pond. but the guide stopped suddenly, and, looking back, said to van der kemp that it was not safe to approach nearer. nigel at once stopped, and, looking at the stranger, was struck by the wild, incomprehensible expression of his face as he continued to advance. "stop! stop, sir!" cried the hermit on observing this, but the man paid no attention to the warning. another instant and the crust on which he stood gave way and he sank into a horrible gulf from which issued a gust of sulphurous vapour and steam. the horror which almost overwhelmed nigel did not prevent him bounding forward to the rescue. well was it for him at that time that a cooler head than his own was near. the strong hand of the hermit seized his collar on the instant, and he was dragged backward out of danger, while an appalling shriek from the stranger as he disappeared told that the attempt to succour him would have been too late. a terrible event of this kind has usually the effect of totally changing, at least for a time, the feelings of those who witness it, so as to almost incapacitate them from appreciating ordinary events or things. for some days after witnessing the sudden and awful fate of this unknown man, nigel travelled as if in a dream, taking little notice of, or interest in, anything, and replying to questions in mere monosyllables. his companions seemed to be similarly affected, for they spoke very little. even the volatile spirit of moses appeared to be subdued, and it was not till they had reached nearly the end of their journey that their usual flow of spirits returned. arriving one night at a village not very far from the southern shores of sumatra they learned that the hermit's presentiments were justified, and that the volcano which was causing so much disturbance in the islands of the archipelago was, indeed, the long extinct one of krakatoa. "i've heard a good deal about it from one of the chief men here," said the hermit as he returned to his friends that night about supper-time. "he tells me that it has been more or less in moderate eruption ever since we left the island, but adds that nobody takes much notice of it, as they don't expect it to increase much in violence. i don't agree with them in that," he added gravely. "why not?" asked nigel. "partly because of the length of time that has elapsed since its last eruption in ; partly from the fact that that eruption--judging from appearances--must have been a very tremendous one, and partly because my knowledge of volcanic action leads me to expect it; but i could not easily explain the reason for my conclusions on the latter point. i have just been to the brow of a ridge not far off whence i have seen the glow in the sky of the krakatoa fires. they do not, however, appear to be very fierce at the present moment." as he spoke there was felt by the travellers a blow, as if of an explosion under the house in which they sat. it was a strong vertical bump which nearly tossed them all off their chairs. van der kemp and his man, after an exclamation or two, continued supper like men who were used to such interruptions, merely remarking that it was an earthquake. but nigel, to whom it was not quite so familiar, stood up for a few seconds with a look of anxious uncertainty, as if undecided as to the path of duty and prudence in the circumstances. moses relieved him. "sot down, massa nadgel," said that sable worthy, as he stuffed his mouth full of rice; "it's easier to sot dan to stand w'en its eart'quakin'." nigel sat down with a tendency to laugh, for at that moment he chanced to glance at the rafters above, where he saw a small anxious-faced monkey gazing down at him. he was commenting on this creature when another prolonged shock of earthquake came. it was not a bump like the previous one, but a severe vibration which only served to shake the men in their chairs, but it shook the small monkey off the rafter, and the miserable little thing fell with a shriek and a flop into the rice-dish! "git out o' dat--you scoundril!" exclaimed moses, but the order was needless, for the monkey bounced out of it like indiarubber and sought to hide its confusion in the thatch, while moses helped himself to some more of the rice, which, he said; was none the worse for being monkeyfied! at last our travellers found themselves in the town of telok betong, where, being within forty-five miles of krakatoa, the hermit could both see and hear that his island-home was in violent agitation; tremendous explosions occurring frequently, while dense masses of smoke were ascending from its craters. "i'm happy to find," said the hermit, soon after their arrival in the town, "that the peak of rakata, on the southern part of the island where my cave lies, is still quiet and has shown no sign of breaking out. and now i shall go and see after my canoe." "do you think it safe to venture to visit your cave?" asked nigel. "well, not absolutely safe," returned the hermit with a peculiar smile, "but, of course, if you think it unwise to run the risk of--" "i asked a simple question, van der kemp, without any thought of myself," interrupted the youth, as he flushed deeply. "forgive me, nigel," returned the hermit quickly and gravely, "it is but my duty to point out that we cannot go there without running _some_ risk." "and it is _my_ duty to point out," retorted his hurt friend, "that when any man, worthy of the name, agrees to follow another, he agrees to accept all risks." to this the hermit vouchsafed no further reply than a slight smile and nod of intelligence. thereafter he went off alone to inquire about his canoe, which, it will be remembered, his friend, the captain of the steamer, had promised to leave for him at this place. telok betong, which was one of the severest sufferers by the eruption of , is a small town at the head of lampong bay, opposite to the island of krakatoa, from which it is between forty and fifty miles distant. it is built on a narrow strip of land at the base of a steep mountain, but little above the sea, and is the chief town of the lampong residency, which forms the most southerly province of sumatra. at the time we write of, the only european residents of the place were connected with government. the rest of the population was composed of a heterogeneous mass of natives mingled with a number of chinese, a few arabs, and a large fluctuating population of traders from borneo, celebes, new guinea, siam, and the other innumerable isles of the archipelago. these were more or less connected with praus laden with the rich and varied merchandise of the eastern seas. as each man in the town had been permitted to build his house according to his own fancy, picturesque irregularity was the agreeable result. it may be added that, as each man spoke his own language in his own tones, babel and noise were the consequence. in a small hut by the waterside the hermit found the friend--a malay--to whom his canoe had been consigned, and, in a long low shed close by, he found the canoe itself with the faithful spinkie in charge. "don't go near the canoe till you've made friends with the monkey," said the malay in his own tongue, as he was about to put the key in the door. "why not?" asked the hermit. "because it is the savagest brute i ever came across," said the man. "it won't let a soul come near the canoe. i would have killed it long ago if the captain of the steamer had not told me you wished it to be taken great care of. there, look out! the vixen is not tied up." he flung open the shed-door and revealed spinkie seated in his old place, much deteriorated in appearance and scowling malevolently. the instant the poor creature heard its master's voice and saw his form--for his features must have been invisible against the strong light--the scowl vanished from its little visage. with a shriek of joy it sprang like an acrobat from a spring-board and plunged into the hermit's bosom--to the alarm of the malay, who thought this was a furious attack. we need not say that van der kemp received his faithful little servant kindly, and it was quite touching to observe the monkey's intense affection for him. it could not indeed wag its tail like a dog, but it put its arms round its master's neck with a wondrously human air, and rubbed its little head in his beard and whiskers, drawing itself back now and then, putting its black paws on his cheeks, turning his face round to the light and opening its round eyes wide--as well as its round little mouth--as if to make sure of his identity--then plunging into the whiskers again, and sometimes, when unable to contain its joy, finding a safety-valve in a little shriek. when the meeting and greeting were over, van der kemp explained that he would require his canoe by daybreak the following morning, ordered a few provisions to be got ready, and turned to leave. "you must get down, spinkie, and watch the canoe for one night more," said the hermit, quietly. but spinkie did not seem to perceive the necessity, for he clung closer to his master with a remonstrative croak. "get down, spinkie," said the hermit firmly, "and watch the canoe." the poor beast had apparently learned that medo-persic law was not more unchangeable than van der kemp's commands! at all events it crept down his arm and leg, waddled slowly over the floor of the shed with bent back and wrinkled brow, like a man of ninety, and took up its old position on the deck, the very personification of superannuated woe. the hermit patted its head gently, however, thus relieving its feelings, and probably introducing hope into its little heart before leaving. then he returned to his friends and bade them prepare for immediate departure. it was the night of the th of august, and as the eruptions of the volcano appeared to be getting more and more violent, van der kemp's anxiety to reach his cave became visibly greater. "i have been told," said the hermit to nigel, as they went down with moses to the place where the canoe had been left, "the history of krakatoa since we left. a friend informs me that a short time after our departure the eruptions subsided a little, and the people here had ceased to pay much attention to them, but about the middle of june the volcanic activity became more violent, and on the th, in particular, it was observed that the vapour column and the force of the explosions were decidedly on the increase." "at katimbang, from which place the island can be seen, it was noticed that a second column of vapour was ascending from the centre of the island, and that the appearance of perboewatan had entirely changed, its conspicuous summit having apparently been blown away. in july there were some explosions of exceptional violence, and i have now no doubt that it was these we heard in the interior of this island when we were travelling hither, quite lately. on the th of this month, i believe, the island was visited in a boat by a government officer, but he did not land, owing to the heavy masses of vapour and dust driven about by the wind, which also prevented him from making a careful examination, but he could see that the forests of nearly the whole island have been destroyed--only a few trunks of blighted trees being left standing above the thick covering of pumice and dust. he reported that the dust near the shore was found to be twenty inches thick." "if so," said nigel, "i fear that the island will be no longer fit to inhabit." "i know not," returned the hermit sadly, in a musing tone. "the officer reported that there is no sign of eruption at rakata, so that my house is yet safe, for no showers of pumice, however deep, can injure the cave." nigel was on the point of asking his friend why he was so anxious to revisit the island at such a time, but, recollecting his recent tiff on that subject, refrained. afterwards, however, when van der kemp was settling accounts with the malay, he put the question to moses. "i can't help wondering," he said, "that van der kemp should be so anxious to get back to his cave just now. if he were going in a big boat to save some of his goods and chattels i could understand it, but the canoe, you know, could carry little more than her ordinary lading." "well, massa nadgel," said moses, "it's my opinion dat he wants to go back 'cause he's got an uncommon affekshnit heart." "how? surely you don't mean that his love of the mere place is so strong that--" "no, no, massa nadgel--'s not dat. but he was awrful fond ob his wife an' darter, an' i know he's got a photogruff ob 'em bof togidder, an' i t'ink he'd sooner lose his head dan lose dat, for i've seed him look at 'em for hours, an' kiss 'em sometimes w'en he t'ought i was asleep." the return of the hermit here abruptly stopped the conversation. the canoe was carried down and put into the water, watched with profound interest by hundreds of natives and traders, who were all more or less acquainted with the hermit of rakata. it was still daylight when they paddled out into lampong bay, but the volumes of dust which rose from krakatoa--although nearly fifty miles off--did much to produce an unusually early twilight. "goin' to be bery dark, massa," remarked moses as they glided past the shipping. "shall i light de lamp?" "do, moses, but we shan't need it, for as we get nearer home the volcanic fires will light us on our way." "de volcanic dust is a-goin' to powder us on our way too, massa. keep your hands out o' the way, spinkie," said the negro as he fixed a small oil-lamp to the mast, and resumed his paddle. "after we get out a bit the wind will help us," said the hermit. "yes, massa, if he don't blow too strong," returned moses, as a squall came rushing down the mountains and swept over the bay, ruffling its now dark waters into foaming wavelets. altogether, what with the increasing darkness and the hissing squall, and the night-voyage before them, and the fires of krakatoa which were now clearly visible on the horizon, nigel boy felt a more eerie sensation in his breast than he ever remembered to have experienced in all his previous life, but he scorned to admit the fact--even to himself, and said, mentally, that it was rather romantic than otherwise! just then there burst upon their ears the yell of a steam-whistle, and a few moments later a steamer bore straight down on them, astern. "steamer ahoy!" shouted van der kemp. "will ye throw us a rope?" "ay! ay!--ease 'er!--stop 'er! where are 'ee bound for?" demanded an unmistakably english voice. "krakatoa!" replied the hermit. "where are you?" "anjer, on the java coast. do 'ee want to be smothered, roasted, and blown up?" asked the captain, looking down on the canoe as it ranged alongside the dark hull. "no, we want to get home." "home! well, you're queer fellows in a queer eggshell for such waters. every man to his taste. look out for the rope!" "all right, cappen," cried moses as he caught the coil. next moment the steamer went ahead, and the canoe ploughed over the sunda straits at the rate of thirteen miles an hour, with her sharp prow high out of the water, and the stern correspondingly low. the voyage, which would have otherwise cost our three travellers a long laborious night and part of next day, was by this means so greatly shortened that when daybreak arrived they were not more than thirteen miles to the east of krakatoa. nearer than this the steamboat could not take them without going out of her course, but as van der kemp and nigel gratefully acknowledged, it was quite near enough. "well, i should just think it was rather too near!" said the captain with a grin. and, truly, he was justified in making the remark, for the explosions from the volcano had by that time become not only very frequent, but tremendously loud, while the dense cloud which hung above it and spread far and wide over the sky covered the sea with a kind of twilight that struggled successfully against the full advent of day. lightning too was playing among the rolling black masses of smoke, and the roaring explosions every now and then seemed to shake the very heavens. casting off the tow-rope, they turned the bow of their canoe to the island. as a stiffish breeze was blowing, they set the sails, close-reefed, and steered for the southern shore at that part which lay under the shadow of rakata. chapter xxiv. an awful night and terrible morning. it was a matter of some satisfaction to find on drawing near to the shore that the peak of rakata was still intact, and that, although most other parts of the island which could be seen were blighted by fire and covered deeply with pumice dust, much of the forest in the immediate neighbourhood of the cave was still undestroyed though considerably damaged. "d'you think our old harbour will be available, moses?" asked van der kemp as they came close to the first headland. "pr'aps. bes' go an' see," was the negro's practical reply. "evidently rakata is not yet active," said nigel, looking up at the grey dust-covered crags as the canoe glided swiftly through the dark water. "that is more than can be said for the other craters," returned the hermit. "it seems to me that not only all the old ones are at work, but a number of new ones must have been opened." the constant roaring and explosions that filled their ears and the rain of fine ashes bore testimony to the truth of this, though the solid and towering mass of rakata rose between them and the part of krakatoa which was in eruption, preventing their seeing anything that was passing except the dense masses of smoke, steam, and dust which rose many miles into the heavens, obstructing the light of day, but forming cloud-masses from which the lurid flames of the volcano were reflected downward. on reaching the little bay or harbour it was found much as they had left it, save that the rocks and bushes around were thickly covered with dust, and their boat was gone. "strange! at such a time one would scarcely have expected thieves to come here," said the hermit, looking slowly round. "no t'ief bin here, massa," said moses, looking over the side of the canoe. "i see de boat!" he pointed downwards as he spoke, and on looking over the side they saw the wreck of the boat at the bottom, in about ten feet of water, and crushed beneath a ponderous mass of lava, which must have been ejected from the volcano and afterwards descended upon the boat. the destruction of the boat rendered it impossible to remove any of the property of the hermit, and nigel now saw, from his indifference, that this could not have been the cause of his friend's anxiety and determination to reach his island home in spite of the danger that such a course entailed. that there was considerable danger soon became very obvious, for, having passed to some extent at this point beyond the shelter of the cliffs of rakata, and come partly into view of the other parts of the island, the real extent of the volcanic violence burst upon nigel and moses as a new revelation. the awful sublimity of the scene at first almost paralysed them, and they failed to note that not only did a constant rain of pumice dust fall upon them, but that there was also a pretty regular dropping of small stones into the water around them. their attention was sharply aroused to this fact by the fall of a lump of semi-molten rock, about the size of a cannon shot, a short distance off, which was immediately followed by not less than a cubic yard of lava which fell close to the canoe and deluged them with spray. "we must go," said the hermit quietly. "no need to expose ourselves here, though the watching of the tremendous forces that our creator has at command does possess a wonderful kind of fascination. it seems to me the more we see of his power as exerted on our little earth, the more do we realise the paltriness of our conception of the stupendous might that upholds the universe." while he was speaking, van der kemp guided the canoe into its little haven, and in a few minutes he and moses had carried it into the shelter of the cave out of which nigel had first seen it emerge. then the lading was carried up, after which they turned into the track which led to the hermit's home. the whole operation may be said to have been performed under fire, for small masses of rock kept pattering continually on the dust-covered ground around them, causing cloudlets, like smoke, to spring up wherever they struck. nigel and moses could not resist glancing upward now and then as they moved quickly to and fro, and they experienced a shrinking sensation when a stone fell very near them, but each scorned to exhibit the smallest trace of anxiety, or to suggest that the sooner they got from under fire the better! as for van der kemp, he moved about deliberately as if there was nothing unusual going on, and with an absent look on his grave face as though the outbursts of smoke, and fire, and lava, which turned the face of day into lurid night, and caused the cliffs to reverberate with unwonted thunders, had no effect whatever on his mind. a short walk, however, along the track, which was more than ankle-deep in dust, brought them under the sheltering sides of rakata, up which they soon scrambled to the mouth of their cave. here all was found as they had left it, save that the entrance was knee-deep in pumice dust. and now a new and very strange sensation was felt by each of them, for the loud reports and crackling sounds which had assailed their ears outside were reduced by the thick walls of the cave to a continuous dull groan, as it were, like the soft but thunderous bass notes of a stupendous organ. to these sounds were added others which seemed to be peculiar to the cave itself. they appeared to rise from crevices in the floor, and were no doubt due to the action of those pent-up subterranean fires which were imprisoned directly, though it may be very far down, under their feet. every now and then there came a sudden increase of the united sounds as if the "swell" of the great organ had been opened, and such out-gushing was always accompanied with more or less of indescribable shocks followed by prolonged tremors of the entire mountain. if the three friends had been outside to observe what was taking place, they would have seen that these symptoms were simultaneous with occasional and extremely violent outbursts from the crater of perboewatan and his compeers. indeed they guessed as much, and two of them at least were not a little thankful that, awesome as their position was, they had the thick mountain between them and the fiery showers outside. of all this the hermit took no notice, but, hastening into the inner cavern, opened a small box, and took therefrom a bundle of papers and a little object which, at a first glance, nigel supposed to be a book, but which turned out to be a photograph case. these the hermit put carefully into the breastpocket of his coat and then turned to his companions with a sigh as if of relief. "i think there is no danger of anything occurring at this part of the island," he remarked, looking round the cave, "for there is no sign of smoke and no sulphurous smell issuing from any of the crevices in walls or floor. this, i think, shows that there is no direct communication with rakata and the active volcano--at least not at present." "do you then think there is a possibility of an outbreak at some future period?" asked nigel. "who can tell? people here, who don't study the nature of volcanoes much, though surrounded by them, will expect things ere long to resume their normal condition. i can never forget the fact that the greater part of krakatoa stands, as you know, exactly above the spot where the two great lines of volcanic action cross, and right over the mouth of the immense crater to which perboewatan and all the other craters serve as mere chimneys or safety-valves. we cannot tell whether a great eruption similar to that of may not be in store for us. the only reason that i can see for the quiescence of this peak of rakata is, as i said to you once before, that it stands not so much above the old crater as above and on the safe side of its lip." "i t'ink, massa, if i may ventur' to speak," said moses, "dat de sooner we git off his lip de better lest we tumble into his mout'." "you may be right, moses, and i have no objection to quit," returned the hermit, "now that i have secured the photograph and papers. at the same time i fear the rain of stones and lava is growing worse. it might be safer to stay till there is a lull in the violence of the eruption, and then make a dash for it. what say you, nigel?" "i say that you know best, van der kemp. i'm ready to abide by your decision, whatever it be." "well, then, we will go out and have a look at the state of matters." the view from the entrance was not calculated to tempt them to forsake the shelter of the cave, however uncertain that might be. the latest explosions had enshrouded the island in such a cloud of smoke and dust, that nothing whatever was visible beyond a few yards in front, and even that space was only seen by the faint rays of the lamp issuing from the outer cave. this lamp-light was sufficient, however, to show that within the semicircle of a few yards there was a continuous rain of grey ashes and dust mingled with occasional stones of various sizes--some larger than a man's fist. "to go out in that would be simply to court death," said nigel, whose voice was almost drowned by the noise of the explosions and fall of material. as it was manifest that nothing could be done at the moment except to wait patiently, they returned to the cave, where they lighted the oil-stove, and moses--who had taken the precaution to carry up some provisions in a bag from the canoe--proceeded to prepare a meal. "stummicks must be attended to," he murmured to himself as he moved about the cave-kitchen and shook his head gravely. "collapses in dat region is wuss, a long way, dan 'splosion of the eart'!" meanwhile, nigel and the hermit went to examine the passage leading to the observatory. the eruption had evidently done nothing to it, for, having passed upwards without difficulty, they finally emerged upon the narrow ledge. the scene that burst upon their astonished gaze here was awful in the extreme. it will be remembered that while the hermit's cave was on the southern side of krakatoa, facing java, the stair and passage leading to the observatory completely penetrated the peak of rakata, so that when standing on the ledge they faced northward and were thus in full view of all the craters between them and perboewatan. these were in full blast at the time, and, being so near, the heat, as well as the dust, molten lava, and other missiles, instantly drove them back under the protection of the passage from which they had emerged. here they found a small aperture which appeared to have been recently formed--probably by a blow from a mass of falling rock--through which they were able to obtain a glimpse of the pandemonium that lay seething below them. they could not see much, however, owing to the smoke which filled the air. the noise of the almost continuous explosions was so loud, that it was impossible to converse save by placing the mouth to the ear and shouting. fortunately soon after their ascent the wind shifted and blew smoke, fire, and dust away to the northward, enabling them to get out on the ledge, where for a time they remained in comparative safety. "look! look at your mirrors!" exclaimed nigel suddenly, as his wandering gaze happened to turn to the hermit's sun-guides. and he might well exclaim, for not only was the glass of these ingenious machines shivered and melted, but their iron frameworks were twisted up into fantastic shapes. "lightning has been at work here," said van der kemp. it did not at the moment occur to either of them that the position on which they stood was peculiarly liable to attack by the subtle and dangerous fluid which was darting and zig-zagging everywhere among the rolling clouds of smoke and steam. a louder report than usual here drew their attention again to the tremendous scene that was going on in front of them. the extreme summit of perboewatan had been blown into a thousand fragments, which were hurtling upwards and crackling loudly as the smaller masses were impelled against each other in their skyward progress. this crackling has been described by those who heard it from neighbouring shores as a "strange rustling sound." to our hermit and his friend, who were, so to speak, in the very midst of it, the sound rather resembled the continuous musketry of a battle-field, while the louder explosions might be compared to the booming of artillery, though they necessarily lose by the comparison, for no invention of man ever produced sounds equal to those which thundered at that time from the womb of krakatoa. immediately after this, a fountain of molten lava at white heat welled up in the great throat that had been so violently widened, and, overflowing the edges of the crater, rolled down its sides in fiery rivers. all the other craters in the island became active at the same moment and a number of new ones burst forth. indeed it seemed to those who watched them that if these had not opened up to give vent to the suppressed forces the whole island must have been blown away. as it was, the sudden generation of so much excessive heat set fire to what remained of trees and everything combustible, so that the island appeared to be one vast seething conflagration, and darkness was for a time banished by a red glare that seemed to nigel far more intense than that of noonday. it is indeed the partiality (if we may say so) of conflagration-light which gives to it the character of impressive power with which we are all so familiar--the intense lights being here cut sharply off by equally intense shadows, and then grading into dull reds and duller greys. the sun, on the other hand, bathes everything in its genial glow so completely that all nature is permeated with it, and there are no intense contrasts, no absolutely black and striking shadows, except in caverns and holes, to form startling contrasts. "these safety-valves," said the hermit, referring to the new craters, "have, under god, been the means of saving us from destruction." "it would seem so," said nigel, who was too overwhelmed by the sight to say much. even as he spoke the scene changed as if by magic, for from the cone of perboewatan there issued a spout of liquid fire, followed by a roar so tremendous that the awe-struck men shrank within themselves, feeling as though that time had really come when the earth is to melt with fervent heat! the entire lake of glowing lava was shot into the air, and lost in the clouds above, while mingled smoke and steam went bellowing after it, and dust fell so thickly that it seemed as if sufficient to extinguish the raging fires. whether it did so or not is uncertain. it may have been that the new pall of black vapour only obscured them. at all events, after the outburst the darkness of night fell suddenly on all around. just then the wind again changed, and the whole mass of vapour, smoke, and ashes came sweeping like the very besom of destruction towards the giddy ledge on which the observers stood. nigel was so entranced that it is probable he might have been caught in the horrible tempest and lost had not his cooler companion grasped his arm and dragged him violently into the passage--where they were safe, though half suffocated by the heat and sulphurous vapours that followed them. at the same time the thunderous roaring became so loud that conversation was impossible. van der kemp therefore took his friend's hand and led him down to the cave, where the sounds were so greatly subdued as to seem almost a calm by contrast. "we are no doubt in great danger," said the hermit, gravely, as he sat down in the outer cave, "but there is no possibility of taking action to-night. here we are, whether wisely or unwisely, and here we must remain--at least till there is a lull in the eruption. 'god is our refuge.' he ought to be so at _all_ times, but there are occasions when this great, and, i would add, glorious fact is pressed upon our understandings with unusual power. such a time is this. come--we will see what his word says to us just now." to nigel's surprise, and, he afterwards confessed, to his comfort and satisfaction, the hermit called the negro from his work, and, taking down the large bible from its shelf, read part of the th psalm, "god is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea." he stopped reading at the verse where it is written, "be still, and know that i am god." then, going down on his knees,--without even the familiar formula, "let us pray"--he uttered a brief but earnest prayer for guidance and deliverance "in the name of jesus." rising, he quietly put the bible away, and, with the calmness of a thoroughly practical man, who looks upon religion and ordinary matters as parts of one grand whole, ordered moses to serve the supper. thus they spent part of that memorable night of th august in earnest social intercourse, conversing chiefly and naturally about the character, causes, and philosophy of volcanoes, while perboewatan and his brethren played a rumbling, illustrative accompaniment to their discourse. the situation was a peculiar one. even the negro was alive to that fact. "ain't it koorious," he remarked solemnly in a moment of confidence after swallowing the last bite of his supper. "ain't it koorious, massa nadgel, dat we're a sottin' here comf'rably enjoyin' our wittles ober de mout' ob a v'licano as is quite fit to blow us all to bits an' hois' us into de bery middle ob next week--if not farder?" "it is strange indeed, moses," said nigel, who however added no commentary, feeling indisposed to pursue the subject. seeing this, moses turned to his master. "massa," he said. "you don' want nuffin' more to-night, i s'pose?" "no, moses, nothing." "an' is you _quite_ easy in your mind?" "quite," replied the hermit with his peculiar little smile. "den it would be wuss dan stoopid for me to be _on_easy, so i'll bid ye bof good-night, an' turn in." in this truly trustful as well as philosophical state of mind, the negro retired to his familiar couch in the inner cave, and went to sleep. nigel and the hermit sat up for some time longer. "van der kemp," said the former, after a pause, "i--i trust you won't think me actuated by impertinent curiosity if i venture to ask you about --the--photograph that i think you----" "my young friend!" interrupted the hermit, taking the case in question from his breast pocket; "i should rather apologise to you for having appeared to make any mystery of it--and yet," he added, pausing as he was about to open the case, "i have not shown it to a living soul since the day that--well, well,--why should i hesitate? it is all i have left of my dead wife and child." he placed the case in the hands of nigel, who almost sprang from his seat with excitement as he beheld the countenance of a little child of apparently three or four years of age, who so exactly resembled kathy holbein--allowing of course for the difference of age--that he had now no doubt whatever as to her being the hermit's lost daughter. he was on the point of uttering her name, when uncertainty as to the effect the sudden disclosure might have upon the father checked him. "you seem surprised, my friend," said van der kemp gently. "most beautiful!" said nigel, gazing intently at the portrait. "that dear child's face seems so familiar to me that i could almost fancy i had seen it." he looked earnestly into his friend's face as he spoke, but the hermit was quite unmoved, and there was not a shadow of change in the sad low tone of his voice as he said-- "yes, she was indeed beautiful, like her mother. as to your fancy about having seen it--mankind is formed in groups and types. we see many faces that resemble others." the absent look that was so common to the solitary man here overspread his massive features, and nigel felt crushed, as it were, back into himself. thus, without having disclosed his belief, he retired to rest in a very anxious state of mind, while the hermit watched. "don't take off your clothes," he said. "if the sounds outside lead me to think things are quieting down, i will rouse you and we shall start at once." it was very early on the morning of the th when van der kemp roused our hero. "are things quieter?" asked nigel as he rose. "yes, a little, but not much--nevertheless we must venture to leave." "is it daylight yet?" "no. there will be no daylight to-day!" with which prophecy the hermit left him and went to rouse moses. "massa," said the faithful negro. "isn't you a goin' to take nuffin' wid you? none ob de books or t'ings?" "no--nothing except the old bible. all the rest i leave behind. the canoe could not carry much. besides, we may have little time. get ready; quick! and follow me." moses required no spur. the three men left the cave together. it was so intensely dark that the road could not be distinguished, but the hermit and his man were so familiar with it that they could have followed it blindfold. on reaching the cave at the harbour, some light was obtained from the fitful outbursts of the volcano, which enabled them to launch the canoe and push off in safety. then, without saying a word to each other, they coasted along the shore of the island, and, finally, leaving its dangers behind, them, made for the island of java--poor spinkie sitting in his accustomed place and looking uncommonly subdued! scarcely had they pushed off into sunda straits when the volcano burst out afresh. they had happily seized on the only quiet hour that the day offered, and had succeeded, by the aid of the sails, in getting several miles from the island without receiving serious injury, although showers of stones and masses of rock of all sizes were falling into the sea around them. van der kemp was so far right in his prophecy that there would be no daylight that day. by that time there should have been light, as it was nearly seven o'clock on the memorable morning of the th of august. but now, although the travellers were some miles distant from krakatoa, the gloom was so impervious that nigel, from his place in the centre of the canoe, could not see the form of poor spinkie--which sat clinging to the mast only two feet in front of him--save when a blaze from perboewatan or one of the other craters lighted up island and ocean with a vivid glare. at this time the sea began to run very high and the wind increased to a gale, so that the sails of the canoe, small though they were, had to be reduced. "lower the foresail, nigel," shouted the hermit. "i will close-reef it. do you the same to the mainsail." "ay, ay, sir," was the prompt reply. moses and nigel kept the little craft straight to the wind while the foresail was being reefed, van der kemp and the former performing the same duty while nigel reefed the mainsail. suddenly there came a brief but total cessation of the gale, though not of the tumultuous heaving of the waters. during that short interval there burst upon the world a crash and a roar so tremendous that for a few moments the voyagers were almost stunned! it is no figure of speech to say that the _world_ heard the crash. hundreds, ay, thousands of miles did the sound of that mighty upheaval pass over land and sea to startle, more or less, the nations of the earth. the effect of a stupendous shock on the nervous system is curiously various in different individuals. the three men who were so near to the volcano at that moment involuntarily looked round and saw by the lurid blaze that an enormous mass of krakatoa, rent from top to bottom, was falling headlong into the sea; while the entire heavens were alive with flame, lightning, steam, smoke, and the upward-shooting fragments of the hideous wreck! the hermit calmly rested his paddle on the deck and gazed around in silent wonder. nigel, not less smitten with awe, held his paddle with an iron grasp, every muscle quivering with tension in readiness for instant action when the need for action should appear. moses, on the other hand, turning round from the sight with glaring eyes, resumed paddling with unreasoning ferocity, and gave vent at once to his feelings and his opinion in the sharp exclamation--"blown to bits!" [illustration: blown to bits--page .] chapter xxv. adventures of the "sunshine" and an unexpected reunion. we must request the reader to turn back now for a brief period to a very different scene. a considerable time before the tremendous catastrophe described in the last chapter--which we claim to have recorded without the slightest exaggeration, inasmuch as exaggeration were impossible--captain david roy, of the good brig _sunshine_, received the letter which his son wrote to him while in the jungles of sumatra. the captain was seated in the back office of a batavian merchant at the time, smoking a long clay pipe--on the principle, no doubt, that moderate poisoning is conducive to moderate health! as he perused the letter, the captain's eyes slowly opened; so did his mouth, and the clay pipe, falling to the floor, was reduced to little pieces. but the captain evidently cared nothing for that. he gave forth a prolonged whistle, got up, smote upon his thigh, and exclaimed with deep-toned emphasis-- "the _rascal_!" then he sat down again and re-perused the letter, with a variety of expression on his face that might have recalled the typical april day, minus the tears. "the rascal!" he repeated, as he finished the second reading of the letter and thrust it into his pocket. "i knew there was somethin' i' the wind wi' that little girl! the memory o' my own young days when i boarded and captured the poetess is strong upon me yet. i saw it in the rascal's eye the very first time they met--an' he thinks i'm as blind as a bat, i'll be bound, with his poetical reef-point-pattering sharpness. but it's a strange discovery he has made and must be looked into. the young dog! he gives me orders as if he were the owner." jumping up, captain roy hurried out into the street. in passing the outer office he left a message with one of the clerks for his friend the merchant. "tell him," he said, "that i'll attend to that little business about the bill when i come back. i'm going to sail for the keeling islands this afternoon." "the keeling islands?" exclaimed the clerk in surprise. "yes--i've got business to do there. i'll be back, all bein' well, in a week--more or less." the clerk's eyebrows remained in a raised position for a few moments, until he remembered that captain roy, being owner of his ship and cargo, was entitled to do what he pleased with his own and himself. then they descended, and he went on with his work, amusing himself with the thought that the most curious beings in the world were seafaring men. "mr. moor," said the captain somewhat excitedly, as he reached the deck of his vessel, "are all the men aboard?" "all except jim sloper, sir." "then send and hunt up jim sloper at once, for we sail this afternoon for the keeling islands." "very well, sir." mr. moor was a phlegmatic man; a self-contained and a reticent man. if captain roy had told him to get ready to sail to the moon that afternoon, he would probably have said "very well, sir," in the same tone and with the same expression. "may i ask, sir, what sort of cargo you expect there?" said mr. moor; for to his practical mind some re-arrangement of the cargo already on board might be necessary for the reception of that to be picked up at keeling. "the cargo we'll take on board will be a girl," said the captain. "a what, sir?". "a girl." "very well, sir." this ended the business part of the conversation. thereafter they went into details so highly nautical that we shrink from recording them. an amateur detective, in the form of a shipmate, having captured jim sloper, the _sunshine_ finally cleared out of the port of batavia that evening, shortly before its namesake took his departure from that part of the southern hemisphere. favouring gales carried the brig swiftly through sunda straits and out into the indian ocean. two days and a half brought her to the desired haven. on the way, captain roy took note of the condition of krakatoa, which at that time was quietly working up its subterranean forces with a view to the final catastrophe; opening a safety-valve now and then to prevent, as it were, premature explosion. "my son's friend, the hermit of rakata," said the captain to his second mate, "will find his cave too hot to hold him, i think, when he returns." "looks like it, sir," said mr. moor, glancing up at the vast clouds which were at that time spreading like a black pall over the re-awakened volcano. "do you expect 'em back soon, sir?" "yes--time's about up now. i shouldn't wonder if they reach batavia before us." arrived at the keeling islands, captain roy was received, as usual, with acclamations of joy, but he found that he was by no means as well fitted to act the part of a diplomatist as he was to sail a ship. it was, in truth, a somewhat delicate mission on which his son had sent him, for he could not assert definitely that the hermit actually was kathleen holbein's father, and her self-constituted parents did not relish the idea of letting slip, on a mere chance, one whom they loved as a daughter. "why not bring this man who claims to be her father _here_?" asked the perplexed holbein. "because--because, p'raps he won't come," answered the puzzled mariner, who did not like to say that he was simply and strictly obeying his son's orders. "besides," he continued, "the man does not claim to be anything at all. so far as i understand it, my boy has not spoken to him on the subject, for fear, i suppose, of raisin' hopes that ain't to be realised." "he is right in that," said mrs. holbein, "and we must be just as careful not to raise false hopes in dear little kathy. as your son says, it may be a mistake after all. we must not open our lips to her about it." "right you are, madam," returned the captain. "mum's the word; and we've only got to say she's goin' to visit one of your old friends in anjer--which'll be quite true, you know, for the landlady o' the chief hotel there is a great friend o' yours, and we'll take kathy to her straight. besides, the trip will do her health a power o' good, though i'm free to confess it don't need no good to be done to it, bein' a. at the present time. now, just you agree to give the girl a holiday, an' i'll pledge myself to bring her back safe and sound--with her father, if he's _him_; without him if he isn't." with such persuasive words captain roy at length overcame the holbein objections. with the girl herself he had less difficulty, his chief anxiety being, as he himself said, "to give her reasons for wishin' her to go without tellin' lies." "wouldn't you like a trip in my brig to anjer, my dear girl?" he had almost said daughter, but thought it best not to be too precipitate. "oh! i should like it _so_ much," said kathleen, clasping her little hands and raising her large eyes to the captain's face. "_dear_ child!" said the captain to himself. then aloud, "well, i'll take you." "but i--i fear that father and mother would not like me to go--perhaps." "no fear o' them, my girl," returned the captain, putting his huge rough hand on her pretty little head as if in an act of solemn appropriation, for, unlike too many fathers, this exemplary man considered only the sweetness, goodness, and personal worth of the girl, caring not a straw for other matters, and being strongly of opinion that a man should marry young if he possess the spirit of a man or the means to support a wife. as he was particularly fond of kathleen, and felt quite sure that his son had deeper reasons than he chose to express for his course of action, he entertained a strong hope, not to say conviction, that she would also become fond of nigel, and that all things would thus work together for a smooth course to this case of true love. it will be seen from all this that captain david roy was a sanguine man. whether his hopes were well grounded or not remains to be seen. meanwhile, having, as mr. moor said, shipped the cargo, the _sunshine_ set sail once more for sunda straits in a measure of outward gloom that formed a powerful contrast to the sunny hopes within her commander's bosom, for krakatoa was at that time progressing rapidly towards the consummation of its designs, as partly described in the last chapter. short though that voyage was, it embraced a period of action so thrilling that ever afterwards it seemed a large slice of life's little day to those who went through it. we have said that the culminating incidents of the drama began on the night of the th. before that time, however, the cloud-pall was fast spreading over land and sea, and the rain of pumice and ashes had begun to descend. the wind being contrary, it was several days before the brig reached the immediate neighbourhood of krakatoa, and by that time the volcano had begun to enter upon the stage which is styled by vulcanologists "paroxysmal," the explosions being extremely violent as well as frequent. "it is very awful," said kathleen in a low voice, as she clasped the captain's arm and leaned her slight figure on it. "i have often heard the thunder of distant volcanoes, but never been so near as to hear such terrible sounds." "don't be frightened, my ducky," said the captain in a soothing tone, for he felt from the appearance of things that there was indeed some ground for alarm. "volcanoes always look worse when you're near them." "i not frightened," she replied. "only i got strange, solemn feelings. besides, no danger can come till god allows." "that's right, lass. mrs. holbein has been a true mother if she taught you that." "no, she did not taught me that. my father taught me that." "what! old holbein?" "no--my father, who is dead," she said in a low voice. "oh! i see. my poor child, i should have understood you. forgive me." as the captain spoke, a tremendous outburst on krakatoa turned their minds to other subjects. they were by that time drawing near to the island, and the thunders of the eruption seemed to shake not only the heavens but even the great ocean itself. though the hour was not much past noon the darkness soon became so dense that it was difficult to perceive objects a few yards distant, and, as pieces of stone the size of walnuts, or even larger, began to fall on the deck, the captain sent kathleen below. "there's no saying where or when a big stone may fall, my girl," he said, "and it's not the habit of englishmen to let women come under fire, so you'll be safer below. besides, you'll be able to see something of what's goin' on out o' the cabin windows." with the obedience that was natural to her, kathleen went down at once, and the captain made everything as snug as possible, battening down the hatches and shortening sail so as to be ready for whatever might befall. "i don't like the look o' things, mr. moor," said the captain when the second mate came on deck to take his watch. "no more do i, sir," answered mr. moor calmly. the aspect of things was indeed very changeable. sometimes, as we have said, all nature seemed to be steeped in thick darkness, at other times the fires of the volcano blazed upward, spreading a red glare on the rolling clouds and over the heaving sea. lightning also played its part as well as thunder, but the latter was scarcely distinguishable from the volcano's roar. three days before sunday the th of august, captain roy--as well as the crews of several other vessels that were in sunda straits at the time--had observed a marked though gradual increase in the violence of the eruption. on that day, as we read in the _report of the krakatoa committee of the royal society_, about p.m. the detonations caused by the explosive action attained such violence as to be heard at batavia, about english miles away. at p.m. of the same day, captain thompson of the _medea_, when about miles e.n.e. of the island, saw a black mass rising like clouds of smoke to a height which has been estimated at no less than miles! and the detonations were at that time taking place at intervals of ten minutes. but, terrible though these explosions must have been, they were but as the whisperings of the volcano. an hour later they had increased so much as to be heard at bandong and other places miles away, and at p.m. they had become so tremendous as to be heard over the whole island of java, the eastern portion of which is about miles from krakatoa. and the sounds thus heard were not merely like distant thunder. in batavia--although, as we have said, miles off--they were so violent during the whole of that terrible sunday night as to prevent the people from sleeping. they were compared to the "discharge of artillery close at hand," and caused a rattling of doors, windows, pictures, and chandeliers. captain watson of the _charles bal_, who chanced to be only miles south of the volcano, also compared the sounds to discharges of artillery, but this only shows the feebleness of ordinary language in attempting to describe such extraordinary sounds, for if they were comparable to close artillery at batavia, the same comparison is inappropriate at only ten miles' distance. he also mentions the crackling noise, probably due to the impact of fragments in the atmosphere, which were noticed by the hermit and nigel while standing stunned and almost stupefied on the giddy ledge of rakata that same sunday. about five in the evening of that day, the brig _sunshine_ drew still nearer to the island, but the commotion at the time became so intense, and the intermittent darkness so profound, that captain roy was afraid to continue the voyage and shortened sail. not only was there a heavy rolling sea, but the water was seething, as if about to boil. "heave the lead, mr. moor," said the captain, who stood beside the wheel. "yes, sir," answered the imperturbable second mate, who thereupon gave the necessary order, and when the depth was ascertained, the report was "ten fathoms, sand, with a 'ot bottom." "a hot bottom! what do you mean?" "the lead's 'ot, sir," replied the sailor. this was true, as the captain found when he applied his hand to it. "i do believe the world's going on fire," he muttered; "but it's a comfort to know that it can't very well blaze up as long as the sea lasts!" just then a rain of pumice in large pieces, and quite warm, began to fall upon the deck. as most people know, pumice is extremely light, so that no absolute injury was done to any one, though such rain was excessively trying. soon, however, a change took place. the dense vapours and dust-clouds which had rendered it so excessively dark were entirely lighted up from time to time by fierce flashes of lightning which rent as well as painted them in all directions. at one time this great mass of clouds presented the appearance of an immense pine-tree with the stem and branches formed of volcanic lightning. captain roy, fearing that these tremendous sights and sounds would terrify the poor girl in the cabin, was about to look in and reassure her, when the words "oh! how splendid!" came through the slightly opened door. he peeped in and saw kathleen on her knees on the stern locker, with her hands clasped, gazing out of one of the stern windows. "hm! she's all right," he muttered, softly reclosing the door and returning on deck. "if she thinks it's splendid, she don't need no comfortin'! it's quite clear that she don't know what danger means--and why should she? humph! there go some more splendid sights for her," he added, as what appeared to be chains of fire ascended from the volcano to the sky. just then a soft rain began to fall. it was warm, and, on examination at the binnacle lamp, turned out to be mud. slight at first, it soon poured down in such quantities that in ten minutes it lay six inches thick on the deck, and the crew had to set to work with shovels to heave it overboard. at this time there was seen a continual roll of balls of white fire down the sides of the peak of rakata, caused, doubtless, by the ejection of white-hot fragments of lava. then showers of masses like iron cinders fell on the brig, and from that time onward till four o'clock of the morning of the th, explosions of indescribable grandeur continually took place, as if the mountains were in a continuous roar of terrestrial agony--the sky being at one moment of inky blackness, the next in a blaze of light, while hot, choking, and sulphurous smells almost stifled the voyagers. at this point the captain again became anxious about kathleen and went below. he found her in the same place and attitude--still fascinated! "my child," he said, taking her hand, "you must lie down and rest." "oh! no. do let me stay up," she begged, entreatingly. "but you must be tired--sleepy." "sleepy! who could sleep with such wonders going on around? pray _don't_ tell me to go to bed!" it was evident that poor kathy had the duty of obedience to authority still strong upon her. perhaps the memory of the holbein nursery had not yet been wiped out. "well, well," said the captain with a pathetic smile, "you are as safe--comfortable, i mean--here as in your berth or anywhere else." as there was a lull in the violence of the eruption just then, the captain left kathleen in the cabin and went on deck. it was not known at that time what caused this lull, but as it preceded the first of the four grand explosions which effectually eviscerated--emptied--the ancient crater of krakatoa, we will give, briefly, the explanation of it as conjectured by the men of science. lying as it did so close to the sea-level, the krakatoa volcano, having blown away all its cones, and vents, and safety-valves--from perboewatan southward, except the peak of rakata--let the sea rush in upon its infernal fires. this result, ordinary people think, produced a gush of steam which caused the grand terminal explosions. vulcanologists think otherwise, and with reason--which is more than can be said of ordinary people, who little know the power of the forces at work below the crust of our earth! the steam thus produced, although on so stupendous a scale, was free to expand and therefore went upwards, no doubt in a sufficiently effective gust and cloud. but nothing worthy of being named a blow-up was there. the effect of the in-rushing water was to cool the upper surface of the boiling lava and convert it into a thick hard solid crust at the mouth of the great vent. in this condition the volcano resembled a boiler with all points of egress closed and the safety-valve shut down! oceans of molten lava creating expansive gases below; no outlet possible underneath, and the neck of the bottle corked with tons of solid rock! one of two things must happen in such circumstances: the cork must go or the bottle must burst! both events happened on that terrible night. all night long the corks were going, and at last--krakatoa burst! in the hurly-burly of confusion, smoke, and noise, no eye could note the precise moment when the island was shattered, but there were on the morning of the th four supreme explosions, which rang loud and high above the horrible average din. these occurred--according to the careful investigations made, at the instance of the dutch indian government, by the eminent geologist, mr. r.d.m. verbeek--at the hours of . , . , . , and . in the morning. of these the third, about , was by far the worst for violence and for the wide-spread devastation which it produced. at each of these explosions a tremendous sea-wave was created by the volcano, which swept like a watery ring from krakatoa as a centre to the surrounding shores. it was at the second of these explosions--that of . --that the fall of the mighty cliff took place which was seen by the hermit and his friends as they fled from the island, and, on the crest of the resulting wave, were carried along they scarce knew whither. as the previous wave--that of . --had given the brig a tremendous heave upwards, the captain, on hearing the second, ran down below for a moment to tell kathleen there would soon be another wave, but that she need fear no danger. "the brig is deep and has a good hold o' the water," he said, "so the wave is sure to slip under her without damage. i wish i could hope it would do as little damage when it reaches the shore." as he spoke a strange and violent crash was heard overhead, quite different from volcanic explosions, like the falling of some heavy body on the deck. "one o' the yards down!" muttered the captain as he ran to the cabin door. "hallo, what's that, mr. moor?" "canoe just come aboard, sir." "a canoe?" "yes, sir. crew, three men and a monkey. all insensible--hallo!" the "hallo!" with which the second mate finished his remark was so unlike his wonted tone, and so full of genuine surprise, that the captain ran forward with unusual haste, and found a canoe smashed to pieces against the foremast, and the mate held a lantern close to the face of one of the men while the crew were examining the others. a single glance told the captain that the mud-bespattered figure that lay before him as if dead was none other than his own son! the great wave had caught the frail craft on its crest, and, sweeping it along with lightning speed for a short distance, had hurled it on the deck of the _sunshine_ with such violence as to completely stun the whole crew. even spinkie lay in a melancholy little heap in the lee scuppers. you think this a far-fetched coincidence, good reader! well, all we can say is that we could tell you of another--a double--coincidence, which was far more extraordinary than this one, but as it has nothing to do with our tale we refrain from inflicting it on you. chapter xxvi. a climax. three of those who had tumbled thus unceremoniously on the deck of the _sunshine_ were soon sufficiently recovered to sit up and look around in dazed astonishment--namely nigel, moses, and the monkey--but the hermit still lay prone where he had been cast, with a pretty severe wound on his head, from which blood was flowing freely. "nigel, my boy!" "father!" exclaimed the youth. "where am i? what has happened?" "don't excite yourself, lad," said the mariner, stooping and whispering into his son's ear. "we've got _her_ aboard!" no treatment could have been more effectual in bringing nigel to his senses than this whisper. "is--is--van der kemp safe?" he asked anxiously. "all right--only stunned, i think. that's him they're just goin' to carry below. put 'im in my bunk, mr. moor." "ay ay, sir." nigel sprang up. "stay, father," he said in a low voice. "_she_ must not see him for the first time like this." "all right, boy. i understand. you leave that to me. my bunk has bin shifted for'id--more amidships--an' kathy's well aft. they shan't be let run foul of each other. you go an' rest on the main hatch till we get him down. why, here's a nigger! where did you pick him--oh! i remember. you're the man we met, i suppose, wi' the hermit on krakatoa that day o' the excursion from batavia." "yes, das me. but we'll meet on krakatoa no more, for dat place am blown to bits." "i'm pretty well convinced o' that by this time, my man. not hurt much, i hope?" "no, sar--not more 'n i can stan'. but i's 'fraid dat poor spinkie's a'most used up--hallo! what you gwine to do with massa?" demanded the negro, whose wandering faculties had only in part returned. "he's gone below. all right. now, you go and lie down beside my son on the hatch. i'll see to van der kemp." but captain david roy's intentions, like those of many men of greater note, were frustrated by the hermit himself, who recovered consciousness just as the four men who carried him reached the foot of the companion-ladder close to the cabin door. owing to the deeper than midnight darkness that prevailed a lamp was burning in the cabin--dimly, as if, infected by the universal chaos, it were unwilling to enlighten the surrounding gloom. on recovering consciousness van der kemp was, not unnaturally, under the impression that he had fallen into the hands of foes. with one effectual convulsion of his powerful limbs he scattered his bearers right and left, and turning--like all honest men--to the light, he sprang into the cabin, wrenched a chair from its fastenings, and, facing round, stood at bay. kathleen, seeing this blood-stained giant in such violent action, naturally fled to her cabin and shut the door. as no worse enemy than captain roy presented himself at the cabin door, unarmed, and with an anxious look on his rugged face, the hermit set down the chair, and feeling giddy sank down on it with a groan. "i fear you are badly hurt, sir. let me tie a handkerchief round your wounded head," said the captain soothingly. "thanks, thanks. your voice is not unfamiliar to me," returned the hermit with a sigh, as he submitted to the operation. "i thought i had fallen somehow into the hands of pirates. surely an accident must have happened. how did i get here? where are my comrades--nigel and the negro?" "my son nigel is all right, sir, and so is your man moses. make your mind easy--an' pray don't speak while i'm working at you. i'll explain it all in good time. stay, i'll be with you in a moment." the captain--fearing that kathleen might come out from curiosity to see what was going on, and remembering his son's injunction--went to the girl's berth with the intention of ordering her to keep close until he should give her leave to come out. opening the door softly and looking in, he was startled, almost horrified, to see kathleen standing motionless like a statue, with both hands pressed tightly over her heart. the colour had fled from her beautiful face; her long hair was flung back; her large lustrous eyes were wide open and her lips slightly parted, as if her whole being had been concentrated in eager expectancy. "what's wrong, my girl?" asked the captain anxiously. "you've no cause for fear. i just looked in to--." "that voice!" exclaimed kathleen, with something of awe in her tones--"oh! i've heard it _so_ often in my dreams." "hush! sh! my girl," said the captain in a low tone, looking anxiously round at the wounded man. but his precautions were unavailing,--van der kemp had also heard a voice which he thought had long been silent in death. the girl's expression was almost repeated in his face. before the well-meaning mariner could decide what to do, kathleen brushed lightly past him, and stood in the cabin gazing as if spell-bound at the hermit. "winnie!" he whispered, as if scarcely daring to utter the name. "father!" she extended both hands towards him as she spoke. then, with a piercing shriek, she staggered backward, and would have fallen had not the captain caught her and let her gently down. van der kemp vaulted the table, fell on his knees beside her, and, raising her light form, clasped her to his heart, just as nigel and moses, alarmed by the scream, sprang into the cabin. "come, come; away wi' you--you stoopid grampusses!" cried the captain, pushing the intruders out of the cabin, following them, and closing the door behind him. "this is no place for bunglers like you an' me. we might have known that natur' would have her way, an' didn't need no help from the like o' us. let's on deck. there's enough work there to look after that's better suited to us." truly there was enough--and more than enough--to claim the most anxious attention of all who were on board of the _sunshine_ that morning, for hot mud was still falling in showers on the deck, and the thunders of the great volcano were still shaking heaven, earth, and sea. to clear the decks and sails of mud occupied every one for some time so earnestly that they failed to notice at first that the hermit had come on deck, found a shovel, and was working away like the rest of them. the frequent and prolonged blazes of intense light that ever and anon banished the darkness showed that on his face there sat an expression of calm, settled, triumphant joy, which was strangely mingled with a look of quiet humility. "i thank god for this," said nigel, going forward when he observed him and grasping his hand. "you knew it?" exclaimed the hermit in surprise. "yes. i knew it--indeed, helped to bring you together, but did not dare to tell you till i was quite sure. i had hoped to have you meet in very different circumstances." "'it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps,'" returned the hermit reverently. "god bless you, nigel. if you have even aimed at bringing this about, i owe you _more_ than my life." "you must have lost a good deal of blood, van der kemp. are you much hurt?" asked nigel, as he observed the bandage round his friend's head. "somewhat. not much, i hope--but joy, as well as blood, gives strength, nigel." a report from a man who had just been ordered to take soundings induced the captain at this time to lay-to. "it seems to me," he said to nigel and the hermit who stood close beside him, "that we are getting too near shore. but in cases o' this kind the bottom o' the sea itself can't be depended on." "what part of the shore are we near, d' you think, father?" "stand by to let go the anchor!" roared the captain, instead of answering the question. "ay, ay, sir," replied the second mate, whose cool, sing-song, business-like tone at such a moment actually tended to inspire a measure of confidence in those around him. another moment, and the rattling chain caused a tremor through the vessel, which ceased when the anchor touched bottom, and they rode head to wind. coruscations of bluish light seemed to play about the masts, and balls of electric fire tipped the yards, throwing for a short time a ghastly sheen over the ship and crew, for the profound darkness had again settled down, owing, no doubt, to another choking of the krakatoa vent. before the light referred to went out, moses was struck violently on the chest by something soft, which caused him to stagger. it was spinkie! in the midst of the unusual horrors that surrounded him, while clinging to the unfamiliar mizzen shrouds on which in desperation the poor monkey had found a temporary refuge, the electric fire showed him the dark figure of his old familiar friend standing not far off. with a shriek of not quite hopeless despair, and an inconceivable bound, spinkie launched himself into space. his early training in the forest stood him in good stead at that crisis! as already said he hit the mark fairly, and clung to moses with a tenacity that was born of mingled love and desperation. finding that nothing short of cruelty would unfix his little friend, moses stuffed him inside the breast of his cotton shirt. in this haven of rest the monkey heaved a sigh of profound contentment, folded his hands on his bosom, and meekly went to sleep. two of the excessively violent paroxysms of the volcano, above referred to, had by that time taken place, but the third, and worst--that which occurred about a.m.--was yet in store for them, though they knew it not, and a lull in the roar, accompanied by thicker darkness than ever, was its precursor. there was not, however, any lull in the violence of the wind. "i don't like these lulls," said captain roy to the hermit, as they stood close to the binnacle, in the feeble light of its lamp. "what is that striking against our sides, mr. moor?" "looks like floating pumice, sir," answered the second mate, "and i think i see palm-trees amongst it." "ay, i thought so, we must be close to land," said the captain. "we can't be far from anjer, and i fear the big waves that have already passed us have done some damage. lower a lantern over the side,--no, fetch an empty tar-barrel and let's have a flare. that will enable us to see things better." while the barrel was being fastened to a spar so as to be thrust well out beyond the side of the brig, van der kemp descended the companion and opened the cabin door. "come up now, winnie, darling." "yes, father," was the reply, as the poor girl, who had been anxiously awaiting the summons, glided out and clasped her father's arm with both hands. "are things quieting down?" "they are, a little. it may be temporary, but--our father directs it all." "true, father. i'm _so_ glad of that!" "mind the step, we shall have more light on deck. there is a friend there who has just told me he met you on the cocos-keeling island, nigel roy;--you start, winnie?" "y--yes, father. i am _so_ surprised, for it is _his_ father who sails this ship! and i cannot imagine how he or you came on board." "well, i was going to say that i believe it is partly through nigel that you and i have been brought together, but there is mystery about it that i don't yet understand; much has to be explained, and this assuredly is not the time or place. here, nigel, is your old keeling friend." "ay--friend! humph!" said old roy softly to himself. "my _dear_--child!" said young roy, paternally, to the girl as he grasped her hand. "i cannot tell you how thankful i am that this has been brought about, and--and that _i_ have had some little hand in it." "there's more than pumice floating about in the sea, sir," said mr. moor, coming aft at the moment and speaking to the captain in a low tone. "you'd better send the young lady below--or get some one to take up her attention just now." "here, nigel. sit down under the lee of the companion, an' tell kathy how this all came about," said the captain, promptly, as if issuing nautical orders. "i want you here, van der kemp." so saying, the captain, followed by the hermit, went with the second mate to the place where the flaming tar-barrel was casting a lurid glare upon the troubled sea. chapter xxvii. "blown to bits." the sight that met their eyes was well calculated to shock and sadden men of much less tender feeling than van der kemp and captain roy. the water had assumed an appearance of inky blackness, and large masses of pumice were floating past, among which were numerous dead bodies of men, women, and children, intermingled with riven trees, fences, and other wreckage from the land, showing that the two great waves which had already passed under the vessel had caused terrible devastation on some parts of the shore. to add to the horror of the scene large sea-snakes were seen swimming wildly about, as if seeking to escape from the novel dangers that surrounded them. the sailors looked on in awe-stricken silence for some time. "p'raps some of 'em may be alive yet!" whispered one. "couldn't we lower a boat?" "impossible in such a sea," said the captain, who overheard the remark. "besides, no life could exist there." "captain roy," said van der kemp earnestly, "let me advise you to get your foresail ready to hoist at a moment's notice, and let them stand by to cut the cable." "why so? there seems no need at present for such strong measures." "you don't understand volcanoes as i do," returned the hermit. "this lull will only last until the imprisoned fires overcome the block in the crater, and the longer it lasts the worse will be the explosion. from my knowledge of the coast i feel sure that we are close to the town of anjer. if another wave like the last comes while we are here, it will not slip under your brig like the last one. it will tear her from her anchor and hurl us all to destruction. you have but one chance; that is, to cut the cable and run in on the top of it--a poor chance at the best, but if god wills, we shall escape." "if we are indeed as near shore as you think," said the captain, "i know what you say must be true, for in shoal water such a wave will surely carry all before it. but are you certain there will be another explosion?" "no man can be sure of that. if the last explosion emptied the crater there will be no more. if it did not, another explosion is certain. all i advise is that you should be ready for whatever is coming, and ready to take your only chance." "right you are, sir. send men to be ready to cut the cable, mr. moor. and stand by the topsail halyards." "ay, ay, sir." during the anxious minutes that followed, the hermit rejoined winnie and nigel on the quarter-deck, and conversed with the latter in a low voice, while he drew the former to his side with his strong arm. captain roy himself grasped the wheel and the men stood at their various stations ready for action. "let no man act without orders, whatever happens," said the captain in a deep powerful voice which was heard over the whole ship, for the lull that we have mentioned extended in some degree to the gale as well as to the volcano. every one felt that some catastrophe was pending. "winnie, darling," said the hermit tenderly, as he bent down to see the sweet face that had been restored to him. "i greatly fear that there is sure to be another explosion, and it may be his will that we shall perish, but comfort yourself with the certainty that no hair of your dear head can fall without his permission--and in any event he will not fail us." "i know it, father. i have no fear--at least, only a little!" "nigel," said the hermit, "stick close to us if you can. it may be that, if anything should befall me, your strong arm may succour winnie; mine has lost somewhat of its vigour," he whispered. "trust me--nothing but death shall sunder us," said the anxious youth in a burst of enthusiasm. it seemed as if death were indeed to be the immediate portion of all on board the _sunshine_, for a few minutes later there came a crash, followed by a spout of smoke, fire, steam, and molten lava, compared to which all that had gone before seemed insignificant! the crash was indescribable! as we have said elsewhere, the sound of it was heard many hundreds of miles from the seat of the volcano, and its effects were seen and felt right round the world. the numerous vents which had previously been noticed on krakatoa must at that moment have been blown into one, and the original crater of the old volcano--said to have been about six miles in diameter--must have resumed its destructive work. all the eye-witnesses who were near the spot at the time, and sufficiently calm to take note of the terrific events of that morning, are agreed as to the splendour of the electrical phenomena displayed during this paroxysmal outburst. one who, at the time, was forty miles distant speaks of the great vapour-cloud looking "like an immense wall or blood-red curtain with edges of all shades of yellow, and bursts of forked lightning at times rushing like large serpents through the air." another says that "krakatoa appeared to be alight with flickering flames rising behind a dense black cloud." a third recorded that "the lightning struck the mainmast conductor five or six times," and that "the mud-rain which covered the decks was phosphorescent, while the rigging presented the appearance of st. elmo's fire." it may be remarked here, in passing, that giant steam-jets rushing through the orifices of the earth's crust constitute an enormous hydro-electric engine; and the friction of ejected materials striking against each other in ascending and descending also generates electricity, which accounts to some extent for the electrical condition of the atmosphere. in these final and stupendous outbursts the volcano was expending its remaining force in breaking up and ejecting the solid lava which constituted its framework, and not in merely vomiting forth the lava-froth, or pumice, which had characterised the earlier stages of the eruption. in point of fact--as was afterwards clearly ascertained by careful soundings and estimates, taking the average height of the missing portion at feet above water, and the depth at feet below it--two-thirds of the island were blown entirely off the face of the earth. the mass had covered an area of nearly six miles, and is estimated as being equal to - / cubic miles of solid matter which, as moses expressed it, was blown to bits! if this had been all, it would have been enough to claim the attention and excite the wonder of the intelligent world--but this was not nearly all, as we shall see, for saddest of all the incidents connected with the eruption is the fact that upwards of thirty-six thousand human beings lost their lives. the manner in which that terrible loss occurred shall be shown by the future adventures of the _sunshine_. chapter xxviii. the fate of the "sunshine." stunned at first, for a few minutes, by the extreme violence of the explosion, no one on board the _sunshine_ spoke, though each man stood at his post ready to act. "strange," said the captain at last. "there seems to be no big wave this time." "that only shows that we are not as near the island as we thought. but it won't be long of----see! there it comes," said the hermit. "now, winnie, cling to my arm and put your trust in god." nigel, who had secured a life-buoy, moved close to the girl's side, and looking anxiously out ahead saw a faint line of foam in the thick darkness which had succeeded the explosion. already the distant roar of the billow was heard, proving that it had begun to break. "the wind comes with it," said van der kemp. "stand by!" cried the captain, gazing intently over the side. next moment came the sharp order to hoist the foretopsail and jib, soon followed by "cut the cable!" there was breeze enough to swing the vessel quickly round. in a few seconds her stern was presented to the coming wave, and her bow cleft the water as she rushed upon what every one now knew was her doom. to escape the great wave was no part of the captain's plan. to have reached the shore before the wave would have been fatal to all. their only hope lay in the possibility of riding in on the top of it, and the great danger was that they should be unable to rise to it stern first when it came up, or that they should turn broadside on and be rolled over. they had not long to wait. the size of the wave, before it came near enough to be seen, was indicated by its solemn, deep-toned, ever-increasing roar. the captain stood at the wheel himself, guiding the brig and glancing back from time to time uneasily. suddenly the volcano gave vent to its fourth and final explosion. it was not so violent as its predecessors had been, though more so than any that had occurred on the day before, and the light of it showed them the full terrors of their situation, for it revealed the mountains of java--apparently quite close in front, though in reality at a considerable distance--with a line of breakers beating white on the shore. but astern of them was the most appalling sight, for there, rushing on with awful speed and a sort of hissing roar, came the monstrous wave, emerging, as it were, out of thick darkness, like a mighty wall of water with a foaming white crest, not much less--according to an average of the most reliable estimates--than feet high. well might the seamen blanch, for never before in all their varied experience had they seen the like of that. on it came with the unwavering force of fate. to the eye of captain roy it appeared that up its huge towering side no vessel made by mortal man could climb. but the captain had too often stared death in the face to be unmanned by the prospect now. steadily he steered the vessel straight on, and in a quiet voice said-- "lay hold of something firm--every man!" the warning was well timed. in the amazement, if not fear, caused by the unwonted sight, some had neglected the needful precaution. as the billow came on, the bubbling, leaping, and seething of its crest was apparent both to eye and ear. then the roar became tremendous. "darling winnie," said nigel at that moment. "i will die for you or with you!" the poor girl heard, but no sign of appreciation moved her pale face as she gazed up at the approaching chaos of waters. next moment the brig seemed to stand on its bows. van der kemp had placed his daughter against the mast, and, throwing his long arms round both, held on. nigel, close to them, had grasped a handful of ropes, and every one else was holding on for life. another moment and the brig rose as if it were being tossed up to the heavens. immediately thereafter it resumed its natural position in a perfect wilderness of foam. they were on the summit of the great wave, which was so large that its crest seemed like a broad, rounded mass of tumbling snow with blackness before and behind, while the roar of the tumult was deafening. the brig rushed onward at a speed which she had never before equalled even in the fiercest gale--tossed hither and thither by the leaping foam, yet always kept going straight onward by the expert steering of her captain. "come aft--all of you!" he shouted, when it was evident that the vessel was being borne surely forward on the wave's crest. "the masts will go for certain when we strike." the danger of being entangled in the falling spars and cordage was so obvious that every one except the hermit and nigel obeyed. "here, nigel," gasped the former. "i--i've--lost blood--faint!----" our hero at once saw that van der kemp, fainting from previous loss of blood, coupled with exertion, was unable to do anything but hold on. indeed, he failed even in that, and would have fallen to the deck had nigel not caught him by the arm. "can you run aft, winnie?" said nigel anxiously. "yes!" said the girl, at once understanding the situation and darting to the wheel, of which and of captain roy she laid firm hold, while nigel lifted the hermit in his arms and staggered to the same spot. winnie knelt beside him immediately, and, forgetting for the moment all the horrors around her, busied herself in replacing the bandage which had been loosened from his head. "oh! mr. roy, save him!--save him!" cried the poor child, appealing in an agony to nigel, for she felt instinctively that when the crash came her father would be utterly helpless even to save himself. nigel had barely time to answer when a wild shout from the crew caused him to start up and look round. a flare from the volcano had cast a red light over the bewildering scene, and revealed the fact that the brig was no longer above the ocean's bed, but was passing in its wild career right through, or rather _over_, the demolished town of anjer. a few of the houses that had been left standing by the previous waves were being swept--hurled--away by this one, but the mass of rolling, rushing, spouting water was so deep, that the vessel had as yet struck nothing save the tops of some palm-trees which bent their heads like straws before the flood. even in the midst of the amazement, alarm, and anxiety caused by the situation, nigel could not help wondering that in this final and complete destruction of the town no sign of struggling human beings should be visible. he forgot at the moment, what was terribly proved afterwards, that the first waves had swallowed up men, women, and children by hundreds, and that the few who survived had fled to the hills, leaving nothing for the larger wave to do but complete the work of devastation on inanimate objects. ere the situation had been well realised the volcanic fires went down again, and left the world, for over a hundred surrounding miles, in opaque darkness. only the humble flicker of the binnacle light, like a trusty sentinel on duty, continued to shed its feeble rays on a few feet of the deck, and showed that the compass at least was still faithful to the pole! then another volcanic outburst revealed the fact that the wave which carried them was thundering on in the direction of a considerable cliff or precipice--not indeed quite straight towards it, but sufficiently so to render escape doubtful. at the same time a swarm of terror-stricken people were seen flying towards this cliff and clambering up its steep sides. they were probably some of the more courageous of the inhabitants who had summoned courage to return to their homes after the passage of the second wave. their shrieks and cries could be heard above even the roaring of the water and the detonations of the volcano. "god spare us!" exclaimed poor winnie, whose trembling form was now partially supported by nigel. as she spoke darkness again obscured everything, and they could do naught but listen to the terrible sounds--and pray. on--on went the _sunshine_, in the midst of wreck and ruin, on this strange voyage over land and water, until a check was felt. it was not a crash as had been anticipated, and as might have naturally been expected, neither was it an abrupt stoppage. there was first a hissing, scraping sound against the vessel's sides, then a steady checking--we might almost say a hindrance to progress--not violent, yet so very decided that the rigging could not bear the strain. one and another of the back-stays parted, the foretopsail burst with a cannon-like report, after which a terrible rending sound, followed by an indescribable crash, told that both masts had gone by the board. then all was comparatively still--comparatively we say, for water still hissed and leaped beneath them like a rushing river, though it no longer roared, and the wind blew in unfamiliar strains and laden with unwonted odours. at that moment another outburst of krakatoa revealed the fact that the great wave had borne the brig inland for upwards of a mile, and left her imbedded in a thick grove of cocoa-nut palms! chapter xxix. tells chiefly of the wonderful effects of this eruption on the would at large. the great explosions of that morning had done more damage and had achieved results more astounding than lies in the power of language adequately to describe, or of history to parallel. let us take a glance at this subject in passing. an inhabitant of anjer--owner of a hotel, a ship-chandler's store, two houses, and a dozen boats--went down to the beach about six on the morning of that fateful th of august. he had naturally been impressed by the night of the th, though, accustomed as he was to volcanic eruptions, he felt no apprehensions as to the safety of the town. he went to look to the moorings of his boats, leaving his family of seven behind him. while engaged in this work he observed a wave of immense size approaching. he leaped into one of his boats, which was caught up by the wave and swept inland, carrying its owner there in safety. but this was the wave that sealed the doom of the town and most of its inhabitants, including the hotel-keeper's family and all that he possessed. this is one only out of thousands of cases of bereavement and destruction. a lighthouse-keeper was seated in his solitary watch-tower, speculating, doubtless, on the probable continuance of such a violent outbreak, while his family and mates--accustomed to sleep in the midst of elemental war--were resting peacefully in the rooms below, when one of the mighty waves suddenly appeared, thundered past, and swept the lighthouse with all its inhabitants away. this shows but one of the many disasters to lighthouses in sunda straits. a dutch man-of-war--the _berouw_--was lying at anchor in lampong bay, fifty miles from krakatoa. the great wave came, tore it from its anchorage, and carried it--like the vessel of our friend david roy--nearly two miles inland! masses of coral of immense size and weight were carried four miles inland by the same wave. the river at anjer was choked up; the conduit which used to carry water into the place was destroyed, and the town itself was laid in ruins. but these are only a few of the incidents of the great catastrophe. who can conceive, much less tell of, those terrible details of sudden death and disaster to thousands of human beings, resulting from an eruption which destroyed towns like telok betong, anjer, tyringin, etc., besides numerous villages and hamlets on the shores of java and sumatra, and caused the destruction of more than , souls? but it is to results of a very different kind, and on a much more extended scale, that we must turn if we would properly estimate the magnitude, the wide-spreading and far-reaching influences, and the extraordinary character, of the krakatoa outburst of . in the first place, it is a fact, testified to by some of the best-known men of science, that the shock of the explosion extended _appreciably_ right round the world, and seventeen miles (some say even higher!) up into the heavens. mr. verbeek, in his treatise on this subject, estimates that a cubic mile of krakatoa was propelled in the form of the finest dust into the higher regions of the atmosphere--probably about thirty miles! the dust thus sent into the sky was of "ultra-microscopic fineness," and it travelled round and round the world in a westerly direction, producing those extraordinary sunsets and gorgeous effects and afterglows which became visible in the british isles in the month of november following the eruption; and the mighty waves which caused such destruction in the vicinity of sunda straits travelled--not once, but at least--six times round the globe, as was proved by trustworthy and independent observations of tide-gauges and barometers made and recorded at the same time in nearly all lands--including our own. other volcanoes, it is said by those who have a right to speak in regard to such matters, have ejected more "stuff," but not one has equalled krakatoa in the intensity of its explosions, the appalling results of the sea-waves, the wonderful effects in the sky, and the almost miraculous nature of the sounds. seated on a log under a palm-tree in batavia, on that momentous morning of the th, was a sailor who had been left behind sick by captain roy when he went on his rather quixotic trip to the keeling islands. he was a somewhat delicate son of the sea. want of self-restraint was his complaint--leading to a surfeit of fruit and other things, which terminated in a severe fit of indigestion and indisposition to life in general. he was smoking--that being a sovereign and infallible cure for indigestion and all other ills that flesh is heir to, as every one knows! "i say, old man," he inquired, with that cheerful tone and air which usually accompanies incapacity for food. "do it always rain ashes here?" the old man whom he addressed was a veteran malay seaman. "no," replied the malay, "sometimes it rain mud--hot mud." "do it? oh! well--anything for variety, i s'pose," returned the sailor, with a growl which had reference to internal disarrangements. "is it often as dark as this in the daytime, an' is the sun usually green?" he asked carelessly, more for the sake of distracting the mind from other matters than for the desire of knowledge. "sometime it's more darker," replied the old man. "i've seed it so dark that you couldn't see how awful dark it was." as he spoke, a sound that has been described by ear-witnesses as "deafening" smote upon their tympanums, the log on which they sat quivered, the earth seemed to tremble, and several dishes in a neighbouring hut were thrown down and broken. "i say, old man, suthin' busted there," remarked the sailor, taking the pipe from his mouth and quietly ramming its contents down with the end of his blunt forefinger. the malay looked grave. "the gasometer?" suggested the sailor. "no, that _never_ busts." "a noo mountain come into action, p'raps, an' blow'd its top off?" "shouldn't wonder if that's it--close at hand too. we's used to that here. but them's bigger cracks than or'nar'." the old malay was right as to the cause, but wrong as to distance. instead of being a volcano "close at hand," it was krakatoa eviscerating itself a hundred miles off, and the sound of its last grand effort "extended over degrees = about miles." on that day all the gas lights were extinguished in batavia, and the pictures rattled on the walls as though from the action of an earthquake. but there was no earthquake. it was the air-wave from krakatoa, and the noise produced by the air-waves that followed was described as "deafening." the effect of the sounds of the explosions on the straits settlements generally was not only striking, but to some extent amusing. at carimon, in java-- miles distant from krakatoa--it was supposed that a vessel in distress was firing guns, and several native boats were sent off to render assistance, but no distressed vessel was to be found! at acheen, in sumatra-- miles distant--they supposed that a fort was being attacked and the troops were turned out under arms. at singapore-- miles off--they fancied that the detonations came from a vessel in distress and two steamers were despatched to search for it. and here the effect on the telephone, extending to ishore, was remarkable. on raising the tubes a perfect roar as of a waterfall was heard. by shouting at the top of his voice, the clerk at one end could make the clerk at the other end hear, but he could not render a word intelligible. at perak-- miles off--the sounds were thought to be distant salvos of artillery, and commander hon. f. vereker, r.n., of h.m.s. _magpie_, when miles distant (in lat. ° ' n. long. ° ' e.), states that the detonations of krakatoa were distinctly heard by those on board his ship, and by the inhabitants of the coast as far as banguey island, on august th. he adds that they resembled distant heavy cannonading. in a letter from st. lucia bay-- miles distant--it was stated that the eruption was plainly heard all over borneo. a government steamer was sent out from the island of timor-- miles off--to ascertain the cause of the disturbance! in south australia also, at places miles away, explosions were heard on the th and th which "awakened" people, and were thought worthy of being recorded and reported. from tavoy, in burmah-- miles away--the report came--"all day on august th unusual sounds were heard, resembling the boom of guns. thinking there might be a wreck or a ship in distress, the tavoy superintendent sent out the police launch, but they 'could see nothing.'" and so on, far and near, similar records were made, the most distant spot where the sounds were reported to have been heard being rodriguez, in the pacific, nearly miles distant! one peculiar feature of the records is that some ships in the immediate neighbourhood of krakatoa did not experience the shock in proportionate severity. probably this was owing to their being so near that a great part of the concussion and sound flew over them--somewhat in the same way that the pieces of a bomb-shell fly over men who, being too near to escape by running, escape by flinging themselves flat on the ground. each air-wave which conveyed these sounds, commencing at krakatoa as a centre, spread out in an ever-increasing circle till it reached a distance of ° from its origin and encircled the earth at its widest part, after which it continued to advance in a contracting form until it reached the antipodes of the volcano; whence it was reflected or reproduced and travelled back again to krakatoa. here it was turned right-about-face and again despatched on its long journey. in this way it oscillated backward and forward not fewer than six times before traces of it were lost. we say "traces," because these remarkable facts were ascertained, tracked, and corroborated by independent barometric observation in all parts of the earth. for instance, the passage of the great air-wave from krakatoa to its antipodes, and from its antipodes back to krakatoa, was registered six times by the automatic barometer at greenwich. the instrument at kew observatory confirmed the records of greenwich, and so did the barometers of other places in the kingdom. everywhere in europe also this fact was corroborated, and in some places even a seventh oscillation was recorded. the greenwich record shows that the air-waves took about thirty-six hours to travel from pole to pole, thus proving that they travelled at about the rate of ordinary sound-waves, which, roughly speaking, travel at the rate of between six and seven hundred miles an hour. the height of the sea-waves that devastated the neighbouring shores, being variously estimated at from to feet, is sufficiently accounted for by the intervention of islands and headlands, etc., which, of course, tended to diminish the force, height, and volume of waves in varying degrees. these, like the air-waves, were also registered--by self-acting tide-gauges and by personal observation--all over the world, and the observations _coincided as to date with the great eruptions of the th and th of august_. the influence of the sea-waves was observed and noted in the java sea--which is shallow and where there are innumerable obstructions--as far as miles, but to the west they swept over the deep waters of the indian ocean on to cape horn, and even, it is said, to the english channel. the unusual disturbance of ocean in various places was sufficiently striking. at galle, in ceylon, where the usual rise and fall of the tide is feet, the master-attendant reports that on the afternoon of the th four remarkable waves were noticed in the port. the last of these was preceded by an unusual recession of the sea to such an extent that small boats at their anchorage were left aground--a thing that had never been seen before. the period of recession was only one-and-a-half minutes; then the water paused, as it were, for a brief space, and, beginning to rise, reached the level of the highest high-water mark in less than two minutes, thus marking a difference of feet inches instead of the ordinary feet. at one place there was an ebb and flood tide, of unusual extent, within half-an-hour. at another, a belt of land, including a burying-ground, was washed away, so that according to the observer "it appeared as if the dead had sought shelter with the living in a neighbouring cocoa-nut garden!" elsewhere the tides were seen to advance and recede ten or twelve times--in one case even twenty times--on the th. at trincomalee the sea receded three times and returned with singular force, at one period leaving part of the shore suddenly bare, with fish struggling in the mud. the utilitarian tendency of mankind was at once made manifest by some fishermen who, seizing the opportunity, dashed into the struggling mass and began to reap the accidental harvest, when--alas for the poor fishermen!--the sea rushed in again and drove them all away. in the mauritius, however, the fishers were more fortunate, for when their beach was exposed in a similar manner, they succeeded in capturing a good many fish before the water returned. even sharks were disturbed in their sinister and slimy habits of life by this outburst of krakatoa--and no wonder, when it is recorded that in some places "the sea looked like water boiling heavily in a pot," and that "the boats which were afloat were swinging in all directions." at one place several of these monsters were flung out of their native home into pools, where they were left struggling till their enemy man terminated their career. everywhere those great waves produced phenomena which were so striking as to attract the attention of all classes of people, to ensure record in most parts of the world, and to call for the earnest investigation of the scientific men of many lands--and the conclusion to which such men have almost universally come is, that the strange vagaries of the sea all over the earth, the mysterious sounds heard in so many widely distant places, and the wonderful effects in the skies of every quarter of the globe, were all due to the eruption of the krakatoa volcano in . with reference to these last--the sky-effects-a few words may not be out of place here. the superfine "ultra-microscopic" dust, which was blown by the volcano in quantities so enormous to such unusual heights, was, after dropping its heavier particles back to earth, caught by the breezes which always blow in the higher regions from east to west, and carried by them for many months round and round the world. the dust was thickly and not widely spread at first, but as time went on it gradually extended itself on either side, becoming visible to more and more of earth's inhabitants, and at the same time becoming necessarily less dense. through this medium the sun's rays had to penetrate. in so far as the dust-particles were opaque they would obscure these rays; where they were transparent or polished they would refract and reflect them. that the material of which those dust-particles was composed was very various has been ascertained, proved, and recorded by the krakatoa committee. the attempt to expound this matter would probably overtax the endurance of the average reader, yet it may interest all to know that this dust-cloud travelled westward within the tropics at the rate of about double the speed of an express train--say miles an hour; crossed the indian ocean and africa in three days, the atlantic in two, america in two, and, in short, put a girdle round the world in thirteen days. moreover, the cloud of dust was so big that it took two or three days to pass any given point. during its second circumnavigation it was considerably spread and thinned, and the third time still more so, having expanded enough to include europe and the greater part of north america. it had thinned away altogether and disappeared in the spring of . who has not seen--at least read or heard of--the gorgeous skies of the autumn of ? not only in britain, but in all parts of the world, these same skies were seen, admired, and commented on as marvellous. and so they were. one of the chief peculiarities about them, besides their splendour, was the fact that they consisted chiefly of "afterglows"--that is, an increase of light and splendour _after_ the setting of the sun, when, in an ordinary state of things, the grey shadows of evening would have descended on the world. greenish-blue suns; pink clouds; bright yellow, orange, and crimson afterglows; gorgeous, magnificent, blood-red skies--the commentators seemed unable to find language adequately to describe them. listen to a german observer's remarks on the subject:-- "the display of november th was the grandest and most manifold. i give a description as exactly; as possible, for its overwhelming magnificence still presents itself to me as if it had been yesterday. when the sun had set about a quarter of an hour, there was not much afterglow, but i had observed a remarkably yellow bow in the south, about ° above the horizon. in about ten minutes more this arc rose pretty quickly, extended itself all over the east and up to and beyond the zenith. the sailors declared, 'sir, that is the northern lights.' i thought i had never seen northern lights in greater splendour. after five minutes more the-light had faded, though not vanished, in the east and south, and the finest purple-red rose up in the south-west; one could imagine one's-self in fairyland." all this, and a great deal more, was caused by the dust of krakatoa! "but how--how--why?" exclaims an impatient and puzzled reader. "ay--there's the rub." rubbing, by the way, may have had something to do with it. at all events we are safe to say that whatever there was of electricity in the matter resulted from friction. here is what the men of science say--as far as we can gather and condense. the fine dust blown out of krakatoa was found, under the microscope, to consist of excessively thin, transparent plates or irregular specks of pumice--which inconceivably minute fragments were caused by enormous steam pressure in the interior and the sudden expansion of the masses blown out into the atmosphere. of this glassy dust, that which was blown into the regions beyond the clouds must have been much finer even than that which was examined. these glass fragments were said by dr. flügel to contain either innumerable air-bubbles or minute needle-like crystals, or both. small though these vesicles were when ejected from the volcano, they would become still smaller by bursting when they suddenly reached a much lower pressure of atmosphere at a great height. some of them, however, owing to tenacity of material and other causes, might have failed to burst and would remain floating in the upper air as perfect microscopic glass balloons. thus the dust was a mass of particles of every conceivable shape, and so fine that no watches, boxes, or instruments were tight enough to exclude from their interior even that portion of the dust which was heavy enough to remain on earth! now, to the unscientific reader it is useless to say more than that the innumerable and varied positions of these glassy particles, some transparent, others semi-transparent or opaque, reflecting the sun's rays in different directions, with a complex modification of colour and effect resulting from the blueness of the sky, the condition of the atmosphere, and many other causes--all combined to produce the remarkable appearances of light and colour which aroused the admiration and wonder of the world in . the more one thinks of these things, and the deeper one dives into the mysteries of nature, the more profoundly is one impressed at once with a humbling sense of the limited amount of one's knowledge, and an awe-inspiring appreciation of the illimitable fields suggested by that comprehensive expression: "the wonderful works of god." chapter xxx. coming events, etc.--wonderful changes among the islands. some days after the wreck of the _sunshine_, as described in a previous chapter, captain roy and his son stood on the coast of java not far from the ruins of anjer. a vessel was anchored in the offing, and a little boat lay on the shore. all sign of elemental strife had passed, though a cloud of smoke hanging over the remains of krakatoa told that the terrible giant below was not dead but only sleeping--to awake, perchance, after a nap of another years. "well, father," said our hero with a modest look, "it may be, as you suggest, that winnie van der kemp does not care for me more than for a fathom of salt water----" "i did not say salt water, lad, i said bilge--a fathom o' _bilge_ water," interrupted the captain, who, although secretly rejoiced at the fact of his son having fallen over head and ears in love with the pretty little cocos-keeling islander, deemed it his duty, nevertheless, as a sternly upright parent, to, make quite sure that the love was mutual as well as deep before giving his consent to anything like courtship. "it matters not; salt or bilge water makes little difference," returned the son with a smile. "but all i can say is that i care for winnie so much that her love is to me of as much importance as sunshine to the world--and we have had some experience lately of what the want of _that_ means." "nonsense, nigel," returned the captain severely. "you're workin' yourself into them up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-patterin' regions again--which, by the way, should be pretty well choked wi' krakatoa dust by this time. come down out o' that if ye want to hold or'nary intercourse wi' your old father. she's far too young yet, my boy. you must just do as many a young fellow has done before you, attend to your dooties and forget her." "forget her!" returned the youth, with that amused, quiet expression which wise men sometimes assume when listening to foolish suggestions. "i could almost as easily forget my mother!" "a very proper sentiment, nigel, very--especially the 'almost' part of it." "besides," continued the son, "she is not so _very_ young--and that difficulty remedies itself every hour. moreover, i too am young. i can wait." "the selfishness of youth is only equalled by its presumption," said the captain. "how d'ee know _she_ will wait?" "i don't know, father, but i hope she will--i--i--_think_ she will." "nigel," said the captain, in a tone and with a look that were meant to imply intense solemnity, "have you ever spoken to her about love?" "no, father." "has she ever spoken to _you_?" "no--at least--not with her lips." "come, boy, you're humbuggin' your old father. her tongue couldn't well do it without the lips lendin' a hand." "well then--with neither," returned the son. "she spoke with her eyes--not intentionally, of course, for the eyes, unlike the lips, refuse to be under control." "hm! i see--reef-point-patterin' poetics again! an' what did she say with her eyes?" "really, father, you press me too hard; it is difficult to translate eye-language, but if you'll only let memory have free play and revert to that time, nigh quarter of a century ago, when you first met with a certain _real_ poetess, perhaps--" "ah! you dog! you have me there. but how dare you, sir, venture to think of marryin' on nothin'?" "i don't think of doing so. am i not a first mate with a handsome salary?" "no, lad, you're not. you're nothin' better than a seaman out o' work, with your late ship wrecked in a cocoa-nut grove!" "that's true," returned nigel with a laugh. "but is not the cargo of the said ship safe in batavia? has not its owner a good bank account in england? won't another ship be wanted, and another first mate, and would the owner dare to pass over his own son, who is such a competent seaman--according to your own showing? come, father, i turn the tables on you and ask you to aid rather than resist me in this matter." "well, i will, my boy, i will," said the captain heartily, as he laid his hand on his son's shoulder. "but, seriously, you must haul off this little craft and clap a stopper on your tongue--ay, and on your eyes too--till three points are considered an' made quite clear. first, you must find out whether the hermit would be agreeable. second, you must look the matter straight in the face and make quite sure that you mean it. for better or for worse. no undoin' _that_ knot, nigel, once it's fairly tied! and, third, you must make quite sure that winnie is sure of her own mind, an' that--that--" "we're all sure all round, father. quite right. i agree with you. 'all fair an' aboveboard' should be the sailing orders of every man in such matters, especially of every seaman. but, will you explain how i am to make sure of winnie's state of mind without asking her about it?" "well, i don't exactly see my way," replied the captain slowly. "what d'ee say to my soundin' her on the subject?" "couldn't think of it! you may be first-rate at deep-sea soundings, father, but you couldn't sound the depths of a young girl's heart. i must reserve that for myself, however long it may be delayed." "so be it, lad. the only embargo that i lay upon you is--haul off, and mind you don't let your figurehead go by the board. meanwhile, here comes the boat. now, nigel, none o' your courtin' till everything is settled and the wind fair--dead aft my lad, and blowin' stiff. you and the hermit are goin' off to krakatoa to-day, i suppose?" "yes. i am just now waiting for him and moses," returned nigel. "is winnie going?" "don't know. i hope so." "humph! well, if we have a fair wind i shall soon be in batavia," said the captain, descending to business matters, "and i expect without trouble to dispose of the cargo that we landed there, as well as that part o' the return cargo which i had bought before i left for keeling--at a loss, no doubt, but that don't matter much. then i'll come back here by the first craft that offers--arter which----. ay!--ay! shove her in here. plenty o' water." the last remark was made to the seaman who steered the boat sent from the vessel in the offing. a short time thereafter captain roy was sailing away for batavia, while his son, with van der kemp, moses, winnie, and spinkie, was making for krakatoa in a native boat. the hermit, in spite of his injuries, had recovered his wonted appearance, if not his wonted vigour. winnie seemed to have suddenly developed into a mature woman under her recent experiences, though she had lost none of her girlish grace and attractiveness. as for moses--time and tide seemed to have no effect whatever on his ebony frame, and still less, if possible, on his indomitable spirit. "now you keep still," he said in solemn tones and with warning looks to spinkie. "if you keep fidgitin' about you'll capsize de boat. you hear?" spinkie veiled his real affection for the negro under a look of supreme indifference, while winnie went off into a sudden giggle at the idea of such a small creature capsizing the boat. mindful of his father's warning, nigel did his best to "haul off" and to prevent his "figurehead" from going "by the board." but he found it uncommonly hard work, for winnie looked so innocent, so pretty, so unconscious, so sympathetic with everybody and everything, so very young, yet so wondrously wise and womanly, that he felt an irresistible desire to prostrate himself at her feet in abject slavery. "dear little thing," said winnie, putting her hand on spinkie's little head and smoothing him down from eyes to tail. spinkie looked as if half inclined to withdraw his allegiance from moses and bestow it on winnie, but evidently changed his mind after a moment's reflection. "o that i were a monkey!" thought nigel, paraphrasing shakespeare, "that i might----" but it is not fair to our hero to reveal him in his weaker moments! there was something exasperating, too, in being obliged, owing to the size of the boat, to sit so close to winnie without having a right to touch her hand! who has not experienced this, and felt himself to be a very hero of self-denial in the circumstances? "mos' awrful hot!" remarked moses, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "_you_ hot!" said nigel in surprise. "i thought nothing on earth could be too hot for you." "dat's your ignerance," returned moses calmly. "us niggers, you see, ought to suffer more fro' heat dan you whites." "how so?" "why, don't your flossiphers say dat black am better dan white for 'tractin' heat, an' ain't our skins black? i wish we'd bin' born white as chalk. i say, massa nadgel, seems to me dat dere's not much left ob krakatoa." they had approached near enough to the island by that time to perceive that wonderful changes had indeed taken place, and van der kemp, who had been for some time silently absorbed in contemplation, at last turned to his daughter and said-- "i had feared at first, winnie, that my old home had been blown entirely away, but i see now that the peak of rakata still stands, so perhaps i may yet show you the cave in which i have spent so many years." "but why did you go to live in such a strange place, dear father?" asked the girl, laying her hand lovingly on the hermit's arm. van der kemp did not reply at once. he gazed in his child's face with an increase of that absent air and far-away look which nigel, ever since he met him, had observed as one of his characteristics. at this time an anxious thought crossed him,--that perhaps the blows which his friend had received on his head when he was thrown on the deck of the _sunshine_ might have injured his brain. "it is not easy to answer your question, dear one," he said after a time, laying his strong hand on the girl's head, and smoothing her luxuriant hair which hung in the untrammelled freedom of nature over her shoulders. "i have felt sometimes, during the last few days, as if i were awaking out of a long long dream, or recovering from a severe illness in which delirium had played a prominent part. even now, though i see and touch you, i sometimes tremble lest i should really awake and find that it is all a dream. i have so often--so _very_ often--dreamed something like it in years gone by, but never so vividly as now! i cannot doubt--it is sin to doubt--that my prayers have been at last answered. god is good and wise. he knows what is best and does not fail in bringing the best to pass. yet i have doubted him--again and again." van der kemp paused here and drew his hand across his brow as if to clear away sad memories of the past, while winnie drew closer to him and looked up tenderly in his face. "when your mother died, dear one," he resumed, "it seemed to me as if the sun had left the heavens, and when _you_ were snatched from me, it was as though my soul had fled and nought but animal life remained. i lived as if in a terrible dream. i cannot recall exactly what i did or where i went for a long long time. i know i wandered through the archipelago looking for you, because i did not believe at first that you were dead. it was at this time i took up my abode in the cave of rakata, and fell in with my good faithful friend moses--" "your sarvint, massa," interrupted the negro humbly. "i's proud to be call your frind, but i's only your sarvint, massa." "truly you have been my faithful servant, moses," said van der kemp, "but not the less have you been my trusted friend. he nursed me through a long and severe illness, winnie. how long, i am not quite sure. after a time i nearly lost hope. then there came a very dark period, when i was forced to believe that you must be dead. yet, strange to say, even during this dark time i did not cease to pray and to wander about in search of you. i suppose it was the force of habit, for hope seemed to have died. then, at last, nigel found you. god used him as his instrument. and now, praise to his name, we are reunited--for ever!" "darling father!" were the only words that winnie could utter as she laid her head on the hermit's shoulder and wept for joy. two ideas, which had not occurred to him before, struck nigel with great force at that moment. the one was that whatever or wherever his future household should be established, if winnie was to be its chief ornament, her father must of necessity become a member of it. the other idea was that he was destined to possess a negro servant with a consequent and unavoidable monkey attendant! how strange the links of which the chain of human destiny is formed, and how wonderful the powers of thought by which that chain is occasionally forecast! how to convey all these possessions to england and get them comfortably settled there was a problem which he did not care to tackle just then. "see, winnie," said van der kemp, pointing with interest to a mark on the side of rakata, "yonder is the mouth of my cave. i never saw it so clearly before because of the trees and bushes, but everything seems now to have been burnt up." "das so, massa, an' what hasn't bin bu'nt up has bin blow'd up!" remarked the negro. "looks very like it, moses, unless that is a haze which enshrouds the rest of the island," rejoined the other, shading his eyes with his hands. it was no haze, however; for they found, on drawing nearer, that the greater part of krakatoa had, as we have already said, actually disappeared from the face of the earth. when the boat finally rounded the point which hid the northern part of the island from view, a sight was presented which it is not often given to human eyes to look upon. the whole mountain named the peak of rakata ( feet high) had been split from top to bottom, and about one-half of it, with all that part of the island lying to the northward, had been blown away, leaving a wall or almost sheer precipice which presented a grand section of the volcano. pushing their boat into a creek at the base of this precipice, the party landed and tried to reach a position from which a commanding view might be obtained. this was not an easy matter, for there was not a spot for a foot to rest on which was not covered deeply with pumice-dust and ashes. by dint of perseverance, however, they gained a ledge whence the surrounding district could be observed, and then it was clearly seen how wide-spread and stupendous the effects of the explosion had been. where the greater part of the richly wooded island had formerly flourished, the ocean now rippled in the sunshine, and of the smaller islands around it _lang_ island had been considerably increased in bulk as well as in height. _verlaten_ island had been enlarged to more than three times its former size and also much increased in height. the island named _polish hat_ had disappeared altogether, and two entirely new islets--afterwards named _steers_ and _calmeyer_ islands--had arisen to the northward. "now, friends," said van der kemp, after they had noted and commented on the vast and wonderful changes that had taken place, "we will pull round to our cave and see what has happened there." descending to the boat they rowed round the southern shores of rakata until they reached the little harbour where the boat and canoe had formerly been kept. chapter xxxi. ends with a struggle between inclination and duty. "de cave's blowed away too!" was the first remark of moses as they rowed into the little port. a shock of disappointment was experienced by winnie, for she fancied that the negro had referred to her father's old home, but he only meant the lower cave in which the canoe had formerly been kept. she was soon relieved as to this point, however, but, when a landing was effected, difficulties that seemed to her almost insurmountable presented themselves, for the ground was covered knee-deep with pumice-dust, and the road to the upper cave was blocked by rugged masses of lava and ashes, all heaped up in indescribable confusion. on careful investigation, however, it was found that after passing a certain point the footpath was almost unencumbered by volcanic débris. this was owing to the protection afforded to it by the cone of rakata, and the almost overhanging nature of some of the cliffs on that side of the mountain; still the track was bad enough, and in places so rugged, that winnie, vigorous and agile though she was, found it both difficult and fatiguing to advance. seeing this, her father proposed to carry her, but she laughingly declined the proposal. whereupon nigel offered to lend her a hand over the rougher places, but this she also declined. then moses, stepping forward, asserted his rights. "it's _my_ business," he said, "to carry t'ings w'en dey's got to be carried. m'r'over, as i's bin obleeged to leabe spinkie in charge ob de boat, i feels okard widout somet'ing to carry, an' you ain't much heavier dan spinkie, miss winnie--so, come along." he stooped with the intention of grasping winnie as if she were a little child, but with a light laugh the girl sprang away and left moses behind. "'s'my opinion," said moses, looking after her with a grin, "dat if de purfesser was here he 'd net her in mistook for a bufferfly. dar!--she's down!" he shouted, springing forward, but nigel was before him. winnie had tripped and fallen. "are you hurt, dear--child?" asked nigel, raising her gently. "oh no! only a little shaken," answered winnie, with a little laugh that was half hysterical. "i am strong enough to go on presently." "nay, my child, you _must_ suffer yourself to be carried at this part," said van der kemp. "take her up, nigel, you are stronger than i am _now_. i would not have asked you to do it before my accident!" our hero did not need a second bidding. grasping winnie in his strong arms he raised her as if she had been a feather, and strode away at a pace so rapid that he soon left van der kemp and moses far behind. "put me down, now," said winnie, after a little while, in a low voice. "i'm quite recovered now and can walk." "nay, winnie, you are mistaken. the path is very rough yet, and the dust gets deeper as we ascend. _do_ give me the pleasure of helping you a little longer." whatever winnie may have felt or thought she said nothing, and nigel, taking silence for consent, bore her swiftly onward and upward,--with an "excelsior" spirit that would have thrown the alpine youth with the banner and the strange device considerably into the shade,--until he placed her at the yawning black mouth of the hermit's cave. but what a change was there! the trees and flowering shrubs and ferns were all gone, lava, pumice, and ashes lay thick on everything around, and only a few blackened and twisted stumps of the larger trees remained to tell that an umbrageous forest had once flourished there. the whole scene might be fittingly described in the two words--grey desolation. "that is the entrance to your father's old home," said nigel, as he set his fair burden down and pointed to the entrance. "what a dreadful place!" said winnie, peering into the black depths of the cavern. "it was not dreadful when i first saw it, winnie, with rich verdure everywhere; and inside you will find it surprisingly comfortable. but we must not enter until your father arrives to do the honours of the place himself." they had not to wait long. first moses arrived, and, shrewdly suspecting from the appearance of the young couple that they were engaged in conversation that would not brook interruption, or, perhaps, judging from what might be his own wishes in similar circumstances, he turned his back suddenly on them, and, stooping down, addressed himself to an imaginary creature of the animal kingdom. "what a bootiful bufferfly you is, to be sure! up on sitch a place too, wid nuffin' to eat 'cept krakatoa dust. i wonder what your moder would say if she know'd you was here. you should be ashamed ob yourself!" "hallo! moses, what are you talking to over there?" "nuffin', massa nadgel. i was on'y habin' a brief conv'sation wid a member ob de insect wurld in commemoration ob de purfesser. leastwise, if it warn't a insect it must hab bin suffm' else. won't you go in, miss winnie?" "no, i'd rather wait for father," returned the girl, looking a little flushed, for some strange and totally unfamiliar ideas had recently floated into her brain and caused some incomprehensible flutterings of the heart to which hitherto she had been a stranger. mindful of his father's injunctions, however, nigel had been particularly careful to avoid increasing these flutterings. in a few minutes the hermit came up. "ah! winnie," he said, "there has been dire devastation here. perhaps inside things may look better. come, take my hand and don't be afraid. the floor is level and your eyes will soon get accustomed to the dim light." "i's afeared, massa," remarked moses, as they entered the cavern, "dat your sun-lights won't be wu'th much now." "you are right, lad. go on before us and light the lamps if they are not broken." it was found, as they had expected, that, the only light which penetrated the cavern was that which entered by the cave's mouth, which of course was very feeble. presently, to winnie's surprise, moses was seen issuing from the kitchen with a petroleum lamp in one hand, the brilliant light of which not only glittered on his expressive black visage but sent a ruddy glare all over the cavern. van der kemp seemed to watch his daughter intently as she gazed in a bewildered way around. there was a puzzled look as well as mere surprise in her pretty face. "father," she said earnestly, "you have spoken more than once of living as if in a dream. perhaps you will wonder when i tell you that i experience something of that sort now. strange though this place seems, i have an unaccountable feeling that it is not absolutely new to me--that i have seen it before." "i do not wonder, dear one," he replied, "for the drawings that surround this chamber were the handiwork of your dear mother, and they decorated the walls of your own nursery when you were a little child at your mother's knee. for over ten long years they have surrounded me and kept your faces fresh in my memory--though, truth to tell, it needed no such reminders to do that. come, let us examine them." it was pleasant to see the earnest face of winnie as she half-recognised and strove to recall the memories of early childhood in that singular cavern. it was also a sight worth seeing--the countenance of nigel, as well as that of the hermit, while they watched and admired her eager, puzzled play of feature, and it was the most amazing sight of all to see the all but superhuman joy of moses as he held the lamp and listened to facts regarding the past of his beloved master which were quite new to him--for the hermit spoke as openly about his past domestic affairs as if he and winnie had been quite alone. "he either forgets that we are present, or counts us as part of his family," thought nigel with a feeling of satisfaction. "what a dear comoonicative man!" thought moses, with unconcealed pleasure. "come now, let us ascend to the observatory," said the hermit, when all the things in the library had been examined. "there has been damage done there, i know; besides, there is a locket there which belonged to your mother. i left it by mistake one day when i went up to arrange the mirrors, and in the hurry of leaving forgot to return for it. indeed, one of my main objects in re-visiting my old home was to fetch that locket away. it contains a lock of hair and one of those miniatures which men used to paint before photography drove such work off the field." winnie was nothing loth to follow, for she had reached a romantic period of life, and it seemed to her that to be led through mysterious caves and dark galleries in the very heart of a still active volcano by her own father--the hermit of rakata--was the very embodiment of romance itself. but a disappointment awaited them, for they had not proceeded halfway through the dark passage when it was found that a large mass of rock had fallen from the roof and almost blocked it up. "there is a space big enough for us to creep through at the right-hand corner above, i think," said nigel, taking the lantern from moses and examining the spot. "jump up, moses, and try it," said the hermit. "if your bulky shoulders get through, we can all manage it." the negro was about to obey the order when nigel let the lantern fall and the shock extinguished it. "oh! massa nadgel; das a pritty business!" "never mind," said van der kemp. "i've got matches, i think, in my--no, i haven't. have you, moses?" "no, massa, i forgit to remember him." "no matter, run back--you know the road well enough to follow it in the dark. we will wait here till you return. be smart, now!" moses started off at once and for some moments the sound of clattering along the passage was heard. "i will try to clamber through in the dark. look after winnie, nigel--and don't leave the spot where you stand, dear one, for there are cracks and holes about that might sprain your little ankles." "very well, father." "all right. i've got through, nigel; i'll feel my way on for a little bit. remain where you are." "winnie," said nigel when they were alone, "doesn't it feel awesome and strange to be standing here in such intense darkness?" "it does--i don't quite like it." "whereabouts are you?" said nigel. he carefully stretched out his hand to feel, as he spoke, and laid a finger on her brow. "oh! take care of my eyes!" exclaimed winnie with a little laugh. "_i_ wish you would turn your eyes towards me for i'm convinced they would give some light--? to _me_ at least. here, do let me hold your hand it will make you feel more confident." to one who is at all familiar with the human frame, the way from the brow to the hand is comparatively simple. nigel soon possessed himself of the coveted article. like other things of great value the possession turned the poor youth's head! he forgot his father's warnings for the moment, forgot the hermit and moses and spinkie, and the thick darkness--forgot almost everything in the light of that touch! "winnie!" he exclaimed in a tone that quite alarmed her; "i--i--" he hesitated. the solemn embargo of his father recurred to him. "what is it! is there danger?" exclaimed the poor girl, clasping his hand tighter and drawing nearer to him. this was too much! nigel felt himself to be contemptible. he was taking unfair advantage of her. "winnie," he began again, in a voice of forced calmness, "there is no danger whatever. i'm an ass--a dolt--that's all! the fact is, i made my father a sort of half promise that i would not ask your opinion on a certain subject until--until i found out exactly what you thought about it. now the thing is ridiculous--impossible--for how can i know your opinion on any subject until i have asked you?" "quite true," returned winnie simply, "so you better ask me." "ha! _ha_!" laughed nigel, in a sort of desperate amusement, "i--i--yes, i _will_ ask you, winnie! but first i must explain----" "hallo! nigel!" came at that moment from the other side of the obstruction, "are you there--all right?" "yes, yes--i'm here--_not_ all right exactly, but i'll be all right _some day_, you may depend upon that!" shouted the youth, in a tone of indignant exasperation. "what said you?" asked van der kemp, putting his head through the hole. "hi! i's a-comin', look out, dar!" hallooed moses in the opposite direction. "just so," said nigel, resuming his quiet tone and demeanour, "we'll be all right when the light comes. here, give us your hand, van der kemp." the hermit accepted the proffered aid and leaped down amongst his friends just as moses arrived with the lantern. "it's of no use going further," he said. "the passage is completely blocked up--so we must go round to where the mountain has been split off and try to clamber up. there will be daylight enough yet if we are quick. come." chapter xxxii. the last. descending to the boat they rowed round to the face of the great cliff which had been so suddenly laid bare when the peak of rakata was cleft from its summit to its foundations in the sea. it was a wonderful sight--a magnificent section, affording a marvellous view of the internal mechanism of a volcano. but there was no time to spend in contemplation of this extraordinary sight, for evening approached and the hermit's purpose had to be accomplished. high up near the top of the mighty cliff could be seen a small hole in the rock, which was all that remained of the observatory. "it will be impossible, i fear, to reach that spot," said nigel; "there does not appear to be foothold for a goat." "i will reach it," said the hermit in a low voice, as he scanned the precipice carefully. "so will i," said the negro. "no, moses, i go alone. you will remain in the boat and watch. if i fall, you can pick me up." "pick you up!" echoed moses. "if you tumbles a t'ousand feet into de water how much t'ink you will be lef to pick up?" it was useless to attempt to dissuade van der kemp. being well aware of this, they all held their peace while he landed on a spur of the riven cliff. the first part of the ascent was easy enough, the ground having been irregularly broken, so that the climber disappeared behind masses of rock at times, while he kept as much as possible to the western edge of the mountain where the cleavage had occurred; but as he ascended he was forced to come out upon narrow ledges that had been left here and there on the face of the cliff, where he seemed, to those who were watching far below, like a mere black spot on the face of a gigantic wall. still upward he went, slowly but steadily, till he reached a spot nearly level with the observatory. here he had to go out on the sheer precipice, where his footholds were invisible from below. winnie sat in the boat with blanched face and tightly clasped hands, panting with anxiety as she gazed upwards. "it looks much more dangerous from here than it is in reality," said nigel to her in a reassuring tone. "das true, massa nadgel, das bery true," interposed moses, endeavouring to comfort himself as well as the others by the intense earnestness of his manner. "de only danger, miss winnie, lies in your fadder losin' his head at sitch a t'riffic height, an' dar's no fear at all ob dat, for massa neber loses his head--pooh! you might as well talk ob him losin' his heart. look! look! he git close to de hole now--he put his foot--yes--next step--dar! he've done it!" with the perspiration of anxiety streaming down his face the negro relieved his feelings by a wild prolonged cheer. nigel obtained the same relief by means of a deep long-drawn sigh, but winnie did not move; she seemed to realise her father's danger better than her companions, and remembered that the descent would be much more difficult than the ascent. they were not kept long in suspense. in a few minutes the hermit reappeared and began to retrace his steps--slowly but steadily--and the watchers breathed more freely. moses was right; there was in reality little danger in the climb, for the ledges which appeared to them like mere threads, and the footholds that were almost invisible, were in reality from a foot to three feet wide. the only danger lay in the hermit's head being unable to stand the trial, but, as moses had remarked, there was no fear of that. the watchers were therefore beginning to feel somewhat relieved from the tension of their anxiety, when a huge mass of rock was seen to slip from the face of the cliff and descend with the thunderous roar of an avalanche. the incident gave those in the boat a shock, for the landslip occurred not far from the spot which van der kemp had reached, but as he still stood there in apparent safety there seemed no cause for alarm till it was observed that the climber remained quite still for a long time and, seemed to have no intention of moving. "god help him!" cried nigel in sudden alarm, "the ledge has been carried away and he cannot advance! stay by the boat, moses, i will run to help him!" "no, massa nadgel," returned the negro, "i go to die wid 'im. boat kin look arter itself." he sprang on shore as he spoke, and dashed up the mountain-side like a hunted hare. our hero looked at winnie for an instant in hesitation. "go!" said the poor girl. "you know i can manage a boat--quick!" another moment and nigel was following in the track of the negro. they gained the broken ledge together, and then found that the space between the point which they had reached and the spot on which the hermit stood was a smooth face of perpendicular rock--an absolutely impassable gulf! van der kemp was standing with his back flat against the precipice and his feet resting on a little piece of projecting rock not more than three inches wide. this was all that lay between him and the hideous depth below, for nigel found on carefully drawing nearer that the avalanche had been more extensive than was apparent from below, and that the ledge beyond the hermit had been also carried away--thus cutting off his retreat as well as his advance. "i can make no effort to help myself," said van der kemp in a low but calm voice, when our hero's foot rested on the last projecting point that he could gain, and found that with the utmost reach of his arm he could not get within six inches of his friend's outstretched hand. besides, nigel himself stood on so narrow a ledge, and against so steep a cliff, that he could not have acted with his wonted power even if the hand could have been grasped. moses stood immediately behind nigel, where the ledge was broader and where a shallow recess in the rock enabled him to stand with comparative ease. the poor fellow seemed to realise the situation more fully than his companion, for despair was written on every feature of his expressive face. "what is to be done?" said nigel, looking back. "de boat-rope," suggested the negro. "useless," said van der kemp, in a voice as calm and steady as if he were in perfect safety, though the unusual pallor of his grave countenance showed that he was fully alive to the terrible situation. "i am resting on little more than my heels, and the strain is almost too much for me even now. i could not hold on till you went to the boat and returned. no, it seems to be god's will--and," added he humbly, "his will be done." "o god, send us help!" cried nigel in an agony of feeling that he could not master. "if i had better foothold i might spring towards you and catch hold of you," said the hermit, "but i cannot spring off my heels. besides, i doubt if you could bear my weight." "try, try!" cried nigel, eagerly extending his hand. "don't fear for my strength--i've got plenty of it, thank god! and see, i have my right arm wedged into a crevice so firmly that nothing could haul it out." but van der kemp shook his head. "i cannot even make the attempt," he said. "the slightest move would plunge me down. dear boy! i know that you and your father and moses will care for my winnie, and--" "massa!" gasped moses, who while the hermit was speaking had been working his body with mysterious and violent energy; "massa! couldn't you _fall_ dis way, an' nadgel could kitch your hand, an' i's got my leg shoved into a hole as nuffin' 'll haul it out ob. dere's a holler place here. if nadgel swings you into dat, an' i only once grab you by de hair--you're safe!" "it might be done--tried at least," said the hermit, looking anxiously at his young friend. "try it!" cried nigel, "i won't fail you." it is not possible for any except those who have gone through a somewhat similar ordeal to understand fully the test of cool courage which van der kemp had to undergo on that occasion. shutting his eyes for a moment in silent prayer, he deliberately worked with his shoulders upon the cliff against which he leaned until he felt himself to be on the point of falling towards his friend, and the two outstretched hands almost touched. "now, are you ready?" he asked. "ready," replied nigel, while moses wound both his powerful arms round his comrade's waist and held on. another moment and the hands clasped, nigel uttered an irrepressible shout as the hermit swung off, and, coming round with great violence to the spot where the negro had fixed himself, just succeeded in catching the edge of the cliff with his free hand. "let go, nigel," he shouted;--"safe!" the poor youth was only too glad to obey, for the tremendous pull had wrenched his arm out of the crevice in which he had fixed it, and for a moment he swayed helplessly over the awful abyss. "don't let me go, moses!" he yelled, as he made a frantic but futile effort to regain his hold,--for he felt that the negro had loosened one of his arms though the other was still round him like a hoop of iron. "no fear, nadgel," said moses, "i's got you tight--only don' wriggle. now, massa, up you come." moses had grasped his master's hair with a grip: that well-nigh scalped him, and he held on until the hermit had got a secure hold of the ledge with both hands. then he let the hair go, for he knew that to an athlete like his master the raising himself by his arms on to the ledge would be the work of a few seconds. van der kemp was thus able to assist in rescuing nigel from his position of danger. but the expressions of heartfelt thankfulness for this deliverance which naturally broke from them were abruptly checked when it was found that moses could by no means extract his leg out of the hole into which he had thrust it, and that he was suffering great pain. after some time, and a good deal of violent wrenching, during which our sable hero mingled a few groans in strange fashion with his congratulations, he was got free, and then it was found that the strain had been too much for even his powerful bones and sinews, for the leg was broken. "my poor fellow!" murmured van der kemp, as he went down on his knees to examine the limb. "don' care a buttin for dat, massa. you're safe, an' nadgel's safe--an' it only cost a broken leg! pooh! das nuffin'!" said moses, unable to repress a few tears in the excess of his joy and pain! with considerable difficulty they carried the poor negro down to the boat, where they found winnie, as might be supposed, in a half-fainting condition from the strain of prolonged anxiety and terror to which she had been subjected; but the necessity of attending to the case of the injured moses was an antidote which speedily restored her. do you think, good reader, that nigel and winnie had much difficulty in coming to an understanding after that, or that the hermit was disposed to throw any obstacles in the way of true love? if you do, let us assure you that you are mistaken. surely this is information enough for any intelligent reader. still, it may be interesting to add, difficulties did not all at once disappear. the perplexities that had already assailed nigel more than once assailed him again--perplexities about a negro man-servant, and a household monkey, and a hermit father-in-law, and a small income--to say nothing of a disconsolate mother-poetess in england and a father roving on the high seas! how to overcome these difficulties gave him much thought and trouble; but they were overcome at last. that which seemed impossible to man proved to be child's-play in the hands of woman. winnie solved the difficulty by suggesting that they should all return to the cocos-keeling islands and dwell together there for evermore! * * * * * let us drop in on them, good reader, at a later period, have a look at them, and bid them all good-bye. on a green knoll by the margin of the lagoon stands a beautiful cottage with a garden around it, and a pleasure-boat resting on the white coral sand in front. from the windows of that cottage there is a most magnificent view of the lagoon with its numerous islets and its picturesque palm-trees. within that cottage dwell nigel and winnie, and a brown-eyed, brown-haired, fair-skinned baby girl who is "the most extraordinary angel that ever was born." it has a nurse of its own, but is chiefly waited on and attended to by an antique poetess, who dwells in another cottage, a stone's-cast off, on the same green knoll. there she inspires an ancient mariner with poetical sentiments--not your up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-pattering nonsense, observe; but the real genuine article, superior to "that other fellow's," you know--when not actively engaged with _the_ baby. the first cottage is named rakata, in honour of our hermit, who is one of its inhabitants. the second is named krakatoa by its eccentric owner, captain roy. it must not be imagined, however, that our friends have settled down there to spend their lives in idleness. by no means. this probably would not be permitted by the "king of the cocos islands" even if they wished to do so. but they do not wish that. there is no such condition as idleness in the lives of good men and women. nigel has taken to general superintendence of the flourishing community in the midst of which he has cast his lot. he may be almost regarded as the prime minister of the islands, in addition to which he has started an extensive boat-building business and a considerable trade in cocoa-nuts, etc., with the numerous islands of the java sea; also a saw-mill, and a forge, and a sunday-school--in which last the pretty, humble-minded winnie lends most efficient aid. indeed it is said that she is the chief manager as well as the life and soul of that business, though nigel gets all the credit. captain roy sometimes sails his son's vessels, and sometimes looks after the secular education of the sunday-school children--the said education being conducted on the principle of unlimited story-telling with illimitable play of fancy. but his occupations are irregular--undertaken by fits and starts, and never to be counted on. his evenings he usually devotes to poetry and pipes--for the captain is obstinate, and sticks--like most of us--to his failings as well as his fancies. there is a certain eccentric individual with an enthusiastic temperament and blue binoculars who pays frequent and prolonged visits to the keeling islands. it need scarcely be said that his name is verkimier. there is no accounting for the tastes of human beings. notwithstanding all his escapes and experiences, that indomitable man of science still ranges, like a mad philosopher, far and wide over the archipelago in pursuit of "booterflies ant ozer specimens of zee insect vorld." it is observed, however, even by the most obtuse among his friends, that whereas in former times the professor's nights were centrifugal they have now become centripetal--the keeling islands being the great centre towards which he flies. verkimier is, and probably will always be, a subject of wonder and of profound speculation to the youthful inhabitants of the islands. they don't understand him and he does not understand them. if they were insects he would take deep and intelligent interest in them. as they are merely human beings, he regards them with that peculiar kind of interest with which men regard the unknown and unknowable. he is by no means indifferent to them. he is too kindly for that. he studies them deeply, though hopelessly, and when he enters the sunday-school with his binoculars--which he often does, to listen--a degree of awe settles down on the little ones which it is impossible to evoke by the most solemn appeals to their spiritual natures. nigel and winnie have a gardener, and that gardener is black--as black as the ace of spades or the king of ashantee. he dwells in a corner of the rakata cottage, but is addicted to spending much of his spare time in the krakatoa one. he is as strong and powerful as ever, but limps slightly on his right leg--his "game" leg, as he styles it. he is, of course, an _immense_ favourite with the young people--not less than with the old. he has been known to say, with a solemnity that might tickle the humorous and horrify the timid, that he wouldn't "hab dat game leg made straight agin! no, not for a hundred t'ousand pounds. 'cause why? --it was an eber-present visible reminder dat once upon a time he had de libes ob massa and nadgel in his arms ahangin' on to his game leg, an' dat, t'rough gracious goodness, he sabe dem bof!" ha! you may smile at moses if you will, but he can return the smile with kindly interest, for he is actuated by that grand principle which will sooner or later transform even the scoffers of earth, and which is embodied in the words--"love is the fulfilling of the law." even the lower animals testify to this fact when the dog licks the hand that smites it and accords instant forgiveness on the slightest encouragement. does not spinkie prove it also, when, issuing at call, from its own pagoda in the sunniest corner of the rakata garden, it forsakes cocoa-nuts, sugar-cane, fruits, and other delights, to lay its little head in joyful consecration on the black bosom of its benignant friend? and what of moses' opinion of the new home? it may be shortly expressed in his own words-"it's heaben upon eart', an' de most happiest time as eber occurred to me was dat time when sunda straits went into cumbusti'n an' krakatoa was blown to bits." the end printed by t. and a. constable, printers to her majesty, _at the edinburgh university press_. * * * * * +advertisements+ by mr. r.m. ballantyne. with illustrations. crown vo, s. d. each. * * * * * 'the fathers, mothers, guardians, uncles, and aunts who wish to find an acceptable birthday present for a healthy-minded boy of normal tastes, cannot possibly go wrong if they buy a book with mr. ballantyne's name on the title-page.'--_academy_. * * * * * +the hot swamp+: a romance of old albion. +the buffalo runners+: a tale of the red river plains. +charlie to the rescue+: a tale of the sea and the rockies. +blown to bits+; or, the lonely man of rakata: a tale of the malay archipelago. +blue lights+; or, hot work in the soudan. a tale of soldier life. +the fugitives+; or, the tyrant queen of madagascar. +red rooney+; or, the last of the crew. +the rover of the andes+: a tale of adventure in south america. +the young trawler+: a story of life, death, and rescue in the north sea. +dusty diamonds, cut and polished+: a tale of city arab life. +the battery and the boiler+; or, adventures of a telegraph-cable layer. +the giant of the north+; or, pokings round the pole. +the lonely island+; or, the refuge of the mutineers. +post haste+: a tale of her majesty's mails. +in the track of the troops+: a tale of modern war. +the settler and the savage+: a tale of peace and war in south africa. +under the waves+; or, diving in deep waters. +the lifeboat+: a tale of our coast heroes. +the golden dream+: a tale of the diggings. +the red eric+; or, the whaler's last cruise. +freaks on the fells+, and +why i+ did not become a sailor. +the wild man of the west+. +gascoyne, the sandalwood+ trader: a tale of the pacific. +rivers of ice+: a tale illustrative of alpine adventure and glacier action. +the pirate city+: an algerine tale. +black ivory+: a tale of adventure among the slavers of east africa. +the norsemen in the west+; or, america before columbus. +the iron horse+; or, life on the line. a railway tale. +erling the bold+: a tale of the norse sea kings. +fighting the flames+: a tale of the london fire brigade. +deep down+: a tale of the cornish mines. +the floating light of the goodwin sands+. +shifting winds+: a tough yarn. +the lighthouse+: being the story of a great fight between man and the sea. +the big otter+: a tale of the far nor'west. extra crown vo, s. +the walrus hunters+: a romance of the realms of ice. by mr. r.m. ballantyne. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. each. hunted and harried. a coxswain's bride; or, the rising tide. and other tales. the garret and the garden; or, low life high up. and jeff benson; or, the young coastguardsman. the crew of the water-wagtail. a story of newfoundland. the middy and the moors: an algerine tale. the prairie chief. life in the red brigade: a fiery tale. and fort desolation; or, solitude in the wilderness. the island queen; or, dethroned by fire and water. a tale of the southern hemisphere. twice bought: a tale of the oregon gold-fields. the madman and the pirate. my doggie and i. philosopher jack: a tale of the southern seas. the red man's revenge. six months at the cape. letters to periwinkle from south africa. a record of personal experience and adventure. battles with the sea; or, heroes of the lifeboat and the rocket. price s. d. each. tales of adventure by flood, field, and mountain. tales of adventure; or, wild work in strange places. tales of adventure on the coast. with numerous illustrations. crown vo. s. the kitten pilgrims; or, great battles and grand victories. london: james nisbet & co., berners street. james nisbet & co.'s select list of books suitable for presents and prizes, by well-known and popular writers. profusely illustrated and handsomely bound in cloth. _a complete list will be forwarded post free on application to the publishers_. works by mrs. marshall. "readers who value culture and refinement, but, above all, seek for truth and unction, will recommend her tales, especially for young ladies."-_churchman_. with numerous illustrations. +price five shillings each. extra crown vo.+ the close of st. christopher's. new relations. a story for girls. those three; or, little wings. eastward ho! a story for girls. laurel crowns; or, griselda's aim. houses on wheels. a story for children. +price three shillings and sixpence each. crown vo.+ in the purple. daphne's decision; or, which shall it be? the roses of ringwood. a story for children. cassandra's casket. silver chimes; or, olive. stories of the cathedral cities of england. poppies and pansies. rex and regina; or, the song of the river. dewdrops and diamonds. heather and harebell. mistress matchett's mistake. a very old story. sir valentine's victory, and other stories. our own picture book. illustrations. small to. +price two shillings and sixpence each.+ dulcibel's day-dreams; or, the grand, sweet song. with illustrations. crown vo. pictures illustrative of the lord's prayer. with appropriate stories for children. medium to. the life of our lord jesus christ for very young children. illustrations. medium to. mrs. marshall's works--continued. +price two shillings each.+ with illustrations. crown vo. oliver's old pictures; or, the magic circle. ruby and pearl; or, the children at castle aylmer. a story for little girls. +price one shilling and sixpence each.+ with illustrations. small crown vo. nature's gentleman. the bride's home. my lady bountiful. stellafont abbey; or, nothing new. golden silence. when i was young. matthew frost, carrier; or, little snowdrop's mission. michael's treasures; or, choice silver. my grandmother's pictures. marjory; or, the gift of peace. grace buxton; or, the light of home. three little brothers. three little sisters. the birth of a century; or, eighty years ago. the story of john marbeck: a windsor organist of years ago. his work and his reward. +price one shilling each.+ heathercliffe; or, it's no concern of mine. daisy bright. the little peat-cutters; or, the song of love. primrose; or, the bells of old effingham. to-day and yesterday: a story of summer and winter holidays. between the cliffs; or, hal forester's anchor. a violet in the shade. light on the lily; or, a flower's message. a rose without a thorn. a chip of the old block. +by r.m. ballantyne. with illustrations. extra crown vo. s.+ "the fathers, mothers, guardians, uncles, and aunts who wish to find an acceptable present for a healthy-minded boy cannot possibly go wrong if they buy a book with mr. ballantyne's name on the title-page."--_academy_. the walrus hunters: a tale of esquimaux land. +crown vo. with illustrations. s. d. each.+ the hot swamp: a romance of old albion. the buffalo runners: a tale of the red river plains. charlie to the rescue! a tale of the sea and the rockies. blown to bits; or, the lonely man of rakata. a tale of the malay archipelago. blue lights; or, hot work in the soudan. the fugitives; or, the tyrant queen of madagascar. red rooney; or, the last of the crew. the rover of the andes: a tale of adventure in south america. the young trawler: a story of life and death and rescue in the north sea. dusty diamonds, cut and polished: a tale of arab city life. the battery and the boiler; or, adventures in the laying of submarine electric cables. the giant of the north; or, pokings round the pole. the lonely island; or, the refuge of the mutineers. post haste: a tale of her majesty's mails. in the track of the troops: a tale of modern war. the settler and the savage: a tale of peace and war in south africa. under the waves; or, diving in deep waters. rivers of ice: a tale illustrative of alpine adventure and glacier action. the pirate city: an algerine tale. black ivory: a tale of adventure among the slavers of east africa. the norsemen in the west; or, america before columbus. the iron horse; or, life on the line. the floating light of the goodwin sands. erling the bold: a tale of the norse sea-kings. mr. r.m. ballantyne's books--continued. the golden dream: a tale of the diggings. deep down: a tale of the cornish mines. fighting the flames: a tale of the london fire-brigade. shifting winds: a tough yarn. the lighthouse; or, the story of a great fight between man and the sea. the lifeboat: a tale of our coast heroes. gascoyne, the sandalwood trader. the wild man of the west: a tale of the rocky mountains. the red eric; or, the whaler's last cruise. freaks on the fells: and why i did not become a sailor? * * * * * +with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. each.+ hunted and harried. a coxswain's bride; or, the rising tide. and other tales. the garret and the garden; or, low life high up: and jeff benson; or, the young coastguardsman. the crew of the water-wagtail. the middy and the moors. life in the red brigade. a fiery tale. the prairie chief. a tale. the island queen; or, dethroned by fire and water. the madman and the pirate. twice bought: a tale of the oregon gold fields. my doggie and i. the red man's revenge. philosopher jack: a tale of the southern seas. six months at the cape. battles with the sea; or, heroes of the lifeboat and the rocket. crown vo. s. d. the kitten pilgrims; or, great battles and grand victories. crown vo. s. +price s. d. each.+ tales of adventure by flood, field, and mountain. tales of adventure; or, wild work in strange places. tales of adventure on the coast. +mr. r.m. ballantyne's miscellany of entertaining and instructive tales+. +with illustrations. s. each+. _also in a handsome cloth case, price s_. the "athenæum" says:--"there is no more practical way of communicating elementary information than that which has been adopted in this series. when we see contained in small pages (as in _fast in the ice_) such information as a man of fair education should possess about icebergs, northern lights, esquimaux, musk-oxen, bears, walruses, &c., together with all the ordinary incidents of an arctic voyage woven into a clear connected narrative, we must admit that a good work has been done, and that the author deserves the gratitude of those for whom the books are especially designed, and also of young people of all classes." i. fighting the whales; or, doings and dangers on a fishing cruise. ii. away in the wilderness; or, life among the red indians and fur traders of north america. iii. fast in the ice; or, adventures in the polar regions. iv. chasing the sun; or, rambles in norway. v. sunk at sea; or, the adventures of wandering will in the pacific. vi. lost in the forest; or, wandering will's adventures in south america. mr. r.m. ballantyne's miscellany--continued. vii. over the rocky mountains; or, wandering will in the land of the red skin. viii. saved by the lifeboat; or, a tale of wreck and rescue on the coast. ix. the cannibal islands; or, captain cook's adventures in the south seas. x. hunting the lions; or, the land of the negro. xi. digging for gold; or, adventures in california. xii. up in the clouds; or, balloon voyages. xiii. the battle and the breeze; or, the fights and fancies of a british tar. xiv. the pioneers: a tale of the western wilderness. xv. the story of the rock. xvi. wrecked, but not ruined. xvii. the thorogood family. xviii. the lively poll: a tale of the north sea. +by agnes giberne+. "tales that bear miss giberne's name are 'the best of the best.' no writer excels her in this department of literature."--_fireside news_. "that the story is miss giberne's guarantees refinement and christian principle."--_churchman_. * * * * * the andersons. illustrated. extra crown vo. s. d. the dalrymples. with illustrations. third edition. crown vo. s. d. with illustrations. crown vo. "least said, soonest mended." s. d. "a simple tale, well told."--_guardian_. "to say that it is by miss giberne is at once to recommend the story highly to girls."--_quiver_. "a well written and most interesting tale."--_glasgow herald_. "a well written story. the moral is conveyed in a most interesting way, and as a mere tale it will well repay perusal."--_church review_. number three winifred place. s. d. "a delightful story, and, we need hardly add--being miss giberne's--is full of the highest and most profitable religious teaching."--_record_. "a well constructed, thoroughly healthy tale."--_aberdeen free press_. "miss giberne's book is for gentler readers. it appeals very delicately to their softer sympathies, and introduces them to one young girl at least who may serve as a model or ideal to them. it is written in a pleasing sympathetic style."--_scotsman_. "the plot of the story is as ingenious as the treatment is effective, and it is told with great skill."--_yorkshire post_. ready, aye ready! s. d. "a thoroughly good and deeply interesting story."--_newcastle chronicle_. "a charming story, which displays all this well-known writer's knowledge of girls and their habits of mind."--_scotsman_. miss con; or, all those girls. s. "constance conway is a charming heroine. her diary is an admirable collection of character sketches."_--athenæum_. agnes giberne's works--continued enid's silver bond. s. "enid's nature is essentially heroic.... the other characters are cleverly sketched."--_times_. five thousand pounds. s. "youthful readers have reason to thank miss giberne for having written this capital story."--_john bull_. st. austin's lodge; or, mr. berkeley and his nieces. s. "a very good example of the author's well-known style. it is carefully written, and is in all respects a conscientious performance."--_academy_. beryl and pearl. s. "characterised by unflagging vivacity and great dramatic power."-_christian leader_. "one of miss giberne's most delightful tales."--_record_. decima's promise. s. d. "one of the best and soundest books we have seen."--_public opinion_. "the result of a disaster, decima's distress, and the behaviour of the parents, are touchingly told, and the whole case of conscience is admirably, managed."--_guardian_. daisy of old meadow. s. "there are few boys or girls to whom this story will not prove interesting reading."--_court circular_. kathleen. s. "worthy of high praise, thoroughly good and very interesting."--_church bells_. "a fascinating tale."--_record_. old umbrellas; or, clarrie and her mother. s. "the book is bright and lively, and will be read with pleasure and profit."--_christian_. miles murchison. illustrated. small crown vo. s. d. by dr. macaulay. strange yet true. with many illustrations. extra crown vo. s. * * * * * by s.m.s. clarke (mrs. pereira). baron and squire. a story of the thirty years' war. from the german of n. noeldechen. with sixteen illustrations. extra crown vo. s. the duke's page; or, "in the days of luther." a story for boys. from the german. sixteen illustrations. extra crown vo. s. "a spirited and attractive narrative."--_literary churchman_. "a capital story for boys."--_guardian_. "this is one of the most fascinating historical tales we have ever read."--_british weekly_. "throughout incident succeeds incident, and the interest never flags until the end is reached."--_public opinion_. "a very good story.... of sterling value."--_spectator_. the trivial round; or, chapters of village life. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "a book that will interest and refresh dwellers in cities with this glimpse of a life in many respects different from their own."--_academy_. "these scenes from village life will be a source of pleasure to very many readers. the story is ably worked out and pleasantly told."--_john bull_. * * * * * by rev. j. reid howatt. the children's pew. extra crown vo. s. the children's pulpit. a year's sermons and parables for the young. extra crown vo. s. "the subjects are well selected; the style is always simple and forcible; and the lessons which the preacher desires to impress upon the mind are such as every youthful reader may appreciate. the sermons have another merit--that of brevity."--_scotsman_. "simple, suggestive, and singularly happy in illustration and treatment."--_word and work_. ^ the children's angel. a volume of sermons to children. crown vo. s. d. "fifty-three brief addresses to children. direct, as such things should be; clear, as they must always be; and interesting, as, if any good is to be done, they are bound to be--they contain a collection of truths which children ought to be taught, and the teacher is always bright and clear, which is saying a great deal."--_church bells_. "these sermonettes are eminently practical, while their homely style and freedom from cant are delightful."--_christian commonwealth_. by lady kennett-barrington. bible history for children. with a short history of christianity after the days of the apostles. with illustrations. small crown vo. s. d. "this book is eminently adapted for children's capabilities, and has the great advantage of keeping as nearly as possible to bible language. it is an excellent little book."--_christian commonwealth_. "a little work that will commend itself to all who have to do with the religious training of the young."--_church bells_. "the work is well and carefully done, the main current of the bible story being rendered with point and brevity in the very spirit of the scriptures."--_school board chronicle_. by william charles metcalfe. steady your helm; or, stowed away. with six illustrations. extra crown vo. s. aboveboard. a tale of adventure on the sea. with six illustrations. extra crown vo. s. "this is a delightfully exciting tale of the adventures of two sailor lads, with icebergs, pirates, and similar horrors of the sea. its chief defect is that it leaves off too soon, even at the end of more than pages."--_pall mall gazette._ "this story of a cruise is about as full of adventures as it can well be. there is plenty of 'go' in the narrative, and the incidents succeed each other with a very plausible probability."--_spectator_. "it is a long time since we have read anything racier, breezier, more healthful and invigorating than mr. metcalfe's fine sea story."--_methodist recorder._ frank weatherall; or, life in the merchant marine. a sea story for youth. illustrated. small crown vo. s. by mrs. saxby. tom and his crows. illustrated. crown vo. s. d. viking boys. with four illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "wholesome and manly in tone, the book is thoroughly fresh and natural." --_morning post_. "we prophesy that the tale of the viking boys and their wild deeds will become as popular as 'the lads of lunda,' and all the other stories with which mrs. saxby has delighted us."--_athenæum_. the lads of lunda. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "a perfect book for boys--generous, wholesome, manly in tone, and withal thoroughly young, fresh, and natural. we recommend the book heartily, not only to all boys, but to everybody who knows and likes brave boys."-_guardian_. "a capital book. the tales are full of fun and pathos."--_athenæum_. the yarl's yacht. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "'the yarl's yacht' is even superior in interest to its predecessor."-_standard_. "mrs. saxby knows young people as few know them, and they will in return thoroughly appreciate her. as long as she writes such genuine, refreshing, happy family stories for them, they certainly will be most fortunate."--_spectator_. "'the yarl's yacht' is a delightful sequel to the 'lads of lunda.'"--_times_. the home of a naturalist. by jessie m.e. saxby and the rev. biot edmonston. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "we would fain linger long over the scenes which this excellent volume brings up before us. the authors have put together a very refreshing set of memories."--_saturday review_. * * * * * by eva travers evered poole. lotta's life mistake. with illustrations. crown vo. s. golden links in a life chain. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "good-night" thoughts about god; or, evening readings for the young. small crown vo. s. d. * * * * * by barley dale. a tale of oughts and crosses; or, mr. holland's conquest. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. spoilt guy. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "a pretty tale, and contains excellent religious teaching."--_church, sunday-school magazine._ cissy's troubles. with illustrations. small crown vo. s. d. "a very charming story."--_yorkshire post_. "the book will be a favourite with young people, especially with our girls."--_family churchman_. little bricks. with illustrations. small crown vo. s. d. "the story is fascinating from the interest which is excited and maintained it is written with power and insight."--_courant_. by ellen l. davis. high and lowly: a story of hearts and homes. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. yoked together: a tale of three sisters. with illustrations. crown vo. s. "a quiet domestic story of deep interest-, with several striking situations, described with considerable power."--_leeds mercury_. a boy's will. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "the book is full of life and character, and would be a fitting gift alike to the sunday-school teacher and the scholar."--_british messenger_. by the rev. george everard, m.a. your sundays: fifty-two short readings. especially intended for schoolboys. crown vo. s. d. "your innings:" a book for schoolboys. sixth thousand. crown vo. s. d. edie's letter; or, talks with the little folks. to. s. d. by miss havergal. streamlets of song for the young. crown vo. s. d. morning bells. being waking thoughts for the little ones. royal mo, d.; paper cover, d. little pillows. being good night thoughts for the little ones. mo, d.; paper cover, d. morning stars; or, names of christ for his little ones. mo. d. the four happy days. mo. s. ben brightboots, and other true stories. crown vo. s. bruey. a little worker for christ. crown vo. s. d.; paper cover, s. memorials of little nony. a biography of nony heywood, who was the first collector for the bruey branch of the irish society. by her mother. with preface by miss havergal, and a portrait. crown vo. s. d. by the rev. j.b. macduff, d.d. parables of the lake; or, the seven stories of jesus by the lake of galilee. a sunday book for young readers. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. the story of a shell. a romance of the sea: with some sea teachings. a book for boys and girls. with coloured frontispiece and other illustrations. small to. s. cheaper edition, paper cover, s.; limp cloth, s. the story of bethlehem. a book for children. with illustrations by thomas. crown vo. s. d. hosannas of the children. with illustrations. crown vo. s. the woodcutter of lebanon. a story illustrative of a jewish institution. mo. s. tales of the warrior judges. fcap. vo. s. d. the cities of refuge; or, the name of jesus. a sunday book for the young. mo. s. d. fergus morton. a tale of a scottish boy. mo. d. the exiles of lucerna; or, the sufferings of the waldenses during the persecution of . crown vo. s. d. the footsteps of st. paul. being a life of the apostle designed for youth. with illustrations. crown vo. s. brighter than the sun; or, christ the light of the world. a life of our lord for the young. with illustrations by a. rowan. post to. s. d.; in paper cover, s.; limp cloth, s. willows by the watercourses; or, god's promises to the young. mo. d.; paper cover, d. by rev. j. jackson wray. old crusty's niece. crown vo. s. d. will it lift? a story of a london fog. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. jack horner the second. with illustrations. cr. vo. s; simon holmes, the carpenter if aspendale. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. the secret of the mere; or, under the surface. crown vo. s. d. garton rowley; or, leaves from the log of a master mariner. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. honest john stallibrass. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. the chronicles of capstan cabin. crown vo. s. d. matthew mellowdew. with frontispiece. crown vo. s. d. nestleton magna. crown vo. s. d. peter pengelly. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. paul meggitt's delusion. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. a man every inch of him. crown vo. s. d. _the "knapsack" series_. with frontispiece. small crown vo. s. each. . the man with the knapsack; or, the miller o burnham lee. . widow winpenny's watchword. . primrose garth. . "a song o' sixpence" for the bairns. . geoffrey hallam; or, the clerk of the parish. by mrs. barbour. the way home, and how the children reached it by a railway accident. with illustrations. eighteenth thousand. mo. s. d. limp; s. d. boards. the irish orphan in a scottish home. a sequel to "the way home." mo. s. limp; s. d. boards. the child of the kingdom. twenty-second thousand. with illustrations. mo. s. limp; s. d. boards. the soul-gatherer. seventeenth thousand. mo. s. limp; cloth gilt, s. d. * * * * * by mrs. haycraft. sunwood glory; or, through the refiner's fire. with four illustrations. crown vo. s. d. * * * * * by esm� stuart. a brave fight, and other stokies. with four illustrations. crown vo. s. d. * * * * * by edith ralph. step by step through the bible. part i. a scripture history for little children. with a preface by cunningham geikie, d.d., ll.d., and twelve illustrations. crown vo. s. d. part ii. from death of joshua to end of the old testament. a scripture history for little children. revised and recommended by cunningham geikie, d.d., ll.d. twelve illustrations. crown vo. s. d. mrs. lester's girls and their service. by the author of "miss marston's girls and their confirmation." with frontispiece. crown vo. s. d. "a good book for young servants, or for reading at a sewing-class attended by young women. its tone and teaching are all we could wish."--_record_.. "its evident truthfulness and fidelity to nature make us think that it is founded upon much experience of young girls in the working class. to such it would, no doubt, be exceedingly interesting."--_literary churchman_. miss marston's girls and their confirmation. with frontispiece. crown vo. s. * * * * * by the rev. david macewan, d.d. this year. anniversary addresses for the young. second edition. square mo. s. by the rev. james wells, m.a. bible object-lessons. addresses to children. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. bible echoes: addresses to the young. crown vo. s. d. the parables of jesus. with illustrations. crown vo. s. bible children. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. bible images. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "mr. wells has in these volumes been content to restrict himself to an endeavour to win and instruct the young. he has done this with admirable skill, with great transparency of meaning, vividness of treatment and nicety of discrimination, combined with a befitting freedom and an impressive earnestness."--_literary world_. "mr. wells contrives by a studied plainness of diction, by the simplicity and directness of his style, by his evident earnestness and kindliness, and a wealth of illustrative anecdotes, to minimise the difficulties which children have to encounter in grasping new and especially abstract ideas."--_scotsman_. by lady dunboyne. breaking of the clouds. crown vo. illustrated. s. charity. a tale. with illustrations. crown vo. s. her life's work. a tale. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "the story, which is pleasantly and touchingly told, is thoroughly suitable for a gift-book for girls of the upper classes."--_guardian_. * * * * * by the rev. j.h. wilson. the king's message. a book for the young. with illustrations. small crown vo. s. d. "the union of solid teaching and fervent appeal with a cheerful outlook on life we have seldom, if ever, seen more happily exemplified. dr. wilson's book is as winsome as it is wise, thoroughly human in its spirit and robust in its tone and teaching."--_christian leader_. "no better book than this very thoughtful, clearly and beautifully written and tastefully illustrated volume, could be put into the hands of the young."--_aberdeen free press_. the gospel and its fruits. a book for the young. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "exceedingly plain, practical, and pointed, full of striking and ingenious illustrations."--_aberdeen journal_. our father in heaven: the lord's prayer familiarly explained and illustrated for the young. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. "dr. wilson graduated long since as a prophet of god who has a voice for the young. his explanation of the lord's prayer has made him a dear friend to many a parent as well as child."--_presbyterian churchman_. "dr. wilson's addresses are admirable specimens of what productions of the kind should be, pithy, pointed, and practical, and abounding in anecdotes and illustrations."--_congregational review_. by l.t. meade. a london baby: the story of king roy. with illustrations. crown vo. s. "very touching and sad, though the end is happy."--_athenæum_. the children's pilgrimage. with illustrations. small crown vo, s.; gilt edges, s. d. "displays vivid conception of character, and clear, graphic description. the story is full of incident and adventure."--_literary churchman_. * * * * * by mrs. winscom. dear old england. a description of our fatherland. dedicated to all english children. crown vo. s. d. "english children will find much that is well worth knowing, and well told, in this copiously illustrated volume."--_christian world_. * * * * * by the rev. w.w. tulloch, b.d. the story of the life of the emperor william. told for boys and girls all over the world. with frontispiece. crown vo, s. d.; with gilt edges, s. d. revised by the queen. the story of the life of the prince consort. told for boys and girls. crown vo, s. d.; with gilt edges, s. d. the story of the life of queen victoria. told for boys and girls all over the world. with two portraits. crown vo, s. d.; with gilt edges, s. d. the "chimes" series. _crown vo. numerous illustrations. s. d. each._ by mrs. marshall. . silver chimes; or, olive. . daphne's decision; or, which shall it be. . cassandra's casket. . poppies and pansies. . rex and regina; or, the song of the river. . stories of the cathedral cities of england. . dewdrops and diamonds. . heather and harebell. . the roses of ringwood. a story for children. . in the purple. the "laurel" series. _crown vo. numerous illustrations. s. d. each_. . tom and his crows. by mrs. saxby, author of "viking boys," &c. . watch and watch. by w.c. metcalfe, author of "frank weatherall." . winning his laurels; or, the boys of st. raglan's. by f.m. holmes. . that aggravating schoolgirl. by grace stebbing. . what a man soweth. by grace stebbing. . dulcibel's day dreams; or, the grand, sweet song. by mrs. marshall. . the lads of lunda. by jessie m.e. saxby. . the yarl's yacht. by jessie m.e. saxby. . a new exodus; or, the exiles of the zillerthal. a story of the protestants of the tyrol. by catherine ray. . grace murray. a story. by ella stone. . mr. orde's grandchildren. by cecilia selby lowndes. . where the dew falls in london. by sarah doudney. the "sunshine" series. _crown vo. numerous illustrations. s. each_. . the breaking of the clouds. by lady dunboyne, author of "charity," &c. &c. . through shadow to sunshine. by mrs. hornibrook. . a summer in the life of two little children. by mrs. howard. . oliver's old pictures; or, the magic circle. by mrs. marshall. . ruby and pearl; or, the children at castle aylmer. by mrs. marshall. . lady temple's grandchildren. by miss everett green. . a london baby: the story of king roy. by l.t. meade. . hidden homes; or, the children's discoveries. by m.a. paull ripley. . an unwilling witness. by miss lyster. . our neighbour, widow yates. by grace stebbing. . bible plants and animals. containing illustrations of over passages of scripture from the works of travellers and other sources. by alfred e. knight. * * * * * the "marbeck" series. _crown vo. numerous illustrations. s. d. each_ . the story of john marbeck: a windsor organist of years ago. by mrs. marshall. . my grandmother's pictures. by mrs. marshall. . the old violin; or, charity hope's own story. by edith c. kenyon. . a boy's will. by ellen l. davis. . spoilt guy. by darley dale. . high and lowly: a tale of hearts and homes. by ellen l. davis. . peter pengelly. by rev. jackson wray. . nellie graham; or, the story of a commonplace woman. by ella stone. the "sweetbriar" series. _a new series of volumes. with illustrations. extra crown vo. s. d. each._ work, wait, win. by ruth lamb. the andersons. by miss giberne, author of "the dalrymples," &c. sweetbriar; or, doings in priorsthorpe magna. by agnes giberne. coulying castle; or, a knight of the olden days. by agnes giberne. aim�e: a tale of the days of james the second. by agnes giberne. lilla thorne's voyage; or, "that far remembrancer." by grace stebbing. * * * * * the "roundabout" series. _extra crown vo. s. d. each._ the right road. a manual for parents and teachers. by j. kramer. through bible lands. notes of travel in egypt, the desert, and palestine. profusely illustrated. by philip schaff, d.d., and an essay on egyptology and the bible, by edouard naville. * * * * * bible history for the young. +"the word" series.+ by susan and anna warner, authors of "the wide, wide world," "queechy," &c. _with illustrations, plain and coloured. crown vo. s. d. each_. the aim of this series of volumes is so to set forth the bible incidents and course of history, with its train of actors, as to see them in the circumstances and colouring, the light and shade, of their actual existence. the volumes embody, as far as possible, all the known facts, natural, social, and historical, which are required for the illustration and elucidation of the bible narrative. . walks from eden: the scripture story from the creation to the death of abraham. . the house of israel: the scripture story from the birth of isaac to the death of jacob. . the kingdom of judah: the scripture story from the death of solomon to the captivity. . the broken walls of jerusalem and the rebuilding of them. in continuation of "the house of israel" and "the kingdom of judah," and completing the work. . the star out of jacob: the scripture story illustrating the earlier portion of the gospel narrative. "these five books form a most comprehensive and attractive commentary on the scriptures suited to the requirements of the young. more real knowledge in true child language, and within the understanding of children, it has never been our privilege to meet with before. we are disposed to envy those young friends who are fortunate enough to number them among their literary possessions, for although pre-eminently children's books, they are yet well able to impart instruction to children of a larger growth."--_rock_. "there is a pleasant freshness and reality conveyed to the old, well-worn stories, which will make children understand the details of eastern life and the manners and customs of the old pastoral times. 'the word' series will be a charming gift to young people."--_athenæum_. "we doubt whether any one has ever told 'the old, old story' more attractively, for children at least, than the author of 'the wide, wide world.' whatever fame she may have won by her works of fiction will be greatly increased by her success in writing these marvellous stories."--_christian world_. the golden ladder series. _with illustrations. handsomely bound in cloth, gilt edges. crown vo. s. d. each_. "children welcome with glee the volumes comprised in nisbet's 'golden ladder series,' for they are full of interest, even though they are stories with a moral, which is always a high-toned one."--_liverpool courier_. "'the golden ladder series' of story-books, so much appreciated for their excellence. they can be all safely recommended to the notice of teachers as being especially suitable as rewards, while no school library can be said to be complete without a selection from them."--_schoolmaster_. . the golden ladder: stories illustrative of the beatitudes. by susan and anna b. warner. . the wide, wide world. by susan warner. . queechy. by susan warner. . melbourne house. by susan warner. . daisy. by susan warner. . daisy in the field. by susan warner. . the old helmet. by susan warner. . nettie's mission: stories illustrative of the lord's prayer. by julia mathews. . glen luna; or, dollars and cents. by anna b. warner. . drayton hall. stories illustrative of the beatitudes. by julia mathews. . within and without: a new england story. . vinegar hill stories: illustrative of the parable of the sower. by anna b. warner. . little sunbeams. by joanna mathews. . what she could and opportunities. by susan warner. . trading and the house in town. . dare to do right. by julia mathews. the golden ladder series-continued. . holden with the cords. by the author of "within and without." . giving honour: containing "the little camp on eagle hill" and "willow brook." by susan warner. . giving service: containing "sceptres and crowns" and "the flag of truce." by susan warner. . giving trust: containing "bread and oranges" and "the rapids of niagara." by susan warner. *** _the tales in the last three volumes are illustrative of the_ lord's prayer. . wych hazel. a tale. by susan and anna warner. . the gold of chickaree. a sequel to "wych hazel." by susan and anna b. warner. . diana. by susan warner. . my desire. by susan warner. . the end of a coil. by susan warner. . the letter of credit. by susan warner. . nobody. by susan warner. . stephen, m.d. by susan warner. . a red wallflower. by susan warner. . daisy plains. by susan warner. . cross corners. by anna b. warner. . mistress matchett's mistake. by emma marshall. . yours and mine. by anna b. warner. . one little vein of dross. by mrs. ruth lamb. . oak bend; or, patience and her schooling. by anna b. warner. . a candle in the sea; or, winter at seal's head. a book about lighthouses. by rev. e.a. rand. the "golden silence" series of tales. _with illustrations. small crown vo. attractively bound in cloth. s. d. each_. golden silence; or, annals of the birkett family of crawford-under-wold. by mrs. marshall. the story of our english bible and what it cost. by mrs. bayly. stepping heavenward. by mrs. prentiss. what katy did. by susan coolidge. morag: a tale of highland life. by mrs. milne rae, author of "rinaultrie," "geordy's tryst," &c. aunt jane's hero; or, sorrow and sunshine. by mrs. prentiss. maggie and bessie, and their way to do good. by joanna h. mathews. bessie at school. by joanna h. mathews. bessie and her friends. by joanna h. mathews. bessie in the mountains. by joanna h. mathews. bessie at the seaside. by joanna h. mathews. bessie on her travels. by joanna h. mathews. the three little spades. by anna b. warner. when i was young. by mrs. marshall. the home at greylock. by mrs. prentiss. michael's treasures; or, choice silver. by mrs. marshall. cissy's troubles. by darley dale. little bricks. by darley dale. effie's friends; or, chronicles of the woods and shore. matthew frost, carrier; or, little snowdrop's mission. by mrs. marshall. my lady bountiful. by mrs. marshall. a tale of two old songs. by lady dunboyne. esther's journal. a tale of swiss pension life. by a resident. three paths in life. a tale for girls. stellafont abbey; or, "nothing new." by emma marshall. a sunbeam's influence; or, eight years after. by lady dunboyne. susy's sacrifice. kenneth forbes. the children of blackberry hollow. the safe compass, and how it points. by rev. r. newton, d.d. me. rutherford's children. theresa's journal. gran. by e.a.b.d. pat's inheritance. by mrs. marshall. in the mist. a tale. by ross porter. the other house. a tale. by mary r. higham. nature's gentleman. by mrs. marshall. the bride's home. by mrs. marshall. miles murchison. by miss giberne. house in town. by the author of "the wide, wide world." trading. by the author of "the wide, wide world." sequel to above. * * * * * _bound in paper covers. s._ aunt jane's hero. by mrs. prentiss. stepping heavenward. by mrs. prentiss. what katie did. by susan coolidge. morag. a tale of highland life. by mrs. milne rab. "dolly's charge" series. _with illustrations. small crown vo. s. each._. . dolly's charge. by miss marshall. . the little peat-cutters; or, the song of love. by mrs. marshall. . primrose; or, the bells of old effingham. by mrs. marshall. . the boy guardian. by c.e. bowen. . gentleman jim. by mrs. prentiss. . our laddie. by miss l.j. tomlinson. . violet in the shade. by mrs. marshall. . light on the lily. by mrs. marshall. . a rose without a thorn. by mrs. marshall. . alice's pupil. by miss m'clintock. . heathercliffe; or, it's no concern of mine. by mrs. marshall. . adventures of johnny pascoe. by g. norway. . miss brown's basket. by mrs. henry charles. . lotta's life mistake. by mrs. evered poole. . the princesses of penruth. by mary h. debenham. . see for yourself. by grace stebbing. . sunday occupations for children. by mrs. barclay. . parson's green. by g. norway. . helen; or, temper and its consequences. . the captain's story; or, the disobedient son. . china and its people. by a missionary's wife. . frank gordon, by f.r. goulding; and little jack, by anna warner. . to-day and yesterday. a story of summer and winter holidays. by mrs. marshall. . both sides. by jessie w. smith. . stephen gilmore's dream; or, coals of fire. by jessie w. smith. . judith the stranger. by the hon. gertrude boscawen. . the gate in park lane. by the hon. gertrude boscawen. . simple lessons from nature. by the hon. m.c. leigh. . the spoilt twins. by emily dibdin. . ben brightboots, and other true stories. havergal. . sam's mission. by beatrice marshall, author of "dolly's charge," &c. . katie: a daughter of the king. nisbet's juvenile library. _with illustrations. mo. s. d. each_. "capital books, well printed, tastefully bound, and containing a good deal of letterpress. we do not know a cheaper series at the price."--_sunday school chronicle_. lilies of the valley. herbert percy. passing clouds. warfare and work. evelyn grey. the christmas stocking. sowing in tears and reaping in joy. silver sands. the knots tom gillies tied and untied. * * * * * the select series of books suitable for presents and prizes. _with illustrations. small crown vo. s. d. each_. the mountains of the bible: their scenes and their lessons. by the rev. john macfarlane, ll.d. life: a series of illustrations of the divine wisdom in the forms, structures, and instincts of animals. by p.h. gosse, f.r.s. land and sea. by p.h. gosse, f.r.s. the romance of natural history. by p.h. gosse, f.r.s. two vols. tales from alsace; or, scenes and portraits from life in the days of the reformation. byeways in palestine. by james finn, m.r.a.s. the "pilgrim" series. popular editions of standard books. _small crown vo, numerous illustrations, s. each; with gilt edges, s. d. each_. * * * * * . bunyan's pilgrim's progress. . bunyan's holy war. . foxe's book of martyrs. . the throne of david: from the consecration of the shepherd of bethlehem to the rebellion of prince absalom. by the rev. j.h. ingraham, ll.d. . the prince of the house of david; or, three years in the holy city. by the rev. j.h. ingraham, ll.d. . the pillar of fire; or, israel in bondage. by the rev. j.h. ingraham, ll.d. . ben-hur; or, the days of the messiah. by lew wallace. . the lamplighter. by m. cumins. . uncle tom's cabin. by mrs. h. stowe. . robinson crusoe. . my desire. by susan warner. . nobody. by susan warner. . the fairchild family. by mrs. sherwood. . the swiss family robinson. . derry. a tale of the revolution. by charlotte elizabeth. . romance of natural history. by p.h. gosse. . great men: a series of lectures. by the late rev. frederic myers, m.a. . too late for the tide-mill. by rev. e.a. rand. . little women. by l.m. alcott. . drayton hall. by julia mathews. the "pilgrim" series-continued. . the end of a coil. by susan warner. . glen luna. by anna warner. . diana. by susan warner. . stephen, m.d. by susan warner. . melbourne house. by susan warner. . bible warnings. by rev. dr. newton. . the physician's daughter. . the wide, wide world. by susan warner. . daisy. by susan warner. . daisy in the field. by susan warner. . nor'ard of the dogger. by e.j. mather. . a dream of the north sea. by j. runciman. . scripture animals. by rev. dr. newton. . queechy. by susan warner. . dare to do right. by julia mathews. . nettie's mission. by julia mathews. . wandering homes and their influences. . frank weatherall. by w.c. metcalfe, author of "above board," &c. . short lives of men with a mission: charles kingsley, lord lawrence, henry m. stanley. with portraits. . expelled. by the author of "dorrincourt." . yoked together. by ellen davis. . bessie harrington's venture. by julia mathews. . opening of a chestnut burr. by e.p. roe. . st. elmo. by a.j.e. wilson. . the children's pilgrimage. by l.t. mead. . romance of natural history. second series. by p.h. gosse. london: james nisbet & co., berners street, w. select list of books devotional and practical published by james nisbet & co. * * * * * +the christian under review+. a series of works on practical christian life small crown vo. the christian's influence. by the ven. william macdonald sinclair, d.d., archdeacon of london. s. the christian's start. by the very rev. the dean of norwich. s. the moral culture of the christian. by the rev. james mccann, d.d. s. the pathway of victory. by the rev. robert b. girdlestone, m.a., hon. canon of christ church, and late principal of wycliffe hall, oxford. s. the christian's recreations. by the rev. henry sutton, m.a., vicar of holy trinity, bordesley. s. the christian's progress. by the ven. g.r. wynne, d.d., archdeacon of aghadoe. s. the christian's duties and responsibilities. by the very rev. the dean of norwich. s. the christian's aims. by the rev. alfred pearson, m.a., incumbent of st. margaret's church, brighton. s. the intellectual culture of the christian. by the rev. james mccann, d.d. s. the christian's privileges. by the rev. w.j. deane, m.a. s. the christian's inheritance. by the rev. c.a. goodhart, m.a., incumbent of st. barnabas', highfield, sheffield. s. "simple and forcible as these books are in their teaching, and brief in extent, they deserve the attention of those who direct the religious teaching of the young."--_scotsman_. "we dipped into these pages alike with pleasure and profit. the writers, each on his own theme, seem steadfastly to keep in view scriptural teaching, sound doctrine, and the trials and temptations which beset the daily life and walk of the believer."--_word and work_. "how completely they cover the field of christian needs is sufficiently indicated by their titles. they are well fitted to stimulate the piety and clear the views of those holding the doctrines of the church of england."-_liverpool mercury._ by h. bonar, d.d. god's way of peace. a book for the anxious. mo, s. d. cheap edition, paper cover, d.; cloth, d. large type edition, crown vo, s. god's way of holiness. mo, s. d. cheap edition, paper cover, d.; cloth, d. large type edition, crown vo, s. by matthew henry. exposition of the old and new testaments; with practical remarks and observations--in nine volumes. imp. vo, £ , s. _net._ in six volumes. medium vo, £ , s. d. _net_. by lady catharine long. heavenly thoughts for morning and evening hours. selections in prose and verse, with passages from scripture. with a short introduction, mo., cloth, s. d.; silk, s. d, each. by harriet e. colvile. the way she trod. a study. just published. small crown vo, s. d. "'the way she trod' is a study of the development of religious sentiment and belief in a girl's character."--_scotsman._ "she is triplice, which, being interpreted, means threefold.... her life-history, under these various phases, is ingeniously set forth."--_glasgow herald._ "an admirably written book for young women, who will be attracted by the interesting story, telling how triplice was led by a way she knew not' until she finds rest and joy in god."--_the christian_. "a good book for distribution among girls of the upper classes."--_record_. flower voices. with illustrations. demy mo, s. "a dainty little booklet, giving many sweet and useful lessons from the flowers."--_the news_. "a choice little book, in which flowers are made to typify men and women, and to whisper important lessons regarding life and duty."-_christian_. "short stories, which will both please and profit. there is life and point about them, and their association with flowers is by no means strained. we place this little book in the first class as to the quality of the writing."-_sword and trowel_. wafted seeds. with illustrations. demy mo, s. by miss marsh. the rift in the clouds. small crown vo, s. crossing the river. small crown vo, s. shining light. small crown vo, s. what might have been. a true story. crown vo, s. by rev. j. reid howatt. the children's pew. sermons to children. after hours; or, the religion of our leisure time. with appendix on how to form a library for twenty shillings. small crown vo, s. the children's pulpit. a year's sermons and parables for the young. second edition. extra crown vo, s. "it will be heartily welcomed. the subjects are well selected; the style is always simple and forcible, and the lessons which the preacher desires to impress upon the mind are such as every youthful reader may appreciate. the sermons have another merit--that of brevity. a child may read them with a good deal of pleasure, and, it need hardly be said, with much profit."--_scotsman_. "the sermonettes are simple, suggestive, and singularly happy in illustration and treatment."--_word and work_. "all these fifty-three sermons and parables are worth reading, and would seem admirable either as models for addresses to children, or for reading in the home circle."--_church bells_. "full of nature and of life, and flashing with happy illustrations. "_--christian world._ the children's angel. being a volume of sermons to children. crown vo, s. d. "brief, fresh, and often original in thought. a preacher to children will find many suggestions and ideas in these discourses."--_literary churchman_. "fifty-three brief addresses to children. direct, as such things should be; clear, as they must always be; and interesting, as, if any good is to be done, they are bound to be--they contain a collection of truths which children ought to be taught, and the teacher is always bright and clear, which is saying a great deal."--_church bells_. "one of the most beautiful and helpful books we know of for ministers and others who are called upon to address the young."--_methodist new connexion magazine._ by miss nugent. the prince in the midst. jesus our centre. mo, s. by samuel gillespie prout. never say die: a talk with old friends. mo. d.; paper cover, d. by the rev. james wells, m.a. bible object lessons. addresses to children. with illustrations. crown vo, s. d. bible echoes. addresses to the young. small crown. vo, s. d. the parables of jesus. with illustrations. small crown vo, s. bible children. studies for the young. with illustrations. small crown vo, s. d. bible images. with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. by the rev. j.h. wilson, d.d. the king's message. a book for the young. with illustrations. small crown vo, s. d. the gospel and its fruits. a book for the young with illustrations. crown vo, s. d. our father in heaven: the lord's prayer familiarly explained and illustrated for the young. with illustrations. crown vo, s. d. by edith ralph. step by step through the bible. part i from the creation to the death of joshua. a scripture history for little children. with a preface by cunningham geikie, d.d., ll.d., and twelve illustrations. crown. vo, s. d. from the preface. "miss edith ralph, in this little book, shows herself exceptionally skilful in her delicate task.... the tone and spirit of her pages seem to me admirably suited to her subject--simple, tender, gentle, wise, and full of sweet christian love, they point the little ones invitingly to heaven, and lead the way.... nor is the careful and well-informed intelligence wanting which is needed to make the first steps in bible knowledge a preparation for safe and healthy progress in it hereafter." part ii. from death of joshua to end of the old testament. a scripture history for little children. revised and recommended by cunningham geikie, d.d., ll.d. twelve illustrations. crown vo, s. d. "no sweeter, wiser, or more christian story of the scriptures could be given to a little child or read to it."--_christian commonwealth._ "just the thing for sunday afternoon,"--_word and work_. by frederick a. atkins, editor of "the young man," and hon. sec. of the national anti-gambling league. moral muscle: and how to use it. a brotherly chat with young men. with an introduction by rev. thain davidson, d.d. now ready. small crown vo, s. dr. clifford writes:--"it is full of life, throbs with energy, is rich in stimulus, and bright with hope." _the methodist times_ says:--"an excellent book for young men--manly, honest, straightforward, and full of christian earnestness." first battles, and how to fight them. just published. small crown vo, s. "an excellent book for young men. the addresses are vigorous and to the point. the work would certainly help to develop in a thoughtful reader a truer manliness than generally prevails among our young men."--_irish ecclesiastical gazette_. "another of mr. atkins' capital little books for young men."--_british weekly._ how to study the bible. by dr. clifford, m.a.; professor elmslie, d.d.; r.f. horton, m.a.; rev. f.b. meyee, b.a.; rev. c.h. waller, m.a.; rev. h.c.g. moule, m.a.; rev. c.a. berry; rev. w.j. dawson. third edition. small crown vo, s. "in this little book we have the choicest counsels of men who are themselves successful students of the word. we very earnestly commend this volume. all those who desire to know how to study the scriptures with the utmost profit should secure it at once."--_christian advocate_. "young bible students will find some very valuable hints in this little volume."--_nonconformist_. "the whole of these essays are well worthy of perusal, and are as instructive as they are interesting-."--_manchester courier_. "in this small book are comprised eight practical and, we may say, delightful essays from well-known divines and authors,"--_schoolmaster_. the question of questions: "what think ye of christ?" by samuel wainwright, d.d., incumbent of st. stephen's, clapham park. crown vo, cloth, s. d. by rev. theodore cuyler, d.d. stirring the eagle's nest, and other practical discourses. just published. extra crown vo, s. "a volume of earnest and able sermons, full of life and vigour."--_literary churchman._ "in this volume dr. cuyler is at his best.... his sermons are full of practical teaching, and cannot fail to profit the reader."--_rock_. "dr. cuyler has given us here some of his best work."--_church bells_. "this is a volume of short practical sermons, characterised by the simplicity and directness which we expect from dr. cuyler."--_christian leader_. "the discourses are vigorous expositions of simple texts."--_scotsman_ how to be a pastor. recently published. crown vo, s. "it is full of strong, cheery, sensible, hard-working christianity. it ought to have a very large circulation."--_british weekly_. "twelve chapters well worthy of the study of pastors, and calculated to stimulate all who have at heart the cause of christ."--_christian_. "in this handy little volume dr. cuyler gives wise guidance, couched in graphic and telling style."--_methodist recorder_. "we lay down this book, brimful of wholesome advice, with the earnest wish that some of our wealthy laymen would place a copy of it in the hands of each of our ministers."--_christian advocate_. by the rev. alfred pearson, m.a., incumbent of st. margaret's church, brighton. christus magister: some teachings from the sermon on the mount. just published. crown vo, s. _the bishop of bedford_ says:--"old truths are felicitously expressed and beautifully illustrated. there is much that is original and suggestive in exposition." _the dean of winchester_ says:--"a delightful volume: the chapter on 'non-resistance' pleases me especially." the christian's aims. small crown vo, s. "under mr. pearson's guidance the aims of life are considered with reference to god, to ourselves, and to our fellows. self-denial, as required of every christian, is sensibly considered in the chapter on cross-bearing. "--_guardian_. "many christians would derive benefit from reading the chapters 'on glorifying god,' 'on self-mastery,' 'on self-fulfilment,' 'on cross-bearing' and 'on tone.'"--_english churchman_. by the rev. andrew murray. small crown vo, s. d. each. the new life. words of god for disciples of christ. "this book stands out among many of its kind as distinguished by a new impulse and freshness of thought."--_scotsman_. abide in christ. thoughts on the blessed life of fellowship with the son of god. sixty-third thousand. "the varied aspects of this practical truth are treated with much freshness, power, and unction. it cannot fail to stimulate, to cheer, and to qualify for higher service."--mr. spurgeon in _the sword and trowel_. like christ. thoughts on the blessed life of conformity to the son of god. a sequel to "abide in christ." twenty-eighth thousand. "the author has written with such loving unction and spiritual insight that his pages may be read with comfort and edification by all."--_literary churchman_. with christ in the school of prayer. twenty-fifth thousand. "a volume of rare excellence, and one which is much needed."--_christian news._ holy in christ. thoughts on the calling of god's children to be holy as he is holy. tenth thousand. "this is one of the best books we have seen upon a subject which is happily attracting much attention nowadays. there is so much spurious sentimentalism abroad that we are glad to meet with a book in which this sacred theme--holiness--is dealt with so robustly and scripturally."--_methodist n.c. magazine._ the spirit of christ. thoughts on the indwelling of the holy spirit in the believer and the church. eighth thousand. "mr. murray's new work, like his former ones, will serve for the edification of those who are able to appreciate spirituality of thought, and inclined to give the attention needful to digest and profit by meditations presented in a manner more solid than lively."--_record_. small crown vo, s. d. the children for christ. thoughts for christian parents on the consecration of the home life. tenth thousand. "there is a tone of fervour and devotion pervading the book that contrasts pleasantly with the trivially inane tone some writers think fit to adopt in writing for and about children. all sunday-school teachers and parents would do well to lay its lessons to heart."--_methodist recorder_. by the rev. j. hamilton, d.d. the mount of olives, and other lectures on prayer. mo, s. a morning beside the lake of galilee, mo, s. the pearl of parables. notes on the parable of the prodigal son. mo, s. the light to the path; or, what the bible has been to others, and what it can do for ourselves. mo, s. emblems from eden. mo, s. the happy home. mo. with illustrations. s. the blessed life: how to find and live it. by n.j. hofmeyr, senior professor of the theological college of the dutch reformed church, stellenbosch, cape colony. small crown vo, s. d. "the teaching is sound throughout, and expressed in vigorous language."--_christian_. "we have seldom read a book which gives such a grasp of redemption in its purpose, as in its enjoyment by the individual, in so brief and compact a manner as the one before us. the treatment is suited only to an intelligent, if not educated, christian. to such it is calculated to give an intellectual, as well as spiritual, perception of the things which accompany salvation."--_rock_. by the rev. george matheson, d.d. moments on the mount. a series of devotional meditations. second edition. crown vo, s. d. "this little volume is not one to be read through at a sitting, and then laid aside. rather each meditation is to be pondered over, and enjoyed singly and separately, and to be dwelt upon until it becomes a permanent possession. their suggestions can hardly fail to stimulate to biblical and theological research."--_scotsman_. voices of the spirit. small crown vo, s. d. "a choice little volume of devotional meditations. it is not only devout in spirit and tender in tone, but marked by freshness of thought, which volumes of this kind too often lack."--_methodist recorder_. wisdom's house and "her seven pillars." by lady beaujolois dent. small crown vo, s. d. "an excellent little work, sound in doctrine, and thoroughly practical in its application to the reader's conscience."_--record._ +by mrs. a. russell simpson.+ friends and friendship. with illustrations. demy mo, s. "twelve beautifully written chapters on friendship. very suitable to give to young people on life's threshold. fresh and charming as a sprig of heather or a morsel of thyme."--_christian treasury_. "mrs. simpson quotes many of the finest things that have ever been said or written on her subject; and some of her own remarks are quite as good, not less full of insight, expressed with equal felicity, and having in addition a searching spiritual power."--_christian leader_. building foe god; or, houses not made with hands. with illustrations. mo, s. "a beautiful little book, rich in anecdote, allusion, and illustration."-_pall mall gazette_. "mrs. simpson's prettily got-up books of devotional reading are always deservedly popular.... as usual, the writer has shown much ingenuity in the arrangement and choice of illustrations, and much fervent devotion in her meditations and comments thereon."--_record_. steps through the stream.. morning readings for a month. square mo, s. "a very sweet, quickening, stimulating volume. we trust that the work may secure an extended sale, and be of much spiritual blessing to god's believing people."--mr. spurgeon in _the sword and trowel_. beautiful upon the mountains. evening readings for a month. square mo, s. "a series of brief readings, thoroughly devotional, earnest and simple, full of true thought, and exceedingly interesting."--_guardian_. gates and doors. square mo, s. "full of anecdote and illustration. mrs. simpson's pleasant pages are well calculated to fulfil their author's design."--_churchman_. "original and stimulating in a high degree."--_liverpool post_. wells of water. a series of chapters descriptive and practical on the wells mentioned in scripture. square mo, s. "a series of short studies, meditations, and expositions on some among the many passages of scripture which refer to wells and springs. as in the preceding volumes of a similar kind from the same pen, there is here much earnest, unquestioning piety, and a felicity in illustration that many a minister may envy."--_scotsman_. +by frances ridley havergal.+ royal grace and loyal gifts. being the following seven volumes in neat cloth case, price s. my king; or, daily thoughts for the king's children. royal commandments; or, morning thoughts for the king's servants. royal bounty; or, evening thoughts for the king's guests. the royal invitation: daily thoughts on coming to christ. loyal responses; or, daily melodies for the king's minstrels. kept for the master's use. starlight through the shadows. _the volumes may be had separately, in limp cloth, s. each_. morning bells; or, waking thoughts for the little ones. mo, d.; paper cover, d. little pillows. being good night thoughts for the little ones. mo, d.; paper cover, d. treasure trove. a selection from some of miss havergal's unpublished writings. with coloured borders. mo, d. morning stars; or, names of christ for his little ones. mo, d. +by frances bevan,+ author of "three friends of god." the river of god. crown vo, s. d. +by mrs. pearsall smith,+ author of "christian's secret of a happy life." every day religion. crown vo. the christian's secret of a happy life. by h.w.s. revised edition. small crown vo, paper cover, s. d.; cloth, s.; cloth, gilt edges, s. "full of bright and cheering thoughts."--_church bells._ "a book that is capable of doing untold good in the way of promoting a more entire surrender of the soul and consecration to the will of god."-_rock_. the threefold cords of the holy scriptures. an arrangement of upwards of twelve hundred precepts, prayers, and promises, as four hundred sacred triads. by the rev. william lee, formerly minister of holy trinity church, kennington, &c. small crown vo, s. the precious promises; or, light from beyond. by the rev. cunningham geikie, d.d. crown vo, s. d. lectures on ecclesiastical history delivered in norwich cathedral. _the following have already appeared_:-- st. ignatius and st. polycarp. by f.w. farrar, d.d., f.r.s., archdeacon of westminster, chaplain to the queen and to the house of commons. the apology of aristides. by the rev. j. armitage robinson, b.d., fellow and assistant tutor of christ's college, cambridge. the life and times of justin martyr. by the rev. frederick meyrick, m.a., rector of blickling, norfolk; non-residentiary canon of lincoln. the life and times of iren�us. by the rev. prebendary stanley leathes, d.d. other lectures will be delivered by the following:--the right rev. the lord bishop of ripon, and the rev. g.a. schneider, m.a., vice-principal of ridley hall, cambridge. by the rev. g.s. bowes, b.a. conversation: why don't we do more good by it? crown vo, s. d. scripture itself the illustrator. a manual of illustrations gathered from scriptural figures, phrases, types, derivations, chronology, texts, &c. crown vo, s, d. information and illustrations for preachers and teachers. helps gathered from facts, figures, anecdotes, and books, for sermons, lectures, and addresses. crown vo, s. illustrative gatherings for preachers and teachers. a manual of anecdotes, facts, figures, proverbs, quotations, &c. vols. crown vo, s. d. each. in prospect of sunday. a collection of analyses, arguments, applications, counsels, cautions, &c. crown vo, s. nearer heaven: a help to the deepening of the spiritual life. by the rev. john baird. crown vo, s. d. +by the rev. george everard, m.a.+ in secret. a manual of private prayer. mo, s. all through the day. a precept and meditation for every day in the month. mo, s. "in the morning." a scripture prayer and a meditation for each morning in the mouth. mo, s. "in the evening." thirty-one scripture promises, with a meditation for every evening in the month. mo, s. the shield, the sword, and the battle. crown mo, s. five stones from the brook. counsel and comfort for the people of god. small crown vo, s. links of loving kindness. words of hope and consolation for the flock of christ. small crown vo, s. d. your sundays. fifty-two short readings, especially intended for schoolboys. crown vo, s. d. the bells of st. peter's, and other papers on gospel truth. mo, s. your innings. a book for schoolboys. crown vo, s. d. his steps as traced in the great biography. crown vo, s. d. the river of life; or, salvation full and free. mo, s. strong and free. a book for young men. mo, s. bright and fair. a book for young ladies. mo, s. follow the leader. counsels on the christian life. mo, s. d. day by day; or, counsels to christians on the details of every-day life. cheap edition. mo, s. d. not your own, counsels to young christians. mo, s. little foxes: and how to catch them. mo, s. my spectacles: and what i saw with them. mo, s. beneath the cross. counsels, meditations, and prayers for communicants. mo, s. safe and happy. words of help and encouragement to young women. with prayers for daily use. mo, s. by the rev. canon bell, d.d., rector of cheltenham. the saintly calling. crown vo, s. d. living truths for head and heart. crown vo, s. d. by the rev. ernest boys, m.a. the sure foundation; or, thoughts on the believer's safety. mo, s. rest unto your souls; or, the enjoyment of peace. mo, s. filled with the spirit; or, scriptural studies about the holy ghost. mo, s. the consecrated life; or, thoughts on practical religion. mo, s. consecrated recreation; or, the christian's leisure time. mo, s. my lord's money; or, the consecration of talents. mo, s. by anna warner. the melody of the twenty-third psalm. mo, d. shoes of peace. mo, s. tired christians. mo, s. the other shore. mo, s. the fourth watch. mo, d. the light of the morning. mo, d. wayfaring hymns. original and translated. mo, d. up and down the house. royal mo, s. d. nisbet's miniature christian classics. red line editions. crown mo. uniformly bound in cloth, s. each; with gilt edges, s. d.; half bound, gilt top, s. d.; paste grain, s. d. each. . bogatzky's golden treasury. . keble's christian year. . the imitation of christ (thomas a kempis). . the poems of george herbert. . bunyan's pilgrim's progress. +by the rev. j.r. macduff, d.d.+ in christo; or, the monogram of st. paul. crown vo, s. clefts of the rock; or, the believer's grounds of confidence in christ. crown vo, s. palms of elim; or, rest and refreshment in the valley. crown vo, s. noontide at sychar; or, the story of jacob's well. with frontispiece and vignette. crown vo, s. d. eventide at bethel; or, the night dream of the desert. crown vo, s. d. the grapes of eshcol; or, gleanings from the land of promise. crown vo, s. d. sunsets on the hebrew mountains. with frontispiece. post vo, s. d. the shepherd and his flock; or, the keeper of israel and the sheep of his pasture. crown vo, s. d. memories of bethany. with frontispiece. crown vo, s. d. memories of gennesaret. with frontispiece. extra crown vo, s. memories of olivet. with frontispiece. crown vo, s. d. memories of patmos; or, some of the great words and visions of the apocalypse, with frontispiece. crown vo, s. d. cast thy burden on the lord. a scripture text-book. mo, s.; paper cover, d. strength for the day. a daily book in the words of scripture for morning and evening. with an introduction. mo, s. d. voices of the good shepherd and shadows of the great rock. square mo, s. d. the gates of prayer. a book of private devotion for morning and evening. mo, s. d. the morning and night watches and faithful promiser. in one vol. mo, s. footsteps of st. paul. being a life of the apostle designed for youth. with illustrations, crown vo, s. +by the rev. prof. lewis f. stearns+, author of "evidence of christian experience." present day theology. extra crown vo, s. d. +by the rev. henry wage, d.d.+, principal of king's college, london. the authority of holy scripture, and other sermons. extra crown vo, s. d. +by the late rev. aubrey l. moore, m.a.+ a volume of sermons. * * * * * autobiography of the late rev. donald fraser, d.d., and a selection from his sermons. with a preface by j. oswald dykes, d.d. crown vo, s. d. sunrise gleams. a series of daily readings for a month. by lady hope. mo, s. sunset rays. a companion volume to "sunrise gleams." by lady hope. mo, s. daily evening rest; or, thoughts of peace about the master. by agnes giberne. mo, s. d. the voice of jesus day by day. with original hymns. by f.m. macrae. and an introduction by hugh macmillan, d.d. small crown vo, s. abba, father. helps to prayer and meditation. by the rev. c.g. baskerville, m.a. crown vo, s. d. list of books of family prayers. by the right rev. the lord bishop of ripon. churchman's book of family prayers. printed in red and black. cloth plain, pott to, s. d. cloth gilt, burnished red edges, s. by the rev. gordon calthrop, m.a. family prayers for four weeks. imperial mo, s. d. by the rev. j. oswald dykes, d.d. daily prayers for the household for a month. crown vo, s. d. by the rev. george everard, m.a., vicar of christ church, dover. before his footstool. family prayers for one month. with prayers for special occasions, and introduction. ninth thousand. crown vo, s. by the rev. c.e. kennaway, m.a. family prayers for the mornings and evenings for a fortnight; to which are added, prayers on special occasions. mo, s. d. by the rev. j.r. macduff, d.d. morning family prayers. a volume of family worship for each morning of the year. founded on selected passages of scripture from the old and new testaments. small to. s. d. *** this volume is on a plan and arrangement of its own, in order to secure, as much as may be, variety and comprehension. family prayers. small crown vo, s. d. by m.l.m. dawson. family prayers for a month. demy vo, s. d. daily prayers for busy homes. mo, d. london: james nisbet & co., berners street, w. +works by r.m. ballantyne+. * * * * * "in his tales of the sea, of the forest and the flames, and in all that he writes, there is a fidelity to nature and a knowledge of many paths of life which are not surpassed by any author in his special field of literature."--_morning post_. _with illustrations. crown vo. s. each_. new volume. +the buffalo runners+. a tale of the red river plains. +charlie to the rescue+. a tale or the sea and the rockies. "in 'charlie to the rescue' mr. ballantyne supplies his constituency --which is now a large and well-satisfied one--with a sufficiency of battles, sieges, and escapes; the troubles of ranchmen, whose lives are threatened both by white and by black scoundrels, are admirably reproduced. it is a capital story."--_spectator_. +blown to bits+; or, the lonely man of rakata. a tale of the malay archipelago. "a capital story, written in the author's old style, and full of life and action from beginning to end."--_standard_. "the book abounds in matter of exceptional interest, and should find its way into the hands of all young people who would properly estimate the wide-spreading and far-reaching influences and the extraordinary character of the krakatoa outburst."--_manchester courier_. +blue lights+; or, hot work in the soudan. a tale of soldier life in several of its phases. "an exciting story, full of excellent moral lessons."--_school board chronicle_. "we heartily recommend 'blue lights'."--_guardian_. "the soldier's career is graphically depicted, and the story is every way a good one."--_literary churchman_. _works by r.m. ballantyne-continued. with illustrations. crown vo. s. each_. the fugitives; or, the tyrant queen of madagascar. "there is plenty of adventure in the shape of imprisonment and combats with men and animals, and a negro and a sailor between them supply a comic element of the best quality. everything considered, this is one of the best stories even mr. ballantyne has published."--_academy_. red rooney; or, the last of the crew. the rover of the andes. a tale of adventure in south america. "we commend it to boys fond of adventure and of natural phenomena; a very fascinating book."--_british quarterly review._ "an admirable boy's story."--_scotsman_. the young trawler. a story of life and death and rescue in the north sea. "few men have laboured so steadfastly in their generation to provide sound wholesome fare for 'our boys' as mr. ballantyne, and the 'young trawler' is worthy of his reputation. it is not a whit less spirited than his former tales, and conveys a large amount of useful information on a highly important subject."--_academy_. dusty diamonds, cut and polished. a tale of city-arab life. _with illustrations, crown vo. s. each_. +the battery and the boiler+; or, the electrical adventures of a telegraph cable-layer. "there is not a dull page in it."--_scotsman_. "the interest never flags."--_academy_. +the giant of the north+; or, pokings round the pole. "of variety of perilous adventures and peril, ingeniously surmounted, there is no lack."--_daily news_. +the lonely island+; or, the refuge of the mutineers. "mr. ballantyne weaves the romantic episode of the mutiny of the 'bounty' into a most effective narrative."--_graphic_. +post haste+. a tale of her majesty's mails. "the book should find a place in every boy's library; it is full of interest."--_leeds mercury_. +in the track of the troops+. a tale of modern war. "mr. ballantyne has blended with the incidents of war on the danube a story of personal adventure spiritedly told."--_daily news_. +the settler and the savage+. a tale of peace and war in south africa. "a capital story of south african life. mr. ballantyne, through the medium of a thoroughly manly and healthy tale of sport and war, frolic and danger, full of stirring yet not exaggerated scenes, presents a sketch of a very important period of the early history of our colony at the cape of good hope."--_times_. _with illustrations. crown vo. s. each_. +under the waves+; or, diving in deep waters. "mr. ballantyne enlarges the already gigantic debt due to him by the young, by his 'under the waves,' a story meant to illustrate the practice and peril of diving in deep water, which it does in not only an interesting, but often in amusing manner."--_times_. +rivers of ice+. a tale illustrative of alpine adventure and glacier action. "a tale brimful of interest and stirring adventure."--_glasgow herald_. +the pirate city+. an algerine tale. "the story is told with mr. ballantyne's usual felicity, and, as it is plentifully sprinkled with horrors, no doubt it will be greatly enjoyed by some boys."--_athenæum_. +black ivory+. a tale of adventure among the slavers of east africa. "a captivating story. we heartily recommend it."--_record_. "boys will find the book about as delightful a story of adventure as any of them could possibly desire."--_scotsman_. +the norsemen in the west+; or, america before columbus. "this thoroughly delightful book is an adaptation of the saga of iceland, and also of mr. laing's 'heimskingla; or chronicles of the kings of norway,' supplemented by mr. ballantyne's own experience and adventures in the wilderness of america. these ingredients are put together with the skill and spirit of an accomplished story-teller; and the result is a book that cannot possibly be laid down till the very last word of the last line has been read."--_athenæum_. +the iron horse+; or, life on the line. a railway tale. "a captivating book for boys."--_guardian_. +erling the bold+. a tale of the norse sea kings. "a capital tale of the norse sea kings."--_times_. "the story is interesting and full of moving incidents by flood and field, and it will therefore scarcely fail to be popular among lads."--_scotsman_. "the story is clearly designed, and abounds with elements of romantic interest; and the author's illustrations are scarcely less vigorous than his text."--_athenæum_. +fighting the flames+. a tale of the london fire brigade. "many a schoolboy will find keen enjoyment in the perusal of 'fighting the flames,' and assure his little sisters with suitable emphasis that mr. ballantyne is 'a stunning good story-teller.'"--_athenæum_. +deep down+. a tale of the cornish mines. "mr. ballantyne's book will not fail to delight boys, for it is full of deeds of daring and of 'hairbreadth escapes.'"--_scotsman_. "by reading mr. ballantyne's admirable story a very large amount of knowledge concerning cornish mines may be acquired; whilst from the fact of the information being given in the form of a connected narrative, it is not likely very soon to be forgotten.... a book well worthy of being extensively read."--_mining journal._ +the floating light of the goodwin sands+. "the tale will be especially interesting to adventure-loving boys."--_record_. +shifting winds+. a tough yarn. "a hearty, vigorous, bracing story, fresh with the pure breezes, and sparkling with the bright waters of the everlasting seas.'"--_athenæum_. +the lighthouse+. being the story of a great fight between man and the sea. _extract letter from the secretary of northern lighthouses_. " ... they (the commissioners of northern lighthouses) have been so much pleased with the way in which you have combined the fiction of a tale with the popular but correct account of the building of the bell rock lighthouse, that they think it would be an interesting work to transmit to their lightkeepers, and i have therefore to request that you will direct your publishers to transmit me--copies. (signed) alexr. cunningham." "thoroughly at home in subjects of adventure, the author has made this, like all his stories for boys, smart in style, thrilling in interest, and abounding in incidents of every kind."--_quiver_. +the lifeboat+. a tale of our coast heroes. "royal national lifeboat institution. "dear sir,--i am directed by the committee to request your acceptance of the accompanying photograph of a lifeboat proceeding off to a wreck, as a small permanent acknowledgment of the important service you have rendered to the lifeboat cause by your very interesting work entitled 'the lifeboat: a tale of our coast heroes." i remain, yours faithfully, (signed) "richard lewis, _secretary_." +the golden dream+. a tale of the diggings. +the red eric+; or, the whaler's last cruise. +gascoyne, the sandalwood trader+. a tale of the pacific. "full of cleverly and impressively drawn pictures of life and character in the pacific."--_caledonian mercury_. +freaks on the fells,+ and +why i did not become a sailor.+ * * * * * +the wild man of the west.+ _with illustrations. crown vo. s. d._ +battles with the sea;+ or, heroes of the lifeboat and the rocket. _with illustrations. crown vo. s._ +the kitten pilgrims;+ or, great battles and grand victories. "we have copied the title-page of this amusing and instructive quarto for little folks. nothing further is necessary. mr. ballantyne stands at the head of all our children's story-tellers _facile princeps_."--_churchman_. _with illustrations. crown vo. s. d. each_. new volume. +a coxswain's bride+; or, the rising tide: and other tales. +the garret and the garden+; or, low life high up: and +jeff benson+; or, the young coastguardsman. +the crew of the water-wagtail+. a story of newfoundland. +the middy and the moors+. an algerine tale. +the prairie chief+. +life in the red brigade+. a fiery tale. and fort desolation; or, solitude in the wilderness. +the island queen+; or, dethroned by fire and water. a tale of the southern hemisphere. +twice bought+. a tale of the oregon gold fields. +the madman and the pirate+. +philosopher jack+. a tale of the southern seas. +the red man's revenge+. +my doggie and i+. +six months at the cape+. letters to periwinkle from south africa. a record of personal experience and adventure. * * * * * _crown vo. price s. d. each_. +tales of adventure by flood, field, and mountain+. +tales of adventure+; or, wild work in strange places. +tales of adventure on the coast+. * * * * * london: james nisbet & co., berners street, w. the high school boys' canoe club or dick & co.'s rivals on lake pleasant by h. irving hancock contents chapters i. the "splendid" war canoe ii. "rip" tries out his bargain iii. buying fuel for a bonfire? iv. hiram pries a secret loose v. birch bark merchants vi. meeting the fate of greenhorns vii. "danny grin" is silent viii. what an expert can do ix. dick trembles at his nerve x. putting up a big scheme xi. all ready to race, but----- xii. susie discomfits a boor xiii. the ripley heir tries coaxing xiv. the liar has a lie ready xv. at the greatest of feasts xvi. a scalp-hunting disappointment xvii. the good word by wire xviii. "won't win against a mudscow" xix. what ailed gridley? xx. "dinky-rat hot sail!" xxi. nature has a dismal streak xxii. fred is grateful---one second! xxiii. trentville, the awesome xiv. conclusion chapter i the "splendid" war canoe "it's the wreck of one of the grandest enterprises ever conceived by the human mind!" complained colonel w.p. grundy, in a voice broken with emotion. a group of small boys grinned, though they offered no audible comment. "such defeats often---usually, in fact---come to those who try to educate the masses and bring popular intelligence to a higher level," was the colonel's declaration, as he wiped away a real or imaginary tear. on a nearby lot stood a large show tent, so grayed and frayed, so altogether dingy as to suggest that it had seen some summers of service ere it became briefly the property of colonel grundy. near the entrance to the tent a temporary platform had been built of the board seats taken from the interior of the tent. near the platform stood a grim-visaged deputy sheriff, conversing with an auctioneer on whose face the grin had become chronic. some distance from the tent stood a group of perhaps forty men of the town of gridley. "the whole outfit of junk won't bring five hundred dollars," predicted one of these men. "how much did you say the judgments total?" "seventeen thousand four hundred dollars," replied another. "but the man who attached the show has a claim for only six hundred and forty dollars, so he may get most of his money." here the auctioneer stopped talking with the deputy sheriff long enough to go over to the platform, pick up a bell and ring it vigorously. a few more stragglers came up, most of them boys without any money in their pockets. off at one side of the lot six boys stood by themselves, talking in low tones, casting frequent, earnest glances toward the platform. these youngsters were dick prescott, dave darrin, greg holmes, tom reade, dan dalzell and harry hazelton. collectively they were known in the boydom of gridley as dick & co. our readers are already familiar with every one of these lads, having first been introduced to them in the "_grammar school boys series_," with its four volumes, "_the grammar school boys of gridley_," "_the grammar school boys snowbound_," "_the grammar school boys in the woods_" and "_the grammar school boys in summer athletics_." the varied and stirring exploits of dick & co., as told in these books, stamped the six chums as american boys of the best sort. then, in "_the high school freshmen_," the first volume of the "_high school boys series_," our readers went further into the history of dick & co., and saw how even freshmen may impress their personalities on the life and sports of a high school. the pranks, the fights, the victories and achievements of that first year in high school had done much to shape the characters and mould the minds of all six of our boys. the present narrative deals with all that happened in the vacation after dick prescott and his friends had finished their freshman year. the summer now lay before them for whatever might come to them in the way of work and pleasure. though none of the six yet knew it, the summer was destined to bring to them the fullest measure of wonder and excitement. and now let us get back to dick & co., that we may see just what befell them. "pshaw! there comes fred ripley," exclaimed harry hazelton. "and he probably has a few ten dollar bills in his pockets," remarked greg holmes, rather enviously. "he will buy something." fred ripley, as readers of "the high school freshmen" remember, was the son of a wealthy local lawyer, and a bitter enemy to dick prescott and his friends. "fred just came here to buy something and then look at us with his superior smile," grunted hazelton. "what do you say if we all walk away before the bidding begins?" "then rip would grin," returned tom reade. "he'd know just why we went away. i came here to see what's going to happen, and i won't be chased away from here by fred ripley." "let's see if fred can have any real fun with us," proposed dick, with a quiet smile. "he can have fun enough with us, if he guesses why we are really here," dave darrin uttered resentfully. "ripley seems to think that money is made and supplied to him just in order that he may rub gall and wormwood into those whom he doesn't like!" fred kept well away from dick & co., though the six boys saw that he occasionally sent a covert look in their direction. "time to begin," said the deputy sheriff, after glancing at his watch. up to the platform jumped the auctioneer, bell in hand. holding it with both hands he again rang vigorously for a full minute. the net result was to bring one shabby-looking man, two grammar school boys without a cent of money, and three children of not over four years of age into the lot. "ladies and gentlemen," began the auctioneer, in his glib tones, "we are presenting to-day a most unusual opportunity. prizes will be distributed to many enterprising people of gridley, though these prizes are all so valuable that i trust none of them will go for the traditional 'song.' it is seldom, indeed, in any community, however favored it may be in general, that such a diversified lot of excellent things is put under the hammer for purchase by discriminating buyers! as you all know, colonel w.p. grundy's great & colossal indian exposition & aboriginal life delineations has met with one of the too-common disasters of the road. this great show enterprise must now be sold out in its entirety." after an impressive pause, the silence was broken by a sob. those in the crowd who were curious enough to turn, beheld the colonel with a handkerchief to his eyes, his shoulders heaving. somehow the colonel's noisy grief failed to excite the sympathy of those assembled. it was suspected that the wrecked showman was playing for sympathy. "such a wealth of treasures is here offered," continued the auctioneer, "that for the first time in my career i confess myself unable to decide which article or lot to lay before you first." "you said that last week at templeton," laughed a man in the crowd. "go on!" whereupon the auctioneer once more addressed his hearers in a burst of vocal fireworks. "i wonder what prescott and his mucker friends are here to bid on?" fred ripley was asking himself. "whatever it is, if it's nothing that i want for myself i'll bid it up as high against them as i can. for, of course, they've pooled their funds for whatever they want to get. they can't put in more than a quarter apiece, so a dollar and a half is all i have to beat. i'll wager they already suspect that i'm here just to make things come higher for them. i hope they do suspect!" it was just after the fourth of july. the summer sun shone fiercely down upon the assemblage. "perhaps, first of all," announced the auctioneer, after pausing to take breath, "it will be the proper thing to do to offer the tent itself. at this point, however, i will say that the foreclosing creditor of the show himself bids two hundred dollars on the tent. no bid, unless it be more than two hundred dollars, can be accepted. come, now, friends, here is a fine opportunity for a shrewd business man. one need not be a showman, or have any personal need of a tent, in order to become a bidder. whoever buys this tent to-day will be able to realize handsomely on his investment by selling this big-top tent in turn to some showman in need of a tent. who will start the bidding at three hundred dollars?" no one started it. after the auctioneer had talked for five minutes without getting a "rise" out of any gridley citizen, he mournfully declared the tent to be outside of the sale. "has anyone here any choice as to what he wants me to offer next?" questioned the salesman of the afternoon. there was no response. "come, come, gentlemen!" rebuked the auctioneer. "don't let the july sun bake your intellects, or the first cool day that comes along will find you all filled with unavailing regrets. hasn't some one a choice as to what should be offered next?" still receiving no reply, he heaved a sigh, then added: "i see that we shall have to start action in some way. therefore we'll bring out something that is action personified, with grace mingled. bring out the ponies. gentlemen, i am now going to offer you your choice of eight of the handsomest ponies you ever-----" "but there are forty ponies and thirty-two good wagon horses," piped up a business man in the audience. "there were," corrected the auctioneer, mournfully. "but most of the live stock was rented. colonel grundy had hoped to buy the stock gradually out of the receipts of the show. all that he owned in the way of live stock consisted of eight ponies. and here they come! beauties, aren't they?" despite the heat of the day it was as though a frost had settled down over the scene. many of the men present were butchers, grocers or others who had hoped to pick up cheap horses to be used in their business. "ponies are no good in this town," cried one man. "lead 'em away. come on, neighbors." "wait, wait!" urged the auctioneer. "there are some bargains yet to come that will interest you all. since we have the ponies on the spot let us begin to run them off. it will teach you all how to bid quickly when you see wonderful bargains bought up under your noses!" the bidding, however, was lax at first. a stable boy mounted one of the little animals, riding about at reckless pace. "now, start the bidding!" after five minutes talking an opening bid of five dollars for the pony had been made and this had been advanced to seven. with all the zeal at his command the auctioneer drove the bidding along. it reached fourteen dollars, and there stopped. at last the pony was knocked down to a man who thought he could use the animal in a very light delivery wagon. "now, gentlemen, wake up!" begged the auctioneer. "let us have some bidding worthy of the fair name of gridley for good judgment in business matters. lead the roan pony forth." undoubtedly the first pony had been a fair bargain at fourteen dollars. the bidding on the second animal began at ten dollars, going quickly to eighteen. from that point the offers traveled slowly until twenty-six dollars had been named. at this price the pony was sold. from that time on the ponies were "knocked down" rather briskly, though the highest-priced one of the first seven brought only thirty-one dollars. now came the eighth. "you see what this animal is for yourselves, gentlemen," declared the auctioneer. "we don't need to have this sleek little animal's paces shown. we are in a hurry to get through. who opens with twenty dollars?" "he is a handsome little animal, isn't he?" exclaimed dick prescott, crowding forward and gazing at the pony with glistening eyes. "i wish i had the money to buy him," whispered dave darrin. "maybe i couldn't use that kind of a cut-down horse!" glowed tom reade, while harry and dan looked on longingly. "that's what the muckers are here after!" thought fred ripley, who had been watching them closely. "now, no matter how much money they may think they have, i'll show them how easy it is for a fellow of my financial standing to step in and get the chestnut pony away from them!" "who starts the bidding with twenty dollars?" demanded the auctioneer. "ten," finally responded a man in the crowd. "thank you. but, gentlemen, ten dollars is a shame for a beautiful animal like this. who makes it twenty? start it right up now!" presently the bidding had reached sixteen dollars. dick and his chums had crowded still closer to the pony, looking on with lively interest. "here's where i sting prescott and his crew!" muttered fred ripley under his breath. then, aloud, he called: "twenty!" "thank you," smiled the auctioneer, nodding in ripley's direction. "here is a young man of sound judgment and a good idea of money values, as his manner and his whole appearance testify." "someone hold rip, or he'll burst," laughed greg holmes in dick's ear. but fred thought the chums were conferring as to how far they could go with what means the six of them might have at hand. "they will get going soon," thought fred gleefully. just then dick prescott piped up: "twenty-two!" "twenty-two? thank you," bowed the auctioneer. "another young gentleman of the finest judgment. who says twenty-five?" "twenty-three," offered fred. "twenty-five," called prescott promptly. an instant after dick had made this bid he felt heartily ashamed of himself. he hadn't intended to buy the pony, and didn't have the money. he had obeyed a sudden instinct to tease fred ripley, but now dick wished he hadn't done it. "twenty-six!" called young ripley. the auctioneer looked at prescott, but the latter, already abashed at his own conduct, made no further offer. "twenty-eight!" called a man in the crowd, who knew that the wealthy lawyer's son usually got whatever he wanted very badly. this new bidder thought he saw a chance to get the pony, then later to force fred to pay a still higher price for the animal. "thirty!" called ripley, with a sidelong glance at dick & co. "did i hear you offer thirty-five?" queried the auctioneer, singling out dick prescott. but dick remained mute. however, in the next instant greg holmes, ere prescott could stop him, blurted out with: "thirty-two!" "thirty-four!" called ripley briskly. greg opened his mouth, but dick nudged him. "don't bid, greg. you'd feel cheap if you had to take the pony and couldn't produce the money," dick admonished him. "thirty-five!" called the man who had raised the bidding before. "thirty-six," from ripley. "thirty-eight!" called the man. "thirty-nine!" offered fred, though he was beginning to perspire freely. "forty!" promptly offered the man. "forty-one!" said fred. and there it hung. after three minutes more of hard work on the auctioneer's part the pony went to ripley at forty-one dollars. "i don't know what my father will say to me for this," groaned the lawyer's son. "but, anyway, prescott and his crew didn't get the chestnut pony, and this is the last piece of live stock, so there's none left for them." he cast a triumphant look in the direction of those whom he termed "the mucker boys." "rip was bidding to keep us from getting a look-in!" whispered tom reade gleefully. "that was what i thought," nodded dick prescott. "that was why i threw in a couple of bids---just to make him pay for his meanness. but i'm sorry i did it." "step up and pay your money!" ordered the auctioneer. "don't keep us waiting all day." "won't a deposit do?" demanded fred, coming forward. "yes; we'll take fifteen dollars, and hold your purchase until one hour after the sale closes," replied the auctioneer. "then, if you don't come along fast with the remainder, your deposit will be forfeited." "i'll raise the money all right," drawled ripley, with an important air, as he passed up three five dollar bills. "give me a receipt for this, please." "you've money enough there to pay it all," said the auctioneer. "yes; but i may bid on something else," fred replied. "good luck to you," laughed the auctioneer. presently along came a miscellaneous lot of the weapons that had been used by cowboys and indians connected with the show. the auctioneer tried to close these out in one lot, but there were no bids. several of the younger men did brisk, but not high bidding for the rifles. these were disposed of. then tomahawks were offered for sale, singly. the first ones offered went at an average of twenty-five cents each. at last dan dalzell secured one for a nickel, paid his money and proudly tucked his purchase under his arm. "bring out the grand war canoe!" called the auctioneer at last. now every drop of blood in dick prescott's body tingled. his chums, too, were equally aroused. it was this that they had hope of securing---if it went off at a price next to nothing! so intensely interested were the six young high school athletes in the proceedings now that each one steeled himself to prevent betraying the fact. all were aware that fred ripley's malicious eyes were watching them. if he suspected that they wanted the canoe he could put the bidding up to a figure that would make their wishes impossible of fulfillment. dick yawned. he looked intensely bored. "come along," proposed dave in an audible voice. "there's nothing here we can get." "yes; it's getting tedious," hinted tom reade. dalzell and hazelton also appeared to lose all interest in the auction. "i was in hopes they'd want that canoe," muttered fred ripley, feeling as though he had been cheated out of a great pleasure. "as it happens i know all about that canoe. wow! wouldn't they groan if they put up all their money for the canoe---_and then found out_!" just then the canoe was brought out. it was bolstered up on a long truck, drawn by a pair of horses. twenty-eight feet long, slender and of graceful lines, this canoe, with its oiled birch bark glistening in the sun, was a thing of beauty. it was one of the genuine articles that the show had carried---of real indian model and workmanship. "gaze upon it, gentlemen!" cried the auctioneer enthusiastically. "did you ever see the like of this grand war canoe? history in every line of it! picture to yourselves the bygone days in which such a canoe, filled with painted braves, stole along in the shadows fringing the bank of some noble stream. portray to your own minds such a marauding band stealing down stream upon some settlement, there to fall upon our hardy pioneers and put them to the death!" "i'm glad i'm living now, instead of in those days," called a man from the crowd, raising a laugh. "gentlemen, before you are through," suggested the auctioneer, "one of you will be the proud and happy possessor of this magnificent war canoe. it is a priceless gem, especially when considered in the light of good old american history. now, who will start the bidding? who will say, clearly and distinctly, thirty dollars?" "we're not brave enough in these days!" called a voice from the crowd. "that's right, friends---have fun with me," retorted the perspiring auctioneer. "but don't let this valuable, beautiful trophy get away from you." yet, though the auctioneer labored for a full five minutes he couldn't raise a bid. "take it away! take it back!" ordered the auctioneer wearily. "i was in hopes it would appeal to the artistic sense of this town, but it doesn't! take it away." "if no one else wants it," drawled dick prescott, "i'll offer two dollars." "thank you for good intentions, anyway," replied the salesman on the platform. "two dollars i'm bid. who says ten? now, do wake up, friends!" but the bidding lagged. "this beautiful war canoe!" cried the auctioneer desperately. "it was the pride of the show. a real indian canoe, equipped with gunwale seats and six indian paddles. and only two dollars offered. gentlemen, do i hear three? no! last call! it's pitiful---two dollars!" dick prescott and all his friends were now in the seventh heaven of prospective delight. it seemed unreal, that they could get this treasure for any such sum. "if i must do it, i must," groaned the auctioneer. "two i'm offered. does anyone say more. make it four! no? make it three! no? last call! going, going-----" in another instant the big war canoe would have been knocked down to young prescott at two dollars. dick was "all on edge," though he strove to conceal the fact. "at two dollars, then!" groaned the auctioneer. "two dollars! all right, then. going, going-----" just then the word "gone" would have been uttered, and the canoe gone to dick & co. "three dollars!" called fred ripley. there was a pause, while the auctioneer exhorted the crowd to wake up. "four," said young prescott, at last, but he spoke with pretended indifference. "five," chimed in a man who now seemed to take an interest. the bidding now went up slowly, a dollar at a time, with these three bidders, until twelve dollars was reached. then the man dropped out. dick was outwardly calm, though his chums shivered, for they knew that their combined capital did not reach the amount now being offered. "i'm afraid that canoe is going to dick's head," whispered harry hazelton anxiously to tom reade. "let him alone," retorted tom in a low voice. "it's one of dick prescott's good points that he generally knows what he's doing." "but we have only-----" "never mind if we're worth a million, or only a single dollar," interrupted reade impatiently. "watch the battle between our leader and rip, the mean!" now the bidding became slower, fifty cents at a time being offered, bids coming only when the auctioneer threatened to "knock down." "i don't want to get this confounded canoe fastened onto me," grumbled fred ripley to himself. "i want to stick prescott and his crowd for all i can, but i must look out that i don't get stung. i know better than to want that canoe, no matter how good it _looks_!" "sixteen," said dick at last, feeling more desperate inwardly than his face showed. "sixteen-fifty," from ripley. "seventeen," offered dick, after a pause. "seventeen-fifty," announced fred, after another long bait. "eighteen!" followed up young prescott. he was in a cold perspiration now, lest the fight be forced too far. to his astonishment, fred ripley, an ugly sneer on his face, turned his back on the bidding. "are you through, gentlemen?" demanded the auctioneer, after a keen look in the direction of the lawyer's son. "i am," ripley growled over his shoulder. "i am offered eighteen! eighteen! eighteen! who says nineteen? make it eighteen-fifty! who says eighteen-fifty? eighteen and a quarter! are you through, gentlemen? then going, going---gone! sold to master prescott at eighteen dollars. young man, i congratulate you. walk right up and pay your money! all, or a deposit?" dick, who had been collecting loose change from his chums, now came forward. "i'll pay a deposit of seven dollars," he announced. "hand it here, then. seven dollars; thank you. here's your receipt. now, remember, prescott, you have until the end of one hour after the sale closes. then, if you're not here with the other eleven dollars, you must expect to forfeit this deposit." "i know," dick nodded. then he hurried off to his chums. "come along," he said, with desperate energy, as he led them away from the field. on the sidewalk he halted. "we've got it, fellows!" he exulted. "we've got it! hooray!" "yes; we've got it, if we've got eleven dollars more---which we haven't," greg remarked. "we've eleven dollars more to raise," prescott went on hurriedly. "roughly, that's two dollars apiece. we must hustle, too." "no hustle for mine," yawned dan dalzell. "i'll just step down to my bank and get the money. will two dollars be enough, dick?" "stop that talk," ordered dave darrin, getting a grip on dan's shirt collar. "if you don't, i'll thrash you! dick has a scheme. out with it, old chap!" "the scheme is simple enough," said prescott hurriedly. "we must each get two dollars, and get it like lightning. that will come to a dollar over the amount we need, but we shall need the extra dollar, anyway. so hustle! borrow the money from anyone who'll let you have it. offer to work the money out at any time---any old kind of work. the only point is to come running back with the money. get it in any honest way that you can, and don't one of you dare to fail, or we'll lose our deposit money and our canoe. start!" nor did prescott lose any time himself, but raced down the street, turned into main street and ran on until he came to the little cross street on which stood the bookstore conducted by his father and mother. "mercy, dick! what makes you run so?" asked mrs. prescott. dick was rejoicing to discover that there was, at this moment, no customer in the store. "mother," replied her son, "i want to borrow three dollars this minute. i'll be responsible for it---i'll pay it back. please let me have it---in a hurry!" then, briefly, he poured out the story. mrs. prescott's hand had already traveled toward the cash register. "we're very short of money just now, my boy. try to earn this and pay it back quickly. you know, trade is slow in the summer time, and we have several bills to meet." "yes, i'll pay it back, mother, at the first chance---and i'll make the chance---somehow," promised young prescott. "thank you." the money in his hand, dick raced back to the lot where the show tent still stood. he was back before any of the others and waited impatiently. dave darrin came up ten minutes later. "did you get it?" asked dick anxiously. "yes," replied dave laconically, pushing two one dollar bills into dick's hand. one by one the other boys arrived. each had managed to round up his part of the assessment. with thirteen dollars in his hand, dick went up to the auctioneer's clerk. "i am ready to pay the other eleven dollars on the canoe," prescott announced, speaking as calmly as possible. "all right," agreed the clerk. "but you'll have to find some man you can trust to take the bill of sale. we can't pass title to a minor." "why didn't you tell me that before?" dick demanded. "that's all right. it wasn't necessary before, but it is now. just find some man who will treat you all right and give you the canoe. then we'll take the money and make out the bill of sale to him." fred ripley now sauntered up, offering his money. he was given the same directions for finding a man to whom title could pass. dick looked about him. then across the lot, and over on the further side of the street he saw his father. dick returned quickly to the lot with mr. prescott, explaining the situation. the bookseller listened gravely, but offered no objections. he stepped over, paid the money for dick, then said: "i must be going. turn the canoe over to my son." "yes, sir," replied the auctioneer's clerk. "men, haul out the truck that has the canoe on." mr. prescott had already walked away. dick and his chums greeted the coming of truck and canoe with a wild whoop. then they piled up on the truck to inspect their treasure. fred ripley, returning with mr. dodge, a local banker, saw the six youngsters climbing up to look at their purchase. a broad, malicious grin appeared on ripley's face. "sold! sold!" gasped dave darrin. then his face flushed with anger. for the canoe, which looked well enough on exhibition, proved to have three bad holes in her hull, which had been carefully concealed by the manner in which the craft had been propped up on the truck. the great war canoe looked worthless---certain to sink in less than sixty seconds if launched! chapter ii "rip" tries out his bargain had a meaner trick ever been played on boys with whom it was so hard to raise money? "ha, ha, ha!" chuckled fred ripley, so loudly that the dismayed, angry boys could not fail to hear him. "you sneak! you knew it all the time!" flared dave darrin, gazing down in disgust at the lawyer's son. "maybe i did know," fred admitted, yet speaking to mr. dodge. "you see, one of my father's clerks served the papers which attached the show." there was no help for dick & co. they had parted with their money and their "property" had been turned over to them. it is an ancient principle of law that the buyer must beware. the auctioneer had been most careful not to represent the canoe as being fit for service. he had offered it as an historical curiosity! dick & co. looked at the canoe anxiously. "what shall we do with it?" asked dave darrin moodily. "make a bonfire of it?" asked danny grin. "might as well," greg nodded. "no, sir!" dick interrupted. "tom, what do you say? you're one of the really handy boys. can't this canoe be patched up, mended and put in commission?" "it might be done," tom answered slowly. the other five stood regarding him with eager interest. "but we'd have to get an indian here to show us how to do it." "where are the indians that were here with the show?" asked harry hazelton. "they went away as soon as the show was attached," dick answered. "probably they're hundreds of miles from here now. they were only hired out to the show by their white manager, and they've gone to another job. besides, they were only show indians, and probably they've forgotten all they ever knew about canoe-building---if they ever did know anything." "then i don't see but that we're just as badly off as ever," sighed greg. "we're out eighteen dollars and the fine canoe that we expected would provide us with so much fun." "the paddles look all right, anyway," spoke up harry hazelton, lifting one out of the canoe and looking it over critically. "oh, yes, the paddles are all right, and the river is close at hand," spoke dave darrin vengefully. "all we need is a canoe that will float." "if it were a cedar canoe we might patch it easily enough," prescott declared. "but i've heard that there is so much 'science' to making or mending a birch bark canoe that an amateur always makes the job worse." "haw, haw, haw!" came boisterously from fred ripley. he and mr. dodge were now standing before the table of the auctioneer's clerk. fred was paying down the remaining twenty-six dollars on the price he had bid for the handsome chestnut pony. "yes, you're laughing at us, you contemptible rip!" scowled dave, though he spoke under his breath. "you can afford to lose money, for you always know where to get more. you knew this canoe was worthless, and you deliberately bid it up on us---you scoundrel!" "shall we make colonel grundy a present of this canoe?" suggested danny grin dolefully. "the poor old man hasn't money enough to get the canoe away from here, even if he wanted to," replied dick, in a voice of sympathy. "but how did the show folks manage to use this canoe?" asked tom reade. "they didn't, except on a truck in a street parade, i imagine," dick replied. "and that must be how the holes came to be in the bottom. the sun got in its work on the bark and oil, and blistered the body of the canoe so that it broke or wore away in spots. oh, dear!" the sale was over, but a few odds and ends remained. fred ripley, having now paid the whole of his forty-one dollars through mr. dodge, ordered his handsome new purchase led out. a man came out, holding the pony's halter. he walked slowly, the pony moving contentedly after him. "a fine little animal!" glowed fred, stroking the glossy coat. "he---er---looks rather old, doesn't he?" ventured mr. dodge. "not so very old," fred answered airily. "there is a lot of life and vim left in this little fellow. and he can show speed, too, or i'm all wrong." then fred's eye roved toward the pile of stuff on which no one had bid. "there's a good saddle," suggested ripley. "the real western kind," nodded the auctioneer. it looked the part. "i'll give you two dollars for the saddle," fred offered. "you'll pay ten if you get that saddle," replied the red-faced auctioneer. "put it up and let us see how the bids will run," proposed ripley. "the sale is closed. anything that is sold now will go at private sale," retorted the auctioneer. "oh, come now!" protested ripley. "i'd like to trade with you." "you can, if you produce the price. at least, your friend can. i can't deal with you, for you're a minor." fred tried vainly to persuade the auctioneer to lower the price of the saddle, but finally concluded to pay ten dollars for it and two dollars for a bridle. a worn saddle cloth was "thrown in" for good measure. ripley handed the money to the auctioneer's clerk. "saddle up," directed fred, tossing a quarter to the man who held the pony's bridle. though flushed with his bargain, fred was also feeling rather solemn. he had parted with nearly all of the sixty dollars his father had handed him that morning as his summer's spending money. he was beginning to wonder if his pony would really take the place of all the fun he had planned for his summer vacation. "here is your mount, sir," called the man who had done the saddling. "now, let's see what kind of a horseman you are." "as good as you'll find around gridley," declared fred complacently. putting a foot into the left stirrup, he vaulted lightly to the animal's back. "he has a treasure, and we're stung," muttered dave darrin in a low voice. "those that have plenty of money and can afford to lose don't often lose!" before starting off fred, glancing over at dick & co. standing dolefully on the truck, brayed insolently: "haw, haw, haw!" dave clenched his fists, but knew that he could do nothing without making himself ridiculous. "get up, prince!" ordered young ripley, bringing one hand smartly against the animal's flank. "he's going to call his pony 'prince,'" whispered danny grin. "it looks like an appropriate name," nodded dick wistfully. for some reason the pony didn't seem inclined to start. fred dug his heels against the animal's side and moved away at a walk. "a-a-a-ah!" murmured a crowd of small boys enviously. "now, show a little speed, prince," ordered fred, digging his heels in hard. the pony broke into a trot. someone passed ripley a switch, with which he dealt his animal a stinging blow. away went pony and rider at a slow canter. "fine gait this little fellow has," exulted fred, while cheers went up from the small boys. suddenly the animal slowed down to a walk. fred applied two sharp cuts with the switch, again starting his mount. fred turned and came cantering back toward the group, feeling mightily proud of himself. suddenly the pony stopped, trembling in every limb. "get off, young man!" called someone. "your pony is going to fall!" fred got off, feeling rather peculiar. he wished that the six fellow high school boys over on the truck would move off. mr. dodge hurried over to the young man, looking very much concerned. "fred," murmured the banker, "for all his fine looks i'm afraid there is something wrong with your pony." "what is it?" asked fred, looking, as he felt, vastly troubled. at that moment an automobile stopped out in the road. "beg your pardon, mr. dodge," called the chauffeur, "but are you going to want me soon?" "i want you at once," called back the banker, adding in a lower voice to fred: "flannery, my new chauffeur, was a coachman for many years. he's a fine judge of horseflesh." flannery came up, an inquiring look on his face. "i want you to look this pony over and tell me just what you think of him," directed the banker. flannery went over the pony's "lines" with the air of an expert, as, indeed, he was. "fine-looking little beast," said flannery. "he has been well fed and groomed." then he looked into the pony's mouth, examining the teeth with great care. "used to be a nice animal once," decided flannery, "but he was that a long time ago. he's about twenty-five or twenty-six years old." "_what_!" exploded young ripley, growing very red in the face. "thinking of buying him, sir?" asked the chauffeur respectfully." "i've already bought him," confessed fred ruefully. flannery whistled softly. then he took the pony by the bridle, dragging him along over the ground at a trot, the crowd making way for him. "wind-broken," announced the ex-coachman, leading the trembling animal back. "bad case, too." "a veterinary can cure that," fred declared, speaking more airily than his feelings warranted. "hm!" replied flannery dryly. "you find the veterinary, master fred, and i'll show the gentleman how to make his fortune if he can cure wind-broken horses." "then what good is the pony?" demanded fred in exasperation. "well, the hide ought to fetch three dollars, and there are a good many pounds of soap fat in him," replied flannery slowly. "and is that all the good there is in this pony?" cried ripley. he felt like screaming. "it's all the good i can see in him, sir," replied flannery. "then i won't take this pony," young ripley declared, flushing hotly. "it's a downright swindle. here, my man, hand my money back and take your old soap box." "not to-day," declared the auctioneer briefly. he and his clerk were now preparing to depart. "you'd better!" warned fred. "i won't." "then i'll have you arrested." "try it." "run and get a policeman," fred ordered, turning to a crowd of small boys. "all right," smiled the auctioneer. "if you'll be quick about it i'll wait for your policeman." but mr. dodge, who had shaken his head toward three boys who had shown signs of being willing to run for a policeman, now led young ripley to one side. "no use making any fuss about it, i'm afraid, fred. you saw the pony when it was offered for sale, didn't you?" "yes." "and you didn't ask to have him run? you didn't demand the privilege of trying him yourself?" "no, sir." "what representations did the auctioneer make about the pony?" pressed mr. dodge. "why, he said the pony was a fine-looking animal-----" "and that's no lie," responded mr. dodge gravely. "what else?" "that's the only representation that i did make," broke in the auctioneer, who had strolled slowly over to them. "i also said that the pony showed all of his good points." "i'm afraid you'll have to swallow your loss, fred," suggested the banker. "i'm sorry that i had even an innocent part in this trade." "trade?" screamed fred, now losing all control of himself. "it wasn't a trade at all! it's piracy! it's highway robbery! it was a barefaced swindle, and this swindler" fred glared at the auctioneer. "go slowly, young man," advised the salesman of the afternoon. "you're a swindler, and a mean one, taking downright advantage of other folks," stormed young ripley. "but you won't get away with this swindle. my father is a lawyer---the best lawyer in the place---and he'll give you good reason to shiver!" "all right, young man. send your father after me---if he'll take the case. but i'm going down to see him, anyway, for i must give him an accounting of the money taken in this afternoon. come along, edson," to his clerk. very red in the face, fred ripley stood with his fists clenched, trying to avoid the eyes of the many grinning men and boys gathered around him. dick & co. had gotten down from the truck. they did not join in the fun-making at the enemy's expense, though naturally they did not feel very sorry for young ripley. "will you ride your pony home, sir?" asked the man who had done the saddling. "no," said fred shortly. he felt tempted to tell the man to lead the worthless animal away and shoot it. then he changed his mind. "take this half dollar," he said, "and take the pony down and leave it in our stable." for another thought had just occurred to fred ripley. if he kept a close mouth, and watched his chance, he hoped that he might yet be able to make some sort of "trade" with the pony as an asset. chapter iii buying fuel for a bonfire? "well, what are we going to do with our magnificent war canoe?" asked greg holmes dolefully. "does the bonfire idea go?" "it doesn't," dick retorted. "although we don't know anything about such a job, and though it is supposed to need a sure enough expert to do it, we're at least going to try the thing out and see if we can't make this canoe float, and carry us safely, at that!" "we'd better decide how to get it away from here, anyway," proposed tom reade. "we haven't any lease of this lot." over near the road a group of men and boys were laughing heartily. it was at the lawyer's son that their mirth was directed. as for dick & co., the gridley crowd felt only sympathy. the proceedings of the afternoon had but emphasized the old idea that at an auction sale one must either use great judgment or take his chances. "say," called dick, "there goes the very man we ought to ask for advice. harry, will you run over and ask hiram driggs to come here?" hazelton, nodding, hurried away at full speed. "hiram driggs is an awfully high-priced man," sighed tom reade. "perhaps his mere advice won't come high," young prescott answered. "if it does, we'll begin right by telling him that we have no money---that we've nothing in fact but a birchbark white elephant on our hands." driggs came over promptly, his keen, shrewd eyes twinkling. "so you boys have been buying away from my shop, and have been 'stung,' eh!" queried driggs, a short, rather stout man, of about forty. "robbed, i'd call it," replied dave darrin. "same thing, at a horse trade or an auction sale," hinted hiram dryly as he got up on the truck. "let's have a look at your steam yacht." for a few moments driggs looked the canoe over in grim silence. "whew!" was time final comment. "pretty bad, isn't it?" dick inquired. "well, for my part, i'd sooner buy a real wreck," driggs announced. "this may be an auctioneer's idea of honor. what was his name?" "the auctioneer's name? caswell," dick answered. "i'll make a note of that name," said driggs, drawing out notebook and pencil, "and keep away from any auction that has a man named caswell on the quarter-deck. now, boys, what do you want to know about this canoe that your eyes don't tell you?" "about how much would it cost us to fix her?" asked prescott. "thirty dollars---maybe thirty-two," said driggs, after another casual look at the canoe. "let's announce the bonfire for to-night," urged greg. "we haven't any such sum of money, mr. driggs," dick went on. "too bad, boys, for you'd probably have a lot of fun in this craft. if you want to sell it, maybe i could allow you four dollars for the craft as she stands." "we'd hate to part with the canoe," dick continued. "i know, i know," remarked driggs sympathetically. "it was wanting a boat badly when i was a boy that drove me into the boat business. but i didn't have to handle birch bark then, or my first craft would have sunk me. say, boys, great joke how young ripley got stung so badly, wasn't it?" "i know about how he feels," remarked dick. "yes, of course," smiled driggs. "but you boys are entitled to some honest sympathy. i don't imagine young ripley will get much sympathy, will he?" "not a heap," greg holmes answered. "well," resumed driggs, "i ain't a mite sorry for the boy and his make-believe pony. but i wish i could help you with your boat, for i know you haven't any loose money to throw around like young rip." driggs dug his hands deep into his pockets and wrinkled his brow in thought. at last he looked up hopefully. "i'll tell you what i've been thinking about, boys. the town will be laughing at young ripley to-morrow. but rip, he'll be passing the laugh around on you young fellers, too. now, i don't mind rip's troubles; but it's different with you boys, and i know how it stings to part with all the money you could scrape together. now, let's look this job over. i could say about thirty dollars for this job. it will cost twenty, and the other ten dollars would be profit, interest on my investment in my shop and so forth. now, i'll let this job go at just the cost---twenty dollars, and throw off the profit and trimmings. yes---to you young fellows---i'll call the job twenty dollars." "that's kind of you," said dick, with a grateful sigh. "but we want to be honest with you, mr. drigg---twenty dollars, or five, or a hundred---it would be all the same to us. we haven't the money." "not so fast," returned driggs, his eyes twinkling. "i'll give you credit, and treat the debt as a matter of honor between us." "but i don't know how we'd pay you back," dick went on. "as it is, we've borrowed a good bit of money that we've got to pay back." "exactly," agreed driggs, "and you want to pay the other money back before you pay me. yes; i'll take the job at cost---twenty dollars, and i'll throw in the use of one of my teams and trucks to come up here and get the canoe." "but i'm afraid, sir, that we'd be a very long time paying you." "no, you won't," driggs disputed. "i don't allow long time bills, but i'll show you a way to pay me back fairly early, if you boys have the energy---and i believe you have. now, you see, first off, boys, we'll need a lot of birch bark. i haven't any in stock, and the kind that is sound and good for canoe building is scarce these days. now, first off, you'll have to range the woods for bark. do you know where to find it?" "yes," dick nodded. "over on that place they call katson's hill." "but that's about eleven miles from here," objected driggs. "i know it is," prescott answered. "but the point is that katson's hill is wild land. no tax assessor knows who is the owner of that land, and it wouldn't bring enough money to make it worth while to sell it at a sheriff's sale. so a number of farmers turn their cattle in there and use it for free grazing ground. as no owner can be found for the land we won't have to pay for the birch bark that we cut there." "that's so," driggs acknowledged. "but it's an awful distance, and over some mighty rough bits of road. you'll be about dead after you've packed a load of birch bark in from katson's hill." "that wouldn't be anything, compared with having to do without our canoe," dick returned. "maybe not," driggs conceded. "now, boys, is there much of that birch bark on katson's hill?" "there must be several shiploads," dave darrin replied. "good enough. then, see here. i'll take this job at twenty dollars, if you boys will get the birch bark. after you've brought in enough to patch the canoe then you can bring in enough more to amount to twenty dollars. is that a go?" "it's wonderfully kind of you," dick answered gratefully. "not much it isn't," driggs grinned, "and it will make that young ripley cub feel mighty sore and cheap when he finds that he was the only one who got 'skinned' at this auction. but before you get through cutting and hauling birch bark you may think i'm a pretty hard taskmaster. i'll call it a go, if you boys will." "we'll pay our full debt, mr. driggs, and pay you a load of thanks besides." "all right," nodded driggs, jumping down off the truck, in haste to get away from the embarrassment of being thanked. "some of you just hang around here until my man, jim snowden, gets up here with the truck. after jim starts away with your war canoe then you can leave the rest to me, except cutting and hauling several loads of birch bark to square up matters." driggs beat a hasty retreat now. when he had gone the members of dick & co. exchanged glances. then holmes began to dance his best idea of a jig. "we'll have that bonfire at eight o'clock tonight, greg," dick reminded him with a smile. "will you?" demanded greg, scowling fiercely. "if any of you fellows have any matches, then just keep away from that canoe, or i'll fight. we can't afford to take any risks. whoop!" "whoop!" answered harry hazelton, standing on his head. "whoop!" echoed dave darrin, giving danny grin a playful punch that sent dalzell sprawling. they were as happy a lot of boys as one could wish to see. they were to have their canoe and all the sport that that meant. it was to be a safe craft---as good as new! for hiram driggs was a dependable and skilful boat builder. "hey, too bad you fellows got stung so fearfully," cried a grammar school boy in passing. "i'm mighty sorry." "thank you," dick answered. "but we're going to have the canoe repaired. we'll be having lots of fun in the war canoe after a few days." "how you going to get her fixed?" asked the other boy. "hiram driggs has taken the job, and you know what he can do with boats." "whee! i'm glad on you're going to have the canoe fixed all right," nodded the other boy, and passed on. forty-five minutes after driggs' departure jim snowden came up with the truck. with the help of the boys he loaded the canoe from the other truck, then started away. by this time the news had spread to other boys that dick & co. would soon have their war canoe afloat in fine order---that hiram driggs stood sponsor for the prediction. that evening fred ripley had a somewhat unpleasant talk with his father. "you've no business with pocket money," said squire ripley sternly. "you have no idea of the value of it." "i thought i had made a good bargain," said fred sullenly. "so does every fool who parts with his money as easily as you do," returned the lawyer. "well, enjoy yourself, my boy. if you'd rather have that paralyzed pony than the money i gave you to enjoy the summer with, i suppose you're entitled to your choice, though i don't like your judgment." "of course," suggested fred, "since i've met with misfortune you won't be too hard on me. you'll let me have a little more money, so i won't have to go through the summer like a mucker." "i'll give you no more spending money this summer," retorted the lawyer, adding, grimly: "if i did, you'd probably go and buy a cart to match your horse." in fact fred felt so uncomfortable at home that, just after dark, he started up main street. "where's your horse, fred?" called bert dodge. "why are you walking when you own one of the best steeds that ever came out of arabia?" "shut up, won't you?" demanded fred sulkily. bert chuckled for a while before he went on: "of course, i'm sorry for you, fred, but it's all so funny that i can't help laughing." "oh, yes, it must be awfully funny," replied young ripley testily. "but you can afford it," said bert. "you can get more money from your father." "i suppose so," ripley assented, not caring to repeat his interview with his father. "anyway, i'm glad that dick prescott and the rest of his crowd got fooled as badly as i did. and they can't get any more money this summer." "i guess they must have gotten some already," bert rejoined. "didn't you hear the news about that canoe?" "what news?" asked fred quickly. "why, they've engaged hiram driggs to put the canoe in good order." "where did they get the money?" asked fred, his brow darkening. "i don't know," was bert's rejoinder. "but they must be able to raise money all right, for driggs has the canoe down at his yard, and he has promised it to them in a few days." this news came like a slap in the face to the lawyer's son. he remained with bert for another hour, but all the time fred brooded over the fact that dick & co. were to have their canoe after all. "at that, i don't know that they will have their canoe," fred remarked darkly to himself as he started homeward. shortly after midnight fred ripley sneaked away from his home, turning his face in the direction of hiram driggs' boatyard. chapter iv hiram pries a secret loose when he left home fred ripley had no clearly defined idea as to what he meant to do. however, he had in one pocket a keen-bladed pocket knife. well wrapped in paper a short but sharp-edged chisel rested in one of the side pockets of his coat. at the outset his only purpose was to do irreparable mischief to the war canoe. the means of accomplishing that purpose he must decide upon when he reached the boatyard. how dark it was, and how hot! late as the hour was the baking heat of the day did not seem to have left the ground. fred walked along rapidly, fanning his perspiring face with his straw hat. "they'll have their war canoe in the water in a few days, will they?" the lawyer's son muttered. "humph!" through the side streets he went, keeping a sharp lookout. conscious of the fact that he was bent on an unworthy errand, fred did not care to be recognized abroad at this unusual hour. in a few minutes he had reached the boatyard. this was surrounded by a high board fence, and the gate was locked. "it won't do to get over the fence," young ripley decided. "i might be seen and watched. but i know a way." at one corner of the yard the fence ran almost, though not quite to the bank of the river. keeping well within the shadow of the fence, young ripley hastened toward this point. here the amount of space was not sufficient for him to step around the end of the fence. however, by grasping it on both sides fred could swing himself around it and into the boatyard. he did so with ease, then halted, peering cautiously about the yard. "no one here," the lawyer's son decided at last. "whew! i wouldn't dare even to stumble over a tramp taking a nap here. this is ticklish business, or it would be if i were caught here. now, where is the canoe?" early in the evening the moon had shone, but now the stars gave all the light there was to be had. it was so close in the yard that fred soon pulled off his jacket, carrying it or his arm. nowhere in the open yard was the canoe to be seen. there were three semi-open sheds. into each of these in turn ripley peered. the canoe was nowhere to be found. "i'm a fool to lose my sleep and take all the risk for this!" grunted the boy, halting and staring moodily about him in his great disappointment. he now glared angrily at a large building, two-thirds boathouse and one-third boat-building shop. "hiram driggs had the canoe taken in there!" muttered the boy. "just my luck. i couldn't get into that building unless i broke a window---and i don't dare do that." still determined to get at the canoe, if possible, fred stole down to the inclined platform from which boats were carried to the water. but the water-front entrance to the boathouse also proved to be locked. "there's no show for me here," grunted the young prowler. "i wonder if any of the windows have been left unlocked." his good sense told him that it would be a serious matter indeed to raise a window and enter the building---if he were caught. but fred, after a few moments of strained listening, decided to take the chance. at any hazard that he dared take he must get to the war canoe and put it out of commission for all time. he tried three of the windows. all of them proved to be locked. "i'm going to have some more of my usual luck," groaned young ripley. "i wonder why it is that i always have such poor luck when i have my heart most set on doing a thing?" he was slipping along to the fourth window when he heard a sound that almost caused his heart to stop beating. merely the sound of footsteps pausing by the gate to the boatyard---that was all, for a moment. but fred cowered in acute dread. "who's in there?" called a steady voice, that filled fred ripley with consternation, he knew that voice! it belonged to a member of the gridley police force. "talk about your tough luck!" shivered fred. "this is the limit! now, i'm in for it." for a few moments he crouched close to the boathouse nearly paralyzed with fright. his consternation increased when a sound over by the fence indicated that the policeman was trying to mount that barrier. now, fred's courage returned, or enough of it to enable him to try to escape. bending low, he turned and ran swiftly, almost noiselessly. his speed astonished even himself. he gained the corner of the fence by which he had entered the yard. taking a firm hold, he swung himself around the fence and out of sight just as the policeman's head showed over the top of it. fortunately for the fugitive, the policeman, in climbing the fence, had made noise enough to drown the slight sounds produced by ripley's frenzied flight. his first thought being of burglars, the policeman drew his revolver as soon as his feet touched the ground inside the yard. with his left hand he held an electric pocket flash lamp, whose rays he flashed into the dark places. fred did not stop until he found himself safely within the grounds of his home. there he halted, fanning himself with his hat and taking long breaths. if discovered by anyone he could easily claim that he had found the night too hot to sleep inside and had come outdoors for air. the next morning, about ten o'clock, hiram driggs, who had already been visited by dick & co., on their way to katson's hill, was called upon by policeman curtis of the gridley force. curtis, being off duty, was in citizen's clothes. "did you miss anything out of the plant this morning, mr. driggs?" inquired the guardian of life and property. "nothing that i know of," driggs answered. "why?" "i thought i heard burglars about here last night, while on duty," the policeman explained. "i came up over the fence, and looked about the place, but couldn't find anything. yes, i did, too, though. i'll talk about that in a moment. you see, i went off duty at one o'clock this morning, so i didn't spend much time here. i'm on house reserve duty to-day. now, for what i found here. i didn't find a living soul in the yard, but on the ground, near one of the open sheds, i came upon a chisel wrapped in a newspaper. i hid it, then, but i'll show it to you now. maybe it belongs to the shop, and if so i've no business with it. but, if you don't recognize the chisel as yours, then i'll take it up to the station house and turn it over to the chief." "after all that stretch o' talk," smiled driggs, "you ought to show me a whole case full of chisels." "i hid it over here," curtis explained, going over to one of the open sheds. "i tucked it in under this packing case. here it is, now, just where i left it. do you recognize it as yours?" from the newspaper wrapping driggs took the small but keen-edged implement. he regarded it curiously. then he turned the paper over slowly. "do you recognize it?" persisted the policeman. "mebbe," said driggs. "i guess you can leave it here. but, in case any question should come up about it in the future, suppose you write your autograph on the handle of the chisel." driggs passed over his fountain pen, the policeman obligingly obeying the request for his signature on the wood. "now, just for good measure, write your name across the top of the newspaper, too," driggs proposed. curtis did so. "you seem to attach a good deal of importance to this find," hinted the policeman. "mebbe," assented driggs indifferently. "mebbe not. but you and i will both know this paper and the chisel again, if we see it, won't we?" "we ought to," nodded the policeman. "but you don't consider the matter as important enough, then, to interest the police?" "i wouldn't think o' bothering the police force about a trifling little matter like this," returned driggs carelessly. just as soon, however, as the policeman had gone, driggs darted into his private office. there he took up the telephone receiver and asked for lawyer ripley's residence number. "is master fred at home!" he inquired, when a servant of the ripley household answered the telephone. fred was at home, the servant replied, and then summoned fred to the telephone. "well, who is it, and what is it?" asked fred crossly. "hiram driggs," responded the boat builder dryly. "that's 'who is it.' as to 'what is it,' if you'll take a quick run over to my office at the boatyard i'll tell you the rest of it." "what on earth can you want to see me about?" fred demanded. even over the wire, the note of dismay in ripley's voice was plainly evident to driggs, who chuckled. "i can't tell you, over the wire, all that i want to see you about," driggs replied. "you'd better come over here at once. i can promise you that it's something interesting." "i---i don't believe i can come over to-day," fred answered hesitatingly. "the weather is too hot." "mebbe the weather will get hotter, if you don't come," hiram driggs responded calmly. "that's a joke, eh?" queried fred. "ha, ha, ha!" "depends upon the feller's sense of humor," driggs declared. "well, you're coming over, aren't you?" "ye-es, i'll come," fred assented falteringly, for his guilty conscience made a coward of him. "you're a fine fellow, mr. driggs, and i'm glad to oblige anyone like you. i'll be right over." "thanks, ever so much, for the compliment," drawled driggs in his most genial tone. "such a compliment is especially appreciated when it comes from a young gentleman of your stripe. good-bye." that word "stripe" caused fred ripley to have a disagreeable chill. he remembered that "stripes" are an important part of the design on a convict's suit of state-furnished clothes. "but he needn't think he can prove anything against me," fred muttered to himself, as he started down the street. "of course, i know i lost that chisel last night, and driggs may have found it in his boatyard. but he can't prove that the chisel belongs to me, or to our house. there are lots more chisels just like that one. if driggs tries to bluff me he'll find that i'm altogether too cool for him!" nevertheless, it was an anxious young man who walked into the boat builder's office a few minutes later. hiram driggs, smiling broadly, held out his hand, which fred took. "sorry i wasn't here when you called last night," said driggs affably. "i don't know what you mean," fred rejoined promptly. "i didn't call at your house last night." "oh, no," driggs replied. "i meant when you called here." "i didn't call here, either." "ever see this before?" asked driggs, holding up the chisel. "never," lied fred. "that's curious," said driggs musingly. "officer curtis, the man on this beat, found the chisel here, and it was wrapped up in part of this newspaper." driggs brought forth from one of the drawers of his desk the newspaper in question. "what has that scrap of paper to do with it?" asked fred, speaking as coolly as he could. "why," explained driggs, turning the paper over, "here's the mail sticker on this side, with your father's printed name and address pasted on it just as it came through the post-office." fred gasped audibly this time. driggs surveyed his face with a keen, tantalizing gaze. "mebbe 'twas your father, then, who was in the yard last night, and who refused to answer the policeman's hail," suggested the boat builder. "i'd better go up to his office and show him these things and ask him, i guess." "but i don't believe my father will know anything about it," spoke young ripley huskily. "then your father will want to know something about it," driggs went on. "he's a man of an inquiring turn of mind. let's run up to his office together and ask him." "no, no, no!" urged fred, his face growing paler. "then why were you here last night?" "i wasn't here," protested the boy. "perhaps i can tell you why you were here," driggs went on, never losing his affable smile. "you don't like dick prescott, and you don't like his boy friends. prescott has been too many for you on more than one occasion. but that is no reason why you should enter my yard after midnight. that is no reason why you should want to do harm to a war canoe or to any other property that happens to be in my yard. i really don't know whether you're to be blamed for being a glib liar, ripley. you've never given yourself much practice at telling the truth, you know. but i have this to say: if anything happens to that canoe, or to anything else here, i shall make it my business to get hold of officer curtis, and he and i will drop in and show your father this chisel, and this piece of paper that it was wrapped in. as you will see, curtis has written his signature on the paper and on the handle of the chisel, so that he may identify them again at any time. now, ripley, i won't look for you to pay this yard any more visits except in a proper way and during regular business hours. good morning!" hiram driggs held out his hand as smilingly as ever, and fred took it in a flabby grasp, feeling as though he were going to faint. then without a word ripley slunk out of the office, while driggs gazed after him still smiling. "the mean scoundrel!" panted fred, as he hurried away, his knees trembling under him. "there isn't a meaner fellow in town than hiram driggs, and some day he'll go and tell my father just for spite. i know he will! now, i've got to find some good way to account for that paper and chisel i'll put in the day thinking up my story." chapter v birch bark merchants away over on katson's hill six high school boys, stripped to their undershirts and trousers, were toiling hard, drenched in perspiration and with hands considerably the worse for their hard work. "what we're finding out is that it's one thing to strip bark for fun, and quite another thing to take it off in pieces large enough for a boat-builder," dick prescott declared. "it isn't as fast work as i thought it would be, either," dave darrin declared, running his knife slowly down the trunk of a young birch. "what we need is to bring a grindstone along with us," tom reade grunted, as he examined the edge of the largest blade in his jackknife. "i simply can't cut with this knife any more." "i couldn't cut with a fine razor," declared greg holmes. "look at the blisters on my hands from the cutting i've already done." "never mind your aches and pains," comforted dave darrin. "we're doing this to pay charges on our canoe, and hiram driggs has been mighty kind about the whole business. think of the fun we're going to have when that canoe is launched; now, fellows, hiram driggs has been mighty good to us, so i want to propose a plan for your approval. whenever driggs tells us that we've cut and hauled enough birch bark to pay him, then we must come out here and get still a few more loads, to pay him in good measure and show that we appreciate his kindness. never mind how much our backs ache or our hands smart. do you agree?" "i'll fight any fellow in the crowd who doesn't agree," announced tom reade. "you can't get up a fight with me on that score," retorted greg. the others also quickly assented to dave's plan. by and by the youngsters halted for half an hour to eat the luncheons they had brought with them. then they went at their work again. at half-past three o'clock in the afternoon they tied up in bundles as much of the bark as each boy could carry, then started homeward. "we ought to get home in time for supper," dick declared hopefully. it was about eight o'clock in the evening when they reached greg's gate. the return was harder than they had expected. the road seemed to be twice as rough as it had been in the morning; they were utterly fagged, and discovered that even a load of birch bark can weigh a good deal under certain circumstances. "pile it up in the back of the yard," greg suggested, "and we'll take it around to mr. driggs in the morning." "then we can hardly get back to katson's hill to-morrow, if we wait until the boatyard opens at eight o'clock," said dave. "we ought to start for the hill before six, as we did this morning." "we'll none of us feel like going to katson's hill early to-morrow morning," smiled dick wearily. "fellows, i guess we'll have to put in twice as much time, and go every other day. i'm afraid it's going to be a little too much for us to do everyday." so this was agreed upon, though rather reluctantly, for dick & co. were anxious to repay driggs at the earliest date. not one of the six boys appeared on main street that evening. each of them, after eating supper, crept away to bed to ease the aching of his muscles in slumber. the next morning they met at greg's gate shortly after seven o'clock. "the loads will seem lighter to-day," laughed dick. "but to-morrow---oh, me, oh, my!" groaned reade, making a comical face. "it's the 'white man's burden,' you know," dick laughed. "what is?" dave inquired. "debt---and its consequences." "my father has a horror of debt," tom announced. "well, i guess the black side of debt shows only when one doesn't intend to make an effort to pay it," dick suggested. "the whole business world, so we were taught at high school, rests on a foundation of debt. the man who doesn't contract debts bigger than he can pay, won't find much horror in owing money. we owe hiram driggs twenty dollars, or rather we're going to owe it. but the bark we're going to take in to him to-day is going to pay a part of that debt. a few days more of tramping, blistered hands and aching backs, and we'll be well out of debt and have the rest of the summer for that great old canoe!" "let's make an early start with the bark," proposed tom. "i want to see if the stuff feels as heavy as it did late yesterday afternoon." "humph! my load doesn't seem to weigh more than seven ounces," darrin declared, as he shouldered one of the piles of bark. "lighter than air this morning," quoth tom, "and only a short haul at that." when hiram driggs reached his boatyard at eight o'clock he found dick & co. waiting for him. "well, well, well, boys!" mr. driggs called cheerily. "so you didn't back out." "did you think we would, sir?" dick inquired. "no; i knew you boys wouldn't back out. and i don't believe you threw away any bark on the way home, just to lighten your loads." hiram went about the yard starting the day's work for his men, then came back to the boys. "now, just bring the bark over to the platform and we'll look it over and sort it," suggested the boat builder. dick & co. carried their loads over to the platform, where they cut the lashings. "we'll make three heaps of the stuff," driggs proposed. "one heap will be the worthless stuff that has to be thrown away. another heap will be for the pieces that are good but small; they'll do for patches. the third heap will be the whole, sound strips. mebbe i'd better do all the sorting myself." so the boys stood by, watching driggs as he sorted the bundles of bark with the speed of a man who knows just what he wants. a quantity of the bark went on to the "worthless" heap, yet there was a goodly amount in each of the other piles by the time that the boat builder was through sorting it. "you've done first rate, boys," he announced at last. "is there much more of that bark on katson's hill?" "we ought to be able to bring in fifty times as much bark as we've brought already," dick answered. "i wish you would," driggs retorted. "and give up the whole of our summer vacation?" danny grin asked anxiously. "well, there is that side to it, after all," driggs admitted quickly. "it must be a tough job on your backs, too. but, boys, i wouldn't mind having a lot of this stuff, for birch bark canoes are coming into favor again. the only trouble is that birch bark is hard to get, these days, and costs a lot to boot. so it makes birchbark canoes come pretty high. at the same time, there are plenty of wealthy folks who would pay me well for a birch-bark canoe. now, i know that you boys, owning a canoe that will soon be in the water, won't be anxious to give up your whole summer to doing jobs for me. but couldn't you bring in a lot more bark if you had a team of horses and a good-sized wagon?" "of course we could," dick nodded. "but we haven't any horses or a wagon." "i was thinking," driggs went on slowly. "i can spare my gray team and the big green wagon. any of you boys know how to drive?" "all of us do," dick answered, "though i guess tom could handle a team better than any of the rest of us." "then suppose you take my team out at six o'clock to-morrow morning?" driggs suggested. "i'll have to charge you four dollars a day for it, but i'll take it in bark as payment. with the wagon you'll be able to bring in a lot more bark than you could without a wagon." "it's a fine idea, sir," glowed dick, "and you're mighty kind to us." "not especially kind," smiled the boat builder. "i can use a lot of this bark in my business, and i'm glad to get it on as reasonable a basis as you boys can bring it to me. you see, it's lucky that katson's hill is wild and distant land. if we had a land owner to deal with he'd make us pay high for the privilege of stripping the bark." "but why couldn't you send your own workmen out to cut the bark?" dick asked. "they've as much right on katson's hill as we have." "oh, yes; i could do that," driggs assented. "and i could make a little more money that way, mebbe. but would it be square business, after you young men have trusted me with your business secret as to where bark can be had for nothing?" that was a ruggedly honest way of putting it that impressed dick & co. "i'll tell you what you---might do, mr. driggs," hinted tom reade. "you might lend us a grindstone, if you have one to spare. then we can sharpen our knives right on the spot and cut bark faster." "you can have the grindstone," driggs assented. "and i'll do better than that. i can spare half a dozen knives from the shop that are better than anything you carry in your pockets. oh, we'll rush this business along fast." six utterly happy high school boys reported at hiram driggs' stable at six o'clock the next morning. they harnessed the horses, put the grindstone in the wagon and all climbed aboard. two seats held them all, and there was room for a load of bark, besides, several times as large as dick & co. could carry on their backs. work went lightly that day! the shop knives cut far better than pocket knives could do, and the stone was at hand for sharpening. six laughing and not very tired boys piled aboard the wagon that afternoon, with what looked like a "mountain" of prime birch bark roped on. for seven more working days dick & co. toiled faithfully, at the end of which time they discovered that they had about "cleaned" katson's hill of all the really desirable bark. "your canoe will be dry enough to launch in the morning," said driggs, as he received the last load at his stable. "come down any time after eight o'clock and we'll put it in the water." were dick & co. on hand the next morning? dan dalzell was the last of the six boys to reach post outside the locked gate of the yard, and he was there no later than twenty-one minutes past seven. chapter vi meeting the fate of greenhorns at five minutes before eight hiram driggs arrived, keys in hand. "i see you're on time," he smiled, unlocking the gate and throwing it open. "now come in and we'll run your canoe out on the river float." even in the dim light of the boathouse dick & co. could see the sides of the canoe glisten with their coating of pitch and oil that lay outside the bark. the war canoe looked like a bran-new craft! "do you like her?" queried driggs, with a smile of pride in the work of his yard. "like her?" echoed dick, a choking feeling in his throat. "mr. driggs, we can't talk---yet!" "get hold," ordered the boat builder. "carry her gently." gently? dick & co. lifted their beloved treasure as though the canoe carried a cargo of eggs. out into the morning sun they carried her, letting her down with the stern right at the water's edge. "o-o-o-oh!" it would be hard to say which one of dick & co. started that murmur of intense admiration. "now, if you can take your eyes off that canoe long enough," proposed driggs, after all hands, the builder included, had feasted their eyes for a few minutes upon the canoe, "come into the office and we'll attend to a little business." not quite comprehending, the high school boys followed driggs, who seated himself at his desk, picking up a sheet of paper. "prescott, i take it you're the business manager of this crowd," the boat builder went on. "now, look over these figures with me, and see if everything is straight. here are the different loads of bark you've brought in. i figure them up at $ . . see if you make it the same?" "of course i do," nodded dick, not even looking at the figures. "careless of you, not to watch another man's figuring," remarked hiram driggs. "now, then, the bark you've brought in comes to just what i've stated. against that is a charge for the team and wagon, eight days at four dollars a day---thirty-two dollars. twenty dollars for fixing your canoe. total charges, fifty-two dollars. balance due you for bark, seventy dollars and sixty cents. that's straight, isn't it?" "i---i don't understand," faltered dick prescott. "then see if this will help you to understand," proposed driggs, drawing a roll of bills from his pocket and laying down the money. here you are, seventy dollars and sixty cents." "but we didn't propose to sell you any bark," dick protested. "all we expected to do was to bring you in good measure to pay you for all your kindness to us." "kindness to you boys?" demanded driggs, his shrewd eyes twinkling. "i hope i may go through life being as profitably kind to others. boys, the bark you've sold me will enable me to make up several canoes at a fine, fat profit. take your pay for the goods you've delivered!" dick glanced at his chums, who looked rather dumbfounded. then he picked up the bills with an uneasy feeling. "thank you, then," young prescott continued. "but there is one little point overlooked, mr. driggs. you did the canoe for us at cost, though your price to any other customer would have been thirty dollars." "oh, we'll let it go at that," driggs suggested readily. "i'm coming out finely on the deal." "we won't let it go at that, if you please, sir," dick prescott retorted firmly. dick placed a ten dollar bill on the desk, adding: "that makes the full thirty dollars for the repairing of the canoe." "i don't want to take it," said driggs gruffly. "then we won't take any of this money for the bark," insisted dick, putting the rest of the money back on the table. "if you corner me like that," muttered driggs, "i'll have to take your ten dollars. now put the rest of the money back in your pocket, and divide it among your crowd whenever you're ready. wait a minute until i make out a receipt for repairing the canoe. i'll put the receipt in your name, prescott." driggs wrote rapidly, then reached for another paper. "and now," he laughed, "since you're so mighty particular about being exact in business, you may as well sign a receipt for the money paid you for the bark." signatures were quickly given. "now, i reckon you boys want to get out to your canoe," the builder hinted. "yes, but we can't take dick with us," tom declared. "not with all that money belonging to the company in his pocket. dick, before you step into the canoe you'd better leave the money with mr. driggs, if he'll oblige us by taking care of it." driggs dropped the money in an envelope, putting the latter in his safe. "call and get it when you're going away," he said. "some day, when we recover, mr. driggs," said dick earnestly, "we're going to come in and try to thank you as we should." "if you do," retorted the boat builder gruffly, "i'll throw you all out. our present business deal is completed, and the papers all signed. git!" driggs followed them out to show them how to launch the canoe with the least trouble. "have any of you boys ever handled a paddle before?" inquired hiram driggs. "oh, yes; in small cedar canoes," dave answered. "all of you?" "yes, sir." "then you ought to get along all right in this craft. but be careful at first, and don't try any frolicking when you're aboard. remember, a canoe isn't a craft that can be handled with roughness. don't anyone try to 'rock the boat,' either. in a canoe everyone has to sit steadily and attend strictly to business." "a war canoe! isn't it great?" chuckled dan, as he started to help himself to a seat. but tom grabbed him by the coat collar, pulling him back. "first of all, danny grin, shed that coat. then ask dick which seat you're going to have. he's the big chief of our tribe of indians." "better all of you leave your coats here," suggested driggs. "you can get 'em when you come back. and you can keep the canoe here without charge, so you'll have a safe place for it. some fellows, you know, might envy you so that they might try to destroy the canoe if you left it in a place that isn't locked up at night." when the boys were ready, in their shirt sleeves, dick assigned dave darrin to the bow seat. the others were placed, while prescott himself took the stern seat, from which the steering paddle must be wielded. "all ready, everyone," dick called. "dave, you set the stroke, and give us a slow, easy one. we mustn't do any swift paddling until we've had a good deal of practice. shove off, dave." darrin pushed his paddle against the float, dick doing likewise at the stern. large as it was, the canoe glided smoothly across the water. "now, give us the slow stroke, dave!" dick called. soon the others caught the trick of paddling in unison. each had his own side of the craft on which to paddle. dick, alone, as steersman, paddled on either side at will, according as he wished to guide the boat. "you're doing finely," called hiram driggs. "let's hit up the speed a bit," urged dan dalzell. "we won't be in too big a hurry about that," dick counseled. "let us get the knack of this thing by degrees." "whee! when we do get to going fast i'll wager there is a lot of fine old speed in this birch-bark tub!" chuckled tom reade. dick now headed the canoe up the river. for half a mile or more they glided along on a nearly straight course. to say that these gridley high school boys were happy would be putting it rather mildly. there was exhilaration in every move of this noble sport. nor was it at all like work. the canoe seemed to require but very little power to send her skimming over the water. at last dick guided the canoe in an easy, graceful turn, heading down the river once more. "now, you can try just a little faster stroke, dave," dick suggested. "and make it just a bit heavier on the stroke, fellows, but don't imagine that we're going to try any racing speed." "hurrah!" "zip!" "wow!" it was great sport! just the small increase in the stroke sent the handsome big war canoe fairly spinning down the river. "i never dreamed it would be like this!" cried dave darrin, in ecstasy. "fellows, i don't believe there is any fun in the world equal to canoeing in a real canoe." "it beats all the little cedar contraptions that some folks call canoes!" tom reade declared. "i am almost beginning to think," announced danny grin, "that i'd rather go on canoeing than go home for my dinner." "that idea would last until about half-past twelve," chuckled reade. "this is glorious fun, all right, but dinner has its place, too. as for me, i want to get my dinner strictly on time." "glutton!" taunted greg holmes. "don't you believe it," reade retorted. "i want my dinner right on time so that i can get back for a longer afternoon in the canoe." "fellows," announced dave darrin solemnly, "we've got to form a canoe club." "humph!" retorted greg holmes. "we don't want to belong to any club where the other fellows have only the fourteen or sixteen foot cedar canoes." "we don't have to," dave explained. "we'll limit the membership to those who own war canoes like this one. in other words, we'll be the whole club." "what's the need of our forming a club?" asked greg holmes. "we're as good as being a club already. we're always together in everything, aren't we?" "still, it won't do any harm to have a regular club name for the summer," dick prescott suggested. "what would we call the club?" asked hazelton. "why not call it the gridley high school canoe club?" dick demanded. "best name possible," tom agreed. "some of the other high school fellows might get sore at us, though," tom hinted. "they might say we had no right to take the high school name." "we won't take it for ourselves only," dick smiled. "we'll keep the club membership open to any set of six fellows who will own and run a war canoe. we'll keep the membership as open as possible to the high school fellows." "humph! and then fred ripley, bert dodge and a few others with plenty of cash would get a canoe and insist on coming in and spoiling the club." "they might," dick assented, "but i don't believe they would. fred ripley, bert dodge and a few others of their kind in the gridley high school wouldn't spend five cents to join anything we're in." toot! toot! sounded a whistle shrilly behind them. dick turned carefully to glance at the bend above them. "steam launch, with an excursion party," he informed the others. "i think i see laura bentley and belle meade in the bow waving handkerchiefs at us." dan dalzell turned abruptly around. harry hazelton did the same. "look out!" cried greg, as he shifted swiftly to steady the craft. just then tom reade turned, too. his added weight sent the canoe careening. there was a quick scramble to right the craft. flop! the canoe's port rail was under water. she filled and sank, carrying a lot of excited high school boys down at the same time. chapter vii "danny grin" is silent dick prescott sank into the water not more than two or three feet. then his head showed above the surface of the river. he struck out vigorously, looking about him. "the canoe is done for!" he gasped. too-oot! too-oot! too-oot! the steam launch was now speeding to the scene, its whistle screeching at a rate calculated to inform everyone in gridley of another river disaster. up came greg, then dave. tom reade's head appeared down stream. harry hazelton bobbed up not six feet from dick. hazelton blew out a mouthful of water, then called: "everyone up, dick?" "all but dan." "what-----" "i guess he's all right. danny grin is a good swimmer, you know." half a dozen river craft were now heading their way, but the launch was the only power boat in sight. five members of dick & co. now got close together. "we've got to go down after danny grin," reade declared. "you fellows watch, and i'll get as close to bottom as i can." tom sank. to the anxious boys he seemed to be gone for an age. he came up alone. "did you see dan?" dick faltered. "not a glimpse of him," returned tom despairingly. "see the canoe?" "no." "then you couldn't have gone down in the right place," dick argued. "i'll try it, fellows!" exclaimed darrin. down went dave. he soon came up, treading water. as soon as he had blown out a mouthful of water he exclaimed: "i found dan, but i couldn't stay under long enough. he went down with the canoe. he's lying in it now." "look out, there! we'll pick you up," called a voice from the launch, which now darted toward the boys. a bell for half speed, then another for "stop" sounded, and the hull of the launch divided the frightened swimmers. "let me get aboard!" cried dick, taking a few lusty over-hand strokes. willing hands hauled him into the launch at the bow, while girls' cries and anxious questions filled the air. "what's the matter?" "who-----" but dick waited to answer no one. standing in the bow of the launch, he pointed his hands, then dived into the river. while he was below the surface of the water the other canoeists swam alongside, helping themselves aboard. "oh, dave!" cried laura bentley. "what's wrong?" "dan dalzell hasn't come up," darrin choked. "here, clear the way. i'm going down after dick." he was gone like a flash. seconds ticked by while a score of pale faces watched over the side of the launch. then, at last, up shot dave. he was followed almost instantly by dick, his arms wrapped around the motionless form of dan dalzell. "get close and we'll haul you in!" called tom reade, a boat-hook in his hand. "is dan drowned!" demanded a dozen voices. "don't ask questions now!" cried tom reade impatiently, without looking about him. "keep quiet! it's a time for work." abashed, the questioners became silent. tom caught the boat-hook through the collar of dan's flannel shirt. with the aid of the launch's helmsman reade drew dan in and got him aboard. young dalzell's eyes were closed, nor did he speak. then dick and dave were pulled aboard the launch. "dan didn't seem to be able to free himself," darrin explained breathlessly. "his foot was wedged under a cleat in the canoe." "carry dan aft," ordered dick, while he was still clambering over the rail. "lay him face down." then, drenched as he was, dick hastened aft, where he directed others how to pat dan on the back and to work his arms. "we've got to get that water off his lungs," dick explained. "don't stop working for a moment. i wish we had a barrel to roll him on!" "we will have soon," replied the launch's helmsman, rushing back to his post and ringing the bell. thus recalled to his post, the engineer turned on the speed. the craft made swiftly for hiram driggs' float. a few moments later it ran alongside. warned by the whistle, driggs and two of his workmen came running out to the float. "get a barrel as quickly as you can!" shouted young prescott. by the time dalzell had been hustled ashore the barrel was in readiness. dan received an energetic rolling. three or four little gushes of water issued from his mouth. "keep up the good work," ordered dick feverishly. "we'll bring him around soon." when they saw that no more water was coming from dalzell's mouth the workers placed him in a sitting position, then began to pump-handle his arms vigorously. a tremor ran through the body of danny grin. "hurrah!" cried dick. "he's going to open his eyes!" this dan did a few moments later. "keep on working his arms," commanded prescott. "quit!" begged dalzell in a faint whisper. "you're hurting me." "good enough!" chuckled dick. "keep on at his arms until he can talk a whole lot more." "but isn't it cruel?" asked a girl. "no," rejoined tom reade, turning to her. "did you ever bring a drowning man to?" "never, of course." "then let our dick have his way. he generally knows what he's about. no rudeness intended you understand," reade added, smiling. "this lad's all right, now," declared hiram driggs. "help him to his feet and walk him about a bit until he gets the whole trick of breathing again. dalzell, didn't you know any better than to try to swallow the whole river and ruin my business?" a faint grin parted dan's lips. "oh, i'm so thankful," sighed laura bentley. "dick, i was afraid there would be but five of you left when i saw dan being hoisted aboard!" soon dalzell was able to laugh nervously. then a scowl darkened his face. "i'm the prize idiot of gridley!" he muttered faintly. "what's the matter now?" dave darrin demanded. "the canoe is lost, and it's all my fault," moaned dalzell. "oh, dear! oh, dear!" "bother the canoe!" cried dick impatiently. "we're lucky enough that no lives have been lost." "but i---i turned and upset the craft," wailed dan. "there were others of us," said greg sheepishly. "if we had had the sense of babies none of us would have turned, and there wouldn't have been any accident." "this is no time to talk about canoe etiquette," prescott declared. "let us be thankful that we're all here. we'll wait until dan is himself again before we do any talking." "i'm all right," protested dan dalzell. "yes; i believe you are," driggs nodded. "'t' any rate, you won't die now of that dose of river water." "party ready to come back aboard the launch?" called the helmsman. "oh, don't hurry us, just now!" appealed laura bentley, going over to him quietly. "we're all so interested and concerned in what is going on over here." so the helmsman waited, grumbling quietly to himself. some twenty of the high school girls had chartered the launch for a morning ride up the river. dainty enough the girls looked in their cool summer finery. they formed a bright picture as they stood grouped about dick & co. and the other male members of the party. "you fellows can say all you want to," mumbled dan, "but the canoe is gone for good and all! we won't have any more fun in it this summer." "was that what ailed you, dan?" teased darrin. "you felt so badly over the loss of the canoe that you tried to stay on the bottom of the river with it?" "my foot was caught, and i couldn't get it loose," dan explained. "i was trying to free myself, like mad, you may be sure, when all at once i didn't know anything more. you fellows must have had a job prying my foot loose." "it was something of a job," dick smiled, "especially as our time was so limited down there at the bottom with you. the river must be twenty feet deep at that point." "all of that," affirmed hiram driggs. by this time the high school girls had divided into little groups, each group with a member of dick & co. all to itself. the girls were engaging in that rather senseless though altogether charming hero worship so dear to the heart of the average schoolboy. "what caused the accident?" inquired one girl. "gallantry," smiled greg. "we were all so anxious to see you girls that we all turned at the same time. we made the canoe heel, and then it filled and went down. but you can't blame us, can you?" "but you've lost your fine big canoe," cried laura bentley, looking as though her pretty eyes were about to fill with tears. "yes," dick admitted, "and, of course, it's too bad. but a lot of other worse things might have happened, and i guess we'll get over our loss some way." "but that canoe meant so much for your summer fun," laura went on. "oh, it's too bad!" "maybe the canoe isn't lost," suggested hiram driggs. "what do you mean, mr. driggs?" cried laura, turning to him quickly. "is there any way of bringing the canoe up again?" asked belle meade eagerly. "there may be," driggs replied quietly. "i'm going to have a try at it anyway." "all aboard that are going back to the dock," called the helmsman of the launch, who was also her owner. laura turned upon him with flashing eyes. "i don't believe there is anyone going," she said. "we wouldn't leave here anyway, while there's a chance that the high school boys can get their canoe back to the surface of the water. you needn't wait, mr. morton. when we're ready we can walk the rest of the way." chapter viii what an expert can do "i don't say that i can surely raise the canoe," mr. driggs made haste to state, "or that it will be worth the trouble if we do raise it. that canoe may have sunk on river-bottom rocks, and she may be badly staved by this time. but i've sent one of my men to fire the scow engine, and i'm going out to see what can be done in the matter." "and may we wait here?" asked laura bentley, full of eagerness. "certainly, young ladies." "oh, that's just fine of you, mr. driggs," cried belle meade. smoke soon began to pour out of the short funnel of the working engine on the boatyard scow. it was a clumsy-looking craft---a mere floating platform, with engine, propeller, tiller and a derrick arrangement, but it had done a lot of good work at and about the boatyard. "you want to get aboard the scow now, boys," called mr. driggs. "if we do anything real out yonder i'll have need of some willing muscle." "can't some of the girls go, too?" called a feminine voice. "we're all dreadfully anxious, you know." hiram pursed up his mouth, as though reluctant. then he proposed, grudgingly: "a committee of two girls might go, if they're sure they'll keep out of the way when we're working. just two! which of the young ladies ought we to take, mr. prescott?" "why, i believe miss bentley and miss meade will be as satisfactory a committee as can be chosen," dick smiled. some of the girls frowned their disappointment at being left out, but others clapped their hands. laura and belle stepped on the scow's platform. "i wouldn't try to go, if i were you, dan," urged. dick, as young dalzell stepped forward to board the scow. "i'm all right," dan insisted. "sure you're all right?" questioned hiram driggs, eyeing danny grin's wobbly figure. "of course i am," dan protested, though he spoke rather weakly. "then there's a more important job for you," declared mr. driggs. "stay here on the float with the rest of the young ladies, and explain to them just what you see us doing out yonder." there was the sound of finality about the boat builder's voice, kindly as it was. "cast off," ordered driggs, taking the tiller. "tune up that engine and give us some headway." clara marshall was thoughtful enough to run back and get a chair, which she brought down to the float and placed behind dalzell. "sit down," she urged. "thank you," said dan gratefully, "but i didn't need a chair." nevertheless the high school girls persuaded him to be seated. "i---i wasn't drowned, you know," dan protested as he sat down. "no; but you got a little water into your lungs," responded one of the girls. "i heard mr. driggs tell dick prescott that, as nearly as they could guess, you opened your mouth a trifle just before dick and dave reached you and freed you from that awful trap. mr. driggs said that if you had been under water two minutes longer there would have been a different story to tell." "i wonder how long i was under water?" mused dan. "long enough to drown, danny grin," replied clara marshall gravely. meanwhile the scow was making slow headway out into the river and slightly up stream. "dick, don't you think this canoeing is going to prove too dangerous a sport for you boys?" asked laura, regarding him with anxious eyes. "not when we get so that we know how to behave ourselves in a canoe, laura," young prescott answered. "yet, no matter how skilful you become, some unexpected accident may happen at any moment," she urged. "you wouldn't have us be mollycoddles, would you?" asked dick in surprise. "certainly not," replied laura with emphasis. "yet you would advise us to avoid everything that may have some touch of danger in it." "i wouldn't advise that, either," laura contended with sweet seriousness. "but-----" "you'd like to see us play football some day, wouldn't you?" "i certainly hope you'll make the high school eleven." "football is undoubtedly more dangerous than canoeing," dick claimed. "it seems too bad that boys' best sports should be so dangerous, doesn't it?" questioned young miss bentley. "i can't agree with you," dick answered quietly. "it takes danger, and the ability to meet it, to form a boy's character into a man's." "then you believe in being foolhardy, as a matter of training?" asked laura, with a swift flash of her eyes. "by no means," prescott rejoined. "foolhardy means just what the word implies, and only a fool will be foolhardy. if we had been trying to upset the canoe, as a matter of sport, that would have been the work of young fools." it was not difficult to locate the spot where the canoe had gone down. the river's current was not swift, and the paddles now floated not very far below the spot where the cherished craft of dick & co. had gone down. "do you want the services of some expert divers, mr. driggs?" asked dave, turning from a brief chat with belle meade. "not you boys," retorted the boat builder. "you youngsters have been fooling enough with the river bottom for one day." "then how do you expect to get hold of the canoe, sir?" asked tom reade. "we'll grapple with tackle," replied driggs, going toward an equipment box that stood on the forward end of the scow. "we'll use the same kind of tackle that we've sometimes dragged the bottom with when looking for drowned people." laura bentley slivered slightly at his words. driggs' keen eyes noted the fact, and thereafter he was careful not to mention drowned people in her hearing. the tackle was soon rigged. tom reade and harry hazelton, who possessed the keenest interest in things mechanical, aided the boat builder under his direction. back and forth over the spot the scow moved, while the grapples were frequently shifted and recast. "stop the engine," called driggs. "we've hooked into something!" laura turned somewhat pale for a moment; belle, too, looked uneasy. the same thought had crossed both girls' minds. what if the tackle had caught the body of some drowned man? "we'll shift about here a bit," driggs proposed, nodding to the engineer to stand by ready to stop or start the engine on quick signal. before long the grappling hook of another line was caught; "the two lines are about twelve feet apart," driggs announced. "my idea is that we've caught onto two cross braces of the canoe. if so we'll have it up in a jiffy." both lines were now made fast to the derrick, in such a way that there would be an even haul on both lines. belting was now connected between the engine and a windlass. "haul away, very slowly," driggs ordered. up came the lines, an inch at a time. belle and laura could not resist the temptation to go to the edge of the scow and peer over. "i see something coming up," cried belle at last. "it's the canoe," said tom reade, trying to speak carelessly, though there was a ring of exultation in his voice. nearer and nearer to the surface of the water came the canoe. "now, watch for my hand signal all the time," called driggs. "i don't want to get the middle part of the canoe more than an inch above the surface." when the point of the canoe's prow rose above the surface of the water a cheer went up from the scow that carried the news instantly back to the landing float. danny grin stood up, waving his hat and cheering hoarsely, while the girls who surrounded him waved handkerchiefs and parasols. then the gunwale appeared just above water along the whole length. "it will be a hard job to bail her out now," dave declared. "not so hard that it will worry you any," driggs smiled. he dragged a pump over, allowing its flexible pipe to rest down into the water in the canoe. "now, some of you youngsters get hold of the pump handles," driggs ordered. five high school boys got hold with a will. gradually, as the water was emptied out of her the canoe rose higher and higher in the water. there was no cheering, now, from the boys on the scow. they were using all their breath working the pump, while driggs carefully directed the bottom of the flexible tubing. "there!" declared driggs at last. "barring a little moisture, your canoe is as dry as ever it was, boys. i can't see a sign of a leak anywhere, either. but don't make a practice of tipping it over every day, for i can't afford to leave my work to help you out. there's your canoe, and she's all right." dick got hold of the painter at the bow, while driggs released the grappling tackle. what a cheer went up from the scow, and what a busy scene there was on the float as the young women jumped up and down in their glee over the good fortune of dick & co. "now, we'll cruise down and get the paddles," driggs proposed. "as soon as we pick up a couple of them, dick and i can take the canoe and get the rest," dave suggested. "you cannot, while the young ladies are with us," hiram driggs contradicted. "do you want to scare them to death by having another upset?" laura shot a grateful glance at kindly hiram driggs. the scow moved forward, cruising among the paddles until all of them had been recovered. "now, mr. driggs, won't you stop a moment?" asked young prescott. "it will be a bit humiliating to be towed into dock. wait, and let us get into the canoe. we'd rather take it ashore under our own power." laura hoped hiram driggs would veto the idea, but he didn't. the canoe was brought alongside, and five boys stepped carefully into it, seating themselves. "room for one young lady in here, if we can find a fair way of drawing lots between them," suggested dick playfully. "they won't step into the canoe, just now, if i can prevent them," driggs declared flatly. "you boys want just a few minutes' more practice at your new game before you risk the lives of these girls." "you're right, i'm afraid, mr. driggs," dick prescott admitted with a smile. "but, before long, we hope to take out as many of the high school girls as care to step into this fine old war canoe." "i hope you won't forget that," belle meade flashed at him smilingly. "we won't," dave promised her. "and you and laura shall have the first invitation." "i shall be ready," laura replied, "just as soon as you boys feel that you can take proper care of us in the canoe." "you'll have to do your own share of taking care," tom reade responded. "about all a passenger has to learn in a canoe is to take a seat right in the middle of the canoe, and to keep to that place without moving about." dick & co., minus danny grin, now paddled off, reaching the float some moments before the scow got in. "young ladies," said dick, as he stepped to the float, "i don't know how many of you will care about going out in our canoe, but we wish to invite all who would like it to try a trip within the next few days. four boys and two girls can go out at a time, and in case of mishap that would leave two good swimmers to look after each girl. we shall be glad if you will permit us to invite you in couples." despite the accident of the morning the invitation was greeted with enthusiasm. chapter ix dick trembles at his nerve hiram driggs refused to accept any money for his trouble in raising the canoe. "i won't charge you anything, unless upsetting your craft becomes a troublesome habit," the boat builder declared. "remember, i'm a big winner on our birch bark trade." within the next four days all of the girls invited had been able to take a trip up the river and back. by this time dick & co. had fully acquired the mastery of their canoe. they had had no more upsets, for "big chief prescott," of this new gridley tribe of young indians, had succeeded in putting through some rules governing their conduct when the chums were out in their canoe. one of these rules was that no one should change his position in the craft except the steersman at the stern. others would not look about at a hail unless informed by the steersman that they might do so. not by any means did dick do all the steering of the craft. each of his chums had a frequent turn at it, and at the other positions in the canoe, until all were expert at any part of the work. "but there is one big drawback about having this canoe," greg remarked one day. "what's that?" asked dave. "there are no canoes to race with." "there are up at lake pleasant," dick replied. "but we can't take the canoe up there," tom reade objected. "it's twenty-four miles from gridley." "couldn't we walk there and carry the canoe on our shoulders?" suggested dave. while they were discussing this, the canoe lay on the float., whence they were soon to take it into the boathouse. "we can try it now," suggested dick. getting a good hold, dick & co. raised the war canoe to their several shoulders. they found they could accomplish the feat, though it wasn't an easy one. "we'll have to give up that idea," tom remarked rather mournfully. "without a doubt we could carry the canoe to lake pleasant, if we had time enough. but i don't believe we could make five miles a day with it. so to get the canoe up to lake pleasant on our shoulders, and then back again would take over two weeks." dick was unusually thoughtful as the boys strolled from driggs' yard up to main street. lake pleasant was a fine place to visit in summer. he knew that, for he had been there on one occasion. on one side of the lake were two hotels, each with roomy recreation grounds, with piers and plenty of boats. on this same side there were four or five boarding houses for people of more moderate means. boating was the one great pastime at lake pleasant. indeed, a canoe club had been started there by young men of means, and the boathouse stood at the water's edge on the hotel pleasant grounds. then, too, there may have been another reason for dick's desire to go to lake pleasant. the following week dr. and mrs. bentley were going to take charge of a party of gridley high school girls, at lake pleasant, and laura and belle meade would be of the number. "we'd cut a fine dash at lake pleasant," dave darrin laughed. "which hotel would we honor with our patronage? terms, from fourteen to twenty-five dollars a week. we've about enough money to stay at one of the hotels for about two hours, or at a boarding house for about nine hours. when shall we start---and how shall we get there with our canoe?" "we have about fifty dollars in our treasury, from the birch bark business," dick mused aloud, "but that won't help us any, will it?" "why, how much would it cost to have the canoe taken up there on a wagon danny grin asked. "not less than fifteen dollars each way," dick replied. "we'll give it up," said tom. "there's nothing in the lake pleasant idea for us." "i hadn't any idea we could do anything else but give it up," dave observed, though he spoke rather gloomily. dick was still thinking hard, though he could think of no plan that would enable them to make a trip to lake pleasant and remain there for some days. it was a saturday afternoon. it had been a hot day, yet out on the water, busy with their sport, and acquiring a deep coating of sunburn, the boys had not noticed the heat especially. now they mopped their faces as they strolled almost listlessly along the street. "i want to go to lake pleasant," grumbled danny grin. "going to-night, or to-morrow morning?" teased greg. "if i had an automobile i'd start after supper," dalzell informed them. "but not having a car you'll wait till you're grown up and have begun to earn money of your own," laughed harry hazelton. "what do you say, dick?" asked dan dalzell anxiously. "i say that i'm going to put in a few days or a fortnight at lake pleasant if i can possibly find the way," dick retorted, with a sudden energy that was quite out of keeping with the heat of the afternoon. "hurray!" from danny grin. "that's what i call the right talk," added darrin. "how will the rest of us get along with the canoe while you're gone?" questioned tom reade. "you don't suppose i'd go to lake pleasant without the rest of the crowd?" dick retorted rather scornfully. "then you're going to take us all with you, and the canoe, too?" tom demanded, betraying more interest. "if i can find the way to do it, or if any of you fellows can," was young prescott's answer. that started another eager volley of talk. yet soon all of them save dick looked quite hopeless. the railroad ran only within eight miles of the lake. from the railway station the rest of the journey was usually made by automobile stages, while baggage went up on automobile trucks. charges were high on this automobile line up into the hills. to send the canoe by rail, and then transfer it to an automobile truck would cost more than to transport it direct from gridley to the lake by wagon. "we can talk about it all we want," sighed tom, "but i don't see the telephone poles on the golden road to lake pleasant." "we've got to find the way if we can," dick retorted firmly. "let's all set about it at once." "when do we start?" teased tom. "monday morning early," laughed dave. "and this is late saturday afternoon." dan dalzell was not in his usually jovial spirits. his heart was as much set on going as was dick's, but dan now felt that the pleasure jaunt was simply impossible. "let's meet on main street after supper," dick proposed. "perhaps by that time we'll have found an idea or two." "if we can find a pocketbook or two lying in the main street gutter, that will be something more practical than finding ideas," tom replied with a doleful shake of his head. "but perhaps we'll really find the pocketbooks. such things are told of in story books, anyway, you know." "if we find any pocketbooks," smiled dick, "our first concern after that will be to find the owners of them. so that stunt wouldn't do us much good, even if it happened." then the boys separated and went to their respective homes for supper. but dick prescott did not eat as much as usual. he was too preoccupied. he knew to a penny the amount that was in the treasury of their little canoe club, for mr. prescott was holding the money subject to his son's call. certainly the money in the treasury wouldn't bring about a vacation at lake pleasant. just as soon as the meal was over dick went out, strolling back to main street. "'lo, dick!" prescott turned to recognize and nod to a barefooted boy, rather frayed as to attire. mart heckler had been two classes below him when prescott had attended central grammar school. now mart was waiting for the fall to enter the last grade at central, which was also to be his last year at school. mart's parents were poor, and this lad, in another year, must join the army of toilers. "you must be having a lot of fun this vacation, dick," remarked mart rather wistfully. "lot of fun in that war canoe, isn't there?" "yes; there is, mart. if we see you down at the float one of these days we'll ask you out for a little ride." "will you?" asked mart, his eyes snapping. "fine! now that you fellows have your canoe i don't suppose you'll be trying to go away anywhere this summer. too much fun at home, eh?" "i don't know about that," said young prescott wistfully. "just now we're planning to try to take the canoe up to lake pleasant for a while." "bully place, the lake," said mart approvingly. "i'm going up there monday. going to be gone for a couple of days." "how are you going to get there?" dick asked with interest. "you know my uncle billy, don't you?" asked mart. "he's the teamster, you know. he's going to lake pleasant to get a load of furniture that the installment folks are taking back from a new boarding house up there. he said i could go up with him. we'll carry our food, and sleep over monday night in the wagon." dick halted suddenly, trembling with eagerness. he began to feel that he had scented a way of getting the canoe up to the lake in the hills! chapter x putting up a big scheme "your uncle will be at his regular stand to-night, won't he?" queried dick prescott. "i expect so," mart agreed. "what's the matter? do you want to go along with us? i guess uncle billy would be willing." at this moment dick heard a group of younger boys laughing as they strolled along the street. following their glances, dick saw in the street what is commonly known in small towns as the "hoss wagon"---a vehicle built for the purpose of removing dead horses. "there goes fred ripley's bargain!" chuckled one of the boys. at that moment fred ripley himself turned the corner into main street. "and there's rip himself," laughed another boy. "hey, rip! how's horse flesh?" but fred, flushing angrily, hurried along. "what's up?" asked young prescott as the group of boys came along. "haven't you heard about fred's pony?" asked one of the crowd. "i know he bought a pony," dick answered. "yes; but squire ripley had a veterinary go down to the ripley stable this afternoon, and look the pony over," volunteered the ready informant. "vet said that the pony would be worth a dollar or two for his hide, but wouldn't be worth anything alive. so squire ripley ordered the pony shot, and that cart is taking the poor beast away." "is your canoe going to be a winner?" asked another boy. "we expect so," dick nodded. "great joke on rip, isn't it?" grinned another. "i can't say that his misfortune makes me especially happy," prescott answered gravely. "well, i'm glad he was 'stung' on his pony," continued the other boy. "rip is no good!" "there is an old saying to the effect that, if we got our just deserts we'd all of us be more or less unhappy," smiled dick. "rip won't be so chesty with us smaller boys," predicted another grammar school boy. "if he tries it on, all we've got to do is to ask him, 'how's horse flesh, rip?'" in spite of himself dick could not help laughing at the thought of the mortification of the lawyer's son when he should be teased on so tender a point. then dick asked: "mart, is your uncle at his stand now?" "i reckon he is," nodded heckler. "let's go over there and see him." "you're going to try to take the ride with us, then?" asked mart. "i think so." "bully!" glowed mart, who, like most of the younger boys of gridley, was a great admirer of the leader of dick & co. billy heckler, a man of thirty, was, indeed, to be found at his stand. "dick wants to go up to lake pleasant with us on monday," mart began, but dick quickly added: "i understand, mr. heckler, that you're going up to the lake without a load." "yes," nodded the truckman. "then it struck me that perhaps i could arrange with you to take up our canoe and some bedding, and also let the fellows ride on the wagon." "how many of you are there?" inquired billy heckler. "the usual six," dick smiled. "if you can do it, how much would you charge us?" "fifteen dollars," replied the driver, after a few moments' thought. dick's face showed his disappointment at the answer. "i'm afraid that puts us out of it, then," he said quietly. "i had hoped that, as you are going up without a load, anyway, you might be willing to take our outfit up for a few dollars. it would be that much to the good for you, wouldn't it?" "hardly," billy replied. "carrying a load takes more out of a team than an empty wagon does. you can see that, can't you?" "ye-es," dick nodded thoughtfully. "but, you see, we're only boys, and we can't talk money quite like men yet." "some men can't do anything with money except talk about it," billy heckler grinned. "well, i'd like to oblige you boys. what's your offer, then?" "we don't feel that we could pay more than five dollars," dick answered promptly. "no money in that," replied billy heckler, picking up a piece of wood and whittling. "no; i'm afraid there isn't," dick admitted. "i guess our crowd will have to content itself with staying at home and using the canoe on the river." "the river is a good place," heckler argued. "why aren't you all content to stay at home and use your canoe on the river?" "because," smiled young prescott, "i suppose it's human nature to want to get away somewhere in the summer. then we understand that there are other crew canoes on lake pleasant. of course, now we've spent a few days in the canoe, we believe we're real canoe racers." "if you could call it ten dollars," heckler proposed after a few minutes, "that might-----" "the crowd hasn't money enough," dick replied. "you see, we've got to get the canoe back, too. then we'll have to use money to feed ourselves up there. i don't see how we can go if we have to spend more than five dollars to get there." billy heckler started to shake his head, but mart, getting behind dick, made vigorous signals. "we-ell, i suppose i can do it," agreed heckler at last. "there's nothing in the job, but i can remember that i used to be a boy myself. we'll call it a deal, then, shall we?" "i'll have to see the other fellows first," prescott answered. "i'll hustle, though. the fellows will all have to get permission at home, too, you know." "let me know any time before six to-morrow night," proposed billy. "it must be understood, though, that if i get a paying freight order to haul to the lake between now and starting time, then my deal with you must be off." "of course," dick agreed. "and thank you, mr. heckler. now, i'll hustle away and see the other fellows." dick sped promptly away. when he reached main street he found the other fellows there. dick gleefully detailed the semi-arrangement that he had made. "great!" cried dave. "grand, if we can all square matters at home," tom reade nodded. "well, fellows, you all know what we've got to do now. we'll meet again at this same place. all do your prettiest coaxing at home. it spoils the whole thing if anyone of us gets held up from the trip. did you hear about rip's pony, dick?" "yes." "served him ri---" began greg holmes, but stopped suddenly. for fred ripley, turning the corner, saw dick & co., and carefully walked around them to avoid having to pass through the little crowd. "speaking of angels-----!" said dave darrin dryly. "don't tease him, darry," urged dick in a very low voice. but fred heard all their remarks. his fists clenched as he walked on with heightened color. "it's just meat to them to see me so badly sold on the pony, and to know that my father ordered the animal shot and carted away!" muttered young ripley fiercely. "of course the whole town knows of it by this time. prescott's muckers and a few others will be in high glee over my misfortune, but, anyway, i'll have the sympathy of all the decent people in gridley!" fred's ears must have burned that night, however, for the majority of the gridley boys were laughing over his poor trade in horse flesh. chapter xi all ready to race, but----- on the landing stage at the hotel pleasant a group of girls stood on the following tuesday morning. "wouldn't dick and dave and the rest of their crowd enjoy this lake if they were here with their canoe?" asked laura bentley. "yes," agreed belle meade. "and very likely they'd win some more laurels for gridley high school, too. preston high school has a six-paddle canoe here now, and trentville high school will send a canoe crew here in a few days. oh, how i wish the boys could manage to get here with their war canoe!" "it seems too bad, doesn't it," remarked clara marshall, "that some of the nicest boys in our high school are so poor that they can't do the ordinary things they would like to do?" "some of the boys in dick & co. won't be poor when they've been out of school ten years," laura predicted, with a glowing face. "i don't believe any of them will be poor by that time," agreed clara. "but it must hurt them a good deal, just now, not to have more money." "i wish they could be here now," sighed laura. "you want to see gridley high school win more laurels in sports and athletics?" asked another girl. "yes," assented miss bentley, "and i'd like to see the boys here, anyway, whether they won a canoe race or not." "there's a crew canoe putting off from the other side now!" announced belle meade. "that's probably preston high school," said laura. "have the preston boys a war canoe, too?" asked one of the girls, shading her eyes with her hand, and staring hard at the canoe across the lake, some three quarters of a mile away. "someone at the hotel said the preston boys have a cedar and canvas canoe," laura replied. "that's a birch-bark canoe over yonder," declared the girl who was studying the distant craft so intently. "i can tell by the way the sun shines on the wet places along the sides of the canoe." the other girls were now looking eagerly. "wait a moment," begged clara, and, turning, sped lightly to the boathouse near by. she returned with a telescope. "hurry!" begged laura bentley as clara started to focus the telescope. "you take it," proposed clara generously, passing the glass to laura. laura soon had the telescope focused. "hurrah, girls!" she cried. "that's the war canoe from gridley, and dick & co. are in it." she passed the glass to belle meade, who took an eager peep through it. "hurrah! gridley high school! hurrah!" chorused the other girls. their voices must have traveled across the water, for prescott, at the stern of the war canoe, suddenly gave a couple of strokes with his wet, flashing paddle, that swung the prow around, driving the canoe straight in the direction of the landing float. "hurrah! gridley high school! hurrah!" called the girls again, giving the high school yell of the girls of that institution of learning. in answer a series of whoops came over the water. "they're coming at racing speed!" cried laura. "which shows how devoted the boys of our high school are to the young ladies," laughed belle. within a few minutes the canoe was quite close, and coming on swiftly. from the young paddlers went up the vocal volley: "t-e-r-r-o-r-s-! wa-ar! fam-ine! pesti-i-lence! that's us! that's us! g-r-i-d-l-e-y-----h.s.! rah! rah! rah! gri-dley!" "hurrah! gridley! hurrah!" answered the girls. "whoop! wow! wow! _whoo-oo-oo-oop_! indians! cut-throats! lunch-robbers! bad, bad, bad! speed club! glee club! canoe club---gridley h.s.!" volleyed back dick & co. it was the first time that they had let out their canoe yell in public. they performed it lustily, with zest and pride. "splendid!" cried some of the girls, clapping their hands. though it was not quite plain whether they referred to the new yell, or to the skilful manner in which the boys now brought their craft in. at a single "ugh!" from prescott they ceased paddling. dick, with two or three turns of his own paddle, brought the canoe in gently against the float. now dave and dick held the canoe to the float with their paddles while the other young indians, one at a time, stepped out. those who had landed now bent over, holding the gunwale gently while dave, first, and then dick, stepped to the float. "up with it, braves! out with it!" cried dick. the canoe, grasped by twelve hands, was drawn up on to the float, where its wet hull lay glistening in the bright july sunlight. "you never told us you were coming up here!" cried laura bentley, half reproachfully. "if you're bored at seeing us," proposed dick, smilingly, "we'll launch our bark and speed away again." "of course we're not bored," protested belle meade. "but why couldn't you tell us you were coming?" "we weren't sure of it until late sunday afternoon," dave assured her. "some of us had to do some coaxing at home before we got permission." "how did you get that big canoe here?" clara marshall asked. "don't you see the gasoline engine and the folded white wings inside the canoe?" asked tom reade gravely. "we can use it either as a canoe or as an airship." three or four of the girls, clara at their head, stepped forward to look for engine and "wings," then stepped back, laughing. "you're such a fibber, tom reade!" declared susie sharp. "a falsifier?" demanded tom indignantly. "nothing like it, miss susie! the worst you can say of me is that i have the imagination of an inventor." "tweedledum and tweedledee!" laughed clara. "it does seem good to see you boys up here," belle went on with enthusiasm. "how long are you going to stay?" "in other words, how soon are you going to be rid of us?" asked danny grin. "are you speaking for yourself, mr. dalzell?" belle returned tartly. "i inquired more particularly about the others." dan quite enjoyed the laugh on himself, though he replied quickly: "the others have to go home when i do. they had to promise that they would do so." "we have been camping at lake pleasant for two days," dick explained. "we came up herewith our canoe and camping outfit on billy heckler's wagon. we brought along harry's bull-dog to watch the camp. as to how long we'll stay, that depends." "depends upon what?" clara asked. "on how long our funds hold out," prescott explained, with a frank smile. "you see, all our wall street investments have turned out badly." "i'm truly sorry to hear that young men of your tender age should have been drawn into the snares of wall street," retorted clara dryly. "so, having had some disappointments in high finance," prescott went on, "we can stay only as long as our _dog fund_ lasts." "dog fund?" asked susie sharp, looking bewildered. "dick is talking about the money we made in bark," greg holmes explained readily. "then you really expect to be here a fortnight?" laura asked. "yes; if we don't develop too healthy appetites and eat up our funds before the fortnight is over," dick assented. "oh, you mustn't do that," urged belle. "mustn't do what?" dave asked. "don't eat up your funds too quickly," belle explained. "even if you do," suggested susie sharp, teasingly, "you won't need to hurry home. we girls know where there are several fine fields of farm truck that can be robbed late at night. potatoes, corn, watermelons-----" "it's really very nice of you girls to offer to rob the farmers' fields to find provender for us," returned greg. "but i am afraid that we boys have been too honestly brought up to allow ourselves to become receivers of stolen-----" "greg holmes!" susie sharp interrupted, her face turning very red. "no; it's nice of you, of course," greg went on tantalizingly, "but we'd rather have a short vacation, that we can tell the whole truth about when we go home." "you boys may starve, if you like," retorted susie, with a toss of her head. "i'm through with trying to help you out." "you know, susie," danny grin went on maliciously, "farmers' fields are often guarded by dogs. just think how you would feel, trying to climb a tree on a dark night, with a bulldog's teeth just two inches from the heels of your shoes." "who are up here, in the way of canoe folks?" dick asked laura. she told him about the preston high school boys and the coming crew from trentville high school. "we ought to be able to get up some good races," remarked dave. "you'll disgrace gridley high school, though, unless you drop danny grin and greg holmes," retorted susie. "now, don't be too hard on us, miss sharp," tantalized greg, "just because we tried to dissuade you from committing a crime with the otherwise laudable intention of feeding us when our money runs out." "if you will only leave greg and dan out," proposed clara, "you may call on any two of us girls that you want to take their places in the canoe on race days." "whew!" muttered dick suddenly. "what's wrong?" demanded belle. "don't mind prescott," urged tom reade. "just as we left shore on the other side someone threw a stone into the lake and raised a succession of ripples, which rocked the canoe a bit. so---well, you've all heard of sea sickness, haven't you?" "we might feel worse than sea sick," dick went on, "if we had raced, and then suddenly remembered that we have no authorization from gridley high school to represent the school in sporting events." tom's face fell instantly. dave darrin, too, looked suddenly very serious. "what's the matter?" asked laura anxiously. "why, you see," dick went on, "although we are sure enough gridley high school boys, we haven't gone through the simple little formality of getting our canoe club recognized by the high school athletic council." "you can race just the same, can't you?" asked susie sharp, looking much concerned. "we may race all we wish, and no one will stop us-----" "then it's all right," said susie, with an air of conviction. "but we simply cannot race in the name of gridley high school." "oh, but that's too bad!" cried clara. "you can write to someone in the council and secure the necessary authorization, can't you?" asked laura. "yes, we can write; but it's another matter to get action by the council in time," dick responded. "you see, it's the vacation season. there are seven members of the athletic council and i believe that all seven of the members are at present away from gridley. likely as not they are in seven different states, and the secretary may not even know where most of them are." eight gridley high school girls suddenly looked anxious. they had been rejoicing in the prospect of "rooting" for a victorious gridley crew here at lake pleasant. now the whole thing seemed to have fallen flat. "the thing to do---though it doesn't look very promising---is to-----" began tom reade, then came to dead stop. "how provoking you can be, when you want to, tom," pouted clara. "why don't you go on?" "because i found myself stuck fast in a new quagmire of thought," reade confessed humbly. "what i was about to say is that the first thing to do is to write to mr. william howgate, secretary of the gridley high school athletic council of the alumni association. but that was where the thought came in and stabbed me with a question mark. mr. howgate is out of town. does anyone here know his address?" fourteen gridley faces looked blank until dick at last remarked: "i suppose a letter sent to his address in gridley would reach him. it would be forwarded." "thank goodness for one quick-witted boy in gridley high school!" uttered belle. "of course a letter would be forwarded." "and there isn't any time to be lost, either," urged susie. "girls, we'll take dick right up to the hotel now, and sit and watch him while he writes and mails that letter." "right!" came a prompt chorus. "come along, boys," added susie, as the girls started away with their willing captive. "let dave go," spoke up tom. "some of us must stay behind and stand by our canoe. it's valuable---to us!" so darrin was shoved forward. he and prescott had walked a few yards when the latter stopped in sudden dismay. "what's the matter?" asked clara. "we are dressed all right for our own camp," dick replied, glancing down at his flannel shirt, old trousers and well-worn pair of canvas "sneakers" on his feet. "we didn't feel out of place in the canoe, either. but the hotel is a fashionable place, and we can't go up in this sort of rig, to discredit you girls. for that matter, just think how smart you all look yourselves, dressed in the daintiest of summer frocks. while we look like---well, i won't say the word." "if our gridley boys are ashamed to be seen with us just because they're in rough camp attire," said laura gently, "then we haven't as much reason to be proud of them as we thought we had." "i'm answered," dick admitted humbly. "lead on, then. we'll take comfort from our company, and hold our heads as high as we can." on to the wide hotel porch, where many well-dressed people sat, the girls conducted the two delegates from the canoe club. however, none of the guests on the porch paid any particular attention to dick and dave. both campers and canoers were common enough at this summer resort. it was clara who led the way into a parlor, in one corner of which there was a writing desk. dick seated himself at the desk, and after a moment's thought began to write, then promptly became absorbed in his task. dave and the girls seated themselves at a little distance, chatting in low tones. there were other guests of the hotel pleasant in the parlor, while still others passed in or out from time to time. one young man, quite fashionably dressed, stepped into the parlor, looked about him, then started as his glance fell on dick and dave. it was fred ripley. "hello!" muttered ripley in a voice just loud enough to carry, as he stood looking at dick and dave. "i thought i saw, out in the grounds, a sign that read: 'no tramps, beggars or peddlers allowed on these grounds or in the hotel.'" dick's fingers trembled so that he dropped the pen, though he tried to conceal his feelings. dave darrin's fists clenched tightly, though he had the good sense to realize that to start a fight in the parlor was out of the question. ripley's remark had been loud enough to attract the attention of nearly every person in the big room toward dick and dave. chapter xii susie discomfits a boor laura bentley bit her lips. she flushed, then started to rise, but susie sharp gently pushed her back into her seat, then crossed to an electric button in the frame of a window. a bell-boy promptly answered susie's ring. "will you kindly ask the manager to come here at once?" asked susie. as it happened, the manager was no further away than the corridor. he came in quickly, bowing. "mr. wright," asked susie coldly, nodding toward fred ripley, who stood leaning over a chair, smiling insolently, "will you kindly have this objectionable person removed? he is annoying our guests." in a twinkling fred's insolent smile vanished. susie's request had not been voiced in a loud tone, but it had been heard by perhaps twenty-five strangers in the parlor. ripley's face paled, briefly, then became fiery red. he stood erect, stammered inarticulately, then looked as though he were furtively seeking some hiding place. "i think, miss sharp," replied the hotel manager, with another bow, "that the young man is on the point of leaving, and that the services of a porter will not be needed." fred tried to look unconcerned; he fished mentally for something smart to say. for once, however, his self assurance had utterly deserted him. "oh---well!" he muttered, then turned and left the parlor in the midst of a deep silence that completed his utter humiliation. "mr. wright," said laura, "i want you to know mr. darrin, one of our most popular high school boys in gridley. dick, can't you come over here a moment? mr. wright, mr. prescott. our two friends, mr. wright, have brought up a racing canoe. they are camping across the lake. we hope they will arrange for races with the preston and trentville high school canoe clubs." "i am most glad to meet your friends," said the manager, shaking hands with dick and dave. "two of the preston high school young men are stopping here in the house, and the others are over at the lakeview house. i hope, mr. prescott, that we shall be able to have some fine high school races. it will increase the gayety of the season here." "thank you," said dick. "but i am afraid, sir, that we have been worse than neglectful---stupid. "how so?" asked mr. wright, his manner quickly putting both rather shabby-looking boys wholly at their ease. "why, sir," prescott explained, "we had never thought, until this morning, to secure authorization from the athletic council of our school to represent gridley high school. i am now engaged in writing a letter asking for that authorization." "let me take a hand in this," begged mr. wright. "is your letter at all of a private nature?" "not in the least, sir." "may i see it?" "certainly, mr. wright." the hotel manager followed dick to the writing desk, where he glanced over the letter. "i have only one suggestion to make," said the manager. "why not ask the secretary, mr. howgate, to send his answer by telegraph to this hotel, collect?" "that would be all right," agreed dick frankly, "if his answer isn't too long, or if he doesn't have to send more than one telegram. we are not exactly overburdened with funds, mr. wright." "that doesn't cut any figure at all," replied the hotel manager in a voice so low that none but prescott heard him. "any telegrams sent here for you will be paid for by the hotel. there will be no expense to you, mr. prescott." "i'm afraid i don't understand why you should do this, mr. wright," said dick, looking at the other attentively. "purely a matter of business, my boy," the hotel manager beamed down at him. "such racing as i hope to have here on lake pleasant constitutes a summer season attraction. arrange a schedule of races, and you may be sure that both hotels will advertise the fact. it will be enough to draw a lot of young people here, and this hotel thrives by the number of guests that it entertains. so will you do me the favor of asking your mr. howgate to telegraph his answer---collect---addressing it here?" that began to look like something that prescott could understand. he called dave over to him and told his chum what was being discussed. "fine!" glowed darrin. "thank you, mr. wright." so dick made the suggested addition to the letter. after he addressed an envelope and had sealed it the manager took the letter away to mail. then he returned to say, with a tactfulness that won the hearts of the eight gridley high school girls: "mr. prescott, you and your friends will oblige me if you will make this hotel your headquarters when you are on this side of the lake. we shall always be delighted to see you here." thanking the manager for his courtesy, dick and dave accompanied laura to the porch; where they were introduced to some of the other guests. then the two boys and the girls started down to the lakeside once more. "mr. wright was very kind," murmured dick gratefully. "he never fails in courtesy toward anyone," replied laura. "you boys will come over every day, won't you? we must have a picnic or two." "and you must all visit our camp." dick urged. "it isn't much of a place, but the welcome will be of the real gridley kind. if you dare take the risk, we'll even offer you a camp meal." "the farmers' gardens are in danger, after all, then," laughed susie. "if you are going to deplete your larders to entertain us, we girls will surely rob the farmers to make up for what we eat." susie's face had grown so grave that prescott could not help regarding her quizzically. "i mean just what to say about robbing the farmers, don't i, girls?" susie asked. "yes," agreed laura bentley promptly. she had no idea what was passing in her friend's head, but she knew susie well enough to feel sure that the latter was planning nothing very wicked. "can't we take you out, two at a time?" proposed dick, as the young people neared the float. "now?" inquired laura. "yes; since 'now' is always the best time for doing things," prescott replied. in no time at all the plan had been agreed to. clara and susie went out for the first ride in the canoe, tom reade taking command, while dick and dave remained on the float. two at a time the girls were taken out on the water. this consumed nearly two hours of time altogether, but it was thoroughly enjoyed by every member of the party. but at last it came close, indeed, to the luncheon hour. "now, when are you coming over to that picnic in our camp?" dick asked in an outburst of hospitality. "at what time of the day?" laura inquired. "if your mother and mrs. meade will come along as chaperons," dick answered, "night would be the best time." "why at night?" "because, then, you wouldn't be able to see the shabby aspect of our camp so plainly." "it would be very jolly to go over and have a picnic meal by the campfire," belle agreed. "yet, in that case, we would want to reach your place by half-past four or so in the afternoon." "why?" "so that we girls may have the fun of helping prepare a famous feast," miss meade went on. "boys, if we come, we shall pass luncheon by and bring keen appetites for that evening feast. what is the principal item on the bill of fare of your camp?" "canned goods," replied tom reade. "don't you believe him," dick interjected quickly. "lake trout, bass and perch. this lake is well stocked, and we have already found one splendid fishing hole. we got up at five this morning and caught so many fish in half an hour that we threw some of them back into the water because we had no ice." "will your mothers come, if we have it in the evening?" asked dick looking at laura and belle. "surely," nodded laura quickly. "and we'll greatly enjoy it," dick went on, "if dr. bentley will also come. is your father here, miss meade?" "i'm sorry to say that he isn't," belle answered. "a real picnic, in real woods, beside real water, would appeal to him strongly." "but we haven't fixed upon the date," cried susie impatiently. "how would to-morrow night do?" dick suggested. "famously," laura replied. "now, boys, you catch the fish to-morrow afternoon, and don't bother so much about the other things to eat. we won't have any canned stuff in our famous feast. we girls will bring all the garden stuff." "and will steal it from the farmers, at that," added susie teasingly. "yes, you will!" mocked danny grin good-humoredly. "i give you our word that we'll steal everything that we bring in the garden line," susie declared vigorously. "then you'll arrange it with the farmer in advance," greg laughed. "i give you our word that we won't do that, either," laughed laura, coming to her friend's support, though she had no idea what was passing in susie's busy little head. "there goes the luncheon bell!" cried dick reproachfully. "we're keeping you girls away from your meal. come on, fellows. into the canoe with you." "but you'll be back here to-morrow morning?" pressed miss bentley. "yes; at what time?" "ten o'clock." "you'll find us here punctually." dick & co. paddled back to their camp feeling that they were having a most jolly time, with all the real fun yet to come. dick did not think it worth while to go over to the hotel again that day, to see if a telegram had come. he was certain that the letter would not find mr. howgate earlier than the next day, in any event. but at ten o'clock the next morning dick & co., having put the best possible aspect on their attire, paddled gently in alongside the float of the hotel pleasant. even before they had landed, fred ripley, who was stopping with his father and mother at the lakeview house, alighted from an automobile runabout in the woods some two hundred yards from the lakeside camp of dick & co. "those muckers are away," fred told himself, as he watched the war canoe go in at the hotel float. "now, if i have half as much ingenuity as i sometimes think i have, i believe i can cut short their stay here by rendering that cheap crowd homeless---and foodless!" chapter xiii the ripley heir tries coaxing fred studied the now distant canoe, then glanced carefully about the camp. he knew that any sign of his presence, observed by dick & co., would be sure to result in the swift return of the canoe, with its load of six indignant boys. nor did young ripley dare to risk discovery as the perpetrator of the outrage he was now planning. he feared his father's certain wrath. "there are screens of bushes behind which i can operate," ripley decided. "i am glad of the bushes, for, if i use care, not a living soul can see me. now, for some swift work." it did not take ripley long to discover where the boys' food supply was stored. "these fellows act like boobs!" muttered fred in disgust. "here they go away and leave everything exposed. if they didn't have an enemy in the world, even then some tramp could come along and clean out the camp. humph! two tramps, if they wanted to work for a little while, could carry away all the food there is here. what a lot of poor, penniless muckers prescott and his friends are!" again fred studied the lay of the land, then drew off his coat and flung it aside. "now, to work!" he said to himself gleefully. first of all, he got the food supplies all together. most of this stuff was in the form of canned goods. ripley gathered it up in one big pile. then he stepped over to the tent, from which, at several points and angles he looked carefully over to the hotel landing float on the other side of lake pleasant. "they can't see, from the hotel, whether the tent is down or up," fred determined. "so here goes!" opening the largest blade of his pocketknife, fred cut one of the guy-ropes. he passed around the tent, cutting each one in turn, until the canvas shelter fell over in a white mass. "won't they be sore, though?" laughed fred maliciously, as he started to carry off the camp supplies. gr-r-r-r-r! gr-r-r-r! just as fred was straightening up to start off with his load for a bush-screen near the lake front, ripley heard that ominous growl. there was also the sound of something moving through the bushes. as fred turned his face blanched. "harry hazelton's bull-dog!" he quivered, now utterly frightened as he caught sight of the gleaming teeth in that ugly muzzle. "i didn't know that they had brought that beast with them. it's the lake for mine! if i can only get into the water i can swim faster than the dog!" all this flashed through his mind in an instant. young ripley started in full flight. close behind him, bounding savagely, came the bull-dog, towser! trip! fred's foot caught in a root. crying out in craven fright, fred ripley plunged to the ground. there was no time to rise. towser, growling angrily, was upon him with a bound. gr-r-r-r-r! fred, with a shriek, felt the dog's teeth in the back of his shirt. "get out, you beast!" begged young ripley in a faint voice. gr-r-r-r! was all the answer. plainly the dog liked the taste of that shirt, for he held to it tight. "get away---please do!" faltered fred in a broken voice. "get away. don't bite. nice doggie! nice, nice doggie! please let go!" gr-r-r-r-r! but towser didn't attempt to bite as yet. for a bull-dog, and considering how fully he was master of the field at present, towser displayed amazing good nature. only when young ripley moved did the four-footed policeman of the camp utter that warning growl. "nice doggie!" coaxed fred pleadingly. "good old fellow!" to this bit of rank flattery towser offered no reply. it began to look as though he would be quite satisfied if only his captive made no effort to get away. "wouldn't i like to be on my feet, with a shotgun in my hands!" gritted fred. "gr-r-r-r," replied towser, as though he were an excellent reader of human minds. for a few moments fred lay utterly quiet, save for the trembling that he could not control. during those same moments towser made himself more comfortable by shifting himself so that he lay with his paws across fred's left shoulder-blade. his teeth remained firmly fastened in ripley's shirt. "now, how long are you going to stay here, you beast?" glared fred ripley, though he did not dare emphasize his displeasure by stirring. it was an instance in which his own displeasure amounted to infinitely less than that of the dog. over at the hotel dick prescott was reading this telegram to his chums: "letter received. am communicating with other members of council. will let you know when i have word. signed howgate." "oh, you'll get your authorization all right," laura declared cheerily. "it's only a matter of form." laura did not tell something she knew---to the effect that at her request dr. bentley had wired mr. howgate, urging that the permission be granted to the boys to race as a high school organization. "may we take you young ladies out in the canoe this morning?" dick inquired. "only a few of us, or for very short, trips," laura replied. "the fact is, we girls are to play hostess to you this noon." "hostess?" asked dave, looking puzzled. "yes; we are going to be your hostesses at luncheon," laura smiled. "but i thought you girls were going to skip luncheon in favor of the picnic meal to-night." "wait until you boys see the luncheon," laughed susie sharp, "and you'll be sure to think we might as well have skipped that meal. it will be light and shadowy, i promise you. toast, lettuce salad, moonbeam soup, sprites' cake, feather pudding and ghost fruit." "won't there be some dog biscuit?" asked danny grin hopefully. "you shall have a special plate," susie promised. so the canoe was hauled up on the float and left there, and a general chat followed. at noon, dr. bentley joined the young people, talking with them pleasantly, after which he led the way to the hotel. there, in a little private dining room, the boys met mrs. bentley and mrs. meade. the luncheon was soon after served. it was a dainty meal, though far more elaborate than susie had led the boys to expect. at the end of the meal a waiter, looking duly solemn, presented at danny grin's elbow a plate holding three dog biscuits. "thank you," said dan dalzell politely. "but i shall keep them for future use." very calmly, notwithstanding dick's slight frown, dan placed the biscuit in his coat pockets, though some of the girls found it hard indeed not to giggle. after the meal the party adjourned to the lawn under the shade of some fine old elms. a little later a farm wagon, drawn by a pair of horses, stopped near the group. "now, you must excuse us, boys," announced laura, rising with a mysterious air. "we girls have a little errand to perform. we shall be back before half-past four o'clock." "wouldn't it be better to be back a good deal before that time?" urged dick. "you see, we can't carry more than three passengers at once, and we are to have eleven guests to ferry across the lake." "why, didn't i tell you?" asked laura, looking astonished. "my father said it would be an imposition to ask you boys to make four round trips this afternoon, and as many more to-night, so he has engaged one of the hotel launches to take us over, and to call for us this evening. you don't mind, do you, boys? but we would like to have you here at half-past four o'clock to go across the lake with us." "we'll be here," dick promised promptly. six high school boys watched the girls drive off in the farm wagon, waving handkerchiefs and parasols back to the boys. "two o'clock," remarked dick, looking at his watch. "suppose we take a spin up the lake?" "or go back to camp, to make it more ship shape?" suggested tom reade. "what's the use?" inquired prescott. "we fixed everything as well as we could before leaving there this morning. as to the safety of the camp, harry's dog, towser, can be depended upon to look after that." so dick & co. headed up the lake in their canoe. chapter xiv the liar has a lie ready "that's an odd sight, over yonder," announced dave, pointing shoreward with his paddle. they were now nearly three miles above the hotel landing. they had entered a section of the country given over to truck gardening. "women gathering in the produce," said dick, after a glance. "i don't like that," uttered dave in disgust. "i thought we had progressed too far, and had become too civilized. years ago i know that women used to work in the fields, but i thought we were above that sort of thing." "perhaps the farmer's sons' were all girls," suggested danny grin. "i don't like it, anyway," retorted dave. "nor i," agreed tom. "to have women at work in the fields makes it appear as though the men are too lazy." the sight on shore was not interesting enough to claim long attention, so the young canoeists proceeded on their way. at a little after four o'clock, however, they were back at the landing. not long after, eight young women were sighted riding along in a farm wagon, while dr. and mrs. bentley and mrs. meade strolled down one of the paths. the wagon reached the pier first, just as a launch in charge of one of the hotel employs came puffing out of a boathouse near by. "come here, boys, and help us unload the wagon," called susie sharp. dick & co. sprang in answer to her summons. "why, what on earth have you here?" demanded dave, opening his eyes wide as he saw the contents of the wagon. there were dozens of ears of corn, a sack of new potatoes, cucumbers, tomatoes, a dozen big watermelons and a bushel of early summer apples. "sh!" warned laura mysteriously. "didn't we promise you we'd rob some farmer for the feast? did you think that boys are the only ones who can go foraging for a country picnic?" "you girls didn't go foraging---did you?" gasped dick prescott. "we surely did," retorted susie sharp. "didn't we say we would do so? and doesn't all this stuff prove it?" "then you paid the farmer for it," guessed tom reade wisely. "we didn't do any such thing," miss sharp insisted. "did we, girls?" seven other young feminine heads shook in vigorous denial. "we didn't pay the farmer, and we didn't make any arrangement with him," said laura quietly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "we simply drove out along the road until we came to the field, and-----" "-----ravaged it," supplemented belle meade demurely. "we went through that field like war, famine and pestilence combined!" "hurry!" called susie peremptorily. so the boys made haste with the vegetables and fruit, transferring everything to the bow of the launch, where it was neatly stacked. "what do you think of that?" tom demanded of dick in a whisper at the first opportunity. "the girls are chaffing us," dick answered knowingly. "stole the stuff, did they? that is, stole it in earnest? nonsense! they're too nice girls for that! but i guess even nice girls, like some decent fellows, find enjoyment, once in a while, in making believe they are doing something desperate. of course they didn't really steal this stuff." "if they did," muttered tom, "they'd be the kind of girls we wouldn't want to know." "it's all right," dick assured him. "sooner or later the truth of this joke of theirs will all come out. there are no finer girls in the country than they." by this time the older people had joined them. dr. bentley's party embarked in the launch, taking up all the room there was. "pass us your bow-line, and we can just as well give you boys a tow," proposed the doctor. "there is no use in your paddling." "thank you very much, sir," dick answered, "but paddling is just the fun for which we bought this canoe. we do it because we like it. and we'll show you how fast we can get across the lake." with a toot of the whistle the launch started. dick gave the word to his chums. at first the canoe, even under moderate paddling, went ahead of the launch, though gradually the launch drew up. "you boys look as if you were working," called dr. bentley. "we're doing very little work, sir," dave answered. "we could make the canoe go faster than this, but it would hardly do to run ahead of our guests." in truth the canoe slipped rapidly through the water with the expenditure of only a moderate amount of energy on the part of dick & co. in a few minutes the lake had been crossed. a point was found at which the launch could be backed in. by this time the boys were on shore, their canoe hauled up, and they stood ready to help their guests ashore. "we've landed a little below the camp," said dick, "but it won't take us more than a minute to walk there. after we've taken you into the camp we'll return for the garden truck." gr-r-r-r-r! came a warning sound through the bushes. "towser!" spoke harry hazelton sharply. "i'm ashamed of you!" "you ought to be!" came the answer in another voice, and a surly one, at that. "fred ripley?" muttered dick. "what on earth can he be doing here?" unconsciously all of the picnickers hastened their steps. then they came upon a truly ludicrous sight. fred lay where he had been lying ever since ten o'clock that morning. he was coatless, stretched out face downward, with towser still camped across his shoulder, and the dog's teeth still fastened in his shirt. "come and call this measly dog off!" ordered fred, in a surly tone. "this is a fine reward that i get for trying to do you fellows a friendly turn!" dick, dave and tom were the first to get within range and obtain a glimpse of the extraordinary scene. they halted, gasping, though their glances swiftly took in the whole affair. they comprehended what ripley had been doing, and how the dog had come upon the marauder. by this time the other members of the party came in sight. fred still lay on the ground, scowling and fuming over his undignified position, while towser still kept an eye open for business. "call this dog off!" fred ordered again. "how did the dog happen to catch you here?" dick asked quietly. "call this dog off and i'll tell you," snapped fred. "i was trying to do you fellows a good turn, but the dog had to interfere and get hold of the wrong party." "you were trying to do us a good turn?" gasped dick wonderingly. "yes---but it will be the last time, unless you call this dog off," snarled young ripley. perhaps it is hardly necessary to say that not one in the party believed fred's extraordinary story. "hazelton, get this dog of yours away, or i'll go to court and secure an order to have the beast shot!" snapped young ripley. but at this moment another voice was heard calling from the roadway: "fred! fred! are you there?" it was squire ripley's voice, though the lawyer himself could not be seen as yet. "yes, sir; your son is here," dick answered. "come and see just how he is here!" "get your dog off quickly, hazelton!" urged fred. but harry, at a slight sign from dick, didn't stir or open his mouth to call off his dog. through the brush came the sound of hurried steps. then lawyer ripley stepped into the group. "fred, what on earth does this mean?" demanded the lawyer, staring hard. "that's just what we thought you might like to find out, sir," dick replied. "we've been away from camp all day, and just came back to this scene, mr. ripley. you are something of an expert in the matter of evidence, sir. will you kindly tell us what you make out of this? there is our tent cut down. there are all of our food supplies in a pile, except what you see scattered about on the ground. your son appears to have been headed for the lake when our dog overtook him and pinned him down. as a lawyer, mr. ripley, what would you conclude from the evidence thus presented?" "call that dog away!" ordered mr. ripley. "willingly, sir," dick agreed, "now that you have had opportunity to look into all the evidence that we found. harry, will you do the honors?" smiling slightly, hazelton stepped forward to speak to towser. that four-footed guardian of the camp displayed some resentment at first over the idea of letting go of fred's shirt. after a little, however, hazelton succeeded in getting his dog away and tied to a tree. fred rose to his feet, his face fiery red while he trembled visibly. "what is the meaning of this, young man?" demanded lawyer ripley. "the meaning," choked the lawyer's son wrathfully, "is just this: i was coming by this place this morning in the runabout, when i heard a good deal of coarse laughter down here. i knew the voices weren't those of boys, and so i knew that something must be up. i got out of the car and came over here. i saw two tramps in the camp. they had already cut down the tent, and when i arrived they were planning to cart the food away. then they saw me as i stepped forward. i told them what i thought of them for thieving in such fashion. then the tramps got ready to jump on me and thrash me. just as i raised my hands to defend myself this dog came bounding out of the woods and the tramps ran away. having no more sense than any other fool dog, the cur pinned me down and held me here." "all day?" asked his father. "yes; i've been a prisoner here for hours," quavered fred. "and now these fellows want to make out, before the high school friends of mine," nodding toward the girls, "that i was the thief and destroyer." "that story is straightforward enough," commented the lawyer, turning to the others rather stiffly. "do any of you wish to challenge it?" no one spoke. "i'll tell you what i wish, father," broke in fred angrily. "i want an order from the court to have that dog seized and shot. he's a vicious and dangerous brute!" "i think such a court order will be easily obtained," replied mr. ripley frigidly. harry hazelton turned pale, clenching his fists, though he had the good sense not to speak just then. the other boys all looked highly concerned. "were you bitten by the dog?" asked dr. bentley quietly. "i---i don't know yet," replied fred. "i can't tell." "mr. ripley," said dr. bentley very quietly, "if you contemplate seeking a court order for having the dog shot, then i suggest that you permit me to take the young man aside and examine him. i am a physician, with a good many years of practice behind me, and any court would pronounce me competent to testify as to whether your son has been bitten, and, if so, to what extent." "i don't choose to be examined here," fred declared sulkily. "if i want anything of that sort done our own physician can do it." "young man," replied dr. bentley, "your father is an eminent lawyer. he is therefore qualified to inform you that if you decline an examination now as to the presence or absence of injuries on your body, your refusal would have to be taken into account in contested court action for the death of the dog." "dr. bentley is quite right, and he has stated the matter accurately," replied mr. ripley. "fred, do you desire to be examined now? if so, we can go away to some secluded spot with the doctor, and with the dog's owner and any other witness desired." "i don't want to do anything now but to get away from here," replied fred sulkily. "i want to be rid of prescott and his friends as soon as possible." "very good, then," nodded his father. "you may do as you like, but if you refuse dr. bentley's suggestion for an immediate examination you will stand no chance of securing an order dooming the dog." fred's further answer was an angry snort as he turned away. his father lingered to say: "if your suspicions that my son was here improperly are anywhere near correct, then you are entitled to my most hearty apology. fred is a peculiar and high-strung boy, but i believe his impulses are right in the main. i will add that i believe his account of how he came to be in this strange plight. he took the car early this morning. i am just returning from a spin in our larger automobile. i saw my runabout at the edge of the road and it occurred to me to stop and see if my son were here. is there anything more to be said about my son's peculiar experience here?" "nothing, thank you, mr. ripley," replied dr. bentley, after a sidelong glance at dick. "then i will bid you all good afternoon," replied squire ripley, raising his hat to the women. dr. bentley watched the lawyer out of sight, then turned to hazelton with a smile. "harry," remarked the physician, "your dog won't be shot by order of the court." chapter xv at the greatest of feasts it proved a glorious affair, that picnic by the edge of the lake. tom and dan took clara and susie out in the canoe to watch them as they fished. the other four boys fell to with a will, reweaving in new guy ropes and erecting the tent again. then firewood was gathered in armfuls and several campfires started. just before dark the canoe came in with a cargo of nearly four dozen fish. these tom and dan took to one side and quickly cleaned. just as dick and dave were beginning to realize with some embarrassment that they had nowhere near enough dishes for such an affair, the man from the launch appeared with two baskets of dishes. he then brought up three folding tables and proceeded to set them up, next bringing on campstools. dr. bentley had overlooked nothing. last of all paper lanterns were strung from the trees, and just at dark these were lighted. potatoes were set to boil in a kettle. embers were raked down and corn still in the husks was set in the embers and covered up to roast. some of the girls sliced more tomatoes than the whole party could eat. cucumbers, too, were prepared. fish were broiled on grates over the fires. all was ready just before dark. dick gave the launch man a hearty invitation to join them at supper, the latter shaking his head, expressed his thanks and hurried away. what an appetizing meal it was! nothing seemed to have gone wrong. it was a merry party indeed that sat down around the tables. suddenly there came an interruption. "camp! oh, i say---camp!" called a gruff voice from the road. "here!" called dick, rising from the table. "who is it?" "any girls there?" demanded the same voice. "several," dick acknowledged. "having a picnic, are you?" demanded the strange voice. "the best ever!" dick replied heartily. "lots of fresh vegetables, too, eh?" "ye-es," dick assented slowly, and with a peculiar feeling. he recalled the laughing talk of the girls about "stealing," and now wondered what was about to happen. "i guess they're the girls i want, then," continued the voice of the unseen speaker. dick & co. felt a swift spasm of uneasiness, for that voice sounded as though it might belong to the law. a moment later a roughly dressed man moved down into the circle. "my name is dobson," said the new comer, looking hard at the girls. "i reckon you were in my truck garden this afternoon, weren't you?" "why---er----ye-es," admitted laura, the first to find her voice. she rose and faced mr. dobson with a look of budding uneasiness. "took lot of my vegetables, didn't you?" pressed the farmer. "ye-es," faltered laura, "but-----" "excuse me, miss, but there aren't many kinds of 'buts' about a transaction of that kind," insisted the farmer. here, dr. bentley, who had looked less concerned than anyone else present, broke in: "your name is dobson?" he asked. "not gibson, then?" pressed the doctor. "course my name isn't gibson, if it's dobson," retorted the farmer. "there is a man named gibson who lives 'bout a quarter of a mile from my place." "then i imagine i shall have to take you one side and have a little conversation with you," smiled the doctor, rising. "will you follow me?" the farmer nodded without speaking and the two men walked away. ten minutes later dr. bentley returned to the young people. "i appeased the farmer's wrath," he announced, with a laugh. "and now, young ladies, if my judgment is worth anything, i think it is about time to let the cat out of the bag." eight high school girls flushed and looked rather confused. "why, has anything wrong been going on?" inquired mrs. bentley anxiously, while mrs. meade waited breathlessly for the reply. "nothing extremely wrong," replied dr. bentley. "i will explain what happened. some of these young ladies, having heard that boys occasionally rob orchards or gardens for a feast, laughingly promised the young hosts of this evening that they would steal the necessary vegetables for to-night's supper. now, while some boys may sometimes do such things, it is needless to add that no boy with a good home and a mother's training is likely to become engaged in such petty pilfering. i don't believe the boys for a moment credited the girls with any real stealing." "we didn't," spoke up dick promptly. "we knew there was a string to the joke somewhere." "these young ladies consulted me," went on dr. bentley. "of course they wanted the whole matter kept very quiet, and they made me promise secrecy. i told them that i didn't like their plan at all, but they coaxed, and i will admit that i yielded to their coaxing very much against my best judgment. they wanted to be able to say that they hadn't paid the farmer, or made any arrangement whatever with him. that much is true. they didn't approach the farmer---they sent me. i went to farmer gibson and made the arrangement with him for the supplies, paying him in advance a fair price for whatever the young ladies would take out of his garden. yet, in spite of my care in the matter, and my very explicit directions to them, it seems that they went astray, and descended upon the truck garden of mr. dobson, instead of that of mr. gibson. mr. dobson, not having received any pay, very naturally objected to being looted of his vegetables while mr. gibson received the money. but i have been able to explain matters in a satisfactory manner to mr. dobson, and have sent him on his ways" eight very crestfallen high school girls listened to this recital. the boys, had they not felt a manly sympathy for their discomfited friends, would have laughed outright. "i am glad that it is no worse," said mrs. bentley in a relieved voice. "at the same time, it was a very silly performance." "it was," nodded the doctor, who turned to the girls to add: "my dears, as you succeeded this time in making me your very reluctant accomplice, i am in no position to say very much to you. but i trust you all realize the situation and its outcome, and that you will never allow yourselves to be made ridiculous again in any such way." "i don't believe we shall," laura replied. "we felt ashamed of ourselves afterwards, but we were silly enough to feel because we had pledged ourselves to forage for fruit and vegetables that the joke must be carried out." "tom reade," snapped susie sharp, "you are just bursting with laughter that you can hardly hold back." "not i!" tom denied promptly. "i am congratulating myself that we boys had sense enough not to take seriously your claim that you had been robbing anyone's garden. as it happened, you did that very thing, but you didn't know it, and you didn't mean to." there was an embarrassed silence. then dick proposed: "let's have a good-natured laugh all around and forget the whole thing." that relieved the awkwardness of the situation. after that a watermelon was cut and brought to the tables. "gridley, ahoy!" called a voice across the dark waters. "who's there?" called dick. "preston high school canoe club. may we visit your camp?" "shall i invite them over?" asked dick, looking at mrs. bentley and then at the girls. receiving their consent, he called out: "come in, preston high school! welcome!" a soft splashing of paddles showed where the visitors were coming in to shore. dan dalzell taking the camp lantern, ran to meet them. a moment later six preston lads were stepping ashore, one after the other. dick, having excused himself at table, came forward also to greet them. two of the preston high school boys were already acquainted with laura bentley and some of her friends. introductions followed rapidly. "drop into the gridley seats and have some of the watermelon," dick pressed the visitors, he and his chums standing in order to do the honors of the occasion. "it looks as though we had been trying to invite ourselves to a banquet," laughed hartwell, "big chief" of the preston high school "indians." "we didn't mean to seem as rude as that, prescott." "all i know," smiled dick cordially, "is that you are all heartily welcome. can we stir up a fire and broil some fish?" "don't think of it, thank you," begged hartwell. "we've had our suppers---dinners, the hotel folks insist on calling 'em. it's jolly enough for us to be allowed to join you and see the watermelon passing around." "chug! chug! puff! puff!" sounded the returning launch. dick glanced apprehensively at dr. bentley and the ladies. did the coming of the launch mean that it was about time for the pleasant evening to break up? "might i ask where and how you find such delicious watermelons in this neck of the woods?" inquired brown, of the prestons. "ask the young ladies," piped up danny grin, thereby getting himself much disliked for at least the next thirty seconds. "dr. bentley and the young ladies obtained the melons from a farmer," explained tom reade, giving dan an unseen poke in the small of the back. "these melons look good enough to steal," laughed hartwell, and was unable to understand the total silence that greeted his assertion. "help wanted from a couple of you boys!" called the voice of the launch man. four of dick & co. raced down to the water's edge. they came back, staggering under a big bucket covered on the top with bagging. "what is this?" asked dick. "ice cream," explained the doctor. "mrs. bentley's suggestion." "we fellows of preston high school feel ashamed of ourselves for having intruded," exclaimed hartwell. "may we be permitted to withdraw?" "at any time after ten o'clock," smiled mrs. bentley graciously. "we shall be very much disappointed if you leave us at present." there was a clatter of dishes and spoons. mrs. bentley and mrs. meade presided over this part of the camp feast. "we needn't ask you gridley fellows if you've been having a good time," declared hartwell presently. "but we hadn't any idea that we should intrude on an affair of this sort. in fact, while business must be barred now, i will admit that business was the object of our call." "what sort of business?" inquired dick prescott. "we came to challenge you fellows to a race," explained big chief hartwell. "a race?" chuckled dave. "queer how you've bit us where we live!" "do you think you can beat us in a canoe race?" asked hartwell. "yes," dick rejoined. "all we need to arrange is the date. we'll beat you on any date that you name! that isn't brag, please understand! it's merely the old, old gridley high school way." the young ladies applauded this sentiment merrily. chapter xvi a scalp-hunting disappointment "want to try us out, gridley?" hailed big chief hartwell, from the preston high school canoe. it was nearly ten o'clock the next morning, but dick & co. had just finished putting their camp to rights after breakfast, for they had slept late after the feast. "do we want to try you out?" dick answered laughingly. "why, we don't have to do that. we shall be ready to hand you a beating, though, at any time you ask for it. we can't help beating you, you know. it's the gridley way!" "brag is a good dog," derided brown from the bow seat of the preston canoe. "we keep both dogs here," dave shouted tantalizingly. "are you coming out to wallop us?" hartwell insisted. "yes; if you insist upon it," dick agreed. "but we don't like to do it." "get into your canoe and come out and see how much of your brag you can make good," was hartwell's calm reply. "what? now?" prescott inquired. "'now' is always the best time to do a thing," declared mason, of preston high school. "oh, no," smiled dick, with a shake of his head. "you fellows have been out for some time this morning. you'll have to give us time to warm up properly." "i didn't suppose gridley needed a little thing like that," hartwell taunted. "you gridleyites are such sure winners, you know, that you ought not to need such a little thing as preparation." "one of the reasons why gridley wins," dick retorted, "is that we always use common sense when entering sporting events. so we'll ask you to oblige us with a gift of our rights in the matter. in fifteen minutes we'll be ready for you." gently the canoe was launched in the water. harry, with a remembrance of yesterday's events, called towser, saying sternly: "stay right here, boy, and watch. maybe you'll get the rest of rip's shirt to-day." "and maybe he won't," chuckled dave. "that's what i call holding out false hopes to a dog. rip won't venture within five miles of here to-day. yet perhaps towser will bag some other game for us." "into the canoe with you, you loitering braves!" called big chief prescott firmly. away went the gridley war canoe, gliding smoothly. "our craft is the 'pathfinder'," called hartwell, across the water. "what do you call your boat?" "the 'scalp-hunter'," smiled dick. as a matter of fact he and his friends had forgotten to name the canoe, but he supplied the name on the spur of the moment. it made a prompt hit with his chums. "you don't believe you can win any race with such paddling as yours, do you?" hartwell called derisively. "we don't show all our fine points to the enemy until the battle is on," was prescott's amiable answer. "even then you won't see all our best tricks; you'll be too busy paddling to keep in sight of us." only very gradually did dick allow his crew to warm up to their work. the preston boys soon paddled over to the middle of the lake, and there lay resting. "now, we'll go back and give them a brush," dick murmured to his chums. "don't exceed any orders that i give in the brush. don't be at all uneasy if we find the prestons going ahead of us." "haven't we got to win?" queried dave. "especially after all the brag we've been throwing in their direction?" tom supplemented. "we'll win if we can do it easily," dick answered. "otherwise we won't." "then what becomes of our gridley talk?" asked greg. "the difference is that this isn't a real race to-day," prescott explained. "this is only a brush, and we're in it only to see what the preston boys can show us about canoe handling." at a rather slow, easy dip, the "scalp-hunter" ranged up near the "pathfinder." "all ready there, gridley?" called hartwell rather impatiently. "as ready as we're going to be," said dick. "flying start, or from a stop?" "either," dick nodded. "then," proposed hartwell, "move along until your prow is flush with ours. when i give the word both crews paddle for all they're worth. steer for the two blasted pines at the lower end of the lake." "that's good," dick agreed. very gently the war canoe ranged alongside, her bark sides, well-oiled, glistening in the sunlight. the preston canoe was not of bark, but of cedar frame, covered with canvas. hartwell evidently wanted a wholly fair race, for he even allowed the "scalp-hunter's" prow the lead of a couple of feet before he shouted: "go it!" amid a great flashing of paddles the two canoes started. the preston high school craft soon obtained a lead of a foot or so, and held it. now the contest was a stubborn one. gridley gained two feet more. "you see," called dick in a low voice, "this is the gridley way." "is it?" hartwell inquired. "hanky-pank!" plainly enough the last two words were a signal. though the preston high school boys did not make much visible change in their style or speed of dip, the "pathfinder" now gained perceptibly. within a minute she had a lead of a clean ten feet, and seemed likely to increase the interval. "why don't you come along, gridley?" called back the big chief in the leading canoe. "too early," smiled dick. nor did he allow the gridley boys to increase their speed. presently the "pathfinder" led by two lengths. "why didn't you tell us," hartwell demanded over his shoulder, "that the much vaunted gridley way is 'way to the rear?" "we haven't reached the pines yet, have we?" dick asked. "no; and you won't, to-day, unless you push that clumsy tub of yours along faster." "don't wait for us," dick answered goodnaturedly. "we'll be here after a little while." "we'll wait for you when we land," laughed hartwell. "mumble bumble!" another secret signal, surely, for again the "pathfinder" began to increase the distance from the gridley rival. "we'd better stop, and pretend we're only fishing," muttered tom reade, but dick kept grimly silent. he was watching every move of the preston paddlers. "why, they're leading us four lengths," muttered darrin, in an undertone. but prescott appeared unworried. "we'll try to brace our speed, by and by," dick answered. "and so will the other fellows," tom surmised. "they're not going at anything like their pace as yet." for a quarter of a mile the canoes held the same relative position. "now, liven up," dick called softly. "one, two, three, four! one, two, three, four!" catching the rhythm, dick & co. put in some good strokes, their paddling becoming faster and stronger. a length and a half of the interval was closed up. "porky-poo!" ordered hartwell. answering, the preston high school boys paddled as though fury now possessed them. they held the pace, too. "hit it up hard, now," dick commanded. "one, two, three, four!" never had gridley responded more nobly on any field of sport or other contest than now. the paddles flew, their wet blades gleaming in the air, only to disappear under the water again. each recovery was swift, prompt rhythmic! but hartwell's crew was also showing the stuff of which it was made. "stop paddling---back water!" shouted hartwell finally. the "pathfinder" lay on the water, motionless, only two yards from the shore on which stood the blasted pines. at that same instant the gridley high school "scalp-hunter" was a trifle more than seven lengths astern. "that was good and warming," smiled big chief dick, as the second canoe came up. "yah, yah, yah!" retorted the preston high school boys, betraying their delight in derisive grins. "where is that wonderful, all-conquering way you were telling us about?" chaffed hartwell. "you'll find out when we race," smiled prescott calmly. "when we race?" repeated preston's big chief. "didn't we race just now? or do you consider that it wasn't a race just because you weren't in it?" "it wasn't a race," dick answered. "merely a brush." "brush?" repeated hartwell indignantly. "didn't we challenge you fellows, and didn't you accept? also, didn't you lose?" "we lost the brush," dick admitted. "you lost the race to us," hartwell declared stoutly. "preston high school beat gridley high school by several lengths!" "hardly that," dick retorted coolly. "preston high school merely distanced some boys from gridley high school. you didn't defeat a gridley high school canoe crew." "why didn't we?" the preston high school big chief questioned. "because, if you recall all the chat we had last night, the 'scalp-hunter's' crew isn't yet official. we haven't been authorized by the athletic council of gridley high school." "is that the way you get out of it?" blurted hartwell. "no," dick smiled. "that's the way we get gridley high school out of the charge of defeat. as soon as we're authorized to represent gridley high school as an official canoe crew, then you may claim any victory you can obtain over us. but you haven't beaten our high school yet for the reason that we don't officially represent gridley high school. isn't that all clear?" "i suppose so," hartwell assented disappointedly. "but we took it that we were racing the gridley high school canoe club." "then after this you want to do more thinking," dick laughed. "but don't feel too disappointed, preston. just as soon as we receive sanction from our athletic council we'll give you a race in earnest, and a chance for all the glory you are able to take away from us." there was some further good-natured talk, after which the two canoe clubs separated. dick guided the "scalp-hunter" back to camp. there, as soon as the canoe had been hauled ashore, dave darrin threw himself on the grass, remarking: "this morning teaches us something! we're in no class with those preston high school boys. we've no business racing, in the name of our school, before next summer!" chapter xvii the good word by wire "we'll race within a few days," dick declared serenely. "we've got to race soon, for our funds won't hold out long and we can't stay here all summer." "the athletic council will thank us for losing the race," murmured greg holmes, ironically. "we won't lose," dick maintained, "unless you fellows throw the race against gridley." "throw the race?" echoed tom reade indignantly. "dick prescott, do you think we'd do a thing like that?" "i'm sure you wouldn't," their big chief admitted coolly. "do you mean to say that we didn't do our best this morning?" questioned danny grin. "our very best?" added hazelton. "we all did the best that was in us---this morning," dick went on. "but we'll be a lot better prepared when we get into a real race." "i don't believe i can paddle any harder than i did at the finish this morning," reade argued. "in fact, i know i can't. my back aches yet with the work that i did." "i don't doubt it," dick smiled. "i know that my back aches." "then how are we going to win in any other race against preston high school?" darrin asked curiously. "did you fellows study the paddling work of the prestons this morning?" prescott asked. "i saw their paddles ahead of us all the time," greg murmured. "that was a good place to have their paddles, for study," dick laughed. "couldn't you see, from their paddling, why they beat us with ease?" "no! could you?" challenged tom. "yes. the preston fellows dip their paddles better than we do. they dip so that the blade always cuts the breeze, instead of meeting it. when they recover they turn their paddles so as to slip them out of the water without throwing any back strain on the canoe's progress. i was studying their paddling work all the time, and i hoped that you fellows were doing the same." "the prestons have a lighter, swifter canoe, anyway," contended dave. "i think they have some advantage over us, that way," dick nodded. "at the same time i am certain that we ought to beat preston by beating their style of paddling." "beating their style of paddling?" echoed reade. "why, according to what you've told us we can't even equal their paddling." "we're going to equal it," dick answered, "and we ought to beat it. at two o'clock, fellows, we're going out for two hours of drill. then i'll try to explain what i think i saw of the preston superiority in dipping and recovery. if i really observed correctly, then we ought to be able to do much better, for i also think i see how to improve on the preston high school paddle work enough to make their performance look almost clumsy." "if you can do that," proclaimed hazelton ungrudgingly, "then you're a wonder, dick." "we shall see," smiled the big chief. "and if we don't see straight," mumbled reade, "then preston will hand us such a wallop that we won't even have the nerve to take up a challenge from trentville high school." for the rest of the morning dick & co. were much more thoughtful than usual. they had met defeat---a thing they didn't relish. yet they knew, in advance, how much worse they would feel if they met a defeat when officially entered as a gridley high school crew---for the honor of their school was dear to them all. the noonday meal was over before one o'clock. dick would not allow the "scalp-hunter" to be put in the water a minute before two. he wanted to be sure that digestion had proceeded far enough so that they might do their best. at the time appointed, however, he took the crew out on the water, and there carefully explained what he thought he had learned of the better paddling style of the preston high school boys. "you certainly did see a whole lot that i didn't see," reade admitted, "and i believe that you saw it straight, too, dick." "we can certainly shoot the old canoe ahead faster, already," dave murmured delightedly. "now, dick, what are the improvements you thought you might have on the preston style?" danny grin asked eagerly. "to-morrow will be time enough to try out improvements, or any kind of frills," prescott answered patiently. "for this afternoon let us confine ourselves to paddling as well as the preston high school fellows do it. to-morrow we'll see if we can't do better than they do." after a little more practice it was surprising how much more easily they took to the new style of paddling. "rest on your paddles for a few minutes," dick ordered. "get in some deep breaths. then i'm going to pump up your speed to the best that you can do with the new stroke. we'll try to go to the hotel landing flying." when all was ready prescott gave the word. "now, your best speed, and all the strength you can properly put into the work. go! one, two, three, four! one, two, three, four!" across the lake sped the canoe, dick & co. fully aware that they were now traveling at a speed that had been impossible to them that same morning. "stop paddling! back water! stop backing!" with deft movements of his own paddle, dick swung the canoe in gently against the float. out of the boathouse near by came bob hartwell. "i've been watching you fellows," he called. "that's fair enough," dick answered. "you're doing some better than you did this morning," hartwell went on. "you've almost got our stroke." "almost?" repeated young prescott, raising his eyebrows. "haven't we improved a good deal on your preston high school action?" bob hartwell began to laugh. "you fellows from gridley are always world beaters, aren't you?" he demanded good-humoredly. "at first, i thought it was all brag on your part, and that you fellows were suffering from enlarged craniums complicated with bragitis. but now i begin to see that you talk confidently just in order to convince yourselves that you can't be beaten at anything. and i don't know that it's such bad 'dope,' either, as the sporting writers put it." "let's hear you try some," urged dick. "brag?" asked hartwell. "no; i don't believe i have mastered the idea well enough to do any really sincere bragging as yet. however, if you ever beat us at anything except brag, then i'm going to try to copy your form in the boasting line." by this time dick & co. were dragging their canoe up onto the float. "i hope rip isn't sneaking anywhere about these grounds," muttered danny grin. "who's rip?" bob hartwell asked curiously. then: "oh, i beg your pardon for being too inquisitive," as he saw dick frown at dalzell. "i'm going to remain on the float, while you fellows go up into the hotel grounds," said tom. "all of you go, and i'll stay and watch your canoe," suggested bob hartwell. "that is, if you're willing to trust me as sentry." "of course we're willing," dick responded. "but it's only right that one of our own crowd should do such work. are you coming up with us, hartwell?" "why, yes," bob answered, "if i can't be of any service to you here." slowly the boys sauntered up through the walks. then out on the porch came manager wright, waving a yellow envelope. "that's probably the answer from the athletic council of gridley high school," dick explained, turning to hartwell. "you don't mind if i run on ahead and leave you, do you?" "you may run on ahead and leave me if you're as handy at running as you are at bragging," chuckled bob. all of the boys in the group were soon at the porch. mr. wright descended the steps to hand dick the envelope. dick tore open the envelope hurriedly. "it's all right!" he called gleefully. "mr. howgate sends this word:" _"'athletic council approves and sanctions your representing gridley high school on the water with your canoe club. wish you success! be careful not to risk lowering gridley's standard in sports through recklessness.'"_ "when do gridley and preston race in a regular event?" demanded bob hartwell promptly. "mr. wright has been most kind to us about several matters," dick answered. "i'd like to ask him what date will be most satisfactory." chapter xviii "won't win against a mudscow" "how can we help mr. wright by racing?" queried hartwell. "by enabling me to advertise a canoe race between high school boys as an attraction to bring added guests to this hotel," the manager explained for himself. "let me see. this is thursday. if the race were to be held day after to-morrow---saturday---would that give both crews time enough to get ready?" "saturday will suit gridley," dick answered promptly. "and preston also," guaranteed bob hartwell. "at three in the afternoon on saturday?" asked mr. wright. "yes, sir," prescott nodded. "but will you have sufficient time to advertise, mr. wright?" "plenty of time," replied the manager, "if i send my letters away by tonight's mail. i will advertise in a gridley paper, and also in preston and trentville. i will send copy to papers in a few other towns as well, and i will see to it that the railway folks know about it. fortunately the railway people will attend to their own advertising, as it will give them some chance to bring extra passengers. now, boys, does either crew wish to draw any expense money to help in preparing for the race?" "preston high school doesn't want any expense money, thank you, sir," bob declared quickly. "our fellows all have abundant funds." "the gridley high school crew is a lot of near paupers," dick admitted with smiling candor. "then you may have-----" "thank you, mr. wright," prescott went on. "i don't know that we could use money if we had it, but in any case i am certain that we couldn't accept it from the hotel management without risk of sacrificing our standing as amateurs. we might be ruled out as 'professionals' for accepting money for the race." "pardon me," broke in mr. wright, as a bellboy handed him a telegram. as he read the message a smile appeared on his face. "perhaps this will put a different aspect on the matter," beamed the hotel manager. "this telegram is from mr. howgate, and says:" _"'am mailing you check for forty dollars. please allow prescott, captain gridley high school canoe club, to draw on you for that amount, for boat uniforms and other expenses. money voted by council from high school athletic fund.'"_ "that's thoughtful," murmured young prescott, wholly taken aback. "however, i don't believe we shall need the money." "you ought to have some sort of uniform," suggested hartwell. "we preston chaps have canoe uniforms." "we can paddle just as well without special uniforms," smiled dick, "but how would it look for good old gridley high school?" hinted bob generously. "remember, in appearance, as well as in performance, you have the prestige and honor of your school to consider." "i think you will do well to accept the money and get uniforms," mr. wright declared thoughtfully. "you will have to telegraph for them in order to have them here by saturday." "i have the a.b. lollard catalogue up in my room," suggested hartwell "i'll run up and get it, and you fellows can look it through and make a quick decision." "when you have the choice of uniforms made," said mr. wright, "write your telegram and bring it to me to sign. the lollard people know me, and will honor my order." now that matters had been arranged so as to be strictly within amateur usages, dick, dave and the others found that they had a new cause for interest as they glanced through the bewildering display of uniforms offered in the catalogue. when the choice had been made dick turned to young holmes to say: "greg, run down to the landing to relieve tom, and ask him to hurry up here. we want him, too, to approve our selection or to state his disapproval." reade arrived with a breathlessness that testified to his having run all the way. needless to say, he heartily agreed with his chums as to the uniform selected by them. the uniform chosen was not expensive. it consisted of sleeveless cotton shirts, white cotton trousers, knee-length, and with a red stripe down the sides, and thin, light boating shoes. the total cost, per boy, was three dollars and eighty-three cents. certainly not an expensive canoeing uniform! there would be some express charges to pay in addition. "you'll have about fifteen dollars left for anything else that you may need," suggested mr. wright. "yes; but we don't wish to spend it," dick replied. "it is only the thought of the gridley high school that makes us decide on any uniform at all." "you couldn't have been more modest," smiled bob hartwell, as he thought of the more expensive uniforms of his own crew. the telegram was prepared. mr. wright signed it and sent it away. then he hastened to his office to prepare his own advertising matter. as the gridley girls were nowhere to be seen about the grounds, dick did not inquire for them. instead he and his chums hurried back to the lake, where they put in another hour in hard practice. prescott kept his crew out on the lake, in about the middle, where his low---spoken directions could not be heard from the shore. "are we going to win, now?" asked dan dalzell. "how can we help it, when we are to wear such dazzling uniforms?" queried reade. "we've got to do a lot of hard work tomorrow, and on saturday morning," dave added. "i doubt if we yet paddle anywhere near the preston high school performance." "we'll work hard to-morrow," dick agreed, "but after that we will have to be satisfied with what we've done. saturday morning we don't want to do any hard work. just enough exercise to keep our muscles supple for the real fray of the afternoon." "we ought to stay out longer now," urged hazelton. "do you fellows think so?" asked dick thoughtfully. "it seems to me that we've done enough hard canoe work for to-day. we don't want to go stale from too much training." "but we can't---we mustn't lose the race on saturday," almost groaned dave darrin. "then we'll do better not to overtrain," said dick quietly. "unless i hear a big kick i'm going to turn the canoe toward our camp." there was no objection, though some of the members of dick & co. frowned slightly. they had great confidence in dick's judgment, yet he seemed to them over cautious in training. "i wish it were saturday night," murmured tom reade, lying on the grass full length, after they had landed. "so that you'd know how it feels to be licked and to have your school licked, too?" inquired danny grin. "stop that talk!" ordered tom gruffly. "we're not going to be beaten. we'd hardly dare show our faces again in gridley if preston high school took us into camp." "then how will the preston fellows feel if we distance 'em?" greg inquired. "oh, it won't matter as much over at preston," tom replied coolly. "preston hasn't such a big reputation for winning athletic events as gridley has." "the more i think of it," muttered dave, "the more i marvel at our cheek. we are barely more than freshmen. as yet we've entered the sophomore class only by promotion. yet we get away from home and immediately start in to fight under the gridley colors, just as though we were real juniors or seniors! my, but i'll hate myself if we get walloped saturday afternoon!" "we'd all dislike ourselves," smiled dick prescott calmly. "that is why we haven't any thought of allowing ourselves to be beaten, either by preston or trentville." "i wonder if trentville is as good as preston?" asked tom curiously. "we can't tell until we see them work," suggested greg. "who's going to eat, and when?" asked dan. that started the crowd to making preparations for the camp supper. it was prepared in good time, and six healthy boys sat down to enjoy it. after that came a period of blissful idleness. then, more or less reluctantly, the youngsters set about washing the dishes and setting the camp straight in general. "better throw some wood on the fire; it's getting pretty dark," suggested dick. "i'll get the lantern and light it." gr-r-r-r-r! came the voice of towser, in the near distance. it was followed by barks and yelps, all in the voice of hazelton's bull-dog. "what trouble has the pup gotten into?" demanded harry, throwing an armful of wood on the campfire, then wheeling sharply. gr-r-r-r! wow-wow! woof! sounded closer at hand, accompanied by considerable noise in the underbrush. "that pup's in trouble," declared tom sagely. "come along, fellows! bring the lantern, dick!" six boys, headed by dick with the lantern, went to meet the bull-dog. they came upon towser, growling in a most excited manner, threshing something about him in the bushes as he came toward them. "hold still, boy!" commanded harry. "what is it, old chap?" then he came upon the dog. in the darkness it was not easy to make out what ailed towser. but prescott came closer to the dog with the lantern. "towser has his foot caught in a steel trap. i'm afraid his leg is broken," quivered hazelton, as he threw himself on the ground beside his pet. "hold still, boy! let me take it off of you." the dog permitted himself to be held while tom reade pried open the jaws of the steel fox trap, the chain to which the pup had dragged over the ground. "that's a queer accident," commented greg holmes. "accident?" flamed harry. "this thing is no accident. it was done on purpose, and i wouldn't need but one guess to name the two-legged cur that did this!" all of the boys understood at once that hazelton was accusing fred ripley of setting the trap. towser, as soon as released, limped a little, but proved that his leg was not broken, though it had been cut in the trap. "woof!" he exploded angrily, as soon as he found that he could run about on his injured leg. then, showing his teeth, he growled menacingly and bounded through the woods, dick & co. following pell-mell. "towser knows that his enemy is still near!" called harry exultantly. "come on, fellows! we'll catch that sneak!" a bull-dog's strong point is not his scent. he led the boys to the roadway, then halted, growling, plainly at fault. perched up in a tree not fifty yards away, well hidden by the foliage, were fred ripley and another youth. for a few moments they listened breathlessly to the pursuit, then appeared to feel more at their ease. "you didn't work the trap trick quite right," whispered fred to the youth in overalls beside him. "better luck next time," whispered back the stranger. "but no matter. i see how we can fix the canoe so that it couldn't win a race against a mudscow!" chapter xix what ailed gridley? "there's an automobile full of gridley folks coming up to the lake to-day!" cried susie sharp excitedly as she ran to meet her girl friends at the landing stage. "how do you know?" asked laura eagerly. "mr. wright has just received a telephone message, asking that arrangements be made to give them supper here. they're going back in the evening." "dick will be so pleased!" cried laura. "all of our boys will be delighted, i imagine," replied susie dryly. "of course; that is what i meant," explained laura, flushing slightly. "i know. you think that dick prescott is the only boy at lake pleasant," teased miss sharp. "stop that!" begged clara marshall. "don't talk nonsense." at one end of the float lay the "pathfinder." at the other end lay the "scalp-hunter," as shining as a thorough overhauling and a coating of oil could make her. over the latter canoe the gridley high school girls had posted themselves as a sort of guard of honor. not that there was any suspicion that either of the canoes would be tampered with. high school and college sports are "clean." no underhanded tricks are resorted to by competitors for the sake of winning. in the boathouse near by sat the members of both crews, mingling on the most friendly terms. with them were some of the officials of the race. dotted along the water front of the hotel grounds were many little groups of waiting spectators in chairs, on campstools or sitting on the grass. in the morning buoys had been set on the lake at each end of a measured course. the course was to be a mile, around the upper buoy and returning to the starting line. the usual rules of boat and canoe racing were to apply as to clear water, fouling and the like, as well as the right of way at the upper buoy in case the rival canoes were close together. "it's half-past two o'clock now," announced the starter, glancing at his watch. "at two-forty," stated the referee, "i shall order both canoes into the water. as soon after that as each crew captain chooses he may put his men aboard and take such warming-up work as he may wish. at two-fifty-six the first gun will be fired, and both crews must come promptly to the judges' boat for alignment. at exactly three the second shot will be fired---the starting signal. has either captain any questions to ask?" neither captain had any questions. "let me know, time-keeper, when it is two-forty," said the referee, going toward the door. "both captains will be on the alert to avoid delays." as the referee glanced out he saw that at least four hundred spectators were on hand. two stage loads of men, woman, boys and girls had already arrived from preston. trentville also had sent a delegation. "what's all that yelling with 'gridley' in it?" cried dick, jumping up and moving toward the door. he was followed by his chums. they reached the float in time to see the automobile bus from gridley coming down to the water front. in it were some thirty people of all ages. "oh, you prescott!" yelled one irrepressible young man, through a megaphone. "don't you dare make fools of us this afternoon! gridley must win!" "don't worry!" dick shouted back, waving his hand. "gridley is going to win!" "yes, sirree!" called bob hartwell, laughingly. "preston high school guarantees gridley to be a winner---for second place!" people now came crowding down upon the float to such an extent that mr. wright had to use the services of four hotel employs in coaxing them to keep back out of the way of the crews. "no further admittance to the float, ladies and gentlemen!" called the hotel manager. "keep it clear for the use of the crews!" "remember, prescott," shouted a voice, "nothing but a win!" "that's the gridley way," dick called back. "crew captains!" shouted the referee. "ready to launch your craft! time for a bit of preliminary practice." "take hold and launch!" cried bob hartwell, running forward. over into the water went the preston high school canoe with a splash. the preston boys began to fill their places. "gridley, stand by to launch!" called prescott, "slide her in, easily!" as graceful as a thing of life the big war canoe slipped into the water, then lay there like a swan. dave darrin took hold of the bow-line, the pretty craft resting lightly against the float. "aren't you going to take your men out and warm them up, prescott?" asked referee tyndall. "no, sir; only for the last five minutes. we want only work enough to start the blood to moving well." so only dave stood by the canoe. hatless, the gridley high school boys paced up and down the float, awaiting word from big chief prescott before embarking. "i wish dick would put our boys to work at once," murmured belle uneasily. "look what a fine showing bob hartwell's preston fellows are making out there." in truth the preston boys were making a splendid showing with their brisk, steady, sturdy paddling. many a cheer went up from shore for them. "time for us, gridley," announced prescott, when some minutes had passed. alertly his chums sprang to their posts. in a twinkling they were seated, each with his paddle in hand, holding lightly to the float. "shove off," said dick, in a very low voice. as the "scalp-hunter" started for the middle of the lake a wild gridley yell broke loose. but none of the boys paid heed. each had his ears alert only for the orders of the captain. somehow, as the canoe moved out, each one had the same feeling. the "scalp-hunter" was not moving quite as it should do. "there is at least one of you fellows who isn't doing all he should, or just as he should," dick murmured quietly. "which one is it?" there was no immediate response, though all five of the boys gave renewed attention to their work. still, all of them had the same uneasy impression that there "was a screw loose somewhere." "it's just as though we had a drag holding us back," dick muttered disappointedly. "perhaps it's only because we're not quite warmed up yet," tom hinted. "no; it isn't that," prescott responded. "i wish i knew just what does ail us. take the second speed, fellows, and each of you watch his dip and recovery. remember, it's the disciplined paddling that wins a canoe race." at the next speed they went forward a little faster, to be sure. yet there was a decided lack of speed or a pull-back somewhere. "don't lose your nerve, gridley!" floated hartwell's voice over the water as the preston canoe shot by at a wind-jamming speed. "want a tow, gridley?" hailed someone from shore. "next speed, fellows! hit it up hard," called dick prescott. perspiration from extreme nervousness broke out on his forehead. strive as he would, the crew captain of the gridleys could not shake off the gloomy depression that assailed him. something was wrong---radically wrong! the "scalp-hunter" was not showing a winning gait! "best speed---and work, fellows!" called dick, as quietly as ever, though in his voice there was a note almost of despair. now, indeed, the gridley craft sped through the water. yet all of her crew, and many people on shore, realized that the war canoe was not showing a prize-taking gait. how dick, dave, tom and the others worked, bending all their energies to the task! yet all felt the same awful doubts. bang! the first gun had sounded. "down to the line, fellows!" dick called. "put in all the steam you can. i was wrong not to have warmed you up before. get your blood to moving. one, two, three, four! hump it! hump it!" their bodies streaming with perspiration, breath coming fast, their faces deeply flushed, dick & co. bent to their paddling. they were moving fast, yet not as fast as they should be moving and back. "what on earth can ail our boys?" cried laura bentley anxiously as she watched. "they're moving fast," replied clara marshall. "yet not the way they should move," laura insisted. "there's nothing about them of the easy, brisk form that preston high school shows to-day." "don't hint at defeat!" shuddered belle meade. "we might be able to stand a gridley defeat, but the boys couldn't." preston's canoe now rested on the water, ready to be aligned at the referee's order. gridley's craft seemed to be straining as she neared the line. suddenly three sharp, short, shrill blasts sounded from the whistle of the judges' launch. "prescott!" roared the referee. "now, what's up, i wonder?" dick asked himself, with another sinking feeling at heart. the judges' boat was making fast time toward the gridley high school entry. chapter xx "dinky-bat! hot sail!" "captain prescott, what is wrong with your boat?" demanded referee tyndall, as the judges' launch stole up close. "something seems to be wrong with us, i'll admit, sir," dick made answer. "i'll be greatly obliged to you, sir, if you'll tell me what it is. "what are you towing?" asked the referee bluntly. "towing?" repeated dick in bewilderment. "that's what i asked," repeated the referee. "when you came down on this last spurt i'm sure that at one moment i saw a length of line rise above the water astern of you. then, further back, i saw something else jerked to the surface." "why, we can't be towing anything," dick insisted. "you saw our canoe launched." "late start, if you don't line the canoes up at once, referee," warned the time-keeper. but mr. tyndall had his own views. "the starting time will be delayed," he announced sharply. "captain prescott, take your canoe to the landing stage." "all right, sir." "captain hartwell you will follow." "very good, sir." going in to the landing stage dick gave his crew an easy pace, yet they were soon alongside the float. "now, take your canoe out of water, gridley," commanded the referee, stepping ashore from the launch. "i want a look at the craft." dick & co. lifted the war canoe to the float bow first. just as the stern cleared the water a cry went up from scores of throats. for the referee had grasped a line made fast to the bottom of the canoe near the stern. hauling on that line he brought in several yards of it---then, at the outer end of the line came a light blanket, dripping. through the middle of the blanket the end of the line had been secured. dick prescott gasped. his chums rubbed their eyes. bob hartwell, who had landed, looked on in utter consternation. "for the love of decency!" gasped referee tyndall. "who rigged on a drag like that." the blanket, towing below the surface, was a drag that could be depended upon, perhaps, to delay the canoe at least one length in every dozen that her crew could put her through the water. "none of our fellows did that trick," dick declared hotly. "you saw us launch our canoe, mr. referee, and she was clear when we launched her." "i naturally wouldn't suspect the gridley crew of rigging a drag on the gridley canoe," remarked the referee dryly, as he followed the line back to the canoe. "see! some scoundrel managed to twist a screw-eye into one of your frame timbers underneath. the line is made fast to the screw-eye. captain prescott, that could have been done by someone hidden under this float while your craft lay alongside. he could bring his mouth above water, under the timbers of this float. then, with his hand and arm hidden under water the same rascal could easily reach out and fasten in the screw-eye." "prescott," gasped bob hartwell, in a disgusted voice, "i hope you don't believe that any of our fellows, or their friends, could be guilty of such contemptible work!" "hartwell," dick answered promptly, resting a hand on the arm of the preston high school boy, "i am offended that you should believe us capable of suspecting preston high school of anything as mean as this. of course we don't suspect preston high school!" the referee himself now twisted the screw-eye out of its bed in the canoe frame. then he gathered up the wet cord and blanket and hurled the whole mass shoreward. "i'd pay twenty-five dollars out of my own pocket," the race official declared hotly, "for proof against the scoundrel who tried to spoil clean sport in this manner!" nearly all of the crowd of spectators had now surged down close to the float. "i think we could make a pretty good guess at who is behind this contemptible business," snarled danny grin, his face, for once, darkened by a threatening frown. "who did it?" challenged referee tyndall. dalzell opened his mouth, but prescott broke in sharply with the command: "be silent, dan! don't mention a name when you haven't proof." "can it possibly be anyone from preston?" asked hartwell anxiously. "if it is, i beg you, dalzell, to let me have the name---privately, if need be. i'd spend the summer running down this thing." "i know whom dalzell has in mind, hartwell," dick rejoined. "it's no one from within a good many miles of preston, either. but we have no right to make accusation without an iota of proof." "then you decline to allow the name to be furnished?" blurted the referee. "i refuse, sir, for the same reason that you would," dick answered coolly. "only a coward, a knave or a fool will accuse another person without some reasonable proof to offer. no great harm has been done, anyway. the drag was found in time." "get your canoe out, hartwell," ordered mr. tyndall. "this time, when we launch them, we'll make sure that both craft are in good order." when the "pathfinder" was hauled up on the float she was found to be free from any evidences of trickery. "now, launch, and we'll watch each canoe until it puts off," announced mr. tyndall. "captain prescott, will ten minutes be enough for you before the sounding of the first gun?" "yes, sir." "i'd rather you gave gridley plenty of time, sir," urged bob hartwell. "if we can't win from gridley high school fairly, we don't want to win at all." "first gun, then, at three-twenty-eight," called mr. tyndall. "second gun at three-thirty." slowly the "pathfinder" followed the "scalp-hunter" out into midlake. "how does your craft go now, gridley?" hailed the big chief from preston. "she goes like a canoe now," dick called back joyously. then he set his chums to easy paddling. all six of dick & co. felt a thrill of joy at realizing the difference in the canoe's behavior. "we'll win, all right," predicted prescott joyously. "if we don't, we'll make motions that look like putting up a hard fight, anyway," tom answered him. "i wish i had my foot on the neck of the cur that rigged the drag!" muttered darrin vindictively. "i don't," dick answered quietly. "the fellow who rigged the drag probably wasn't the same fellow who planned the scheme." "i'm going to provoke a fight with a certain party, one of these days, anyway," threatened dave, his brow dark with anger. "forget it now," dick urged. "the fellow whose mind is ruled by an angry passion isn't in the best form for athletic work. banish all unpleasant thoughts, all of you fellows." by degrees the big chief from gridley warmed up his braves in the war canoe. he had them going in earnest, at nearly their best speed, just as the first gun was fired---a pistol in the hand of the starter on board the judges' boat. "we'll go over there in our best style," prescott called. "try to give the people on shore something worth looking at---they've waited long enough to see something! one, two, three, four! one, two, three, four!" in absolute precision the gridley high school boys moved at their work, their swift, deft, strong strokes sending the birch bark craft darting over the water in a fashion that brought a cheer from shore. "deep breathing just as soon as we're at rest at the line," dick warned his chums. "at the start try to make the first breath carry you for four strokes!" in a short time the referee had the canoes with their noses at the line, and at an interval from each other satisfactory to him. "thirty seconds to the start!" called the time-keeper. "twenty seconds!" in the gridley canoe each boy sat bent slightly forward, his paddle raised at the proper position. "ten seconds!" called the starter. then----- bang! away shot the canoes. over all other sounds could be heard dick's low-toned: "one, two, three, four! one, two, three, four!" the preston boys heard him, and dick noted, with amusement, that they unconsciously adapted their own stroke to his count. "cut that numeral business," grunted bob hartwell, across the water. "you're queering our fellows." "they mustn't listen to our signals," dick laughed back. "one, two, three, four!" "come on, fellows; get ahead of that gridley crowd, where we can't hear 'em," urged hartwell. "hanky pank!" at that the preston canoe managed to get a slight lead. dick did not vary his count, however. he had no objection to being led slightly to the upper buoy. soon, however, preston high school made the distance two lengths. dick began to count a bit faster. "put a little more steam on, fellows," he urged. so the gap was closed up somewhat. but hartwell, glancing back, called: "mumbleby hoptop!" whatever that signal meant the preston boys were now paddling a stronger and slightly swifter stroke. dick, too, increased the stroke. despite it all, however, preston was now securing more and more of a lead by almost imperceptible gains. dave darrin, in the bow seat of the war canoe, eyed the water interval between the two canoes with a frowning glance. "more steam!" dick urged. as the gridley canoe went creeping up on the rival craft, hartwell muttered another of his ridiculous code signals. "preston hasn't let itself out yet, and we're next door to panting already," tom reade told himself, with a sinking heart. "we were fools to enter as a school crew without more practice!" at this time dick prescott was the only one in the war canoe who serenely ignored all doubts. of course he couldn't be sure that he would win. in fact, all the chances appeared against him. but the absurd habit, as it seemed to others, of feeling that gridley could not be beaten, was strong upon him. more than half way to the upper buoy preston high school led by more than two lengths. "get on, gridley! get on! do something!" came the distant yet distinct yells from shore. many spectators, in carriages, or on bicycles, were following the rival crews. "prescott, what ails you?" came a wailing cry from shore. there were other discouraging calls, too. had dick been less strong in his faith in dick & co. he might have gone to pieces under the nagging. bob hartwell, glancing smilingly back over one shoulder, saw the gridley boys working. "we've got 'em stung, fellows," called the preston high school big chief to his crew. "take it easy, but don't let 'em gain anything. we won't try to increase the lead until we're on the last half of the home stretch." a hundred and fifty yards from the upper buoy dick passed the word: "now, hump a bit. we want to worry 'em as we get to the buoy. make it hot for preston! one, two, three, four!" some of that distance was covered. as preston rounded the buoy hartwell and his crew came face to face with gridley, about to round it. "one, two, three, four!" almost drawled dick. he had already passed the signal to his own men, not one of whom obeyed his slow count, but on the other hand, preston high school for the space of about fifteen seconds, slowed to that crawling count. "brace up, you dubs! paddle!" roared hartwell. "never mind that funeral march. dipperty-dip!" preston recovered from its brief trance and shot ahead. but gridley was already around the buoy and coming fast. half way home from the upper buoy found preston going strongly, two and a half lengths ahead of gridley high school. "oh, you, prescott, get up and run!" came the dismal, desperate advice from shore. as he mentally measured the distance, now, to the finishing line, dick prescott's eyes flashed. "now, your reserve power, fellows!" he called in a low, tense voice. "make every stroke count! full muscle! never mind your backs! one, two, three, four!" a splendid showing gridley made. soon the lead of the rivals was less than two lengths. "steam-ho!" called hartwell. "hot sail!" preston's paddles flashed in the sunlight in unison, in the best, swiftest stroke they had yet shown. over on shore the preston boosters let their lungs loose in cheering yells. "wait for a tugboat, prescott!" "you're up against the real thing, gridley!" "come on in, hartwell! the other canoe is tied to the shore!" "more steam!" ordered dick. "more steam! your best, prize winning stroke now." again hartwell glanced backward. now the prow of the war canoe was less than half a length from the stern of the preston craft. up and up it came. hartwell, in a burst of energy, shouted his prize signal: "dinky-bat! hot sail!" the new spurt carried preston high school ahead once more. chapter xxi nature has a dismal streak "come on, prescott!" "or else sink!" "don't come back to gridley!" the cries from shore, as the gridley boosters noted the effects of the fine preston work, were not encouraging. "preston high school wins!" indeed, it looked as though hartwell's craft must be the winner. shorter and shorter became the distance to the finish line. true, big chief dick was bringing his prow close up to the stern of the "pathfinder" once more, but preston evidently had a little reserve steam left as yet. "go it, hartwell! go it! you win! hurrah!" suddenly over the water traveled dick prescott's command: "now, then, gridley! break your backs!" this time there was no counting, nor was there any need of any. from dave back to dick all six bent their full strength and wind to the task of making the "scalp-hunter" dart over the water. it was a grueling, killing pace that dick had set for his crew, but it did not need to last long. the finish line was close at hand. hartwell saw the "scalp-hunter's prow steal up on a level with the centre of his own canoe. "go it, fellows---one last, big spurt!" he yelled. a sudden yell from shore told another story. the war canoe's nose was now six feet further along than the bow of the preston canoe. "come on, dick! come on! come on!" "speed! the last swift dash!" yelled dick prescott. "bend to it!" hartwell tried to call to his crew, but could not make himself heard. the yelling from the shore, and from the boats nearby drowned out all other sounds. the two canoes seemed to be rivaling express trains in their speed. then the cheers of one faction drowned the groans of the other. gridley high school had shot across the finish line by a length and a half lead over preston high school. just as the "pathfinder" left the line astern there came from the preston craft a sound like the report of a pistol. one of the preston braves had snapped his paddle off just above the blade. as the "scalp-hunter" swung about, dick saw that broken-off blade floating on the water. "i'm glad that paddle didn't snap until you had crossed the line," dick panted. "if it had, the real result would have been in doubt." "your crew won, prescott!" called bob hart well in a husky voice. "congratulations!" "thank you," returned dick. "you're surely a generous enemy." "rivals, this afternoon, but enemies never!" protested young hartwell. now a blast from the whistle of the launch recalled the two canoes. standing in the bow of the launch, referee tyndall announced so that those on shore might hear plainly: "gridley wins by a length and a half!" from the shore came a wild cheer. there was also a frenzied waving of handkerchiefs and of parasols. though the gridley boosters might be few in number, they were great in enthusiasm. as the "pathfinder" started in for the landing float a crowd made a rush to meet the canoes. it was not, however, the preston craft, that the crowd wanted, for this was a gridley crowd. noting the fact with his keen eyes, dick gave the word for easy paddling. then he swung the war canoe about, heading toward camp. that proved not at all to the crowd's liking. "come back, prescott! this way, gridley! we want you!" "why don't you land, dick?" queried tom reade. "what! land at the mercy of that crowd!" exclaimed prescott. "that is a gridley crowd. they're so pleased over our winning that what they'd do to us might be worse than what they'd have done if we had lost." "where are you going?" asked dave, somewhat disappointed. "camp is good enough for us, i guess. it's a safe place, anyway," prescott replied. a few minutes later the "scalp-hunter" touched lightly on the beach in front of camp. towser greeted them with a joyous bark. "so you've been watching the race instead of the camp, have you?" demanded tom, eyeing the dog in mock reproach. "oh, but i'm tired!" muttered darrin, after they had beached the canoe. "this green grass looks inviting." he threw himself down at full length on the grass. "up, for yours," commanded dick, grasping him by one arm and pulling dave to his feet. "don't you know that your blood is almost at fever heat after the strain of the race? do you want to get a chill that will keep the whole camp up to-night?" "i want to lie down," muttered darrin. "and i want to sleep." "then get off your racing clothes, put on your other clothes, then roll yourself well in your blankets and lie down in the tent," dick ordered. "that's what i'm going to do." now that the strain was over every member of dick & co. found himself so weary that the putting on of ordinary clothes was a process which proceeded slowly. after a while, however, all six had rolled themselves in their blankets and lay on the leaf-piled floor of the tent. all but dick and harry were asleep, presently, when an automobile stopped near the camp. "anyone at home?" called referee tyndall, poking his head in past the flap of the tent and viewing the recumbent lads. "all here? that's good. i'm a committee of one, sent over here by the gridley folks at the hotel. they're ordering a supper and they want you boys to come over promptly. you're to be the guests of honor." "will you be good enough to present the gridley people with our best thanks," returned dick promptly, rising to greet the referee, "and ask them very kindly to excuse us? assure them, please, that we're in strict training, with more races to come, and that banquets would perhaps spoil us for the next race." "i'm afraid i'll have difficulty in getting that message through," protested mr. tyndall. "your gridley friends are bound to have you over at the hotel." "they can't get us there with anything less than the state militia," declared dave, who had awakened. "we can fight and whip any smaller body of armed men that tries to drag us away from our rest. our friends are good to us but can't they understand that we ache?" "you _do_ look rather played out," assented mr. tyndall, after surveying the various wrapped bundles of high school boy humanity. "but can't you raise enough energy to come over in an hour?" "if the gridley people are really our friends," protested tom reade, opening his eyes, "they'll let us sleep through until to-morrow morning. we nearly killed our tender young selves in that last big spurt, and now we must rest our bones and aching muscles." "but what can i tell the folks at the hotel?" begged mr. tyndall. "tell 'em that we appreciate their kindness," laughed dick. "all right. i'll tell them---something," murmured mr. tyndall, as he turned away. "up, all of you fellows!" commanded dick prescott. "this doesn't look very gracious on our part, when an entertainment has been arranged for us. we'll go, and attend to our aches to-morrow." but when the referee of the afternoon noted how stiffly they all moved he found himself filled with compassion. "don't you try to come over, boys," he urged. "you're too stiff and sore to-night. some people, myself included, don't realize that fifteen-year-old boys haven't the bodily stamina of men of twenty-five. you did a splendid bit of work this afternoon, and now you're entitled to your rest." "we'll get over there, somehow," dick promised. "no; you won't. don't you try it. the gridley visitors would be brutes to try to drag you out to-night. i shan't let you go, and i shall tell the home folks that you're enjoying a well-won rest." "but don't you let any of the preston high school fellows know how crippled you found us," begged dave darrin. "what would you care, if i did?" laughed mr. tyndall. "you fellows won the race, didn't you? and i'll wager that the preston boys are feeling a whole lot worse than you are. don't come! good night." "tyndall is a brick to let us off," sighed tom gratefully, as he sank down once more. later on dick & co. emerged from the tent, started a fire, and had supper, though they did not pay great attention to the meal. "i wouldn't want to race every day," grunted reade, as he squatted near the fire after supper. "if we did," dick retorted, "we'd speedily get over these aches and this stiffness." for an hour or so the boys remained about the fire. dan dalzell was the first to slip away to his blankets. hazelton followed. then the movement became general. soon all were sound asleep. nor did any sounds reach or disturb them for hours. not one of the sleepers stirred enough to know that the sky gradually became overcast and that there was a distant rumbling of thunder. hardly had the campfire burned down into the general blackness of the night when an automobile runabout, moving slowly and silently, stole along the roadway. in it sat the son of squire ripley. fred, having brooded for hours over the failure of his scheme to make dick & co. lose the canoe race, had at last decided to pay a stealthy, nocturnal visit to the camp of the boys he disliked, with the express purpose of doing whatever mischief his hands might find to do. his father's family car and automobile runabout were both at the hotel garage, and at his disposal. soon fred ripley was speeding away over the country road in the automobile runabout. as he neared the camp he extinguished the running lights, then went on slowly so as to make no noise. at last he stopped the car. gr-r-r-r! came out of the darkness. faithful towser was still at his post. he came forward slowly, suspiciously out of the darkness. he may have recognized his enemy, for towser came close to the car, showing his teeth in an ugly fashion. fred lost no time in starting his car forward. "i wish that pup would have the nerve to get in front of the car," he muttered as he drove slowly away from the camp. "what fun it would be to run over the brute! i don't dare to get out of the car while he's on guard. i forgot about him for the time being, though goodness knows i've cause to remember him." towser uttered one or two farewell growls. two hundred yards further on fred let out the speed in earnest, at the same time switching on the electric running lights. "i'll come back late to-night," fred reflected. "i'll leave the machine a little way down the road, and come up here on foot. in the meantime i'll think of some scheme to get square with dick prescott and his crowd. i'll hunt up a good stout club, too, and then if that confounded dog is troublesome i'll settle him." for an hour or more fred ran the car at random over one country road after another. "i wonder if that pup ever goes to sleep," he muttered. "i'd really like to know. if i'm going back that way to-night i'd better be turning about, for there is a bad storm coming." turning the car, he drove swiftly back again. in about twenty minutes he reached a part of the road directly above the camp. overhead the lightning was flashing brightly. heavy thunder followed each flash. large drops of rain were falling, but fred, bent on his evil errand, did not mind. at any rate he was not afraid of lightning. aided by the flashes he searched along the side of the road until he found a branch of a tree that he shaped into a club with his knife. "i won't wake prescott's muckers," he reflected, "and i want to be sure to attract the dog's notice if he is on guard." a broad, white streak of lightning showed the tent from the road as ripley, armed with the club, drew nearer to it. fred halted. "they're all asleep, the muckers!" he muttered. "i'm glad of that. where is that dog? why doesn't he come around? i'm ready for him now." fred stole stealthily along, keeping a sharp lookout for the bull-dog. suddenly the sky was rent by a vivid flash of lightning so glaring that the lawyer's son covered his eyes with his hands. bang! crash! almost instantly the thunder followed the flash. "it's time to be getting out of here if i don't want to get drowned on the way back to the hotel," ripley decided. "i'll have to postpone getting square with prescott. besides, the storm will waken those fellows and i don't want to be caught here." there came another flash, that descended near the water. the crashing noise of the thunder came at the same instant. fred, facing the tent, saw the bolt strike the ridge pole. evidently the current ran down one of the poles, for he saw the bluish white electric fluid running over the ground, coming from inside the tent. the tent sagged, then fell. "gracious!" shivered this evil traveler of the night. "it will be a wonder if that bolt didn't stretch them all out. i wonder if it killed dick prescott and his crowd?" uncontrollable curiosity seized upon fred. turning about he ran toward the tent. violently he tugged at the canvas. as he lifted it another sharp flash showed him the six gridley high school boys lying motionless in a row. "the lightning did finish them!" gasped young ripley, overcome with fright and awe. chapter xxii fred is grateful---one second! for some moments fred ripley stood there, spellbound, regarding the still figures of dick & co. with fascinated fear. most of the time he stood in darkness, but as the flashes of lightning came he again saw the six motionless figures. even the fearful crashes of thunder failed to arouse the sleepers. "oh, this is grewsome!" gasped ripley at last, the coward in him coming to the surface strongly. "i can't stand this any longer!" unconsciously he spoke aloud, his voice rising to a wail. then as he let the folds of canvas fall, a voice inside called angrily: "quit that! i want to get out." it was dave darrin's voice, and dave was the quickest-tempered one of the six boys. fred knew that it behooved him to get away from the spot at once. there was a wriggling under the canvas. ripley turned to flee. gr-r-r-r! towser stood barring his path. "hurry up, darrin!" appealed fred, as towser moved closer, showing his teeth. "hurry! or this dog will chew me up." "who's there?" called darrin, thrusting his head out of the collapsed tent, then drawing the rest of his body after. another flash of lightning showed ripley's frightened face. "oh, you, is it?" uttered dave in a tone full of scorn. "hurry and quiet this bull-dog!" the lawyer's son insisted. "don't worry," retorted darrin calmly. "towser wouldn't sink his teeth very deep in you! he's a self-respecting dog." now that one of the members of the canoe club was on the spot, the bull pup displayed less ferocity. he contented himself with eyeing fred, ready to spring at a second's notice. "what has happened?" demanded dave, looking rather bewilderedly at the tent. "your shack was struck by lightning," fred answered glibly, and then, ever ready to lie, he added, "i was passing by in the car, in a hurry to get back to the hotel, and i saw the thing happen. the lightning ran along the ridge-pole, then down into the tent and out at the sides along the ground. i'm afraid same of your fellows have been struck. at first i thought all of you had been killed, so i ran down here to investigate." but dave paid little heed to the last part of this statement. he had seized hold of one side of the canvas, holding it up. "dick!" he called lustily. "tom, greg, dan, harry!" there was no response. the thunder continued to boom louder than ever. "hold this canvas up," dave darrin ordered sharply, and ripley, knowing that towser was eyeing him, obeyed. inside crawled darrin, shaking each of his friends in turn and calling to them. "i can't wake 'em! i can't get 'em to speak," reported darrin, crawling out again, his face white with anguish. "i'm afraid they've been-----" "yes," nodded ripley, in a hoarse voice. "they're dead!" "how did you say you got here?" demanded dave suddenly. "in a car?" "yes." "then we'll prop the canvas up to let air inside the tent, and then you'll drive me to the hotel pleasant as fast as you can go!" "maybe i won't," jeered fred. "maybe you will," retorted dave darrin indignantly. his voice rang with righteous contempt. "either you'll stand by at a time like this, or i'll fall upon you tooth and nail---with the very able help of the dog!" gr-r-r-r! approved towser, again showing his teeth. "i---i'll take you!" quavered ripley. "of course you will," nodded darrin. "wait till i see if the lantern is all right." he crawled into the tent, found the lantern and struck a match. curiously enough the lantern had not been injured. placing the lantern outside, darrin sharply commanded his chance companion to aid in propping the canvas so that those underneath could get air. "now, come along," ordered darrin, when this had been done. "towser, watch the---the gentleman!" thus they started up the slope, when they heard a growl just ahead of them. in the same instant towser, uttering a yelp, turned and darted away as fast as he could go. "now, we'll see whether you'll boss me," grunted fred ripley, brandishing the club that he held in his left hand. "your dog is no good any more." "neither will you or i be any good any more if we don't keep our nerve," uttered darrin quietly, as he turned the lantern's rays against the object in their path. "there's only one thing in the world towser would run away from, and that's just what is ahead of us---a mad dog!" at this instant fred, too, caught sight of the object in their path. a large dog, of doubtful breed, stood before them, its head down, but its bloodshot eyes watching them cunningly. it's dripping jaws carried conviction that the animal was rabid. fred did not cry out or stir. he was too frightened to do either. but dave very stealthily put down the lantern. then, his muscles wholly steady, he snatched up an eight-foot pole that lay on the ground. "now, come on, you beast!" challenged darrin, making a slight thrust with the pole. enraged at the challenge, the rabid dog sprang forward, its mouth wide open. without faltering, dave made a thrust that jammed the pole hard into the animal's mouth. staggered by the blow, the dog fell back on its side. it never rose again, for now darrin used the pole as a club, raining down blows upon the dangerous animal until he was sure that there was no life left in it. "darrin, that was wonderful nerve of yours!" gasped fred with admiration wrung from him in spite of himself. "and you saved my life!" "i wasn't thinking of that," said dave grimly, as he picked up the lantern. "don't you believe i'll ever brag about having saved your life. now to the car, and be quick." fred, stung by the contemptuous answer, felt his resentment raging. he darted forward so swiftly that he might have been able to leap into the car and get away with it, had not something else happened. for towser, though he had run away from a rabid specimen of his own species, had circled about. now he leaped into the automobile, growling, just as fred would have sprung in. "that's right, towser. hold the sneak!" called dave, arriving on a run and leaping into the car. "now, ripley, hang you, do some quick and honest work!" "kick that dog out of the car first," pleaded fred. "i won't," darrin retorted. "the dog is my guarantee for your good behavior to-night." as soon as might be they ran around the lower end of the lake, then raced for the hotel. there dr. bentley was aroused. while he was dressing he sent a bell-boy to order his own big car. just when ripley vanished from the scene no one about the grounds or the hotel seemed to know or care. dr. bentley, dressed in record time, came down. "now, we'll drive fast, darrin," the doctor announced, as he dropped his bag into the car and seated himself at the wheel. "struck by lightning, did you say? it was a fearful storm, but it is stopping now." ere they reached the camp the stars were out. there was no sign of nature's dangerous mood. dr. bentley first of all ordered that the canvas be lifted and cast aside. the tent was badly wrecked and burned, though the rain had prevented the rising of flames that might have burned the bodies of the five unconscious boys. "throw your coat off, darrin, and do the work of four men for a few minutes," said dr. bentley tersely. "i'll do the work of a hundred," replied dave, "if i can find the way." after some minutes of hard work tom reade opened his eyes. shortly after this the puffing of one of the hotel launches was heard. for the doctor, while hurrying into his clothes, had left word with mrs. bentley what to do. the launch brought another and much larger tent, with cots, bedding and other things, as well as four capable workmen. greg came to next. neither he nor reade, however, were good for much at the time. by the time that the new tent was up, and the cots arranged those who were still unconscious were carried in there. then greg and tom were helped into the drier quarters. it was dick who longest resisted the efforts to bring him to consciousness. at last, however, he opened his eyes. "it was a mercy that none of you were killed," uttered dr. bentley devoutly. "a little bit more of the current and you might have been done for." but now that he had attended to his young friends, dr. bentley did not think of returning to the hotel. he remained through the night, despite the fact that his charges became steadily stronger and at last went sound asleep. in the morning, before eight o'clock, the launch was over again on that side of the lake. this time it brought mrs. bentley, mrs. meade and the girls, as well as a lot of daintily prepared food fresh from the hotel kitchen. "this is a mighty pleasant world!" sighed dick prescott, full of luxurious content. "yes when you have some good friends in the same world with you," tom added. dave and dan slipped away to remove the body of the rabid dog killed during the night. the tent they had brought with them from gridley would never be of service again, so dick & co. were highly delighted when informed that manager wright begged them to accept the use of this larger, finer tent, and also of the cots, during their stay at the lake. chapter xxiii trentville, the awesome as the "scalp-hunter" swung around the upper buoy and headed down the course she had a lead of a clean two lengths over the trentville high school canoe. there was a larger crowd on the lake to-day and more steam and gasoline craft were out. as dick & co. shot down the line, still leading, steam and pneumatic whistles broke forth into a noisy din. over on the western shore, on the grounds of the larger hotel, only one little knot of gridley people stood to watch and cheer. these were the bentleys, mrs. meade and the same group of girls that had watched the other race. no excursion had come up from the home town to-day, for no one in gridley had believed that their high school youngsters could defeat the seasoned trentville high school canoe crew. only two days before trentville had won from preston high school by nearly five lengths. what show was there for dick & co. or for gridley high school? hence the smallness of the gridley crowd present. however, some hundreds of people who looked on were eager only to see the best crew win, as they had no ties binding them either to gridley or to trentville. but the unexpected had happened. in the first place, when the trentville canoe and crew arrived at the lake dick prescott had insisted that preston high school and trentville high school race together first. thus he had opportunity to watch the trentville work. moreover, by delaying his own race against trentville, dick had had more time to train and drill his crew into form, both as to paddling and endurance. he had profited well by these opportunities. to-day, from the outset, he had handled his crew so that a slight lead over trentville had been maintained. this had been gradually increased, and now that the buoy had been turned with such a handsome lead, none on shore or in the other boats believed that trentville high school had any further chance. pascal, however, who captained the trentville canoe, had another view of the matter. it was ted pascal's third summer in a canoe. he had drilled more than one crew, and knew all the ins and outs of the sport. "i guess prescott thinks he has the whole thing, by this time," smiled pascal to himself. "poor chap. he's a nice young freshman, and i hate to fool him. but we'll soon begin our work. the gridley crew must be well tired by now." presently ted pascal passed the word quietly over the heads of his perspiring but confident crew. "tighten up a little bit, now---a little bit at a time," was the message pascal gave his followers. by the time that the home course had been half covered it was noted that the "slip-over," as the trentville craft was named, was creeping up fast on its rival. dick, too, quickly became aware of this. "trentville is showing a lot of new form, fellows, and coming right up on us," dick called quietly. "this race isn't won! the fact, we're near to losing it. form! form! muscle! don't fumble again, hazelton! one, two, three, four!" but still the trentville high school craft continued to creep up on them. the gridley high school girls on shore became so anxious that they forgot to wave their handkerchiefs and cheer. "more push! power, as well as speed," dick panted, for now the grueling speed was beginning to tell on even the leader of dick & co. the prow of the "slip-over" now passed the stern of the "scalp-hunter." reade saw this, too, and uttered a groan. from the shore and the boats holding spectators came new volleys of cheers, for most of these spectators were wholly impartial, and wanted only to see an exciting race. "let yourself out, gridley!" boomed a voice over the water. dick and co. were doing their best---or what amounted to much the same thing---believed that they were, at any rate. yet the trentville canoe crept steadily up, then led by a quarter length, a half length. it looked as though the trentville crew would soon be a length ahead of the gridley boys. everyone of dick's chums was desperate. so was dick himself, but he kept as cool as possible. "bring our prow up!" he called steadily. "no matter what happens, bring our prow up flush with trentville!" by some miracle the gridley boys found strength enough left in their arms and backs to accomplish this feat. then the "scalp-hunter" dropped behind again, an inch at a time. "we caught 'em once!" called dick in an even voice. "we must do it again. one, two, three, four! hump! hump! put in the power!" by inches the "scalp-hunter" crawled up, but dick & co. felt completely exhausted. "you've been doing well, kid," called the even voice of ted pascal over the water, "but you can't do any more. we take this race!" "do you?" dared dick. "yes; you're all in, and we have reserve steam left." "have you?" snapped young prescott. "then now is the time to prove it." taking a deep breath, dick prescott shouted: "remember what gridley demands! no defeats. dash ahead, gridleys! now---go in and kill yourselves for the honor of your school!" dick was far from meaning that literally, but his quick eye had measured the remaining distance of the course. he was captain enough to know just what each of his men could endure, and for how long they could stand up under it. "life is of little use to the vanquished!" dick shouted on. "go in to win---kill yourselves!" at an earlier point on the course it would have been fearfully bad leadership. it would have resulted in disaster had any of dick & co. had any form of serious physical weakness. but dick prescott knew his boys! "kill yourselves!" he shouted out again, as he saw the two canoes running neck and neck. "for the honor of gridley high school!" right noble was the response, though flesh and blood could not stand this new and savage grilling for long. "wake up, trentville!" shouted ted pascal, when he saw the "scalp-hunter" gaining. "wake up! let out all of your steam! push!" dick prescott said no more. his straining gaze was now fixed on the finish line. not one of his chums even glanced at the imaginary line. all their thoughts, like all their glances, were on their paddles. "a final dash, now!" called dick. "slam up the pace for gridley!" but trentville was showing its boasted reserve steam. close as they now were to the finish, pascal had no thought of permitting defeat to come to his crew. no dinning of whistles was there now. every spectator waited breathlessly for the outcome that would be reached in the next few seconds. chapter xxiv conclusion then the end came. pascal sank back on his seat with a groan when he had put in the last dip of his paddle that could do any good. frantic indeed was the cheering, and now once more came the deafening screech of whistles. from the judges' launch, as soon as the din had died down a bit, came the announcement through a megaphone: "gridley high school wins by three quarters of a length." dick heard the news, then ordered quietly: "paddle---easily." a turn of his own blade swung the prow around so that the "scalp-hunter" glided in toward the hotel landing float. to-day he had no jubilant mob of gridleyites to fear in the excess of their joy. only some very gentle friends of their own town came hurrying forward to congratulate them. but dr. bentley gripped dick's arm as soon as that young man stepped from the canoe. "bring your crew along and follow me, prescott," whispered the physician. "you are a limp-looking lot. that was a wild, splendid finish, but i fear you may have put it too hard to your crew. i want to examine you all, to make sure that not too much harm has been done by your desperate 'kill yourself' order." dr. bentley led the way to the boathouse, while a hotel employ took charge of the "scalp-hunter." he listened briefly at each boy's heart, then made them all sit still for ten minutes. at the end of that time he examined them again as to heart beat. half an hour later he made a third examination. "i don't believe anyone of you has sustained any lasting injury," said dr. bentley at last. "but, prescott, don't you ever dare give a 'kill yourself' order again. that is my order, and an emphatic one. you may recall that i happen to be medical director of the gridley high school athletic association. if you youngsters ever try a pace like that again, then undoubtedly you will all be disqualified from future athletic events. don't forget." after that lecture dick & co. were allowed to sponge with hot water, rub down and put on ordinary clothing. then they went forth to meet their friends. ted pascal, however, was the first to rush forward. he had been waiting for their appearance. "prescott, you're a great fellow as a crew captain!" the big chief of the trentvilles declared. "i was sure we had you beaten, and even now i can't imagine how you left us to the rear. but it was a great race, and i congratulate you!" "and we all thank you for your good will," dick answered promptly. "truth to tell, pascal, i thought, too, that you almost had us beaten." "almost?" echoed ted. "why not wholly?" "because gridley is never quite beaten. it's our way, you know---one that was adopted by a past generation of gridley boys and has been lived up to ever since." "i've heard a lot about that 'gridley way,'" laughed ted pascal, "but to-day was the first time that i've ever had it played on me." "do you play football?" asked dick. "no." "baseball?" "i tried, but couldn't make the nine," pascal confessed. "then i don't know that you're likely to have the 'gridley' way played upon you again not unless you meet some of our girls in a tennis game." the two crews mingled, passing some ten minutes in talk and in good-humored chaff. but at last dick broke away and drew out from the canoe talk as he saw laura, belle, susie and the other girls awaiting them at a point farther up in the hotel grounds. "i know the girls have been waiting to speak to us," dick told his chums, "and they've been mighty kind to us. come along." "we thought you would never get around to talking with poor mortals like us," laura admitted, as the boys joined the high school girls. "it was mainly your father's fault," dick laughingly, protested. "how was that?" "you'll have to ask him. perhaps we're not at liberty to reveal what the athletic association's medical director had to say to us." "especially when it's in the nature of a 'roast,'" added danny grin. "if my father was severe with any of you i am certain that he had good reason," replied laura gravely, though her eyes twinkled. "but what a splendid race you made against trentville and at one time we felt sure that you were beaten." "we all felt the same way at one time," tom reade interjected. "all except dick," added darry. "why, if anyone were to kill dick prescott, dick would insist on the fellow coming around the next day and proving his death." "it was a splendid race, anyway," belle glowed. "do you notice anything, boys?" "where?" asked tom, looking blankly around. "anything about us?" susie put in. "nothing," drawled tom, "except that you're the finest, daintiest and sweetest-looking lot of girls we know. but that's true every other day in the week." "we didn't ask you anything like that," susie pouted, "though doubtless it's all true enough. but don't you notice what we're all wearing?" "i think i see what you mean," greg suggested hopefully. "each one of you is wearing the gridley high school pin." "correct!" assented susie warmly. "but can't you guess why we're wearing the pins? it's because when gridley boys can win such a race as you won to-day it's a real honor to wear the pin." "and a bigger honor to have it worn on our account," dick laughed. "i was waiting to see who would be the first boy to say something really nice!" cried clara marshall. "have you heard of any more canoe clubs coming this way---high school clubs with which you could arrange races?" asked laura. "no," said dick, with a shake of his head. "even if there were a dozen coming here i'm afraid we'd have to lose the chance." "why?" asked belle quickly. "because we can remain here only two or three days longer." "oh, that's a shame," broke in susie. "do you really have to go back to gridley?" "yes," said dick solemnly. "is the reason one that you may properly tell us?" laura inquired. "it's one that we're not ashamed of, because we can't help it," prescott rejoined. "our vacation up here is nearly at an end just because our funds are in the same plight---nearly at an end, you see." "oh, what a shame!" cried clara sympathetically. "to be short of money is more than a shame," blurted tom reade. "it is a crime, or ought to be. no one has any right to be poor---but what can we do?" "oh, well, there are plenty of pleasant times to be had in good old gridley in the summer time," dick declared stoutly. "and we shall have our canoe there." while chatting the young people had been walking up through the hotel grounds until now they stood just behind the stone wall that separated the ground from the road. "why---look what's coming!" urged dave darrin, in a voice expressive of mock interest. all looked, of course. fred ripley, his hat drawn down over his eyes, came trudging along. in one hand he carried a dress suit case, and from the way his shoulder sagged on that side, the ease appeared to be heavy. on young ripley's face was a deep scowl. "judging from his appearance," suggested tom reade, "rip is walking all the way to the land of sweet tempers. probably he's doing it on a wager, and is just beginning to realize what a long road lies ahead of him. i wonder if he'll, arrive at his destination during his lifetime?" fred's shoes, usually so highly polished, were already thick with dust. his collar, ordinarily stiff and immaculate, was sadly wilted and wrinkled. his whole air was one of mingled dejection and rage. "i wonder what can have happened to him?" asked susie curiously. "i think his conscience may be chasing him," smiled dick. what really had happened was that squire ripley had been present when his son had made a very disrespectful answer to a white-haired man, one of the guests at the lakeview house where the ripleys were stopping. in a great rage the lawyer had decided to send his son home for that act of gross disrespect to the aged. to make the punishment more complete, mr. ripley had ordered his son to make the long journey on foot over the hills to the railway station. only enough money had been handed the young man to buy his railway ticket home. the dress suit case had been added in order to make his progress more difficult. "a young man who cannot treat the aged with proper respect must be dealt with severely," said lawyer ripley to his son. "you will reach home fagged out from your long tramp. for your fare, until your mother and i return, you will have to depend on such food as the servants at home can spare you from their larder. don't you dare order anything from the stores to be charged against me. now, go home, drowse out your summer in the hot town and reflect on what a mean cad you have shown yourself to be to-day." while fred was thinking this all over he glanced up suddenly, to see fourteen pairs of gridley eyes fixed upon him. the young people, as soon as they found themselves observed, immediately turned their glances away from the sullen looking young pedestrian from their school. "i wonder what has happened to fred ripley?" susie repeated, when the object of their remark was some distance away. "something has gone very wrong with him. a blind man could see that much." during this time fred was thinking to himself: "if the guv'nor subjects me to this degradation just for one sharp answer to an old man, what would that same guv'nor do to me if he knew all the things that i've been engaged in up here at the lake? what if he knew that i hired that farmer's son to swim under the float and attach that drag to the canoe? what would the guv'nor do if he knew that i tried to wreck prescott's outfit?" fred shivered at the mental prospect of his father's stern, grim wrath. but young ripley, as sometimes happens, wasn't caught just then. he would go on for the present planning mean tricks against those whom he had no just reason to dislike. yet his time was sure to come. soon after dick & co. were compelled to bid adieu to lake pleasant. they had had a splendid time, and had acquitted themselves with great credit in this entry into high school athletics. they had had pleasure enough to last them all the rest of the summer in memory. the cost of transporting their canoe, on the homeward trip, was borne out of the funds of the gridley high school athletic council. dick & co. entered three more canoe races against high school teams that summer. all these were run off on the home river, and dick & co. had the great glory of winning them all "the gridley way." after the summer, came the opening of the school year again. our readers may learn what happened to dick & co. in their sophomore year in the second volume of the "_high school boys series_," which is published under the title, "_the high school pitcher; or, dick & co. on the gridley diamond_." as to what befell our young friends in the summer vacation which followed their sophomore year, all that is told in the second volume of the "_high school boys vacation series_." that interesting volume is published under the title, "_the high school boys' summer camp; or, the dick prescott six training for the gridley eleven_." it will be found to be a splendid story of real american boys who know how to get the most out of both work and play, and to make each year of life a preparation for a better year to come. in this volume the friends of dick & co. will find these six sturdy boys leading a life full of healthy excitement and adventure in the woods. blown to bits, a tale of the krakatoa volcanic explosion, by r.m. ballantyne. ________________________________________________________________________ this book is a most enjoyable read. we can, however, detect that ballantyne had been reading up various works by w.h.g. kingston and by g. manville fenn. it's just the knowledge of forest life in java and sumatra that makes us think that. but that knowledge is good, for it makes those parts of the book that take place in these forests ring all the more true. as so often with victorian authors writing for teenagers there is a delightful coloured auxiliary hero. but there is another even more important auxiliary hero, van der kemp, and it is this man and his doings that form the real interest of this story. he had made himself a home in an island of the krakatoa group, and a very interesting home it is, too. he travels about, mostly, in a three-seater canoe of the rob roy type, that seems able to travel great distances over the sea, sailing some of the way, and to withstand heavy weather, in a most surprising manner. there is a good description of the eruption, or rather explosion, of krakatoa. this was one of the major geological events of the century, and might well have been taken for granted, with the author assuming that his youthful readers knew all about it, but, thank goodness, he does not. ________________________________________________________________________ blown to bits, a tale of the krakatoa volcanic explosion, by r.m. ballantyne. chapter one. the play commences. blown to bits; bits so inconceivably, so ineffably, so "microscopically" small that--but let us not anticipate. about the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year , a large brig lay becalmed on the indian ocean, not far from that region of the eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes, coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the malay archipelago. two men slowly paced the brig's quarterdeck for some time in silence, as if the elemental quietude which prevailed above and below had infected them. both men were broad, and apparently strong. one of them was tall; the other short. more than this the feeble light of the binnacle-lamp failed to reveal. "father," said the tall man to the short one, "i do like to hear the gentle pattering of the reef-points on the sails; it is so suggestive of peace and rest. doesn't it strike you so?" "can't say it does, lad," replied the short man, in a voice which, naturally mellow and hearty, had been rendered nautically harsh and gruff by years of persistent roaring in the teeth of wind and weather. "more suggestive to me of lost time and lee-way." the son laughed lightly, a pleasant, kindly, soft laugh, in keeping with the scene and hour. "why, father," he resumed after a brief pause, "you are so sternly practical that you drive all the sentiment out of a fellow. i had almost risen to the regions of poetry just now, under the pleasant influences of nature." "glad i got hold of 'ee, lad, before you rose," growled the captain of the brig--for such the short man was. "when a young fellow like you gets up into the clouds o' poetry, he's like a man in a balloon--scarce knows how he got there; doesn't know very well how he's to get down, an' has no more idea where he's goin' to, or what he's drivin' at, than the man in the moon. take my advice, lad, an' get out o' poetical regions as fast as ye can. it don't suit a young fellow who has got to do duty as first mate of his father's brig and push his way in the world as a seaman. when i sent you to school an' made you a far better scholar than myself, i had no notion they was goin' to teach you poetry." the captain delivered the last word with an emphasis which was meant to convey the idea of profound but not ill-natured scorn. "why, father," returned the young man, in a tone which plainly told of a gleeful laugh within him, which was as yet restrained, "it was not school that put poetry into me--if indeed there be any in me at all." "what was it, then?" "it was mother," returned the youth, promptly, "and surely you don't object to poetry in _her_." "object!" cried the captain, as though speaking in the teeth of a nor'wester. "of course not. but then, nigel, poetry in your mother _is_ poetry, an' she can _do_ it, lad--screeds of it--equal to anything that dibdin, or, or,--that other fellow, you know, i forget his name-- ever put pen to--why, your mother is herself a poem! neatly made up, rounded off at the corners, french-polished and all shipshape. ha! you needn't go an' shelter yourself under _her_ wings, wi' your inflated, up in the clouds, reef-point patterin', balloon-like nonsense." "well, well, father, don't get so hot about it; i won't offend again. besides, i'm quite content to take a very low place so long as you give mother her right position. we won't disagree about that, but i suspect that we differ considerably about the other matter you mentioned." "what other matter?" demanded the sire. "my doing duty as first mate," answered the son. "it must be quite evident to you by this time, i should think, that i am not cut out for a sailor. after all your trouble, and my own efforts during this long voyage round the cape, i'm no better than an amateur. i told you that a youth taken fresh from college, without any previous experience of the sea except in boats, could not be licked into shape in so short a time. it is absurd to call me first mate of the _sunshine_. that is in reality mr moor's position--" "no, it isn't, nigel, my son," interrupted the captain, firmly. "mr moor is _second_ mate. _i_ say so, an' if i, the skipper and owner o' this brig, don't know it, i'd like to know who does! now, look here, lad. you've always had a bad habit of underratin' yourself an' contradictin' your father. i'm an old salt, you know, an' i tell 'ee that for the time you've bin at sea, an' the opportunities you've had, you're a sort o' walkin' miracle. you're no more an ammytoor than i am, and another voyage or two will make you quite fit to work your way all over the ocean, an' finally to take command o' this here brig, an' let your old father stay at home wi'--wi'--" "with the poetess," suggested nigel. "just so--wi' the equal o' dibdin, not to mention the other fellow. now it seems to me--. how's 'er head?" the captain suddenly changed the subject here. nigel, who chanced to be standing next the binnacle, stooped to examine the compass, and the flood of light from its lamp revealed a smooth but manly and handsome face which seemed quite to harmonise with the cheery voice that belonged to it. "nor'-east-and-by-east," he said. "are 'ee sure, lad?" "your doubting me, father, does not correspond with your lately expressed opinion of my seamanship; does it?" "let me see," returned the captain, taking no notice of the remark, and stooping to look at the compass with a critical eye. the flood of light, in this case, revealed a visage in which good-nature had evidently struggled for years against the virulent opposition of wind and weather, and had come off victorious, though not without evidences of the conflict. at the same time it revealed features similar to those of the son, though somewhat rugged and red, besides being smothered in hair. "vulcan must be concoctin' a new brew," he muttered, as he gazed inquiringly over the bow, "or he's stirring up an old one." "what d'you mean, father?" "i mean that there's somethin' goin' on there-away--in the neighbourhood o' sunda straits," answered the captain, directing attention to that point of the compass towards which the ship's head was turned. "darkness like this don't happen without a cause. i've had some experience o' them seas before now, an' depend upon it that vulcan is stirring up some o' the fires that are always blazin' away, more or less, around the straits settlements." "by which you mean, i suppose, that one of the numerous volcanoes in the malay archipelago has become active," said nigel; "but are we not some five or six hundred miles to the sou'-west of sunda? surely the influence of volcanic action could scarcely reach so far." "so far!" repeated the captain, with a sort of humph which was meant to indicate mild contempt; "that shows how little you know, with all your book-learnin', about volcanoes." "i don't profess to know much, father," retorted nigel in a tone of cheery defiance. "why, boy," continued the other, resuming his perambulation of the deck, "explosions have sometimes been heard for hundreds, ay _hundreds_, of miles. i thought i heard one just now, but no doubt the unusual darkness works up my imagination and makes me suspicious, for it's wonderful what fools the imag--. hallo! d'ee feel _that_?" he went smartly towards the binnacle-light, as he spoke, and, holding an arm close to it, found that his sleeve was sprinkled with a thin coating of fine dust. "didn't i say so?" he exclaimed in some excitement, as he ran to the cabin skylight and glanced earnestly at the barometer. that glance caused him to shout a sudden order to take in all sail. at the same moment a sigh of wind swept over the sleeping sea as if the storm-fiend were expressing regret at having been so promptly discovered and met. seamen are well used to sudden danger--especially in equatorial seas-- and to prompt, unquestioning action. not many minutes elapsed before the _sunshine_ was under the smallest amount of sail she could carry. even before this had been well accomplished a stiff breeze was tearing up the surface of the sea into wild foam, which a furious gale soon raised into raging billows. the storm came from the sunda straits about which the captain and his son had just been talking, and was so violent that they could do nothing but scud before it under almost bare poles. all that night it raged. towards morning it increased to such a pitch that one of the backstays of the foremast gave way. the result was that the additional strain thus thrown on the other stays was too much for them. they also parted, and the foretop-mast, snapping short off with a report like a cannon-shot, went over the side, carrying the main-topgallant-mast and all its gear along with it. chapter two. the haven in the coral ring. it seemed as if the storm-fiend were satisfied with the mischief he had accomplished, for immediately after the disaster just described, the gale began to moderate, and when the sun rose it had been reduced to a stiff but steady breeze. from the moment of the accident onward, the whole crew had been exerting themselves to the utmost with axe and knife to cut and clear away the wreck of the masts, and repair damages. not the least energetic among them was our amateur first mate, nigel roy. when all had been made comparatively snug, he went aft to where his father stood beside the steersman, with his legs nautically wide apart, his sou'-wester pulled well down over his frowning brows, and his hands in their native pockets. "this is a bad ending to a prosperous voyage," said the youth, sadly; "but you don't seem to take it much to heart, father!" "how much or little i take it to heart you know nothin' whatever about, my boy, seein' that i don't wear my heart on my coat-sleeve, nor yet on the point of my nose, for the inspection of all and sundry. besides, you can't tell whether it's a bad or a good endin', for it has not ended yet one way or another. moreover, what appears bad is often found to be good, an' what seems good is pretty often uncommon bad." "you are a walking dictionary of truisms, father! i suppose you mean to take a philosophical view of the misfortune and make the best of it," said nigel, with what we may style one of his twinkling smiles, for on nearly all occasions that young man's dark, brown eyes twinkled, in spite of him, as vigorously as any "little star" that was ever told in prose or song to do so--and much more expressively, too, because of the eyebrows of which little stars appear to be destitute. "no, lad," retorted the captain; "i take a common-sense view--not a philosophical one; an' when you've bin as long at sea as i have, you'll call nothin' a misfortune until it's proved to be such. the only misfortune i have at present is a son who cannot see things in the same light as his father sees 'em." "well, then, according to your own principle that is the reverse of a misfortune, for if i saw everything in the same light that you do, you'd have no pleasure in talking to me, you'd have no occasion to reason me out of error, or convince me of truth. take the subject of poetry, now--" "luff;" said captain roy, sternly, to the man at the wheel. when the man at the wheel had gone through the nautical evolution involved in "luff," the captain turned to his son and said abruptly--"we'll run for the cocos-keelin' islands, nigel, an' refit." "are the keeling islands far off?" "lift up your head and look straight along the bridge of your nose, lad, and you'll see them. they're an interesting group, are the keelin' islands. volcanic, they are, with a coral top-dressin', so to speak. sit down here an' i'll tell 'ee about 'em." nigel shut up the telescope through which he had been examining the thin, blue line on the horizon that indicated the islands in question, and sat down on the cabin skylight beside his father. "they've got a romantic history too, though a short one, an' are set like a gem on the bosom of the deep blue sea." "come, father, you're drifting out of your true course--that's poetical!" "i know it, lad, but i'm only quotin' your mother. well, you must know that the keelin' islands--we call them keelin' for short--were uninhabited between fifty and sixty years ago, when a scotsman named ross, thinking them well situated as a port of call for the repair and provisioning of vessels on their way to australia and china, set his heart on them and quietly took possession in the name of england. then he went home to fetch his wife and family of six children, intendin' to settle on the islands for good. returning in with the family and fourteen adventurers, twelve of whom were english, one a portugee and one a javanee, he found to his disgust that an englishman named hare had stepped in before him and taken possession. this hare was a very bad fellow; a rich man who wanted to live like a rajah, with lots o' native wives and retainers, an' be a sort of independent prince. of course he was on bad terms at once with ross, who, finding that things were going badly, felt that it would be unfair to hold his people to the agreement which was made when he thought the whole group was his own, so he offered to release them. they all, except two men and one woman, accepted the release and went off in a gun-boat that chanced to touch there at the time. for a good while hare and his rival lived there--the one tryin' to get the dutch, the other to induce the english government to claim possession. neither dutch nor english would do so at first, but the english did it at long last--in --and annexed the islands to the government of ceylon. "long before that date, however--before --hare left and went to singapore, where he died, leaving ross in possession--the `king of the cocos islands' as he came to be called. in a few years--chiefly through the energy of ross's eldest son, to whom he soon gave up the management of affairs--the group became a prosperous settlement. its ships traded in cocoa-nuts, (the chief produce of the islands), throughout all the straits settlements, and boatbuildin' became one of their most important industries. but there was one thing that prevented it from bein' a very happy though prosperous place, an' that was the coolies who had been hired in java, for the only men that could be got there at first were criminals who had served their time in the chain-gangs of batavia. as these men were fit for anything--from pitch-and-toss to murder--and soon outnumbered the colonists, the place was kept in constant alarm and watchfulness. for, as i dare say you know, the malays are sometimes liable to have the spirit of _amok_ on them, which leads them to care for and fear nothin', and to go in for a fight-to-death, from which we get our sayin'--_run amuck_. an' when a strong fellow is goin' about loose in this state o' mind, it's about as bad as havin' a tiger prowlin' in one's garden. "well, sometimes two or three o' these coolies would mutiny and bide in the woods o' one o' the smaller uninhabited islands. an' the colonists would have no rest till they hunted them down. so, to keep matters right, they had to be uncommon strict. it was made law that no one should spend the night on any but what was called the home island without permission. every man was bound to report himself at the guard-house at a fixed hour; every fire to be out at sunset, and every boat was numbered and had to be in its place before that time. so they went on till the year , when a disaster befell them that made a considerable change--at first for the worse, but for the better in the long-run. provin' the truth, my lad, of what i was--well, no--i was goin' to draw a moral here, but i won't! "it was a cyclone that did the business. cyclones have got a free-an'-easy way of makin' a clean sweep of the work of years in a few hours. this cyclone completely wrecked the homes of the keelin' islanders, and ross--that's the second ross, the son of the first one-- sent home for _his_ son, who was then a student of engineering in glasgow, to come out and help him to put things to rights. ross the third obeyed the call, like a good son,--observe that, nigel." "all right, father, fire away!" "like a good son," repeated the captain, "an' he turned out to be a first-rate man, which was lucky, for his poor father died soon after, leavin' him to do the work alone. an' well able was the young engineer to do it. he got rid o' the chain-gang men altogether, and hired none but men o' the best character in their place. he cleared off the forests and planted the ground with cocoa-nut palms. got out steam mills, circular saws, lathes, etcetera, and established a system of general education with a younger brother as head-master--an' tail-master too, for i believe there was only one. he also taught the men to work in brass, iron, and wood, and his wife--a cocos girl that he married after comin' out--taught all the women and girls to sew, cook, and manage the house. in short, everything went on in full swing of prosperity, till the year , when the island-born inhabitants were about , as contented and happy as could be. "in january of that year another cyclone paid them a visit. the barometer gave them warning, and, remembering the visit of fourteen years before, they made ready to receive the new visitor. all the boats were hauled up to places of safety, and every other preparation was made. down it came, on the afternoon o' the th--worse than they had expected. many of the storehouses and mills had been lately renewed or built. they were all gutted and demolished. everything movable was swept away like bits of paper. lanes, hundreds of yards in length, were cleared among the palm-trees by the whirling wind, which seemed to perform a demon-dance of revelry among them. in some cases it snapped trees off close to the ground. in others it seemed to swoop down from above, lick up a patch of trees bodily and carry them clean away, leaving the surrounding trees untouched. sometimes it would select a tree of thirty years growth, seize it, spin it round, and leave it a permanent spiral screw. i was in these regions about the time, and had the account from a native who had gone through it all and couldn't speak of it except with glaring eyeballs and gasping breath. "about midnight of the th the gale was at its worst. darkness that could be felt between the flashes of lightning. thunder that was nearly drowned by the roaring of the wind an' the crashing of everything all round. to save their lives the people had to fling themselves into ditches and hollows of the ground. mr ross and some of his people were lying in the shelter of a wall near his house. there had been a schooner lying not far off. when mr ross raised his head cautiously above the wall to have a look to wind'ard he saw the schooner comin' straight for him on the top of a big wave. `hold on!' he shouted, fell flat down, and laid hold o' the nearest bush. next moment the wave burst right over the wall, roared on up to the garden, yards above high-water mark, and swept his house clean away! by good fortune the wall stood the shock, and the schooner stuck fast just before reachin' it, but so near that the end of the jib-boom passed right over the place where the household lay holdin' on for dear life and half drowned. it was a tremendous night," concluded the captain, "an' nearly everything on the islands was wrecked, but they've survived it, as you'll see. though it's seven years since that cyclone swep' over them, they're all right and goin' ahead again, full swing, as if nothin' had happened." "and is ross the third still king?" asked nigel with much interest. "ay--at least he was king a few years ago when i passed this way and had occasion to land to replace a tops'l yard that had been carried away." "then you won't arrive as a stranger?" "i should think not," returned the captain, getting up and gazing steadily at the _atoll_ or group of islets enclosed within a coral ring which they were gradually approaching. night had descended, however, and the gale had decreased almost to a calm, ere they steered through the narrow channel--or what we may call a broken part of the ring--which led to the calm lagoon inside. nigel roy leaned over the bow, watching with profound attention the numerous phosphorescent fish and eel-like creatures which darted hither and thither like streaks of silver from beneath their advancing keel. he had enough of the naturalist in him to arouse in his mind keen interest in the habits and action of the animal life around him, and these denizens of the coral-groves were as new to him as their appearance was unexpected. "you'll find 'em very kind and hospitable, lad," said the captain to his son. "what, the fish?" "no, the inhabitants. port--port--steady!" "steady it is!" responded the man at the wheel. "let go!" shouted the captain. a heavy plunge, followed by the rattling of chains and swinging round of the brig, told that they had come to an anchor in the lagoon of the cocos-keeling islands. chapter three. interesting particulars of various kinds. by the first blush of dawn nigel roy hastened on deck, eager to see the place in regard to which his father's narrative had awakened in him considerable interest. it not only surpassed but differed from all his preconceived ideas. the brig floated on the bosom of a perfectly calm lake of several miles in width, the bottom of which, with its bright sand and brilliant coral-beds, could be distinctly seen through the pellucid water. this lake was encompassed by a reef of coral which swelled here and there into tree-clad islets, and against which the breakers of the indian ocean were dashed into snowy foam in their vain but ceaseless efforts to invade the calm serenity of the lagoon. smaller islands, rich with vegetation, were scattered here and there within the charmed circle, through which several channels of various depths and sizes connected the lagoon with the ocean. "we shall soon have the king himself off to welcome us," said captain roy as he came on deck and gave a sailor-like glance all round the horizon and then up at the sky from the mere force of habit. "visitors are not numerous here. a few scientific men have landed now and again; darwin the great naturalist among others in , and forbes in . no doubt they'll be very glad to welcome nigel roy in this year of grace ." "but i'm not a naturalist, father, more's the pity." "no matter, lad; you're an ammytoor first mate, an' pr'aps a poet may count for somethin' here. they lead poetical lives and are fond o' poetry." "perhaps that accounts for the fondness you say they have for you, father." "just so, lad. see!--there's a boat puttin' off already: the king, no doubt." he was right. mr ross, the appointed governor, and "king of the cocos islands," was soon on deck, heartily shaking hands with and welcoming captain roy as an old friend. he carried him and his son off at once to breakfast in his island-home; introduced nigel to his family, and then showed them round the settlement, assuring them at the same time that all its resources were at their disposal for the repair of the _sunshine_. "thank 'ee kindly," said the captain in reply, "but i'll only ask for a stick to rig up a fore-topmast to carry us to batavia, where we'll give the old craft a regular overhaul--for it's just possible she may have received some damage below the water-line, wi' bumpin' on the mast and yards." the house of the "king" was a commodious, comfortable building in the midst of a garden, in which there were roses in great profusion, as well as fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. each keeling family possessed a neat well-furnished plank cottage enclosed in a little garden, besides a boat-house at the water-edge on the inner or lagoon side of the reef, and numerous boats were lying about on the white sand. the islanders, being almost born sailors, were naturally very skilful in everything connected with the sea. there was about them a good deal of that kindly innocence which one somehow expects to find associated with a mild paternal government and a limited intercourse with the surrounding world, and nigel was powerfully attracted by them from the first. after an extensive ramble, during which mr ross plied the captain with eager questions as to the latest news from the busy centres of civilisation--especially with reference to new inventions connected with engineering--the island king left them to their own resources till dinner-time, saying that he had duties to attend to connected with the kingdom! "now, boy," said the captain when their host had gone, "what'll 'ee do? take a boat and have a pull over the lagoon, or go with me to visit a family i'm particularly fond of, an' who are uncommon fond of _me_!" "visit the family, of course," said nigel. "i can have a pull any day." "come along then." he led the way to one of the neatest of the plank cottages, which stood on the highest ridge of the island, so that from the front windows it commanded a view of the great blue ocean with its breakers that fringed the reef as with a ring of snow, while, on the opposite side, lay the peaceful waters and islets of the lagoon. a shout of joyful surprise was uttered by several boys and girls at sight of the captain, for during his former visit he had won their hearts by telling them wild stories of the sea, one-half of each story being founded on fact and personal experience, the other half on a vivid imagination! "we are rejoiced to see you," said the mother of the juveniles, a stout woman of mixed nationality--that of dutch apparently predominating. she spoke english, however, remarkably well, as did many of the cocos people, though malay is the language of most of them. the boys and girls soon hauled the captain down on a seat and began to urge him to tell them stories, using a style of english that was by no means equal to that of the mother. "stop, stop, let me see sister kathy first. i can't begin without her. where is she?" "somewhere, i s'pose," said the eldest boy. "no doubt of that. go--fetch her," returned the captain. at that moment a back-door opened, and a girl of about seventeen years of age entered. she was pleasant-looking rather than pretty--tall, graceful, and with magnificent black eyes. "here she comes," cried the captain, rising and kissing her. "why, kathy, how you've grown since i saw you last! quite a woman, i declare!" kathy was not too much of a woman, however, to join her brothers and sisters in forcing the captain into a seat and demanding a story on the spot. "stop, stop!" cried the captain, grasping round their waists a small boy and girl who had already clambered on his knees. "let me inquire about my old friends first--and let me introduce my son to you--you've taken no notice of _him_ yet! that's not hospitable." all eyes were turned at once on nigel, some boldly, others with a shy inquiring look, as though to say, "can _you_ tell stories?" "come, now," said nigel, advancing, "since you are all so fond of my father, i must shake hands with you all round." the hearty way in which this was done at once put the children at their ease. they admitted him, as it were, into their circle, and then turning again to the captain continued their clamour for a story. "no, no--about old friends first. how--how's old mother morris?" "quite well," they shouted. "fatterer than ever," added an urchin, who in england would have been styled cheeky. "yes," lisped a very little girl; "one of 'e doors in 'e house too small for she." "why, gerchin, you've learned to speak english like the rest," said the captain. "yes, father make every one learn." "well, now," continued the captain, "what about black sam?" "gone to batavia," chorused the children. "and--and--what's-'is-name?--the man wi' the nose--" a burst of laughter and, "we's _all_ got noses here!" was the reply. "yes, but you know who i mean--the short man wi' the--" "oh! with the turned _up_ nose. _i_ know," cried the cheeky boy; "you means johnson? he hoed away nobody know whar'." "and little kelly drew, what of her?" a sudden silence fell on the group, and solemn eyes were turned on sister kathy, who was evidently expected to answer. "not dead?" said the captain earnestly. "no, but very _very_ ill," replied the girl. "dear kelly have never git over the loss of her brother, who--." at this point they were interrupted by another group of the captain's little admirers, who, having heard of his arrival, ran forward to give him a noisy welcome. before stories could be commenced, however, the visitors were summoned to mr ross's house to dinner, and then the captain had got into such an eager talk with the king that evening was upon them before they knew where they were, as nigel expressed it, and the stories had to be postponed until the following day. of course beds were offered, and accepted by captain roy and nigel. just before retiring to them, father and son went out to have a stroll on the margin of the lagoon. "ain't it a nice place, nigel?" asked the former, whose kindly spirit had been stirred up to quite a jovial pitch by the gushing welcome he had received alike from old and young. "it's charming, father. quite different from what you had led me to expect." "my boy," returned the captain, with that solemn deliberation which he was wont to assume when about to deliver a palpable truism. "w'en you've come to live as long as me you'll find that everything turns out different from what people have bin led to expect. leastways that's _my_ experience." "well, in the meantime, till i have come to your time of life, i'll take your word for that, and i do hope you intend to stay a long time here." "no, my son, i don't. why do ye ask?" "because i like the place and the people so much that i would like to study it and them, and to sketch the scenery." "business before pleasure, my lad," said the captain with a grave shake of the head. "you know we've bin blown out of our course, and have no business here at all. i'll only wait till the carpenter completes his repairs, and then be off for batavia. duty first; everything else afterwards." "but you being owner as well as commander, there is no one to insist on duty being done," objected nigel. "pardon me," returned the captain, "there is a certain owner named captain david roy, a very stern disciplinarian, who insists on the commander o' this here brig performin' his duty to the letter. you may depend upon it that if a man ain't true to himself he's not likely to be true to any one else. but it's likely that we may be here for a couple of days, so i release _you_ from duty that you may make the most o' your time and enjoy yourself. by the way, it will save you wastin' time if you ask that little girl, kathy holbein, to show you the best places to sketch, for she's a born genius with her pencil and brush." "no, thank you, father," returned nigel. "i want no little girl to bother me while i'm sketching--even though she be a born genius--for i think i possess genius enough myself to select the best points for sketching, and to get along fairly well without help. at least i'll try what i can do." "please yourself, lad. nevertheless, i think you wouldn't find poor kathy a bother; she's too modest for that--moreover, she could manage a boat and pull a good oar when i was here last, and no doubt she has improved since." "nevertheless, i'd rather be alone," persisted nigel. "but why do you call her _poor_ kathy? she seems to be quite as strong and as jolly as the rest of her brothers and sisters." "ah, poor thing, these are not her brothers and sisters," returned the captain in a gentler tone. "kathy is only an adopted child, and an orphan. her name, kathleen, is not a dutch one. she came to these islands in a somewhat curious way. sit down here and i'll tell 'ee the little i know about her." father and son sat down on a mass of coral rock that had been washed up on the beach during some heavy gale, and for a few minutes gazed in silence on the beautiful lagoon, in which not only the islets, but the brilliant moon and even the starry hosts were mirrored faithfully. "about thirteen years ago," said the captain, "two pirate junks in the sunda straits attacked a british barque, and, after a fight, captured her. some o' the crew were killed in action, some were taken on board the junks to be held to ransom, i s'pose, and some, jumping into the sea to escape if possible by swimming, were probably drowned, for they were a considerable distance from land. it was one o' these fellows, however, who took to the water that managed to land on the java shore, more dead than alive. he gave information about the affair, and was the cause of a gun-boat, that was in these waters at the time, bein' sent off in chase o' the pirate junks. "this man who swam ashore was a lascar. he said that the chief o' the pirates, who seemed to own both junks, was a big ferocious malay with only one eye--he might have added with no heart at all, if what he said o' the scoundrel was true, for he behaved with horrible cruelty to the crew o' the barque. after takin' all he wanted out of his prize he scuttled her, and then divided the people that were saved alive between the two junks. there were several passengers in the vessel; among them a young man--a widower--with a little daughter, four year old or so. he was bound for calcutta. being a very powerful man he fought like a lion to beat the pirates off, but he was surrounded and at last knocked down by a blow from behind. then his arms were made fast and he was sent wi' the rest into the biggest junk. "this poor fellow recovered his senses about the time the pirates were dividin' the prisoners among them. he seemed dazed at first, so said the lascar, but as he must have bin in a considerable funk himself i suspect his observations couldn't have bin very correct. anyhow, he said he was sittin' near the side o' the junk beside this poor man, whose name he never knew, but who seemed to be an englishman from his language, when a wild scream was heard in the other junk. it was the little girl who had caught sight of her father and began to understand that she was going to be separated from him. at the sound o' her voice he started up, and, looking round like a wild bull, caught sight o' the little one on the deck o' the other junk, just as they were hoistin' sail to take advantage of a breeze that had sprung up. "whether it was that they had bound the man with a piece o' bad rope, or that the strength o' samson had been given to him, the lascar could not tell, but he saw the englishman snap the rope as if it had bin a bit o' pack-thread, and jump overboard. he swam for the junk where his little girl was. if he had possessed the strength of a dozen samsons it would have availed him nothin', for the big sail had caught the breeze and got way on her. at the same time the other junk lay over to the same breeze and the two separated. at first the one-eyed pirate jumped up with an oath and fired a pistol shot at the englishman, but missed him. then he seemed to change his mind and shouted in bad english, with a diabolical laugh--`swim away; swim hard, p'raps you kitch 'im up!' of course the two junks were soon out of sight o' the poor swimmer--and that was the end of _him_, for, of course, he must have been drowned." "but what of the poor little girl?" asked nigel, whose feelings were easily touched by the sorrows of children, and who began to have a suspicion of what was coming. "i'm just comin' to that. well, the gun-boat that went to look for the pirates sighted one o' the junks out in the indian ocean after a long search and captured her, but not a single one o' the barque's crew was to be found in her, and it was supposed they had been all murdered and thrown overboard wi' shots tied to their feet to sink them. enough o' the cargo o' the british barque was found, however, to convict her, and on a more careful search bein' made, the little girl was discovered, hid away in the hold. bein' only about four year old, the poor little thing was too frightened to understand the questions put to her. all she could say was that she wanted `to go to father,' and that her name was kathy, probably short for kathleen, but she could not tell." "then that is the girl who is now here?" exclaimed nigel. "the same, lad. the gun-boat ran in here, like as we did, to have some slight repairs done, and kathy was landed. she seemed to take at once to motherly mrs holbein, who offered to adopt her, and as the captain of the gun-boat had no more notion than the man-in-the-moon who the child belonged to, or what to do with her, he gladly handed her over, so here she has been livin' ever since. of coarse attempts have been made to discover her friends, but without success, and now all hope has been given up. the poor girl herself never speaks on the subject, but old holbein and his wife tell me she is sure that kathy has never forgotten her father. it may be so; anyhow, she has forgotten his name--if she ever knew it." next day nigel made no objections to being guided to the most picturesque spots among the coral isles by the interesting orphan girl. if she had been older he might even have fallen in love with her, an event which would have necessitated an awkward modification of the ground-work of our tale. as it was, he pitied the poor child sincerely, and not only--recognising her genius--asked her advice a good deal on the subject of art, but--recognising also her extreme youth and ignorance--volunteered a good deal of advice in exchange, quite in a paternal way! chapter four. nigel undergoes some quite new and interesting experiences. the arrangements made on the following day turned out to be quite in accordance with the wishes and tastes of the various parties concerned. the ship's carpenter having been duly set to work on the repairs, and being inspected in that serious piece of prosaic business by the second mate, our captain was set free to charm the very souls of the juveniles by wandering for miles along the coral strand inventing, narrating, exaggerating to his heart's content. pausing now and then to ask questions irrelevant to the story in hand, like a wily actor, for the purpose of intensifying the desire for more, he would mount a block of coral, and thence, sometimes as from a throne, or platform, or pulpit, impress some profound piece of wisdom, or some thrilling point, or some exceedingly obvious moral on his followers open-mouthed and open-eyed. these were by no means idlers, steeped in the too common business of having nothing to do. no, they had regularly sought and obtained a holiday from work or school; for all the activities of social and civilised life were going on full swing--fuller, indeed, than the average swing--in that remote, scarcely known, and beautiful little gem of the indian ocean. meanwhile nigel and kathy, with sketch-books under their arms, went down to where the clear waters of the lagoon rippled on the white sand, and, launching a cockleshell of a boat, rowed out toward the islets. "now, kathy, you must let me pull," said nigel, pushing out the sculls, "for although the captain tells me you are very good at rowing, it would never do for a man, you know, to sit lazily down and let himself be rowed by a girl." "very well," said kathy, with a quiet and most contented smile, for she had not yet reached the self-conscious age--at least, as ages go in the cocos-keeling islands! besides, kathy was gifted with that charming disposition which never _objects_ to anything--anything, of course, that does not involve principle! but it was soon found that, as the cockleshell had no rudder, and the intricacies they had to wind among were numerous, frequent directions and corrections were called for from the girl. "d'you know," said nigel at last, "as i don't know where you want me to go to, it may be as well, after all, that you should row!" "very well," said kathy, with another of her innocent smiles. "i thinked it will be better so at first." nigel could not help laughing at the way she said this as he handed her the sculls. she soon proved herself to be a splendid boat-woman, and although her delicate and shapely arms were as mere pipe-stems to the great brawny limbs of her companion, yet she had a deft, mysterious way of handling the sculls that sent the cockleshell faster over the lagoon than before. "now, we go ashore here," said kathy, turning the boat,--with a prompt backwater of the left scull, and a vigorous pull of the right one,--into a little cove just big enough to hold it. the keel went with such a plump on the sand, that nigel, who sat on a forward thwart with his back landward, reversed the natural order of things by putting his back on the bottom of the boat and his heels in the air. to this day it is an unsettled question whether this was done on purpose by kathy. certain it is that _she_ did not tumble, but burst into a hearty fit of laughter, while her large lustrous eyes half shut themselves up and twinkled. "why, you don't even apologise, you dreadful creature!" exclaimed nigel, joining in the laugh, as he picked himself up. "why should i 'pologise?" asked the girl, in the somewhat broken english acquired from her adopted family. "why you not look out?" "right, kathy, right; i'll keep a sharp lookout next time. meanwhile i will return good for evil by offering my hand to help you a--hallo!" while he spoke the girl had sprung past him like a grasshopper, and alighted on the sand like a butterfly. a few minutes later and this little jesting fit had vanished, and they were both engaged with pencil and book, eagerly--for both were enthusiastic--sketching one of the most enchanting scenes that can well be imagined. we will not attempt the impossible. description could not convey it. we can only refer the reader's imagination to the one old, hackneyed but expressive, word--fairyland! one peculiarly interesting point in the scene was, that on the opposite side of the lagoon the captain could be seen holding forth to his juvenile audience. when a pretty long time had elapsed in absolute silence, each sketcher being totally oblivious of the other, nigel looked up with a long sigh, and said:-- "well, you _have_ chosen a most exquisite scene for me. the more i work at it, the more i find to admire. may i look now at what you have done?" "oh yes, but i have done not much. i am slow," said the girl, as nigel rose and looked over her shoulder. "why!--what--how beautiful!--but--but--what do you mean?" exclaimed the youth. "i don't understand you," said the girl, looking up in surprise. "why, kathy, i had supposed you were drawing that magnificent landscape all this time, and--and you've only been drawing a group of shells. splendidly done, i admit, but why--" he stopped at that moment, for her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "forgive me, dear child," said nigel, hurriedly "i did not intend to hurt your feelings. i was only surprised at your preference." "you have not hurt me," returned kathy in a low voice, as she resumed her work, "but what you say calls back to me--my father was very fond of shells." she stopped, and nigel, blaming himself for having inadvertently touched some tender chord, hastened, somewhat clumsily, to change the subject. "you draw landscape also, i doubt not?" "oh yes--plenty. if you come home to me to-night, i will show you some." "i shall be only too happy," returned the youth, sitting down again to his sketch, "and perhaps i may be able to give you a hint or two-- especially in reference to perspective--for i've had regular training, you know, kathy, and i dare say you have not had that here." "not what you will think much, perhaps, yet i have study a little in school, and _very_ much from nature." "well, you have been under the best of masters," returned nigel, "if you have studied much from nature. and who has been your other teacher?" "a brother of mr ross. i think he must understand very much. he was an engineer, and has explained to me the rules of perspective, and many other things which were at first very hard to understand. but i do see them now." "perhaps then, kathleen," said nigel, in that drawling, absent tone in which artists are apt to indulge when busy at work--"perhaps you may be already too far advanced to require instruction from me." "perhaps--but i think no, for you seems to understand a great deal. but why you call me kathleen just now?" "because i suppose that is your real name--kathy being the short for it. is it not so?" "well, p'raps it is. i have hear mother holbein say so once. i like kathleen best." "then, may i call you kathleen?" "if you like." at this point both artists had become so engrossed in their occupation that they ceased to converse, and for a considerable time profound silence reigned--at least on their part, though not as regarded others, for every now and then the faint sound of laughter came floating over the tranquil lagoon from that part of the coral strand where captain roy was still tickling the fancies and expanding the imaginations and harrowing or soothing the feelings of the cocos-keeling juveniles. inferior animal life was also in ceaseless activity around the sketchers, filling the air with those indescribably quiet noises which are so suggestive of that general happiness which was originally in terrestrial paradise and is ultimately to be the lot of redeemed creation. snipe and curlews were wading with jaunty step and absorbed inquiring gaze in the shallow pools. hermit-crabs of several species and sizes were scuttling about searching for convenient shells in which to deposit their naturally homeless and tender tails. overhead there was a sort of sea-rookery, the trees being tenanted by numerous gannets, frigate birds, and terns--the first gazing with a stupid yet angry air; the last--one beautiful little snow-white species in particular--hovering only a few feet above the sketchers' heads, while their large black eyes scanned the drawings with the owlish look of wisdom peculiar to connoisseurs. noddies also were there, and, on the ground, lizards and spiders and innumerable ants engaged in all the varied activities connected with their several domestic arrangements. altogether it was a scene of bright peaceful felicity, which seemed to permeate nigel's frame right inward to the spinal marrow, and would have kept him entranced there at his work for several hours longer if the cravings of a healthy appetite had not warned him to desist. "now, kathleen," he said, rising and stretching himself as one is apt to do after sitting long in a constrained position, "it seems to me about time to--by the way, we've forgotten to bring something to eat!" his expression as he said this made his companion look up and laugh. "plenty cocoa-nuts," she said, pointing with her pencil to the overarching trees. "true, but i doubt my ability to climb these long straight stems; besides, i have got only a small clasp-knife, which would be but a poor weapon with which to attack the thick outer husk of the nuts." "but i have got a few without the husks in the boat," said the girl, rising and running to the place where the cockleshell had been left. she returned immediately with several nuts divested of their thick outer covering, and in the condition with which we are familiar in england. some of them were already broken, so that they had nothing to do but sit down to lunch. "here is one," said kathy, handing a nut to nigel, "that has got no meat yet in it--only milk. bore a hole in it and drink, but see you bore in the right hole." "the right hole?" echoed the youth, "are some of them wrong ones?" "oh yes, only one of the three will do. one of our crawbs knows that and has claws that can bore through the husk and shell. we calls him coconut crawb." "indeed! that is strange; i never heard before of a crab that fed on cocoa-nuts." "this one do. he is very big, and also climbs trees. it goes about most at night. perhaps you see one before you go away." the crab to which kathy referred is indeed a somewhat eccentric crustacean, besides being unusually large. it makes deep tunnels in the ground larger than rabbit burrows, which it lines with cocoa-nut fibre. one of its claws is developed into an organ of extraordinary power with which it can break a cocoa-nut shell, and even, it is said, a man's limb! it never takes all the husk off a cocoa-nut--that would be an unnecessary trouble--but only enough off the end where the three eyelets are, to enable it to get at the inside. having pierced the proper eye with one of its legs it rotates the nut round it until the hole is large enough to admit the point of its great claw, with which it continues the work. this remarkable creature also climbs the palm-trees, but not to gather nuts; that is certain, for its habits have been closely watched and it has been ascertained that it feeds only on fallen nuts. possibly it climbs for exercise, or to obtain a more extended view of its charming habitat, or simply "for fun." why not? all this and a great deal more was told to nigel by kathleen, who was a bit of a naturalist in her tendencies--as they sat there under the graceful fronds of the palm-trees admiring the exquisite view, eating and drinking cocoa-nuts. "i suppose you have plenty of other kinds of food besides this?" said nigel. "oh yes, plenty. most of the fish in our lagoon be good for eating, and so also the crawbs, and we have turtle too." "indeed! how do you catch the turtle? another nut, please.--thank you." "the way we gets turtle is by the men diving for them and catching them in the water. we has pigs too--plenty, and the wild birds are some very nice." [see note.] when the artists had finished they proceeded to the shore, and to their surprise and amusement found the cockleshell in possession of a piratical urchin of about four years of age in a charmingly light state of clothing. he was well-known to kathleen, and it turned out that, having seen the cockle start at too great a distance to be hailed, and having set his heart on joining in the excursion, he had watched their movements, observed their landing on the islet--which was not far from the main circlet of land--and, running round till he came opposite to it, swam off and got into the boat. being somewhat tired he had lain down to rest and fallen sound asleep. on the way home this urchin's sole delight was to lean over the bow and watch the fish and coral-groves over which they skimmed. in this he was imitated by nigel who, ungallantly permitting his companion to row, also leaned over the side and gazed down into the clear crystal depths with unwearying delight. for the wonderful colours displayed in those depths must be seen to be believed. not only is the eye pleased with the ever-varying formations of the coral bowers, but almost dazzled with the glittering fish--blue, emerald, green, scarlet, orange, banded, spotted, and striped--that dart hither and thither among the rich-toned sea-weed and the variegated anemones which spread their tentacles upwards as if inviting the gazer to come down. among these, crabs could be seen crawling with undecided motion, as if unable to make up their minds, while in out of the way crevices clams of a gigantic size were gaping in deadly quietude ready to close with a snap on any unfortunate creature that should give them the slightest touch. nigel was sharply awakened from his dream by a sudden splash. looking up he observed that the small boy was gone. with a bound he stood erect, one foot on the gunwale and hands clasped ready to dive, when a glance revealed the fact that kathy was smiling broadly! "don't jump!" she said. "he is only after a fish." even while she spoke nigel saw the brown little fellow shooting about like a galvanised tadpole, with a small harpoon in his hand. next moment he appeared on the surface shouting and spluttering, with a splendid fish on the end of his harpoon! both were hauled into the boat, and very soon after they drew near to land. in the shallow water nigel observed some remarkable creatures which resembled hedgehogs, having jaws armed with formidable teeth to enable them to feed, kathy said, on coral insects. file-fishes also drew his attention particularly. these were magnificently striped and coloured, and apparently very fearless. "what convenient tails they have to lay hold of," remarked our hero, as they slowly glided past one; "i believe i could catch it with my hand!" stooping swiftly as he spoke, he dipped his arm into the water, and actually did grasp the fish by its tail, but dropped it again instantly--to the shrieking delight of the urchin and kathy,--for the tail was armed with a series of sharp spines which ran into his hand like lancets. this was an appropriate conclusion to a day that would have been otherwise too enjoyable. poor nigel's felicity was further diluted when he met his father. "we'll have to sleep aboard to-night," said the captain, "for there's a fair breeze outside which seems likely to hold, and the mast has been temporarily rigged up, so we'll have to up anchor, and away by break of day to-morrow." nigel's heart sank. "to-morrow! father?" "ay, to-morrow. business first, pleasure afterwards." "well, i suppose you are right, but it seems almost a shame to leave such a heaven upon earth as this in such a hurry. besides, is it not unkind to such hospitable people to bolt off after you've got all that you want out of them?" "can't help that, lad-- "dooty first, an' fun to follow, that's what beats creation hollow." "come father, don't say that you quote _that_ from mother!" "no more i do, my boy. it's my own--homemade. i put it together last night when i couldn't sleep for your snorin'." "don't tell fibs, father. you know i never snore. but--really--are we to start at daylight?" "we are, if the wind holds. but you may stay as late as you choose on shore to-night." nigel availed himself of the opportunity to see as much of the place and people as was possible in the limited time. next morning the good though damaged brig was running in the direction of sunda straits before a stiff and steady breeze. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . we recommend those who desire more curious information on the fauna and flora of the keeling islands to apply to henry o. forbes most interesting book, _a naturalist's wanderings in the eastern archipelago_, published by sampson low. chapter five. captain roy surprises and gratifies his son, who surprises a negro, and suddenly forms an astonishing resolve. arrived in batavia--the low-lying seaport and capital of the dutch island of java--captain roy had his brig examined, and found that the damage she had sustained was so serious that several months would probably elapse before she would be again ready for sea. "now, nigel, my lad," said the old gentleman, on the morning after the examination had been made, "come down below with me; i want to have a confabulation with 'ee." "why, father," said the youth, when seated at the small cabin table opposite his rugged parent, "you seem to be in an unusually solemn frame of mind this morning. has anything happened?" "nothin', boy--nothin'. leastwise nothin' in particular. you know all about the brig, an' what a deal o' repair she's got to undergo?" "of course i do. you know i was present when you talked the matter over with that fellow--what's-'is-name--that gave you his report." "just so. well now, nigel, you don't suppose, do you, that i'm goin' to keep you here for some months knockin' about with nothin' to do--eatin' your grub in idleness?" "certainly not," said the youth, regarding the stern countenance of his parent with an amused look. "i have no intention of acting such an ignoble part, and i'm surprised at you askin' the question, for you know i am not lazy--at least not more so than average active men--and there must be plenty of work for me to do in looking after the cargo, superintending repairs, taking care of the ship and men. i wonder at you, father. you must either have had a shock of dotage, or fallen into a poetical vein. what is a first mate fit for if--" "nigel," said captain roy, interrupting, "i'm the owner an' commander of the _sunshine_, besides bein' the paternal parent of an impertinent son, and i claim to have the right to do as i please--therefore, hold your tongue and listen to me." "all right, father," replied the young man, with a benignant grin; "proceed, but don't be hard upon me; spare my feelings." "well now, this is how the land lies," said the old seaman, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands before him. "as mr moor and i, with the stooard and men, are quite sufficient to manage the affairs o' the brig, and as we shall certainly be here for a considerable time to come, i've made up my mind to give you a holiday. you're young, you see, an' foolish, and your mind needs improvin'. in short, you want a good deal o' the poetry knocked out o' you, for it's not like your mother's poetry by any means, so you needn't flatter yourself--not built on the same lines by a long way. well--where was i?" "only got the length of the holiday yet, father." "only, indeed. you ungrateful dog! it's a considerable length to get, that, isn't it? well, i also intend to give you some money, to enable you to move about in this curious archipelago--not much, but enough to keep you from starvation if used with economy, so i recommend you to go into the town, make general inquiries about everything and everywhere, an' settle in your mind what you'll do, for i give you a rovin' commission an' don't want to be bothered with you for some time to come." "are you in earnest, father?" asked nigel, who had become more interested while the captain unfolded his plan. "never more in earnest in my life--except, p'raps, when i inquired over twenty years ago whether you was a boy or a girl." "well, now, that _is_ good of you, father. of course i need not say that i am charmed at the prospect you open up to me. and--and when may i start?" "at once. up anchor and away to-night if you choose." "but--where?" "anywhere--everywhere, java, sumatra, borneo--all malaysia before you where to choose. now be off, and think over it, for i've got too much to do to waste time on you at present," said the captain, rising, "and, stay--nigel." "well?" said the youth, looking back as he was about to leave the cabin. "whatever you do, don't grow poetical about it. you know it is said somewhere, that mischief is found for idle hands to do." "all right, father. i'll keep clear of poetry--leave all that sort o' nonsense to _you_. i'll-- "i'll flee temptation's siren voice, _throw_ poesy to the _crows_ and let my soul's ethereal fire gush out in sober prose." it need scarcely be said that our hero was not slow to take advantage of the opportunity thus thrown in his way. he went off immediately through the town, armed with the introduction of his father's well-known name, and made inquiries of all sorts of people as to the nature, the conditions, the facilities, and the prospects of travel in the malay archipelago. in this quest he found himself sorely perplexed for the very good reason that "all sorts" of people, having all sorts of ideas and tastes, gave amazingly conflicting accounts of the region and its attractions. wearied at last with his researches, he sauntered towards afternoon in the direction of the port, and began in a listless sort of way to watch the movements of a man who was busily engaged with a boat, as if he were making preparations to put to sea. now, whatever philosophers may say to the contrary, we hold strongly to the opinion that likings and dislikings among men and women and children are the result of some profound occult cause which has nothing whatever to do with experience. no doubt experience may afterwards come in to modify or intensify the feelings, but it is not the originating cause. if you say it is, how are we to account for love at first sight? beauty has nothing necessarily to do with it, for men fall in love at first sight with what the world calls plain women--happily! character is not the cause, for love assails the human breast, oft-times, before the loved object has uttered a word, or perpetrated a smile, or even fulminated a glance to indicate character. so, in like manner, affection may arise between man and man. it was so on this occasion with nigel roy. as he stood abstractedly gazing at the boatman he fell in love with him--at least he took a powerful fancy to him, and this was all the more surprising that the man was a negro,--a woolly-headed, flat-nosed, thick-lipped nigger! we would not for a moment have it supposed that it is unnatural to love such a man. quite the reverse. but when such a man is a perfect stranger, has never uttered a word in one's presence, or vouchsafed so much as a glance, and is gravely, stolidly engaged in the unsavoury work of greasing some of the tackling of a boat, it does seem unaccountable that he should be unwittingly capable of stirring up in another man's bosom feelings of ardent goodwill, to put it mildly. after watching him for some time, nigel, under an almost involuntary impulse, shouted "hullo!" "hullo!" replied the negro, looking up with a somewhat stern frown and a pout of his thick lips, as much as to say--"who are _you_?" nigel smiled, and made that suggestive motion with his forefinger which signifies "come here." the frown fled and the pout became a smile as the negro approached, wiping his hands on a piece of cotton-waste. "what you want wi' _me_, sar?" he asked. "well, upon my word," said nigel, somewhat perplexed, "i can't very well say. i suppose something must have been in my mind, but--anyhow, i felt a desire to have a talk with you; that is, if you can spare the time." the first part of this reply induced a slight recurrence of the frown and pout, but at its conclusion the black brow cleared and the mouth expanded to such a gum-and-teeth-exposing extent that nigel fairly burst into a laugh. "you's bery good, sar," said the man, "an' i's hab much pleasure to make your acquaintance.--der an't no grease on 'em now." the last remark had reference to the enormous black paw which he held out. nigel at once grasped it and shook it heartily. "i's bery fond ob a talk, sar," continued the negro, "so as you wants one, heabe ahead." thus encouraged, our hero began by remarking that he seemed to be preparing for a trip. "dat's zackly what i's a-doin', sar." "a long one?" "well, dat depends on what you call short. goin' to sunda straits, which p'raps you know, sar, is nigh a hundred miles fro' here." "and what may you be going to do there?" asked nigel. "goin' home to krakatoa." "why, i thought that was an uninhabited island. i passed close to it on my way here, and saw no sign of inhabitants." "dat's cause i was absint fro' home. an' massa he keeps indoors a good deal." "and pray who is massa?" asked nigel. "sar," said the negro, drawing up his square sturdy frame with a look of dignity; "fair-play is eberyt'ing wid me. you've ax me a heap o' questions. now's my turn. whar you comes fro'?" "from england," replied nigel. "an' whar you go to?" "well, you've posed me now, for i really don't know where i'm going to. in fact that is the very thing i have been trying to find out all day, so if you'll help me i'll be much obliged." here nigel explained his position and difficulties, and it was quite obvious, judging from the glittering eyes and mobile mouth, that he poured his tale into peculiarly sympathetic ears. when he had finished, the negro stood for a considerable time gazing in meditative silence at the sky. "yes," he said at last, as if communing with himself, "i t'ink--i ain't quite sure, but i t'ink--i may ventur'." "whatever it is you are thinking about," remarked nigel, "you may venture to say anything you like to _me_." the negro, who, although comparatively short of stature, was herculean in build, looked at the youth with an amused expression. "you're bery good, sar, but dat's not what i's t'inkin' ob. i's t'inkin' whedder i dar' ventur' to introdoce you to my massa. he's not fond o' company, an' it might make 'im angry, but he came by a heaby loss lately an' p'raps he may cond'send to receibe you. anyhow you'd be quite safe, for he's sure to be civil to any friend ob mine." "is he then so fierce?" asked nigel, becoming interested as well as amused. "fierce! no, he's gentle as a lamb, but he's awrful when he's roused-- tigers, crokindiles, 'noceroses is nuffin' to him!" "indeed! what's his name, and what does he do? how does he live?" the negro shook his head. "da's more'n i dar tell till i ax his leave, sar. i kin only say de peepil around calls 'im the hermit ob rakata, 'cause he libs by his-self (wid me, ob course, but _i_ counts for nuffin'), close under de ole volcano ob krakatoa. dey tink--some ob de foolish peepil--dat he hab sold his-self to de dibil, but i knows better. he's a good man, and you'd hab great fun if you stop wid him. now, what i's a-gwine to advise you is, come wid me an' see de hermit. if he lets you stop, good. if not, i fetch you ober to de main land-- whar you please--an' you kin come back here or go whar you choose. its wort' your while to take your chance, anyhow." the negro said this with such an earnest look that nigel made up his mind on the spot to accept this curious invitation. "i'll go!" he exclaimed with sudden energy. "when do you start?" "to-morrer at daybreak, sar." "well, i shall have to talk it over first with my father, but i'm sure he won't object, so you may look out for me here at daybreak. shall i have to fetch any provisions with me for the voyage?" "no, nuffin'. boat's crammed wi' grub. but you'd better bring a gun o' some sort an' a 'volver, an' a big knife, an' a mortal big appetite, for a man's no good widout dat." "i always carry that about with me," said the youth, "whatever else i may leave behind; and i'll see to the other things.--by the way, what's your name?" "moses." "is that all?" "isn't dat enuff?" returned the negro with a look of dignity. "quite; but i have the advantage of you there, moses, for i have two names--nigel roy." "well, i don't see much use ob two, but which does you like to be called by--nadgel or roy?" "whichever you please, moses; i'll answer to either. so now, good-bye for the present, and look out for me to-morrow at daylight." "good-bye, massa nadgel, till to-morrer." the negro waved his hand and, sauntering slowly back to his boat, remarked in an undertone, "i lub dat young feller!" saying which, he resumed his greasing operations. of course captain roy made no objection to his son's proposal, though he freely gave his opinion that it was a wild-goose chase. "however, lad, please yourself and you'll please me," he added; "and now, be particular to bear in mind that you've got to write to me every time you get within hail of a post-office or a passing ship or steamer that may chance to be comin' this way, and in each letter be sure to tell me where you're goin' to next, so as i may send a letter there to you in case i want you to return sudden or otherwise. we mustn't lose touch, you see. you needn't write long screeds. i only want to know your whereabouts from time to time. for the rest--you can spin it out in yarns when you come back." chapter six. the hermit of rakata introduced. nothing worthy of particular note occurred during the boat-voyage along the northern shore of java to sunda straits. a fair, steady breeze wafted them westward, and, on the morning of the third day, they came in sight of the comparatively small uninhabited island of krakatoa. the boat in which they voyaged, although a little one, had a small portion of the bow decked over, so that our hero and his sable friend could find shelter from the night air when disposed to sleep, and from the fierce rays of the sun at noon. by the advice of his father, nigel had changed his sailor costume for the "shore-goin' toggery" in which he had landed on the keeling islands, as being more suitable to his new character as a traveller, namely, a white cloth cap with a peak in front and a curtain behind to protect his neck, a light-grey tunic belted at the waist, and a pair of strong canvas trousers. he had also purchased an old-fashioned double-barrelled fowling-piece, muzzle-loading and with percussion locks. "for you see, nigel," the captain had said, "it's all very well to use breech-loaders when you've got towns and railways and suchlike to supply you wi' cartridges, but when you've got to cruise in out-o'-the-way waters, there's nothin' like the old style. it's not difficult to carry a few thousand percussion-caps an' a bullet-mould about wi' you wherever you go. as to powder, why, you'll come across that 'most everywhere, an' lead too; and, for the matter o' that, if your life depended on it you could shove a handful of gravel or a pen-knife or tooth-pick into your gun an' blaze away, but with a breech-loader, if you run out o' cartridges, where are you?" so, as nigel could not say where he was, the percussion-gun had been purchased. the peak of rakata--the highest in the island--a little over feet, came in sight first; gradually the rest of the island rose out of the horizon, and ere long the rich tropical verdure became distinguishable. krakatoa--destined so soon to play a thrilling part in the world's history; to change the aspect of the heavens everywhere; to attract the wondering gaze of nearly all nations, and to devastate its immediate neighbourhood--is of volcanic origin, and, at the time we write of ( ) was beginning to awaken from a long, deep slumber of two hundred years. its last explosion occurred in the year . since that date it had remained quiet. but now the tremendous subterranean forces which had originally called it into being were beginning to reassert their existence and their power. vulcan was rousing himself again and beginning once more to blow his bellows. so said some of the sailors who were constantly going close past the island and through sunda straits, which may be styled the narrows of the world's highway to the china seas. subterranean forces, however, are so constantly at work more or less violently in those regions that people took little notice of these indications in the comparatively small island of krakatoa, which was between five and six miles long by four broad. as we have said, it was uninhabited, and lying as it does between sumatra and java, about sixteen miles from the former and over twenty miles from the latter, it was occasionally visited by fishermen. the hermit whom nigel was about to visit might, in some sort, be counted an inhabitant, for he had dwelt there many years, but he lived in a cave which was difficult of access, and held communication with no one. how he spent his time was a mystery, for although his negro servant went to the neighbouring town of anjer in java for supplies, and sometimes to batavia, as we have seen, no piece of inanimate ebony from the forest could have been less communicative than he. indeed, our hero was the first to unlock the door of his lips, with that key of mysterious sympathy to which reference has already been made. some of the bolder of the young fishermen of the neighbouring coasts had several times made futile efforts to find out where and how the hermit lived, but the few who got a glimpse of him at a distance brought back such a report that a kind of superstitious fear of him was generated which kept them at a respectful distance. he was ten feet high, some romancers said, with shoulders four feet broad, a chest like a sugar-hogs-head, and a countenance resembling a compound of orang-utan and tiger. of course our hero knew nothing of these rumours, and as moses declined to give any information regarding his master beyond that already given, he was left to the full play of his imagination. moses was quite candid about it. he made no pretence to shroud things in mystery. "you mus' know, massa nadgel," he said, as they slowly drew near to the island, "i's 'fraid ob 'im dough i lub 'im." "but why do you love him, moses?" "'cause he sabe my life an' set me free." "indeed? well, that is good reason. and why do you fear him?" "da's what i don' know, massa," replied the negro with a puzzled look. "is he harsh, then?" "no." "passionate?" "no. gentle as a lamb." "strong?" "yes--oh! mighty strong an' big." "surely you're not afraid of his giving you a licking, moses?" "oh no," returned the negro, with a smile of expansive benignity; "i's not 'fraid ob dat. i's bin a slabe once, got used to lickin's. don't care nuffin' at all for a lickin'!" "then it must be that you're afraid of hurting his feelings, moses, for i know of no other kind of fear." "pr'aps da's it!" said the negro with a bright look, "now i wouldn't wonder if you's right, massa nadgel. it neber come into my head in dat light before. i used to be t'ink, t'inkin' ob nights--when i's tired ob countin' my fingers an' toes. but i couldn't make nuffin' ob it. _now_ i knows! it's 'fraid i am ob hurtin' his feelin's." in the excess of his satisfaction at the solution of this long-standing puzzle, moses threw back his head, shut his eyes, opened his enormous mouth and chuckled. by the time he had reversed this process they were sufficiently near to krakatoa to distinguish all its features clearly, and the negro began to point out to nigel its various localities. there were three prominent peaks on it, he said, named respectively, perboewatan, about feet high, at the northern end of the island; danan, near the centre, feet; and rakata, at the southern end, over feet. it was high up on the sides of the last cone that the residence of the hermit was situated. "and you won't tell me your master's name?" said nigel. moses shook his woolly head. "no, sar, no. i's 'fraid ob him--he! he! i 'fraid ob hurtin' his feelin's!" "well, never mind; i'll find it out from himself soon. by the way, what were you telling me about explosions yesterday when that little white gull came to admire your pretty face, and took off our attention?" "well, i dun know. not got much to tell, only dar's bin rumblin' an' grumblin's an' heavin's lately in de mountains as didn't use to be, an' cracks like somet'in' bustin' down b'low, an' massa he shook 'is head two or t'ree times an' look solemn. he don't often do dat--shook 'is head, i mean--for he mostly always looks solemn." a few minutes later the boat, running through a narrow opening among the rocks into a small circular harbour not more than fifty yards in diameter, rested its keel gently on a little bed of pure yellow sand. the shore there was so densely covered with bushes that the harbour might easily have been passed without being observed. jumping ashore, moses made the painter fast to a tree. "what a quiet, cosy place!" said nigel, as he sprung on the beach and looked admiringly round. "yes, an' not easy to find if you don't knows 'im. we will leabe de boat here,--no danger ob bein' tooked away--an' den go up to de cave." "is it far?" asked nigel. "a good bit--near de top ob de mountain," answered the negro, who looked at his companion somewhat uneasily. "why, what's the matter, moses?" "nuffin'--oh! nuffin'--but--but when massa axes you who you is, an' what you bin up to, an' whar you're a-gwine to, an' what wages you want, jist you answer 'im in a sorter permiscuous way, an' don't be too partikler." "wages! man, what d'ye mean?" "well, you'll 'scuse me, sar," returned the negro with an air of profound humility, "but my massa lost a old sarvint--a nigger like myself--only last munt', an' he wants to go on one ob his usual expeditions jus' now, so he sends me to batavia to git anoder man--`a good one, you know,' says massa,--an' as you, sar, was good 'nuff to ax me what you should do, an' you looked a pritty smart man, i--" "you scoundrel!" cried nigel, interrupting him, "do you really mean to tell me that you've brought me here as a hired servant?" "well, not zackly," returned moses, with solemn simplicity, "you needn't ax no wages unless you like." "but what if i don't want to take service?" demanded our hero, with a savage frown. "you kin go home agin," answered moses, humbly. nigel could contain himself no longer. as he observed the man's deprecatory air, and thought of his own position, he burst into a fit of hearty laughter, whereupon the negro recovered himself and smiled the smile of the guiltless. "come," said nigel at last. "lead on, you rascal! when i see your master i shall know what to say." "all right, massa nadgel, but mind what you say, else i won't answer for de consikences. foller me an' look arter your feet, for de road is roughish." the negro's last remark was unquestionably true, for the road--if a mere footpath merits the name--was rugged in the extreme--here winding round the base of steep cliffs, there traversing portions of luxuriant forest, elsewhere skirting the margin of the sea. moses walked at such a pace that nigel, young and active though he was, found it no easy matter to keep up with him. pride, however, forbade him to show the slightest sign of difficulty, and made him even converse now and then in tones of simulated placidity. at last the path turned abruptly towards the face of a precipice and seemed to terminate in a small shallow cave. any one following the path out of mere curiosity would have naturally imagined that the cave was the termination of it; and a very poor termination too, seeing that it was a rather uninteresting cave, the whole of the interior of which could be seen at a single glance from its mouth. but this cave served in reality as a blind. climbing by one or two projecting points, the negro, closely followed by nigel, reached a narrow ledge and walked along it a short distance. on coming to the end of the ledge he jumped down into a mass of undergrowth, where the track again became visible--winding among great masses of weatherworn lava. here the ascent became very steep, and moses put on what sporting men call a spurt, which took him far ahead of nigel, despite the best efforts of the latter to keep up. still our hero scorned to run or call out to his guide to wait, and thereby admit himself beaten. he pushed steadily on, and managed to keep the active moses in view. presently the negro stepped upon a platform of rock high up on the cliffs, where his form could be distinctly seen against the bright sky. there nigel observed that he was joined by a man whose tall commanding figure seemed in such a position to be of gigantic proportions. the two stood engaged in earnest conversation while watching nigel. the latter immediately slackened his pace, in order at once to recover breath and approach with a leisurely aspect. "the wild man of the island, i suppose," he thought as he drew near; but on coming still nearer he saw that he must be mistaken, for the stranger who advanced to meet him with gracious ease and self-possession was obviously a gentleman, and dressed, not unlike himself, in a sort of mixed travelling and shooting costume. "i must apologise, mr roy, for the presumption of my man, in bringing you here under something like false pretences," said the stranger, holding out his hand, which nigel shook heartily. "moses, i find, has failed to execute my commission, and has partially deceived you; but as you are now here, the least i can do is to bid you welcome, and offer you the hospitality of my roof." there was something so courteous and kindly in the tone and manner of the stranger, and something so winning in his soft gentle tones, which contrasted strangely with his grand towering figure and massive bearded countenance, that nigel felt drawn to him instantly. indeed there was a peculiar and mysterious something about him which quite fascinated our hero as he looked up at him, for, bordering on six feet though nigel was, the stranger stood several inches above him. "you are very kind," said the visitor, "and i don't think that moses can fairly be charged with deceiving me, although he has been somewhat unwise in his way of going about this business, for i had told him i wanted to see something of these regions, and perhaps it may be to my advantage to travel in your service--that is, if i can be of any use to you; but the time at my disposal may be too limited." "how much time have you to spare?" asked the stranger. "well, say perhaps three months." "that will do," returned his questioner, looking thoughtfully at the ground. "we will talk of this hereafter." "but--excuse me," said nigel, "your man spoke of you as a hermit--a sort of--of--forgive me--a wild-man-of-the-island, if i may--" "no, i didn't, massa nadgel," said the negro, the edge of whose flat contradiction was taken off by the extreme humility of his look. "well," returned nigel, with a laugh; "you at least gave me to understand that other people said something of that sort." "da's right, massa nadgel--kite right. you're k'rect _now_." "people have indeed got some strange ideas about me, i believe," interposed the hermit, with a grave almost sad expression and tone. "but come, let me introduce you to my hermitage and you shall judge for yourself." so saying, this singular being turned and led the way further up the rugged side of the peak of rakata. after about five minutes' walk in silence, the trio reached a spot where there was a clear view over the tree-tops, revealing the blue waters of the strait, with the java shores and mountains in the distance. behind them there yawned, dark and mysterious, a mighty cavern, so black and high that it might well suggest a portal leading to the regions below, where vulcan is supposed to stir those tremendous fires which have moulded much of the configuration of the world, and which are ever seething--an awful inferno--under the thin crust of the globe on which we stand. curiously-formed and large-leaved trees of the tropics, with their pendent parasites, as well as rank grasses, sprouting from below and hanging from above, partially concealed this cavern from nigel when he first turned towards it, but a few steps further on he could see it in all its rugged grandeur. "my home," said the hermit, with a very slight smile and the air of a prince, as he turned towards his visitor and waved his hand towards it. "a magnificent entrance at all events," said nigel, returning the smile with something of dubiety, for he was not quite sure that his host was in earnest. "follow me," said the hermit, leading the way down a narrow well-worn path which seemed to lose itself in profound darkness. after being a few minutes within the cavern, however, nigel's eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and he perceived that the roof rapidly lowered, while its walls narrowed until they reached a spot which was not much wider than an ordinary corridor. here, however, it was so dark that it was barely possible to see a small door in the right-hand wall before which they halted. lifting a latch the hermit threw the door wide open, and a glare of dazzling light almost blinded the visitor. passing through the entrance, nigel followed his guide, and the negro let the heavy door shut behind him with a clang that was depressingly suggestive of a prison. "again i bid you welcome to my home," said the hermit, turning round and extending his hand, which nigel mechanically took and pressed, but without very well knowing what he did, for he was almost dumfounded by what he saw, and for some minutes gazed in silence around him. and, truly, there was ground for surprise. the visitor found himself in a small but immensely high and brilliantly lighted cavern or natural chamber, the walls of which were adorned with drawings of scenery and trees and specimens of plants, while on various shelves stood innumerable stuffed birds, and shells, and other specimens of natural history. a table and two chairs stood at one end of the cave, and, strangest of all, a small but well-filled book-case ornamented the other end. "arabian nights!" thought nigel. "i _must_ be dreaming." his wandering eyes travelled slowly round the cavern until they rested at last on the door by which they had entered, beside which stood the negro with a broad grin on his sable visage. chapter seven. wonders of the hermit's cave and island. the thing that perhaps surprised nigel most in this strange cavern was the blaze of light with which it was filled, for it came down direct through a funnel-shaped hole in the high roof and bore a marvellous resemblance to natural sunshine. he was well aware that unless the sun were shining absolutely in the zenith, the laws of light forbade the entrance of a _direct_ ray into such a place, yet there were the positive rays, although the sun was not yet high in the heavens, blinding him while he looked at them, and casting the shadows of himself and his new friends on the floor. there was the faintest semblance of a smile on the hermit's face as he quietly observed his visitor, and waited till he should recover self-possession. as for moses--words are wanting to describe the fields of teeth and gum which he displayed, but no sound was suffered to escape his magnificent lips, which closed like the slide of a dark lantern when the temptation to give way to feeling became too strong. "my cave interests you," said the hermit at last. "it amazes me," returned our hero, recovering himself and looking earnestly at his host, "for you seem not only to have all the necessaries of life around you in your strange abode, but many of the luxuries; among them the cheering presence of sunshine--though how you manage to get it is beyond my powers of conception." "it is simple enough, as you shall see," returned the hermit. "you have heard of the saying, no doubt, that `all things are possible to well-directed labour?'" "yes, and that `nothing can be achieved without labour.'" "well, i have proved that to some extent," continued the hermit. "you see, by the various and miscellaneous implements on my shelves, that i am given to dabbling a little in science, and thus have made my lonely home as pleasant as such a home can be--but let us not talk of these matters just now. you must be hungry. have you had breakfast?" "no, we have not--unless, at least, you count a sea biscuit dipped in salt water a breakfast. after all, that may well be the case, for hermits are noted for the frugality of their fare." "i am not a genuine hermit," remarked his host gravely. "men do indeed call me the hermit of rakata, because i dwell alone here under the shadow of this particular cone of krakatoa, but i do not ape the austere life of the conventional hermit, as you see, either in my domestic arrangements or food. come, your breakfast is ready. from my outlook i saw your boat approaching some hours ago, and knew that it was mine, so i made ready for your arrival, though i did not guess that moses was bringing me a guest instead of a servant!" so saying, he led the way through a short natural passage to an inner cave, the entrance to which, like the outer one, was boarded. on opening a small door, nigel was again greeted as before with brilliant rays of sunshine, and, in addition, with a gush of odours that were exceedingly grateful to a hungry man. a low "ho! ho!" behind him told that his black companion was equally gratified. the inner cave or mess-room, as the host styled it, combined dining-room and kitchen, for while in one corner stood a deal table with plates, cups, etcetera, but no tablecloth, in another stood a small stove, heated by an oil-lamp, from which issued puffing and sputtering sounds, and the savoury odours above referred to. nigel now perceived that although his strange host necessarily spoke a good deal while welcoming him and offering him the hospitalities of his abode, he was by no means communicative. on the contrary, it was evident that he was naturally reserved and reticent, and that although polite and gentle in the extreme, there was a quiet grave dignity about him which discouraged familiarity. it must not be supposed, however, that he was in any degree morosely silent. he was simply quiet and undemonstrative, said little except when asked questions, and spoke, alike to nigel and moses, in the soft, low, kindly tones with which one might address very young people. going to the stove he took a coffee-pot therefrom and set it on the table. at the same time, moses, without requiring to be told, opened the oven and brought forth fried fish, meat of some kind, and cakes of he knew not what, but cared little, for their excellence was unquestionable. during the meal that followed, nigel ventured as far as politeness permitted--indeed a little further, if truth must be told--to inquire into the circumstances and motives of his entertainer in taking up his abode in such a strange place, but he soon found that his eccentric friend was not one who could be "pumped." without a touch of rudeness, and in the sweetest of voices, he simply assumed an absent manner and changed the subject of discourse, when he did not choose to reply, by drawing attention to some irrelevant matter, or by putting a counter question which led away from the subject. nigel also found that his host never laughed and rarely smiled, though, when he did so, the smile was so slight as merely to indicate a general feeling of urbanity and goodwill, and it was followed instantly by a look of gravity, if not sadness. altogether the guest was much perplexed about the host at first, and somewhat constrained in consequence, but gradually he began to feel at ease. another discovery that he soon made was, that the hermit treated moses not as a servant, but as if he were in all respects an equal and a comrade. after eating for some time in silence, and having tried to draw out his host without success, nigel changed his tactics and said-- "you were so kind as to speak of me as your guest, mr--mr--i beg pardon, may i--" "my name is van der kemp," said the hermit quietly. "well, mr van der kemp, i must tell you that i am quite willing to accept the position for which moses hired me--" "no, i didn't," contradicted the negro, flatly yet very gently, both in tone and manner, for long residence with the hermit had apparently imbued him with something of his spirit. "well, then," said nigel, "the position for which moses _should have_ hired some one else." ("k'rect _now_," whispered moses.) "of course i do not intend to ask for or accept wages, and also, of course, i accept the position on the understanding that you think me fit for the service. may i ask what that service is to be, and where you think of going to?" "the service," returned the hermit slowly and with his eyes fixed on the floor as if pondering his reply, "is to accompany me as my attendant and companion, to take notes as occasion may serve, and to paddle a canoe." at this reply our hero almost laughed, but was prevented from doing so by his host asking abruptly if he understood canoeing. "well, yes. at least i can manage what in england is known as the rob roy canoe, having possessed one in my boyhood." "that will do," returned the hermit gravely. "can you write shorthand?" "i can. a friend of mine, a reporter on one of the london dailies, once gave me a few lessons, and, becoming fond of the subject, i followed it up." "that is well; you did well. it is of immense advantage to a man, whatever his position in life, that he should be able to write shorthand with facility. especially useful is it in commerce. i know that, having had some experience of commercial life." at this point in the conversation nigel was startled by what was to him an absolutely new sensation, namely a shaking or trembling of the whole cavern, accompanied by faint rumbling sounds as if in deeper caverns below him. he glanced quickly at his host and at the negro, but to his surprise these remarkable men seemed not to be aware of the shaking, although it was severe enough to cause some of the furniture to rattle. observing his look of surprise, moses remarked, with a benignant though capacious smile, "mountain's got de mulligrumps pritty bad jist now." "we are pretty well accustomed to that," said the host, observing that nigel turned to him for an explanation. "no doubt you are aware that this region is celebrated for earthquakes and volcanoes, so much so that the inhabitants pay little attention to them unless they become unusually violent. this island of krakatoa is itself the fragment of an extinct volcano; but the term `extinct' is scarcely applicable to volcanoes, for it is well-known that many which were for centuries supposed to be extinct have awakened to sudden and violent activity--`quiescent' might be a more appropriate term." "yes," said moses, ceasing to masticate for purposes of speech; "dem 'stinkt volcanoes hab got an okard habit ob unstinkin' dereselves hereabouts when you don' 'spect it of 'em. go on, massa. i ax yer pard'n for 'truptin'." the hermit's peculiar good-natured little smile played for a moment on his massive features, and then faded away as he continued-- "perhaps you may have heard that this is the very heart of the district that has long been recognised as the greatest focus of volcanic activity on the globe?" "i have heard something of the sort," answered nigel, "but i confess that my knowledge is limited and my mind hazy on the subject." "i doubt it not," returned his friend, "for geographical and scientific training in primary schools anywhere is not what it might be. the island of java, with an area about equal to that of england, contains no fewer than forty-nine great volcanic mountains, some of which rise to , feet above the sea-level. many of these mountains are at the present time active." ("yes, much _too_ active," muttered the negro), "and more than half of them have been seen in eruption since java was occupied by europeans. hot springs, mud-volcanoes, and vapour-vents abound all over the island, whilst earthquakes are by no means uncommon. there is a distinct line in the chain of these mountains which seems to point to a great fissure in the earth's crust, caused by the subterranean fires. this tremendous crack or fissure crosses the straits of sunda, and in consequence we find a number of these vents--as volcanic mountains may be styled--in the island of sumatra, which you saw to the nor'ard as you came along. but there is supposed to be another great crack in the earth's crust--indicated by several volcanic mountains--which crosses the other fissure almost at right angles, and at the exact point where these two lines intersect _stands this island of krakatoa_. "i emphasise the fact," continued the hermit after a pause, "first, because, although this has been a quiescent volcano since the year , and people have come to regard it as extinct, there are indications now which lead me to believe that its energy is reviving; and, second, because this focus where fissures cross each other--this krakatoa island--is in reality part of the crater of an older and much larger volcanic mountain, which must have been literally blown away in prehistoric times, and of which krakatoa and the neighbouring islets of varlaten, polish hat, lang island, and the rest, are but the remnants of the great crater ring. if these rumblings and minor earthquakes, which i have noticed of late--and the latest of which you have just experienced--are the precursors of another explosion, my home here may be rendered untenable." "hi!" exclaimed moses, who had been listening with open mouth and eyes to this discourse, which was obviously news to him, "i hope, massa, he ain't a-gwine to 'splode to-day--anyhow, not till arter breakfast!" "you must have studied the subject of volcanoes a good deal, i suppose, from what you say," observed nigel. "naturally, living as i do almost on the top of one. my library, which i will show you presently, contains many interesting works on the subject. but come, if you have finished we will ascend the peak of rakata and i will introduce you to my sunshine." he rose and led his guest back to the outer cavern, leaving moses still busy with knife and fork, apparently meditating on the pleasure of breakfasting with the prospect of a possible and immediate explosion. in passing through the first chamber, nigel observed, in a natural recess, the library just referred to. he also noted that, besides stuffed birds and other specimens and sea-shells, there were chisels, saws, hammers, and other tools, besides something like a forge and carpenter's bench in a side-chamber opening out of the large one, which he had not at first seen--from all which he concluded that the hermit was imbued with mechanical as well as scientific and literary tastes. at the further and darker end of the outer cave there was a staircase, partly natural, and partly improved by art, which led upward into profound darkness. "let me take your hand here," said the hermit, looking down upon his guest with his slight but winning smile; "it is a rough and dark staircase. you will be apt to stumble." nigel placed his hand in that of his host with perfect confidence, and with a curious feeling--aroused, probably, by the action--of having returned to the days of childhood. the stair was indeed rugged as well as winding, and so pitchy dark that the youth could not have advanced at all without stumbling, unless his host had held him all the way. at last a glimmer of light was seen in the distance. it seemed to increase suddenly, and in a few moments the two emerged from total darkness into dazzling sunshine. when nigel looked round him he saw that they had gained a plateau, high up on the very summit of the mountain, which appeared to be absolutely inaccessible by any means save that by which they had reached it. "this is what i call my observatory," said the hermit, turning to his guest. "we have passed right through the peak of rakata, and reached its northern side, which commands, as you see, a view of all the northern part of the island. i come here often in the night to study the face of the heavens, the moon, and stars, and meditate on their mysterious maker, whose ways are indeed wonderful and past finding out; but all which must, in the nature of things, be _right_." as this was the first mention that the hermit had made of the creator, and the reference was one requiring more thought than nigel had yet bestowed on it, he made no rejoinder. "have you studied astronomy, mr roy?" "no--at least not more of it than was needful for navigation. but pray, sir, do not call me mr roy," said the youth, with a somewhat embarrassed air. "if i am to be your assistant and familiar companion for two or three months, i hope that you will agree to call me nigel. your man has done so already without asking leave!" "i will, on one condition." "and that is?" "that you also dispense with the `mr' and `sir,' and call me van der kemp." "agreed," said nigel, "though it does not seem so appropriate in me as in you, considering the difference of our years." "look here," said the hermit, turning abruptly to a small wooden shed which had hitherto escaped the youth's observation, so covered was it with overhanging boughs and tropical creeping plants, "these are my astronomical instruments." he pointed to a table in the hut on which stood several telescopes--and microscopes as well--one of the former being a large instrument, certainly not less than six feet long, with a diameter of apparently six or eight inches. "here, you see, i have the means of investigating the wonders of nature in her grandest as well as her minutest scales. and there," he added, pointing to a couple of large reflecting mirrors in strong wooden frames, erected on joints in such a way that they could be turned in any direction,--"there you have the secret of my sunshine. one of these mirrors catches the sunshine direct and reflects it on the other, which, as you see, is so arranged that it transmits the rays down the natural funnel or chimney into the cave. by means of chains connected with the mechanism, and extending below, i can change the direction of the mirrors as the sun changes its place in the sky, without requiring to come up here." "very ingenious!" said nigel; "but how do you manage when the mountain comes between you and the sun, as i see it cannot fail to do during some part of the day?" "simply enough," returned the hermit, pointing to a distant projecting cliff or peak. "on yon summit i have fixed four mirrors similar to these. when the sun can no longer be reflected from this pair, the first of the distant mirrors takes it up and shoots a beam of light over here. when the sun passes from that, the second mirror is arranged to catch and transmit it, and so on to the fourth. after that i bid good-bye to the sun, and light my lamp!" nigel felt an almost irresistible tendency to smile at this, but the grave simplicity of the man forbade such familiarity. "look yonder," continued the hermit, sweeping one of his long arms towards sumatra, "in that direction runs the line of volcanic disturbance--the fissure of which i have already spoken. focus this telescope to suit your sight. now, do you see the little island away there to the nor'-west?" "yes." "well, that is _varlaten_. i mentioned it when at breakfast. sweep your glass round to the nor'ard, the little island there is _polish hat_, and you see _lang island_ in the nor'-east. these, with krakatoa, are merely the higher parts still remaining above water of the ring or lip of the ancient crater. this will give you some idea what an enormous mountain the original of this old volcano must have been. this island-mountain is estimated to have been twenty-five miles in circumference, and , to , feet high. it was blown into the air in , and this island, with the few islets i have pointed out, is all that remains of it. now, cast your eye down the centre of the island on which we stand; you see several cones of various sizes. these are ancient vents, supposed to be extinct--" "but one of them, the one furthest away," interrupted nigel, steadying his telescope on the branch of a tree, "seems to be anything but extinct, for i see a thin column of white smoke or steam rising from it." "that is just what i was going to point out. they call that perboewatan. it is the lowest peak on the island, about feet high, and stands, i should say, in the very centre of the ancient crater, where are the two fissures i have mentioned. for two hundred years perboewatan has not smoked like that, and, slight though it is at present, i cannot help thinking that it indicates an impending eruption, especially when i consider that earthquakes have become more numerous of late years, and there was one in which was so violent as to damage seriously the lighthouse on java's first point." "then you have resided here for some time?" said nigel. "yes, for many years," replied the hermit, in a low, sad tone. "but is it wise in you to stay if you think an explosion so likely? don't you needlessly run considerable risk?" "i do not fear to die." nigel looked at his new friend in surprise, but there was not a shadow of boastfulness or affectation either in his look or tone. "besides," he continued, "the explosion may be but slight, and perboewatan is, as you see, about four miles off. people in the neighbourhood of the straits and passing ships are so accustomed to volcanic explosions on a more or less grand scale that they will never notice this little cloud hanging over krakatoa. those who, like myself, know the ancient history of the island, regard it in a more serious light, but we may be wrong. come, now, we will descend again and have a ramble over part of the island. it will interest you. not many men have penetrated its luxuriant forests or know their secrets. i have wandered through them in all directions, and can guide you. indeed, moses could do that as well as i, for he has lived with me many years. come." returning to the cavern they found that the active negro had not only finished his breakfast, but had washed the dishes and cleared up the kitchen, so that he was quite ready to shoulder a wallet and a gun when his master bade him prepare for a day in the forest. it is not, however, our intention to follow the trio thither. matters of greater interest, if not importance, claim our attention at present. let it suffice to say, therefore, that after a most delightful day, spent in wandering amongst the luxuriant tropical vegetation with which the island was densely covered, visiting one of the extinct craters, bathing in one of the numerous hot springs, and collecting many objects of interest to the hermit, in the shape of botanical and geological specimens, they returned in the evening to their cavern-house not only ready but eager for sustenance and repose. chapter eight. perboewatan becomes moderately violent. the cave was enshrouded in almost total darkness when they entered it, but this was quickly dispelled, to nigel's no little surprise, by the rays of a magnificent oil-lamp, which moses lighted and placed on the table in the larger cave. a smaller one of the same kind already illuminated the kitchen. not much conversation was indulged in during the progress of the supper that was soon spread upon the rude table. the three men, being uncommonly hungry and powerfully robust, found in food a sufficient occupation for their mouths for some time. after supper they became a little, but not much, more sociable, for, although nigel's active mind would gladly have found vent in conversation, he experienced some difficulty in making headway against the discouragement of van der kemp's very quiet disposition, and the cavernous yawns with which moses displayed at once his desire for slumber and his magnificent dental arrangements. "we always retire early to rest after a day of this sort," said the hermit at last, turning to his guest. "do you feel disposed for bed?" "indeed i do," said nigel, with a half-suppressed yawn, that was irresistibly dragged out of him by the sight of another earthquake on the negro's face. "come, then, i will show you your berth; we have no bedrooms here," said the hermit, with a sort of deprecatory smile, as he led the way to the darker end of the cavern, where he pointed to a little recess in which there was a pile of something that smelt fresh and looked like heather, spread on which there was a single blanket. "sailors are said to be indifferent to sheets. you won't miss them, i daresay?" "not in the least," returned nigel, with a laugh. "good-night," he added, shaking hands with his host and suppressing another yawn, for moses' face, even in the extreme distance, was irresistibly infectious! our hero was indifferent not only to sheets, but also, in certain circumstances, to the usual habiliments of night. indeed, while travelling in out-of-the-way regions he held it to be a duty to undress but partially before turning in, so that he might be ready for emergencies. on lying down he found his mattress, whatever it was, to be a springy, luxurious bed, and was about to resign himself to slumber when he observed that, from the position in which he lay, he could see the cavern in all its extent. opening his half-closed eyes, therefore, he watched the proceedings of his host, and in doing so, as well as in speculating on his strange character and surroundings, he became somewhat wakeful. he saw that van der kemp, returning to the other end of the cave, sat down beside the lamp, the blaze of which fell full on his fine calm countenance. a motion of his head brought moses to him, who sat down beside him and entered into earnest conversation, to judge from his gestures, for nothing could be heard where nigel lay save the monotonous murmur of their voices. the hermit did not move. except for an occasional inclination of the head he appeared to be a grand classic statue, but it was otherwise with the negro. his position in front of the lamp caused him to look if possible even blacker than ever, and the blackness was so uniform that his entire profile became strongly pronounced, thus rendering every motion distinct, and the varied pouting of his huge lips remarkably obvious. the extended left hand, too, with the frequent thrusting of the index finger of the other into the palm, was suggestive of argument, and of much reasoning effort--if not power. after about half-an-hour of conversation, moses arose, shook his master by the hand, appeared to say "good-night" very obviously, yawned, and retired to the kitchen, whence, in five minutes or so, there issued sounds which betokened felicitous repose. meanwhile his master sat motionless for some time, gazing at the floor as if in meditation. then he rose, went to his book-case and took down a large thick volume, which he proceeded to read. nigel had by that time dropped into a drowsy condition, yet his interest in the doings of his strange entertainer was so great that he struggled hard to keep awake, and partially succeeded. "i wonder," he muttered, in sleepy tones, "if that's a f-fam-'ly bible he's reading--or--or--a vol'm o' the en-encyclopida brit--" he dropped off at this point, but, feeling that he had given way to some sort of weakness, he struggled back again in to wakefulness, and saw that the hermit was bending over the large book with his massive brow resting on the palms of both hands, and his fingers thrust into his iron-grey hair. it was evident, however, that he was not reading the book at that moment, for on its pages was lying what seemed to be a miniature or photograph case, at which he gazed intently. nigel roused himself to consider this, and in doing so again dropped off--not yet soundly, however, for curiosity induced one more violent struggle, and he became aware of the fact that the hermit was on his knees with his face buried in his hands. the youth's thoughts must have become inextricably confused at this point, yet their general drift was indicated by the muttered words: "i--i'm glad o' that--a good sign--an'--an' it's _not_ th' encyclop." here morpheus finally conquered, and he sank into dreamless repose. how long this condition lasted he could not tell, but he was awakened violently by sensations and feelings of dread, which were entirely new to him. the bed on which he rested seemed to heave under him, and his ears were filled by sharp rattling sounds, something like--yet very different from--the continuous roll of musketry. starting up, he sprang into the large cavern where he found van der kemp quietly tightening his belt and moses hastily pulling on his boots. "sometin's bu'sted an' no mistake!" exclaimed the latter. "an eruption from one of the cones," said the hermit. "i have been for a long time expecting it. come with us." he went swiftly up the staircase and passages which led to the observatory as he spoke. the scene that met their eyes on reaching the ledge or plateau was sublime in the extreme, as well as terrific. "as i thought," said van der kemp, in a low tone. "it is perboewatan that has broken out." "the cone from which i observed smoke rising?" asked nigel. "the same. the one over the very centre of the old crater, showing that we were wrong in supposing it to be extinct: it was only slumbering. it is in what vulcanologists term moderate eruption now, and, perhaps, may prove a safety-valve which will prevent a more violent explosion." that the cone of perboewatan was indeed in a state of considerable activity, worthy of a stronger term than "moderate," was very obvious. although at a distance, as we have said, of four miles, the glare of its fires on the three figures perched near the top of rakata was very intense, while explosion after explosion sent molten lava and red-hot rocks, pumice, and dust, high into the thickening air--clouds of smoke and steam being vomited forth at the same time. the wind, of which there was very little, blew it all away from the position occupied by the three observers. "what if the wind were to change and blow it all this way?" asked nigel, with very pardonable feelings of discomfort. "we could return to the cavern," said the hermit. "but what if rakata itself should become active?" it was evident from the very solemn expression on the negro's face that he awaited the reply to nigel's question with some anxiety. "rakata," answered the hermit thoughtfully, "although the highest cone, is the one most distant from the great centre of activity. it is therefore not likely that the volcanic energy will seek a vent here while there are other cones between us and perboewatan. but we shall soon see whether the one vent is likely to suffice. there is undoubtedly no diminution in the explosions at present." there certainly was not, for the voice of the speaker was almost drowned by the horrible din caused, apparently, by the hurtling of innumerable fragments of rock and stones in the air, while a succession of fiery flashes, each followed by a loud explosion, lit up the dome-shaped mass of vapour that was mounting upwards and spreading over the sky. vivid flashes of lightning were also seen playing around the vapour-column. at the same time, there began a fall of fine white dust, resembling snow, which soon covered the foliage and the ground of all the lower part of the island. the sea around was also ere long covered with masses of pumice, which, being very light, floated away into the indian ocean, and these were afterwards encountered in large quantities by various vessels passing through sunda straits. the scientific committee, which ultimately wrote on the details of this eruption in krakatoa, mention this first outburst as being a phase of moderate activity, similar to that which is said to have been exhibited for some months during the years and , and they added that "the outburst was one of considerable violence, especially at its commencement," that falls of dust were noticed at the distance of three hundred miles, and that "the commander of the german war-vessel _elizabeth_ estimated the height of the dust-column issuing from the volcano at kilometres ( , feet or about miles)." to our hero, however, and to moses, the outburst seemed anything but "moderate," and that night as they two sat together in the cave after supper, listening with awe-struck faces to the cannonading and wild musketry going on as it seemed under their very feet, the negro solemnly imparted to nigel in a low whisper that he thought "de end ob de wurld hab come at last!" returning at that moment from his observatory, to which he had ascended for a few minutes to view the scene through one of his glasses, van der kemp relieved their anxieties somewhat by remarking, in his quiet manner, that there was a distinct diminution in the violence of the explosions, and that, from his knowledge and experience of other volcanoes in java, sumatra, and elsewhere, he thought it probable they had seen the worst of it at that time, and that none of the other cones would be likely to break out. "i'm glad to hear you say so," observed nigel, "for although the sight is extremely magnificent and very interesting, both from a scientific and artistic point of view, i cannot help thinking that we should be safer away from this island at present--at least while the volcano is active." the hermit smiled almost pitifully. "i do not apprehend danger," he said, "at least nothing unusual. but it happens that my business requires me to leave in the course of a few days at any rate, so, whether the eruption becomes fiercer or feebler, it will not matter to us. i have preparations to make, however, and i have no doubt you won't object to remain till all is ready for a start?" "oh, as to that," returned the youth, slightly hurt by the implied doubt as to his courage, "if _you_ are willing to risk going off the earth like a skyrocket, i am quite ready to take my chance of following you!" "an' moses am de man," said the negro, smiting his broad chest with his fist, "what's ready to serve as a rocket-stick to bof, an' go up along wid you!" the hermit made the nearest approach to a laugh which nigel had yet seen, as he left the cave to undertake some of the preparations above referred to. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . see _the eruption of krakatoa and subsequent phenomena_ page . (tribner and company, london.) chapter nine. describes, among other things, a singular meeting under peculiar circumstances. there is unquestionably a class of men--especially englishmen--who are deeply imbued with the idea that the universe in general, and our world in particular, has been created with a view to afford them what they call fun. "it would be great fun," said an english commercial man to a friend who sat beside him, "to go and have a look at this eruption. they say it is krakatoa which has broken out after a sleep of two centuries, and as it has been bursting away now for nearly a week, it is likely to hold on for some time longer. what would you say to charter a steamer and have a grand excursion to the volcano?" the friend said he thought it would indeed be "capital fun!" we have never been able to ascertain who these englishmen were, but they must have been men of influence, or able to move men of influence, for they at once set to work and organised an excursion. the place where this excursion was organised was batavia. although that city was situated in java, nearly a hundred miles distant from krakatoa, the inhabitants had not only heard distinctly the explosions of the volcano, but had felt some quakings of the earth and much rattling of doors and windows, besides a sprinkling of ashes, which indicated that the eruption, even in that eruptive region, was of unusual violence. they little imagined to what mighty throes the solid rocks of krakatoa were yet to be subjected before those volcanic fires could find a vent. meanwhile, as we have said, there was enough of the unusual in it to warrant our merchants in their anticipation of a considerable amount of fun. a steamer was got ready; a number of sightseeing enthusiasts were collected, and they set forth on the morning of the th of may. among these excursionists was our friend captain david roy--not that _he_ was addicted to running about in search of "fun," but, being unavoidably thrown idle at the time, and having a poetical turn of mind--derived from his wife--he thought he could not do better than take a run to the volcano and see how his son was getting along. the party reached the scene of the eruption on the morning of the th, having witnessed during the night several tolerably strong explosions, which were accompanied by earthquake shocks. it was found that krakatoa and all the adjoining islands were covered with a fine white dust, like snow, and that the trees on the northern part of the former island and varlaten had been to a great extent deprived of their leaves and branches by falling pumice, while those on lang island and polish hat, as well as those on the peak of rakata, had to a great extent escaped-- no doubt owing to the prevailing direction of the wind. it was soon seen that perboewatan on krakatoa was the cone in active eruption, and the steamer made for its neighbourhood, landing her party within a short distance of its base. explosions were occurring at intervals of from five to ten minutes. each explosion being accompanied by an uncovering of the molten lava in the vent, the overhanging steam-cloud was lighted up with a grand glow for a few seconds. some of the party, who seemed to be authorities on such matters, estimated that the vapour-column rose to a height of nearly , feet, and that fragments of pumice were shot upwards to a height of feet. "that's a sign that the violence of the eruption is diminished," remarked the young merchant, who was in search of fun, as he prepared to wade ankle-deep in the loose pumice up the slopes of the cone. "diminished!" repeated our captain, who had fraternised much with this merchant during their short voyage. "if that's what you call diminishin', i shouldn't like to be here when it's increasin'." "pooh!" exclaimed the merchant, "that's nothing. i've seen, at other volcanoes, pieces of pumice blown up so high that they've been caught by the upper currents of the atmosphere and carried away in an opposite direction to the wind that was blowing below at the time. ay, i believe that dust is sometimes blown _miles_ up into the air." as captain roy thought that the merchant was drawing the long bow he made no reply, but changed the subject by asking what was the height of perboewatan. "three hundred feet or thereabouts," replied his friend. "i hope my son will have the sense to clear out of the island if things look like gittin' worse," muttered the captain, as an unusually violent explosion shook the whole side of the cone. "no fear of him," returned the merchant. "if he is visiting the hermit of rakata, as you tell me, he'll be safe enough. although something of a dare-devil, the hermit knows how to take care of himself. i'm afraid, however, that you'll not find it so easy to `look up' your son as you seem to think. just glance round at these almost impenetrable forests. you don't know what part of the island he may be in just now; and you might as well look for a needle in a bundle of hay as look for him there. he is probably at the other end of krakatoa--four or five miles off--on the south side of rakata, where the hermit's cave is supposed to be, for no one seems to be quite sure as to its whereabouts. besides, you'll have to stick by the excursionists if you wish to return to batavia." captain roy paused for a moment to recover breath, and looking down upon the dense tropical forest that stretched between him and the peak of rakata, he shook his head, and admitted that the merchant was right. turning round he addressed himself once more to the ascent of the cone, on the sides of which the whole excursion party now straggled and struggled, remarking, as he panted along, that hill-climbing among ashes and cinders didn't "come easy to a sea-farin' man." now, nothing was more natural than that van der kemp and his guest should be smitten with the same sort of desire which had brought these excursionists from batavia. the only thing that we do not pretend to account for is the strange coincidence that they should have been so smitten, and had so arranged their plans, that they arrived at perboewatan almost at the same time with the excursionists--only about half an hour before them! their preliminary walk, however, through the tangled, almost impassable, forest had been very slow and toilsome, and having been involved in its shadow from daybreak, they were, of course, quite unaware of the approach of the steamer or the landing of the excursion party. "if the volcano seems quieting down," said nigel to his host, "shall you start to-morrow?" "yes; by daybreak. even if the eruption does _not_ quiet down i must set out, for my business presses." nigel felt much inclined to ask what his business was, but there was a quiet something in the air of the hermit, when he did not choose to be questioned, which effectually silenced curiosity. falling behind a little, till the negro came up with him, nigel tried to obtain information from him, for he felt that he had a sort of right to know at least something about the expedition in which he was about to act a part. "do you know, moses, what business your master is going about?" he asked, in a low voice. "no more nor de man ob de moon, massa nadgel," said moses, with an air at once so truthful and so solemn that the young man gave it up with a laugh of resignation. on arriving at perboewatan, and ascending its sides, they at last became aware of the approach of the excursion steamer. "strange," muttered the hermit, "vessels don't often touch here." "perhaps they have run short of water," suggested nigel. "even if they had it would not be worth their while to stop here for that," returned the hermit, resuming the ascent of the cone after an intervening clump of trees had shut out the steamer from view. it was with feelings of profound interest and considerable excitement that our hero stood for the first time on the top of a volcanic cone and gazed down into its glowing vent. the crater might be described as a huge basin of feet in diameter. from the rim of this basin on which the visitors stood the sides sloped so gradually inward that the flat floor at the bottom was not more than half that in diameter. this floor--which was about feet below the upper edge--was covered with a black crust, and in the centre of it was the tremendous cavity--between one and two hundred feet in diameter-- from which issued the great steam-cloud. the cloud was mixed with quantities of pumice and fragments of what appeared to be black glass. the roar of this huge vent was deafening and stupendous. if the reader will reflect on the wonderful hubbub that can be created even by a kitchen kettle when superheated, and on the exasperating shrieks of a steamboat's safety-valve in action, or the bellowing of a fog-horn, he may form some idea of the extent of his incapacity to conceive the thunderous roar of krakatoa when it began to boil over. when to this awful sound there were added the intermittent explosions, the horrid crackling of millions of rock-masses meeting in the air, and the bubbling up of molten lava--verily it did not require the imagination of a dante to see in all this the very vomiting of gehenna! so amazed and well-nigh stunned was nigel at the sights and sounds that he neither heard nor saw the arrival of the excursionists, until the equally awe-stricken moses touched him on the elbow and drew his attention to several men who suddenly appeared on the crater-brim not fifty yards off, but who, like themselves, were too much absorbed with the volcano itself to observe the other visitors. probably they took them for some of their own party who had reached the summit before them. nigel was yet looking at these visitors in some surprise, when an elderly nautical man suddenly stood not twenty yards off gazing in open-mouthed amazement, past our hero's very nose, at the volcanic fires. "hallo, father!" shouted the one. "zounds! nigel!" exclaimed the other. both men glared and were speechless for several seconds. then nigel rushed at the captain, and the captain met him halfway, and they shook hands with such hearty goodwill as to arrest in his operations for a few moments a photographer who was hastily setting up his camera! yes, science has done much to reveal the marvellous and arouse exalted thoughts in the human mind, but it has also done something to crush enthusiasts and shock the romantic. veracity constrains us to state that there he was, with his tripod, and his eager haste, and his hideous black cloth, preparing to "take" perboewatan on a "dry plate"! and he "took" it too! and you may see it, if you will, as a marvellous frontispiece to the volume by the "krakatoa committee"--a work which is apparently as exhaustive of the subject of krakatoa as was the great explosion itself of those internal fires which will probably keep that volcano quiet for the next two hundred years. but this was not the great eruption of krakatoa--only a rehearsal, as it were. "what brought you here, my son?" asked the captain, on recovering speech. "my legs, father." "don't be insolent, boy." "it's not insolence, father. it's only poetical licence, meant to assure you that i did not come by 'bus or rail, though you did by steamer! but let me introduce you to my friend, mr ---" he stopped short on looking round, for van der kemp was not there. "he hoed away wheneber he saw de peepil comin' up de hill," said moses, who had watched the meeting of father and son with huge delight. "but you kin interdooce _me_ instead," he added, with a crater-like smile. "true, true," exclaimed nigel, laughing. "this is moses, father, my host's servant, and my very good friend, and a remarkably free-and-easy friend, as you see. he will guide us back to the cave, since van der kemp seems to have left us." "who's van der kemp?" asked the captain. "the hermit of rakata, father--that's his name. his father was a dutchman and his mother an english or irish woman--i forget which. he's a splendid fellow; quite different from what one would expect; no more like a hermit than a hermit-crab, except that he lives in a cave under the peak of rakata, at the other end of the island. but you must come with us and pay him a visit. he will be delighted to see you." "what! steer through a green sea of leaves like that?" said the captain, stretching his arm towards the vast forest that lay stretched out below them, "and on my legs, too, that have been used all their lives to a ship's deck? no, my son. i will content myself with this lucky meetin'. but, i say, nigel, lad," continued the old man, somewhat more seriously, "what if the peak o' rakata, what's 'is name, should take to spoutin' like this one, an you, as you say, livin' under it?" "ha! das 'zackly what _i_ say," interposed moses. "das what i oftin says to massa, but he nebber answers. he only smile. massa's not always so purlite as he might be!" "there is no fear," said nigel, "not at present, anyhow, for van der kemp says that the force of this eruption is diminishing--" "it don't look much like it," muttered the captain, as the volcano at that moment gave vent to a burst which seemed like a sarcastic laugh at the hermit's opinion, and sent the more timid of the excursionists sprawling down the cinder-slope in great alarm. "there's reason in what you say, father," said nigel, when the diminution of noise rendered speech more easy; "and after all, as we start off on our travels to-morrow, your visit could not have been a long one." "where do you go first?" asked the captain. "not sure. do _you_ know, moses?" "no; no more'n de man ob de moon. p'r'aps borneo. he go dar sometimes." at this point another roar from the volcano, and a shout from the leader of the excursionists to return on board, broke up the conference. "well, lad, i'm glad i've seen you. don't forget to write your whereabouts. they say there's a lot o' wild places as well as wild men and beasts among them islands, so keep your weather-eye open an' your powder dry. good-bye, nigel. take care of him, moses, and keep him out o' mischief if ye can--which is more than ever i could. good-bye, my boy." "good-bye, father." they shook hands vigorously. in another minute the old seaman was sailing down the cinder-cone at the rate of fourteen knots an hour, while his son, setting off under the guidance of moses towards a different point of the compass, was soon pushing his way through the tangled forest in the direction of the hermit's cave. chapter ten. a curious sea-going craft--the unknown voyage begun. it was early next morning when van der kemp and his man left their couches and descended to the shore, leaving their visitor enjoying the benefit of that profound slumber which bids defiance to turmoil and noise, however stupendous, and which seems to be the peculiar privilege of healthy infants and youthful seamen. perboewatan had subsided considerably towards morning, and had taken to that internal rumbling, which in the feline species indicates mitigated indignation. the hermit had therefore come to the conclusion that the outburst was over, and went with moses to make arrangements for setting forth on his expedition after breakfast. they had scarcely left the cave when nigel awoke. feeling indisposed for further repose, he got up and went out in that vague state of mind which is usually defined as "having a look at the weather." whether or not he gathered much information from the look we cannot tell, but, taking up his short gun, which stood handy at the entrance of the cave, he sauntered down the path which his host had followed a short time before. arrived at the shore, he observed that a branch path diverged to the left, and appeared to run in the direction of a high precipice. he turned into it, and after proceeding through the bushes for a short way he came quite unexpectedly on a cavern, the mouth of which resembled, but was much higher and wider than that which led to the hermit's home. just as he approached it there issued from its gloomy depths a strange rumbling sound which induced him to stop and cock his gun. a curious feeling of serio-comic awe crept over him as the idea of a fiery dragon leaped into his mind! at the same time, the fancy that the immense abyss of darkness might be one of the volcanic vents diminished the comic and increased the serious feeling. ere long the sound assumed the definite tone of footsteps, and the dragon fancy seemed about to become a reality when he beheld a long narrow thing of uncertain form emerging from the darkness. "it must be coming out tail-foremost!" he muttered, with a short laugh at his semi-credulity. another instant and the hermit emerged into the blazing sunshine, and stood pictured against the intense darkness like a being of supernatural radiance, with the end of a long narrow canoe on his shoulder. as nigel passed round a bush to reach him he perceived the dark form of moses emerging from the depths and supporting the body of the canoe. "i see you are active and an early riser," said the hermit, with a nod of approval on seeing our hero. "i almost took you for a krakatoa monster!" said nigel, as they came out in front of the cavern and laid the canoe on the ground. "why, you've got here one of the craft which we in england call a rob roy canoe." "it is fashioned on the same pattern," said the hermit, "but with one or two alterations of my own devising, and an improvement--as i think-- founded on what i have myself seen, when travelling with the eskimos of greenland." van der kemp here pointed out that the canoe was not only somewhat broader than the kind used in england, but was considerably longer, and with three openings or manholes in the deck, so that it was capable of holding three persons. also, that there was a large rounded mass of wood fixed in front of the three manholes. "these saddles, as i call them," said the hermit, "have been suggested to me by the eskimos, who, instead of wearying their arms by supporting the double-bladed paddle continuously, rest it on the saddle and let it slide about thereon while being used. thus they are able to carry a much longer and heavier paddle than that used in the rob roy canoe, the weight of which, as it rests on the saddle, is not felt. moreover it does not require nearly so much dip to put it in the water. i have heard of a sort of upright with a universal joint being applied to the english canoe, but it seems to me a much more clumsy and much less effective, because rigid, contrivance than the eskimo saddle. inside, under the deck, as i will show you by and by, i have lighter and shorter paddles for use when in narrow rivers, but i prefer the long heavy paddle when traversing great stretches of ocean." "you don't mean to say you ever go to sea in an eggshell like that!" exclaimed nigel in surprise. "indeed we do," returned the hermit, "and we are fitted out for longish voyages and rough weather. besides, it is not so much of an eggshell as you suppose. i made it myself, and took care that it should be fit for the work required of it. the wood of which it is made, although light, is very tough, and it is lined with a skin of strong canvas which is fixed to the planks with tar. this makes the craft watertight as well as strong. the ribs also are very light and close together, and every sixth rib is larger and longer than the others and made of tougher wood. all these ribs are bound together by longitudinal pieces, or laths, of very tough wood, yet so thin that the whole machine is elastic without being weak. besides this, there are two strong oiled-canvas partitions, which divide the canoe into three watertight compartments, any two of which will float it if the third should get filled." "is this then the craft in which you intend to voyage?" asked nigel. "it is. we shall start in an hour or two. i keep it in this cave because it is near the landing-place. but come, you will understand things better when you see us making our arrangements. of course you understand how to manage sails of every kind?" "if i did not it would ill become me to call myself a sailor," returned our hero. "that is well, because you will sit in the middle, from which position the sail is partly managed. i usually sit in the bow to have free range for the use of my gun, if need be, and moses steers." van der kemp proceeded down the track as he said this, having, with the negro, again lifted the canoe on his shoulder. a few minutes' walk brought them to the beach at the spot where nigel had originally landed. here a quantity of cargo lay on the rocks ready to be placed in the canoe. there were several small bags of pemmican, which van der kemp had learned to make while travelling on the prairies of north america among the red indians,--for this singular being seemed to have visited most parts of the habitable globe during his not yet very long life. there were five small casks of fresh water, two or three canisters of gunpowder, a small box of tea and another of sugar, besides several bags of biscuits. there were also other bags and boxes which did not by their appearance reveal their contents, and all the articles were of a shape and size which seemed most suitable for passing through the manholes, and being conveniently distributed and stowed in the three compartments of the canoe. there was not very much of anything, however, so that when the canoe was laden and ready for its voyage, the hermit and his man were still able to raise and carry it on their shoulders without the assistance of nigel. there was one passenger whom we have not yet mentioned, namely, a small monkey which dwelt in the cave with the canoe, and which, although perfectly free to come and go when he pleased, seldom left the cave except for food, but seemed to have constituted himself the guardian of the little craft. spinkie, as moses had named him, was an intensely affectionate creature, with a countenance of pathetic melancholy which utterly belied his character, for mischief and fun were the dominating qualities of that monkey. he was seated on a water-cask when nigel first caught sight of him, holding the end of his long tail in one hand, and apparently wiping his nose with it. "is that what he is doing?" asked nigel of the negro. "oh no, massa nadgel," said moses. "spinkie nebber ketch cold an' hab no need ob a pocket-hang-kitcher. he only tickles his nose wid 'is tail. but he's bery fond ob doin' dat." being extremely fond of monkeys, nigel went forward to fondle him, and spinkie being equally fond of fondling, resigned himself placidly--after one interrogative gaze of wide-eyed suspicion--into the stranger's hands. a lifelong friendship was cemented then and there. after stowing the cargo the party returned to the upper cavern, leaving the monkey to guard the canoe. "an' he's a good defender ob it," said moses, "for if man or beast happen to come near it when spinkie's in charge, dat monkey sets up a skriekin' fit to cause a 'splosion ob perboewatan!" breakfast over, the hermit put his cave in order for a pretty long absence, and they again descended to the shore, each man carrying his bed on his shoulder. each bed, however, was light and simple. it consisted merely of one blanket wrapped up in an oil-cloth sheet. besides, an old-fashioned powder-flask and shot belt. van der kemp and nigel had slung a bullet-pouch on their shoulders, and carried small hatchets and hunting-knives in their belts. moses was similarly armed, with this difference, that his _couteau de chasse_ bore stronger resemblance to an ancient roman sword than a knife, and his axe was of larger size than the hatchets of his companions. launching the canoe, the hermit and his man held it fast at either end while nigel was directed to take his place in the central of the three openings or manholes. he did so and found himself seated on a flat board on the bottom of the canoe, which was so shallow that the deck scarcely rose as high as his waist. round the manhole there was a ledge of thin wood, about three inches high, to which a circular apron of oiled-canvas was attached. "yes, you'd better understand that thing before we start," said van der kemp, observing that nigel was examining the contrivance with some curiosity. "it's an apron to tie round you in bad weather to keep the water out. in fine weather it is rolled as you see it now round the ledge. undo the buckle before and behind and you will see how it is to be used." acting as directed, nigel unbuckled the roll and found that he was surrounded by a sort of petticoat of oil-skin which could be drawn up and buckled round his chest. in this position it could be kept by a loop attached to a button, or a wooden pin, thrust through the coat. "you see," explained the hermit, "the waves may wash all over our deck and round our bodies without being able to get into the canoe while we have these things on--there are similar protections round the other holes." "i understand," said nigel. "but how if water gets in through a leak below?" "do you see that brass thing in front of you?" returned the hermit. "that is a pump which is capable of keeping under a pretty extensive leak. the handle unships, so as to be out of the way when not wanted. i keep it here, under the deck in front of me, along with mast and sails and a good many other things." as he spoke he raised a plank of the deck in front of the foremost hole, and disclosed a sort of narrow box about six feet long by six inches broad. the plank was hinged at one end and fastened with a hook at the other so as to form a lid to the box. the hole thus disclosed was not an opening into the interior of the canoe, but was a veritable watertight box just under the deck, so that even if it were to get filled with water not a drop could enter the canoe itself. but the plank-lid was so beautifully fitted, besides shutting tightly down on india-rubber, that the chance of leakage through that source was very remote. although very narrow, this box was deep, and contained a variety of useful implements; among them a slender mast and tiny sail, which could be rendered still smaller by means of reef-points. all these things were fitted into their respective places with so keen an eye to economy of space that the arrangement cannot be better described than by the familiar phrase--_multum in parvo_. "we don't use the sails much; we depend chiefly on this," said the hermit, as he seated himself in the front hole and laid the long, heavy, double-bladed paddle on the saddle in front of him. "moses uses a single-blade, partly because it is handier for steering and partly because he has been accustomed to it in his own land. you are at liberty to use which you prefer." "thanks, i will follow the lead of moses, for i also have been accustomed to the single-blade and prefer it--at least while i am one of three. if alone, i should prefer the double-blade." "now, moses, are you ready?" asked the hermit. "all ready, massa." "get in then and shove off. come along, spinkie." the monkey, which all this time had been seated on a rock looking on with an expression of inconsolable sorrow, at once accepted the invitation, and with a lively bound alighted on the deck close to the little mast, which had been set up just in front of nigel, and to which it held on when the motions of the canoe became unsteady. "you need not give yourself any concern about spinkie," said the hermit, as they glided over the still water of the little cove in which the canoe and boat were harboured. "he is quite able to take care of himself." rounding the entrance to the cove and shooting out into the ocean under the influence of van der kemp's powerful strokes, they were soon clear of the land, and proceeded eastward at a rate which seemed unaccountable to our hero, for he had not sufficiently realised the fact that in addition to the unusual physical strength of van der kemp as well as that of moses, to say nothing of his own, the beautiful fish-like adaptation of the canoe to the water, the great length and leverage of the bow-paddle, and the weight of themselves as well as the cargo, gave this canoe considerable advantage over other craft of the kind. about a quarter of an hour later the sun arose in cloudless splendour on a perfectly tranquil sea, lighted up the shores of java, glinted over the mountains of sumatra, and flooded, as with a golden haze, the forests of krakatoa--emulating the volcanic fires in gilding the volumes of smoke that could be seen rolling amid fitful mutterings from perboewatan, until the hermit's home sank from view in the western horizon. chapter eleven. canoeing on the sea--a mysterious night--surprise and sudden flight. at first the voyagers paddled over the glassy sea in almost total silence. nigel was occupied with his own busy thoughts; speculating on the probable end and object of their voyage, and on the character, the mysterious life, and unknown history of the man who sat in front of him wielding so powerfully the great double-bladed paddle. van der kemp himself was, as we have said, naturally quiet and silent, save when roused by a subject that interested him. as for moses, although quite ready at any moment to indulge in friendly intercourse, he seldom initiated a conversation, and spinkie, grasping the mast and leaning against it with his head down, seemed to be either asleep or brooding over his sorrows. only a few words were uttered now and then when nigel asked the name of a point or peak which rose in the distance on either hand. it seemed as if the quiescence of sea and air had fallen like a soft mantle on the party and subdued them into an unusually sluggish frame of mind. they passed through the sunda straits between sumatra and java--not more at the narrowest part than about thirteen miles wide--and, in course of time, found themselves in the great island-studded archipelago beyond. about noon they all seemed to wake up from their lethargic state. van der kemp laid down his paddle, and, looking round, asked nigel if he felt tired. "not in the least," he replied, "but i feel uncommonly hungry, and i have just been wondering how you manage to feed when at sea in so small a craft." "ho! ho!" laughed moses, in guttural tones, "you soon see dat--i 'spose it time for me to get out de grub, massa?" "yes, moses--let's have it." the negro at once laid down his steering paddle and lifted a small square hatch or lid in the deck which was rendered watertight by the same means as the lid in front already described. from the depths thus revealed he extracted a bird of some sort that had been shot and baked the day before. tearing off a leg he retained it, and handed the remainder to nigel. "help you'self, massa nadgel, an' pass 'im forward." without helping himself he passed it on to van der kemp, who drew his knife, sliced off a wing with a mass of breast, and returned the rest. "always help yourself _before_ passing the food in future," said the hermit; "we don't stand on ceremony here." nigel at once fell in with their custom, tore off the remaining drumstick and began. "biskit," said moses, with his mouth full, "an' look out for spinkie." he handed forward a deep tray of the sailor's familiar food, but nigel was too slow to profit by the warning given, for spinkie darted both hands into the tray and had stuffed his mouth and cheeks full almost before a man could wink! the negro would have laughed aloud, but the danger of choking was too great; he therefore laughed internally--an operation which could not be fully understood unless seen. "'splosions of perboewatan," may suggest the thing. sorrow, grief--whatever it was that habitually afflicted that monkey-- disappeared for the time being, while it devoted itself heart and soul to dinner. feelings of a somewhat similar kind animated nigel as he sat leaning back with his mouth full, a biscuit in one hand, and a drumstick in the other, and his eyes resting dreamily on the horizon of the still tranquil sea, while the bright sun blazed upon his already bronzed face. to many men the fierce glare of the equatorial sun might have proved trying, but nigel belonged to the salamander type of humanity and enjoyed the great heat. van der kemp seemed to be similarly moulded, and as for moses, he was in his native element--so was spinkie. strange as it may seem, sea-birds appeared to divine what was going on, for several specimens came circling round the canoe with great outstretched and all but motionless wings, and with solemn sidelong glances of hope which van der kemp evidently could not resist, for he flung them scraps of his allowance from time to time. "if you have plenty of provisions on board, i should like to do that too," said nigel. "do it," returned the hermit. "we have plenty of food for some days, and our guns can at any time replenish the store. i like to feed these creatures," he added, "they give themselves over so thoroughly to the enjoyment of the moment, and _seem_ to be grateful. whether they are so or not, of course, is matter of dispute. cynics will tell us that they only come to us and fawn upon us because of the memory of past favours and the hope of more to come. i don't agree with them." "neither do i," said nigel, warmly. "any man who has ever had to do with dogs knows full well that gratitude is a strong element of their nature. and it seems to me that the speaking eyes of spinkie, to whom i have just given a bit of biscuit, tell of a similar spirit." as he spoke, nigel was conveying another piece of biscuit to his own mouth, when a small brown hand flashed before him, and the morsel, in the twinkling of an eye, was transferred to the monkey's already swollen cheek--whereat moses again became suddenly "'splosive" and red, as well as black in the face, for his capacious mouth was inordinately full as usual. clear water, from one of the casks, and poured into a tin mug, washed down their cold collation, and then, refreshed and reinvigorated, the trio resumed their paddles, which were not again laid down till the sun was descending towards the western horizon. by that time they were not far from a small wooded islet near the coast of java, on which van der kemp resolved to spend the night. during the day they had passed at some distance many boats and _prahus_ and other native vessels, the crews of which ceased to row for a few moments, and gazed with curiosity at the strange craft which glided along so swiftly, and seemed to them little more than a long plank on the water, but these took no further notice of our voyagers. they also passed several ships--part of that constant stream of vessels which pass westward through those straits laden with the valuable teas and rich silks of china and japan. in some cases a cheer of recognition, as being an exceptional style of craft, was accorded them, to which the hermit replied with a wave of the hand--moses and nigel with an answering cheer. there is something very pleasant in the rest which follows a day of hard and healthful toil. our maker has so ordained it as well as stated it, for is it not written, "the sleep of the labouring man is sweet"? and our travellers experienced the truth of the statement that night in very romantic circumstances. the small rocky islet, not more than a few hundred yards in diameter, which they now approached, had several sheltered sandy bays on its shore, which were convenient for landing. the centre was clothed with palm-trees and underwood, so that fuel could be procured, and cocoa-nuts. "sometimes," said the hermit, while he stooped to arrange the fire, after the canoe and cargo had been carried to their camping-place at the edge of the bushes,--"sometimes it is necessary to keep concealed while travelling in these regions, and i carry a little spirit-lamp which enables me to heat a cup of tea or coffee without making a dangerous blaze; but here there is little risk in kindling a fire." "i should not have thought there was any risk at all in these peaceful times," said nigel, as he unstrapped his blanket and spread it on the ground under an overhanging bush. "there are no peaceful times among pirates," returned the hermit; "and some of the traders in this archipelago are little better than pirates." "where i puts your bed, massa?" asked moses, turning his huge eyes on his master. "there--under the bush, beside nigel." "an' where would _you_ like to sleep, massa spinkie?" added the negro, with a low obeisance to the monkey, which sat on the top of what seemed to be its favourite seat--a water-cask. spinkie treated the question with calm contempt, turned his head languidly to one side, and scratched himself. "unpurliteness is your k'racter from skin to marrow, you son of a insolent mother!" said moses, shaking his fist, whereat spinkie, promptly making an o of his mouth, looked fierce. the sagacious creature remained where he was till after supper, which consisted of another roast fowl--hot this time--and ship's-biscuit washed down with coffee. of course spinkie's portion consisted only of the biscuit with a few scraps of cocoa-nut. having received it he quietly retired to his native wilds, with the intention of sleeping there, according to custom, till morning; but his repose was destined to be broken, as we shall see. after supper, the hermit, stretching himself on his blanket, filled an enormous meerschaum, and began to smoke. the negro, rolling up a little tobacco in tissue paper, sat down, tailor-wise, and followed his master's example, while our hero--who did not smoke--lay between them, and gazed contemplatively over the fire at the calm dark sea beyond, enjoying the aroma of his coffee. "from what you have told me of your former trading expeditions," said nigel, looking at his friend, "you must have seen a good deal of this archipelago before you took--excuse me--to the hermit life." "ay--a good deal." "have you ever travelled in the interior of the larger islands?" asked nigel, in the hope of drawing from him some account of his experiences with wild beasts or wild men--he did not care which, so long as they were wild! "yes, in all of them," returned the hermit, curtly, for he was not fond of talking about himself. "i suppose the larger islands are densely wooded?" continued nigel interrogatively. "they are, very." "but the wood is not of much value, i fancy, in the way of trade," pursued our hero, adopting another line of attack which proved successful, for van der kemp turned his eyes on him with a look of surprise that almost forced him to laugh. "not of much value in the way of trade!" he repeated--"forgive me, if i express surprise that you seem to know so little about us--but, after all, the world is large, and one cannot become deeply versed in everything." having uttered this truism, the hermit resumed his meerschaum and continued to gaze thoughtfully at the embers of the fire. he remained so long silent that nigel began to despair, but thought he would try him once again on the same lines. "i suppose," he said in a careless way, "that none of the islands are big enough to contain many of the larger wild animals." "my friend," returned van der kemp, with a smile of urbanity, as he refilled his pipe, "it is evident that you do not know much about our archipelago. borneo, to the woods and wild animals of which i hope ere long to introduce you, is so large that if you were to put your british islands, including ireland, down on it they would be engulfed and surrounded by a sea of forests. new guinea is, perhaps, larger than borneo. sumatra is only a little smaller. france is not so large as some of our islands. java, luzon, and celebes are each about equal in size to ireland. eighteen more islands are, on the average, as large as jamaica, more than a hundred are as large as the isle of wight, and the smaller isles and islets are innumerable. in short, our archipelago is comparable with any of the primary divisions of the globe, being full miles in length from east to west and about , in breadth from north to south, and would in extent more than cover the whole of europe." it was evident to nigel that he had at length succeeded in opening the flood-gates. the hermit paused for a few moments and puffed at the meerschaum, while moses glared at his master with absorbed interest, and pulled at the cigarette with such oblivious vigour that he drew it into his mouth at last, spat it out, and prepared another. nigel sat quite silent and waited for more. "as to trade," continued van der kemp, resuming his discourse in a lower tone, "why, of gold--the great representative of wealth--we export from sumatra alone over , ounces annually, and among other gold regions we have a mount ophir in the malay peninsula from which there is a considerable annual export." continuing his discourse, van der kemp told a great deal more about the products of these prolific islands with considerable enthusiasm--as one who somewhat resented the underrating of his native land. "were you born in this region, van der kemp?" asked nigel, during a brief pause. "i was--in java. my father, as my name tells, was of dutch descent. my mother was irish. both are dead." he stopped. the fire that had been aroused seemed to die down, and he continued to smoke with the sad absent look which was peculiar to him. "and what about large game?" asked nigel, anxious to stir up his friend's enthusiasm again, but the hermit had sunk back into his usual condition of gentle dreaminess, and made no answer till the question had been repeated. "pardon me," he said, "i was dreaming of the days that are gone. ah! nigel; you are yet too young to understand the feelings of the old--the sad memories of happy years that can never return: of voices that are hushed for ever. no one can _know_ till he has _felt_!" "but you are not old," said nigel, wishing to turn the hermit's mind from a subject on which it seemed to dwell too constantly. "not in years," he returned; "but old, _very_ old in experience, and-- stay, what was it that you were asking about? ah, the big game. well, we have plenty of that in some of the larger of the islands; we have the elephant, the rhinoceros, the tiger, the puma, that great man-monkey the orang-utan, or, as it is called here, the mias, besides wild pigs, deer, and innumerable smaller animals and birds--" the hermit stopped abruptly and sat motionless, with his head bent on one side, like one who listens intently. such an action is always infectious. nigel and the negro also listened, but heard nothing. by that time the fire had died down, and, not being required for warmth, had not been replenished. the faint light of the coming moon, which, however, was not yet above the horizon, only seemed to render darkness visible, so that the figure of moses was quite lost in the shadow of the bush behind him, though the whites of his solemn eyes appeared like two glow-worms. "do you hear anything?" asked nigel in a low tone. "oars," answered the hermit. "i hear 'im, massa," whispered the negro, "but das not su'prisin'-- plenty boats about." "this boat approaches the island, and i can tell by the sound that it is a large _prahu_. if it touches here it will be for the purpose of spending the night, and malay boatmen are not always agreeable neighbours. however, it is not likely they will ramble far from where they land, so we may escape observation if we keep quiet." as he spoke he emptied the remains of the coffee on the dying fire and effectually put it out. meanwhile the sound of oars had become quite distinct, and, as had been anticipated, the crew ran their boat into one of the sandy bays and leaped ashore with a good deal of shouting and noise. fortunately they had landed on the opposite side of the islet, and as the bush on it was very dense there was not much probability of any one crossing over. our voyagers therefore lay close, resolving to be off in the morning before the unwelcome visitors were stirring. as the three lay there wrapped in their blankets and gazing contemplatively at the now risen moon, voices were heard as if of men approaching. it was soon found that two of the strangers had sauntered round by the beach and were slowly drawing near the encampment. nigel observed that the hermit had raised himself on one elbow and seemed to be again listening intently. the two men halted on reaching the top of the ridges of rock which formed one side of the little bay, and their voices became audible though too far distant to admit of words being distinguishable. at the same time their forms were clearly defined against the sky. nigel glanced at van der kemp and was startled by the change that had come over him. the moonbeams, which had by that time risen above some intervening shrubs, shone full on him and showed that his usually quiet gentle countenance was deadly pale and transformed by a frown of almost tiger-like ferocity. so strange and unaccountable did this seem to our hero that he lay quite still, as if spell-bound. nor did his companions move until the strangers, having finished their talk, turned to retrace their steps and finally disappeared. then van der kemp rose with a sigh of relief. the negro and nigel also sprang up. "what's wrong, massa?" asked moses, in much anxiety. "nothing, nothing," said the hermit hurriedly. "i must cross over to see these fellows." "all right, massa. i go wid you." "no, i go alone." "not widout arms?" exclaimed the negro, laying his hand on his master's shoulder. "yes, without arms!" as he spoke he drew the long knife that usually hung at his girdle and flung it down. "now attend, both of you," he added, with sudden and almost threatening earnestness. "do not on any account follow me. i am quite able to take care of myself." next moment he glided into the bushes and was gone. "can you guess what is the matter with him?" asked nigel, turning to his companion with a perplexed look. "not more nor de man ob de moon. i nebber saw'd 'im like dat before. i t'ink he's go mad! i tell you what--i'll foller him wid a rifle an' knife and two revolvers." "you'll do nothing of the sort," said nigel, laying hold of the negro's wrist with a grip of iron; "when a man like van der kemp gives an order it's the duty of inferior men like you and me strictly to obey." "well--p'raps you're right, nadgel," returned moses calmly. "if you wasn't, i'd knock you into de middle ob nixt week for takin' a grip o' me like dat." "you'll wish yourself into the middle of next fortnight if you disobey orders," returned our hero, tightening the grip. moses threw back his head, opened his cavern, and laughed silently; at the same time he twisted his arm free with a sudden wrench. "you's awrful strong, nadgel, but you don't quite come up to niggers! howse'ber, you's right. i'll obey orders; neberdeless i'll get ready for action." so saying, the negro extracted from the canoe several revolvers, two of which he handed to nigel, two he thrust into his own belt, and two he laid handy for "massa" when he should return. "now, if you're smart at arit'metic, you'll see dat six time six am t'irty-six, and two double guns das forty-forty dead men's more'n enuff--besides de knives." moses had barely finished these deadly preparations when van der kemp returned as quietly as he had gone. his face was still fierce and haggard, and his manner hurried though quite decided. "i have seen him," he said, in a low voice. "seen who?" asked nigel. "him whom i had hoped and prayed never more to see. my enemy! come, quick, we must leave at once, and without attracting their notice." he gave his comrades no time to put further questions, but laid hold of one end of the canoe; moses took the other end and it was launched in a few seconds, while nigel carried down such part of the lading as had been taken out. five minutes sufficed to put all on board, and that space of time was also sufficient to enable spinkie to observe from his retreat in the bushes that a departure was about to take place; he therefore made for the shore with all speed and bounded to his accustomed place beside the mast. taking their places they pushed off so softly that they might well have been taken for phantoms. a cloud conveniently hid the moon at the time. each man plied his paddle with noiseless but powerful stroke, and long before the cloud uncovered the face of the queen of night they were shooting far away over the tranquil sea. chapter twelve. weathering a storm in the open sea. in profound silence they continued to paddle until there was no chance of their being seen by the party on the islet. then van der kemp rested his paddle in front of him and looked slowly round the horizon and up at the sky as if studying the weather. nigel longed to ask him more about the men they had seen, and of this "enemy" whom he had mentioned, but there was that in the hermit's grave look which forbade questioning, and indeed nigel now knew from experience that it would be useless to press him to speak on any subject in regard to which he chose to be reticent. "i don't like the look of the sky," he said at last. "we are going to have a squall, i fear." "had we not better run for the nearest land?" said nigel, who, although not yet experienced in the signs of the weather in those equatorial regions, had quite enough of knowledge to perceive that bad weather of some sort was probably approaching. "the nearest island is a good way off," returned the hermit, "and we might miss it in the dark, for daylight won't help us yet awhile. no, we will continue our course and accept what god sends." this remark seemed to our hero to savour of unreasoning contempt of danger, for the facing of a tropical squall in such an eggshell appeared to him the height of folly. he ventured to reply, therefore, in a tone of remonstrance-- "god sends us the capacity to appreciate danger, van der kemp, and the power to take precautions." "he does, nigel--therefore i intend to use both the capacity and the power." there was a tone of finality in this speech which effectually sealed nigel's lips, and, in truth, his ever-increasing trust in the wisdom, power, and resource of his friend indisposed him to further remark. the night had by this time become intensely dark, for a bank of black cloud had crept slowly over the sky and blotted out the moon. this cloud extended itself slowly, obliterating, ere long, most of the stars also, so that it was scarcely possible to distinguish any object more than a yard or two in advance of them. the dead calm, however, continued unbroken, and the few of heaven's lights which still glimmered through the obscurity above were clearly reflected in the great black mirror below. only the faint gleam of krakatoa's threatening fires was visible on the horizon, while the occasional boom of its artillery sounded in their ears. it was impossible for any inexperienced man, however courageous, to avoid feelings of awe, almost amounting to dread, in the circumstances, and nigel--as he tried to penetrate the darkness around him and glanced at the narrow craft in which he sat and over the sides of which he could dip both hands at once into the sea--might be excused for wishing, with all his heart, that he were safely on shore, or on the deck of his father's brig. his feelings were by no means relieved when van der kemp said, in a low soliloquising tone-- "the steamers will constitute our chief danger to-night. they come on with such a rush that it is not easy to make out how they are steering, so as to get out of their way in time." "but should we not hear them coming a long way off?" asked nigel. "ay. it is not during a calm like this that we run risk, but when the gale begins to blow we cannot hear, and shall not, perhaps, see very well." as he spoke the hermit lifted the covering of the fore-hatch and took out a small sail which he asked nigel to pass aft to the negro. "close-reef it, moses; we shall make use of the wind as long as possible. after that we will lay-to." "all right, massa," said the negro, in the same cheerful free-and-easy tone in which he was wont to express his willingness to obey orders whether trifling or important. "don' forgit spinkie, massa." "you may be sure i won't do that," replied the hermit. "come along, monkey!" evidently van der kemp had trained his dumb companion as thoroughly to prompt obedience as his black follower, for the little creature instantly bounded from its place by the mast on to the shoulder of its master, who bade it go into the place from which he had just extracted the sail. nigel could not see this--not only because of the darkness, but because of the intervention of the hermit's bulky person, but he understood what had taken place by the remark-- "that's a good little fellow. keep your head down, now, while i shut you in!" from the same place van der kemp had drawn a small triangular foresail, which he proceeded to attach to the bow of the canoe--running its point out by means of tackle laid along the deck--while moses was busy reefing the mainsail. from the same repository were extracted three waterproof coats, which, when put on by the canoemen, the tails thrust below deck, and the aprons drawn over them and belted round their waists, protected their persons almost completely from water. "now, nigel," said the hermit, "unship the mast, reeve the halyard of this foresail through the top and then re-ship it. moses will give you the mainsail when ready, and you can hook the halyards on to it. the thing is too simple to require explanation to a sailor. i attend to the foresail and moses manages the mainsheet, but you have to mind the halyards of both, which, as you would see if it were light enough, run down alongside the mast. all i ask you to remember is to be smart in obeying orders, for squalls are sometimes very sudden here--but i doubt not that such a caution is needless." "i'll do my best," said nigel. by this time a slight puff of air had ruffled the sea, thereby intensifying, if possible, the blackness which already prevailed. the tiny sails caught the puff, causing the canoe to lean slightly over, and glide with a rippling sound through the water, while moses steered by means of his paddle. "you have put spinkie down below, i think," said nigel, who had been struck more than once with the hermit's extreme tenderness and care of the little creature. "yes, to prevent it from being washed overboard. i nearly lost the poor little thing once or twice, and now when we are likely to be caught in bad weather i put him below." "is he not apt to be suffocated?" asked nigel. "with everything made so tight to prevent water getting into the canoe, you necessarily prevent air entering also." "i see you have a mechanical turn of mind," returned the hermit. "you are right. yet in so large a canoe the air would last a considerable time to satisfy a monkey. nevertheless, i have made provision for that. there is a short tube alongside the mast, and fixed to it, which runs a little below the deck and rises a foot above it so as to be well above the wash of most waves, and in the deck near the stern there is a small hole with a cap fitted so as to turn the water but admit the air. thus free circulation of air is established below deck." suddenly a hissing sound was heard to windward. "look out, moses," said van der kemp. "there it comes. let go the sheet. keep good hold of your paddle, nigel." the warning was by no means unnecessary, for as the canoe's head was turned to meet the blast, a hissing sheet of white water swept right over the tiny craft, completely submerging it, insomuch that the three men appeared to be sitting more than waist-deep in the water. "lower the mainsail!" shouted the hermit, for the noise of wind and sea had become deafening. nigel obeyed and held on to the flapping sheet. the hermit had at the same moment let go the foresail, the flapping of which he controlled by a rope-tackle arranged for the purpose. he then grasped his single-blade paddle and aided moses in keeping her head to wind and sea. for a few minutes this was all that could be done. then the first violence of the squall passed off, allowing the deck of the little craft to appear above the tormented water. soon the waves began to rise. the mere keeping of the canoe's head to wind required all the attention of both master and man, while nigel sat waiting for orders and looking on with mingled feelings of surprise and curiosity. of course they were all three wet to the skin, for the water had got up their sleeves and down their necks; but, being warm, that mattered little, and the oiled aprons before mentioned, being securely fastened round their waists, effectually prevented any of it from getting below save the little that passed through the thickness of their own garments. no word was spoken for at least a quarter of an hour, during which time, although they rose buoyantly on the water, the waves washed continually over the low-lying deck. as this deck was flush with the gunwale, or rather, had no gunwale at all, the water ran off it as it does off a whale's back. then there came a momentary lull. "now, moses--'bout ship!" shouted van der kemp. "stand by, nigel!" "ay, ay, sir." although the canoe was long--and therefore unfitted to turn quickly--the powerful strokes of the two paddles in what may be called counteracting-harmony brought the little craft right round with her stern to the waves. "hoist away, nigel! we must run right before it now." up went the mainsail, the tiny foresail bulged out at the same moment, and away they went like the driving foam, appearing almost to leap from wave to wave. all sense of danger was now overwhelmed in nigel's mind by that feeling of excitement and wild delight which accompanies some kinds of rapid motion. this was, if possible, intensified by the crashing thunder which now burst forth and the vivid lightning which began to play, revealing from time to time the tumultuous turmoil as if in clearest moonlight, only to plunge it again in still blacker night. by degrees the gale increased in fury, and it soon became evident that neither sails nor cordage could long withstand the strain to which they were subjected. "a'most too much, massa," said the negro in a suggestive shout. "right, moses," returned his master. "i was just thinking we must risk it." "risk what? i wonder," thought nigel. he had not long to wait for an answer to his thought. "down wi' the mainsail," was quickly followed by the lowering of the foresail until not more than a mere corner was shown, merely to keep the canoe end-on to the seas. soon even this was lowered, and van der kemp used his double-blade paddle to keep them in position, at the same time telling nigel to unship the mast. "and plug the hole with that," he added, handing him a bit of wood which exactly fitted the hole in the deck. watching for another lull in the blast, the hermit at last gave the order, and round they came as before, head to wind, but not quite so easily, and nigel felt that they had narrowly escaped overturning in the operation. "keep her so, moses. you can help with your paddle, nigel, while i get ready our anchor." "anchor!" exclaimed our hero in amazement--obeying orders, however, at the same moment. the hermit either did not hear the exclamation or did not care to notice it. he quickly collected the mast and sails, with a couple of boat-hooks and all the paddles excepting two single ones. these he bound together by means of the sheets and halyards, attached the whole to a hawser,--one end of which passed through an iron ring at the bow-- and tossed it into the sea--paying out the hawser rapidly at the same time so as to put a few yards between them and their floating anchor--if it may be so called--in the lee of which they prepared to ride out the gale. it was well that they had taken the precaution to put on their waterproofs before the gale began, because, while turned head to wind every breaking wave swept right over their heads, and even now while under the lee of the floating anchor they were for some time almost continually overwhelmed by thick spray. being, however, set free from the necessity of keeping their tiny craft in position, they all bowed their heads on the deck, sheltered their faces in their hands and awaited the end! whilst in this attitude--so like to that of prayer--nigel almost naturally thought of him who holds the water in the hollow of his hand, and lifted his soul to god; for, amid the roaring of the gale, the flashes of lightning, the appalling thunder, the feeling that he was in reality all but under the waves and the knowledge that the proverbial plank between him and death was of the very thinnest description, a sensation of helplessness and of dependence on the almighty, such as he had never before experienced, crept over him. what the thoughts of the hermit were he could not tell, for that strange man seldom spoke about himself; but moses was not so reticent, for he afterwards remarked that he had often been caught by gales while in the canoe, and had been attached for hours to their floating anchor, but that "dat was out ob sight de wust bust ob wedder dey'd had since dey come to lib at krakatoa, an' he had bery nigh giben up in despair!" the use of the floating breakwater was to meet the full force of the seas and break them just before they reached the canoe. in spite of this some of them were so tremendous that, broken though they were, the swirling foam completely buried the craft for a second or two, but the sharp bow cut its way through, and the water poured off the deck and off the stooping figures like rain from a duck's back. of course a good deal got in at their necks, sleeves, and other small openings, and wet them considerably, but that, as moses remarked, "was not'ing to speak ob." thus they lay tossing in the midst of the raging foam for several hours. now and then each would raise his head a little to see that the rope held fast, but was glad to lower it again. they hardly knew when day broke. it was so slow in coming, and so gloomy and dark when it did come, that the glare of the lightning-flash seemed more cheerful. it may be easily believed that there was no conversation during those hours of elemental strife, though the thoughts of each were busy enough. at last the thunder ceased, or, rather, retired as if in growling defiance of the world which it had failed to destroy. then the sky began to lighten a little, and although the wind did not materially abate in force it became more steady and equal. before noon, however, it had subsided so much that moses suggested the propriety of continuing the voyage. to this van der kemp agreed, and the floating anchor was hauled in; the large paddle was resumed by the hermit, and the dangerous process of turning the canoe was successfully accomplished. when the mast was again set up and the close-reefed main and foresails were hoisted, the light craft bounded away once more before the wind like a fleck of foam. then a gleam of sunshine forced its way through the driving clouds, and painted a spot of emerald green on the heaving sea. soon after that van der kemp opened the lid, or hatch, of the fore-hold, and spinkie, jumping out with alacrity, took possession of his usual seat beside the mast, to which he clung with affectionate tenacity. gradually the wind went down. reef after reef of the two sails was shaken out, and for several hours thereafter our travellers sped merrily on, plunging into the troughs and cutting through the crests of the stormy sea. chapter thirteen. friends are met with, also pirates, and a life-or-death paddle ensues. in physics, as in morals, a storm is frequently the precursor of a dead calm. much to the monkey's joy, to say nothing of the men, the sun ere long asserted its equatorial power, and, clearing away the clouds, allowed the celestial blue to smile on the turmoil below. the first result of that smile was that the wind retired to its secret chambers, leaving the ships of men to flap their idle sails. then the ocean ceased to fume, though its agitated bosom still continued for some time to heave. gradually the swell went down and soon the unruffled surface reflected a dimpling smile to the sky. when this happy stage had been reached our voyagers lowered and stowed the canoe-sails, and continued to advance under paddles. "we get along wonderfully fast, van der kemp," said nigel, while resting after a pretty long spell; "but it seems to me, nevertheless, that we shall take a considerable time to reach borneo at this rate, seeing that it must be over two hundred miles away, and if we have much bad weather or contrary wind, we shan't be able to reach it for weeks--if at all." "i have been thrown somewhat out of my reckoning," returned the hermit, "by having to fly from the party on the islet, where i meant to remain till a steamer, owned by a friend of mine, should pass and pick us up, canoe and all. the steamer is a short-voyage craft, and usually so punctual that i can count on it to a day. but it may have passed us in the gale. if so, i shall take advantage of the first vessel that will agree to lend us a hand." "how!--do you get them to tow you?" "nay, that were impossible. a jerk from the tow-rope of a steamer at full speed would tear us asunder. have you observed these two strong ropes running all round our gunwale, and the bridles across with ring-bolts in them?" "i have, and did not ask their use, as i thought they were merely meant to strengthen the canoe." "so they are," continued the hermit, "but they have other uses besides--" "massa," cried moses, at this point. "you'll 'scuse me for 'truptin' you, but it's my opinion dat spinkie's sufferin' jus' now from a empty stummik!" the hermit smiled and nigel laughed. laying down his paddle the former said-- "i understand, moses. that speech means that you are suffering from the same complaint. well--get out the biscuit." "jus' de way ob de wurld," muttered the negro with a bland smile. "if a poor man obsarves an feels for de sorrows ob anoder, he allers gits credit for t'inkin' ob his-self. neber mind, i's used to it!" evidently the unjust insinuation did not weigh heavily on the negro's spirit, for he soon began to eat with the appetite of a healthy alligator. while he was thus engaged, he chanced to raise his eyes towards the south-western horizon, and there saw something which caused him to splutter, for his mouth was too full to speak, but his speaking eyes and pointing finger caused his companions to turn their faces quickly to the quarter indicated. "a steamer!" exclaimed the hermit and nigel in the same breath. the vessel in question was coming straight towards them, and a very short time enabled van der kemp to recognise with satisfaction the steamer owned by his friend. "look here, run that to the mast-head," said van der kemp, handing a red flag to nigel. "we lie so low in the water that they might pass quite close without observing us if we showed no signal." an immediate, though slight, change in the course of the steamer showed that the signal had been seen. hereupon the hermit and moses performed an operation on the canoe which still farther aroused nigel's surprise and curiosity. he resolved to ask no questions, however, but to await the issue of events. from the marvellous hold of the canoe, which seemed to be a magazine for the supply of every human need, moses drew a short but strong rope or cable, with a ring in the middle of it, and a hook at each end. he passed one end along to his master who hooked it to the bridle-rope at the bow before referred to. the other end was hooked to the bridle in the stern, so that the ring in the centre came close to nigel's elbow. this arrangement had barely been completed when the steamer was within hail, but no hail was given, for the captain knew what was expected of him. he reduced speed as the vessel approached the canoe, and finally came almost to a stop as he ranged alongside. "what cheer, van der kemp? d'ye want a lift to-day?" shouted the skipper, looking over the side. a nod and a wave of the hand was the hermit's reply. "heave a rope, boys--bow and stern--and lower away the tackle," was the skipper's order. a coil was flung to van der kemp, who deftly caught it and held on tight. another was flung to moses, who also caught it and held on-- slack. at the same moment, nigel saw a large block with a hook attached descending towards his head. "catch it, nigel, and hook it to the ring at your elbow," said the hermit. our hero obeyed, still in surprise, though a glimmer of what was to follow began to dawn. "haul away!" shouted the skipper, and next moment the canoe was swinging in the air, kept in position by the lines in the hands of van der kemp and moses. at the same time another order was given, and the steamer went ahead full speed. it was all so suddenly done, and seemed such a reckless proceeding, that nigel found himself on the steamer's deck, with the canoe reposing beside him, before he had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to acknowledge in suitable terms the welcome greeting of the hospitable skipper. "you see, nigel," said van der kemp that night, as the two friends paced the deck together after supper, "i have other means, besides paddles and sails, of getting quickly about in the java seas. many of the traders and skippers here know me, and give me a lift in this way when i require it." "very kind of them, and very convenient," returned nigel. he felt inclined to add: "but why all this moving about?" for it was quite evident that trade was not the hermit's object, but the question, as usual, died on his lips, and he somewhat suddenly changed the subject. "d'ye know, van der kemp, that i feel as if i must have seen you somewhere or other before now, for your features seem strangely familiar to me. have you ever been in england?" "never. as i have told you, i was born in java, and was educated in hong kong at an english school. but a fancy of this sort is not very uncommon. i myself once met a perfect stranger who bore so strong a resemblance to an old friend, that i spoke to him as such, and only found out from his voice that i was mistaken." the captain of the steamer came on deck at that moment and cut short the conversation. "are you engaged, van der kemp?" he asked. "no--i am at your service." "come below then, i want to have a talk with you." thus left alone, and overhearing a loud burst of laughter at the fore part of the steamer, nigel went forward to see what was going on. he found a group of sailors round his comrade moses, apparently engaged in good-natured "chaff." "come, now, blackey," said one; "be a good fellow for once in your life an' tell us what makes your master live on a desert island like robinson crusoe, an' go about the ocean in a canoe." "look 'ere now, whitey," returned moses, "what you take me for?" "a nigger, of course." "ob course, an' you're right for once, which is such an unusual t'ing dat i 'dvise you go an' ax de cappen to make a note ob it in de log. i's a nigger, an a nigger's so much more 'cute dan a white man dat you shouldn't ought to expect him to blab his massa's secrets." "right you are, moses. come, then, if you won't reveal secrets, give us a song." "couldn't t'ink ob such a t'ing," said the negro, with a solemn, remonstrant shake of the head. "why not?" "'cause i neber sing a song widout a moral, an' i don't like to hurt your feelin's by singin' a moral dat would be sure to waken up _some_ o' your consciences." "never mind that, darkey. our consciences are pretty tough. heave ahead." "but dere's a chorus," said moses, looking round doubtfully. "what o' that? we'll do our best with it--if it ain't too difficult." "oh, it's not diffikilt, but if de lazy fellers among you sings de chorus dey'll be singin' lies, an' i don't 'zackly like to help men to tell lies. howseber, here goes. it begins wid de chorus so's you may know it afore you has to sing it." so saying, moses struck two fingers on the capstan after the manner of a tuning-fork, and, holding them gravely to his ear as if to get the right pitch, began in a really fine manly voice to chant the following ditty:-- "go to work." oh when de sun am shinin' bright, and eberyt'ing am fair, clap on de steam an' go to work, an' take your proper share. de wurld hab got to go ahead, an' dem what's young and strong mus' do deir best, wid all de rest, to roll de wurld along. de lazy man does all he can to stop its whirlin' round. if he was king he'd loaf an' sing--and guzzle, i'll be bound, he always shirk de hardest work, an' t'ink he's awful clebbar, but boder his head to earn his bread, oh! no, he'll nebber, nebber. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etcetera. de selfish man would rader dan put out his hand to work, let women toil, an' sweat and moil--as wicked as de turk. de cream ob eberyt'ing he wants, let oders hab de skim; in fact de wurld and all it holds was only made for him. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etcetera. so keep de ball a-rollin', boys, an' each one do his best to make de wurld a happy one--for dat's how man is blest. do unto oders all around de t'ing what's good and true, an' oders, 'turning tit for tat, will do do same to you. _chorus_--oh when de sun, etcetera. the sailors, who were evidently much pleased, took up the chorus moderately at the second verse, came out strong at the third, and sang with such genuine fervour at the last that it was quite evident, as moses remarked, there was not a lazy man amongst them--at least, if they all sang conscientiously! the weather improved every hour, and after a fine run of about twenty-four hours over that part of the malay sea, our three voyagers were lowered over the steamer's side in their canoe when within sight of the great island of borneo. "i'm sorry," said the captain at parting, "that our courses diverge here, for i would gladly have had your company a little longer. good-bye. i hope we'll come across you some other time when i'm in these parts." "thanks--thanks, my friend," replied van der kemp, with a warm grip of the hand, and a touch of pathos in his tones. "i trust that we shall meet again. you have done me good service by shortening my voyage considerably.--farewell." "i say, moses," shouted one of the seamen, as he looked down on the tiny canoe while they were pushing off. "hallo?" "keep your heart up, for--we'll try to `do to oders all around de t'ing what's good an' true!'" "das de way, boy--`an' oders, 'turning tit for tat, will do de same to you!'" he yelled rather than sang this at the top of his tuneful voice, and waved his hand as the sharp craft shot away over the sea. fortunately the sea was calm, for it was growing dark when they reached the shores of borneo and entered the mouth of a small stream, up which they proceeded to paddle. the banks of the stream were clothed with mangrove trees. we have said the banks, but in truth the mouth of that river had no distinguishable banks at all, for it is the nature of the mangrove to grow in the water--using its roots as legs with which, as it were, to wade away from shore. when darkness fell suddenly on the landscape, as it is prone to do in tropical regions, the gnarled roots of those mangroves assumed the appearance of twining snakes in nigel's eyes. possessing a strongly imaginative mind he could with difficulty resist the belief that he saw them moving slimily about in the black water, and, in the dim mysterious light, tree-stems and other objects assumed the appearance of hideous living forms, so that he was enabled to indulge the uncomfortable fancy that they were traversing some terrestrial styx into one of dante's regions of horror. in some respects this was not altogether a fancy, for they were unwittingly drawing near to a band of human beings whose purposes, if fully carried out, would render the earth little better than a hell to many of their countrymen. it is pretty well-known that there is a class of men in borneo called head hunters. these men hold the extraordinary and gruesome opinion that a youth has not attained to respectable manhood until he has taken the life of some human being. there are two distinct classes of dyaks--those who inhabit the hills and those who dwell on the sea-coast. it is the latter who recruit the ranks of the pirates of those eastern seas, and it was to the camp of a band of such villains that our adventurers were, as already said, unwittingly drawing near. they came upon them at a bend of the dark river beyond which point the mangroves gave place to other trees--but what sort of trees they were it was scarcely light enough to make out very distinctly, except in the case of the particular tree in front of which the dyaks were encamped, the roots of which were strongly illuminated by their camp fire. we say _roots_ advisedly, for this singular and gigantic tree started its branches from a complexity of aerial roots which themselves formed a pyramid some sixty feet high, before the branches proper of the tree began. if our voyagers had used oars the sharp ears of the pirates would have instantly detected them. as it was, the softly moving paddles and the sharp cutwater of the canoe made no noise whatever. the instant that van der kemp, from his position in the bow, observed the camp, he dipped his paddle deep, and noiselessly backed water. there was no need to give any signal to his servant. such a thorough understanding existed between them that the mere action of the hermit was sufficient to induce the negro to support him by a similar movement on the opposite side, and the canoe glided as quickly backward as it had previously advanced. when under the deep shadow of the bank moses thrust the canoe close in, and his master, laying hold of the bushes, held fast and made a sign to him to land and reconnoitre. creeping forward to an opening in the bushes close at hand, moses peeped through. then he turned and made facial signals of a kind so complicated that he could not be understood, as nothing was visible save the flashing of his teeth and eyes. van der kemp therefore recalled him by a sign, and, stepping ashore, whispered nigel to land. another minute and the three travellers stood on the bank with their heads close together. "wait here for me," said the hermit, in the lowest possible whisper. "i will go and see who they are." "strange," said nigel, when he was gone; "strange that in so short a time your master should twice have to stalk strangers in this way. history repeats itself, they say. it appears to do so rather fast in these regions! does he not run a very great risk of being discovered?" "not de smallest," replied the negro, with as much emphasis as was possible in a whisper. "massa hab ride wid de vaquieros ob ameriky an' hunt wid de injuns on de rockies. no more fear ob deir ketchin' him dan ob ketchin' a streak o' lightnin'. he come back bery soon wid all de news." moses was a true prophet. within half-an-hour van der kemp returned as noiselessly as he had gone. he did not keep them long in uncertainty. "i have heard enough," he whispered, "to assure me that a plot, of which i had already heard a rumour, has nearly been laid. we fell in with the chief plotters on the islet the other night; the band here is in connection with them and awaits their arrival before carrying out their dark designs. there is nothing very mysterious about it. one tribe plotting to attack another--that is all; but as a friend of mine dwells just now with the tribe to be secretly attacked, it behoves me to do what i can to save him. i am perplexed, however. it would seem sometimes as if we were left in perplexity for wise purposes which are beyond our knowledge." "perhaps to test our willingness to _do right_," suggested nigel. "i know not," returned the hermit, as if musing, but never raising his voice above the softest whisper. "my difficulty lies here; i _must_ go forward to save the life of my friend. i must _not_ leave you at the mouth of a mangrove river to die or be captured by pirates, and yet i have no right to ask you to risk your life on my account!" "you may dismiss your perplexities then," said nigel, promptly, "for i decline to be left to die here or to be caught by pirates, and i am particularly anxious to assist you in rescuing your friend. besides, am i not your hired servant?" "the risk we run is only at the beginning," said van der kemp. "if we succeed in passing the dyaks unseen all will be well. if they see us, they will give chase, and our lives, under god, will depend on the strength of our arms, for i am known to them and have thwarted their plans before now. if they catch us, death will be our certain doom. are you prepared?" "ready!" whispered nigel. without another word the hermit took his place in the bow of the canoe. moses stepped into the stern, and our hero sat down in the middle. before pushing off, the hermit drew a revolver and a cutlass from his store-room in the bow and handed them to nigel, who thrust the first into his belt and fastened the other to the deck by means of a strap fixed there on purpose to prevent its being rolled or swept off. this contrivance, as well as all the other appliances in the canoe, had previously been pointed out and explained to him. the hermit and negro having armed themselves in similar way, let go the bushes which held them close to the bank and floated out into the stream. they let the canoe drift down a short way so as to be well concealed by the bend in the river and a mass of bushes. then they slowly paddled over to the opposite side, and commenced to creep up as close to the bank as possible, under the deep shadow of overhanging trees, and so noiselessly that they appeared in the darkness like a passing phantom. but the sharp eyes of the pirates were too much accustomed to phantoms of every kind to be easily deceived. just as the canoe was about to pass beyond the line of their vision a stir was heard in their camp. then a stern challenge rolled across the river and awoke the slumbering echoes of the forest--perchance to the surprise and scaring away of some prowling beast of prey. "no need for concealment now," said van der kemp, quietly; "we must paddle for life. if you have occasion to use your weapons, nigel, take no life needlessly. moses knows my mind on this point and needs no warning. any fool can take away life. only god can give it." "i will be careful," replied nigel, as he dipped his paddle with all the muscular power at his command. his comrades did the same, and the canoe shot up the river like an arrow. a yell from the dyaks, and the noise of jumping into and pushing off their boats told that there was no time to lose. "they are strong men, and plenty of them to relieve each other," said the hermit, who now spoke in his ordinary tones, "so they have some chance of overhauling us in the smooth water; but a few miles further up there is a rapid which will stop them and will only check us. if we can reach it we shall be safe." while he was speaking every muscle in his broad back and arms was strained to the uttermost; so also were the muscles of his companions, and the canoe seemed to advance by a series of rapid leaps and bounds. yet the sound of the pursuers' oars seemed to increase, and soon the proverb "it is the pace that kills" received illustration, for the speed of the canoe began to decrease a little--very little at first--while the pursuers, with fresh hands at the oars, gradually overhauled the fugitives. "put on a spurt!" said the hermit, setting the example. the pirates heard the words and understood either them or the action that followed, for they also "put on a spurt," and encouraged each other with a cheer. moses heard the cheer, and at the same time heard the sound of the rapid to which they were by that time drawing near. he glanced over his shoulder and could make out the dim form of the leading boat, with a tall figure standing up in the bow, not thirty yards behind. "shall we manage it, moses?" asked van der kemp, in that calm steady voice which seemed to be unchangeable either by anxiety or peril. "no, massa. unpossable--widout _dis_." the negro drew the revolver from his belt, slewed round, took rapid aim and fired. the tall figure in the bow of the boat fell back with a crash and a hideous yell. great shouting and confusion followed, and the boat dropped behind. a few minutes later and the canoe was leaping over the surges of a shallow rapid. they dashed from eddy to eddy, taking advantage of every stone that formed a tail of backwater below it, and gradually worked the light craft upward in a way that the hermit and his man had learned in the nor'-western rivers of america. "we are not safe yet," said the former, resting and wiping his brow as they floated for a few seconds in a calm basin at the head of the rapid. "surely they cannot take a boat up such a place as that!" "nay, but they can follow up the banks on foot. however, we will soon baffle them, for the river winds like a serpent just above this, and by carrying our canoe across one, two, or three spits of land we will gain a distance in an hour or so that would cost them nearly a day to ascend in boats. they know that, and will certainly give up the chase. i think they have given it up already, but it is well to make sure." "i wonder why they did not fire at us," remarked nigel. "probably because they felt sure of catching us," returned the hermit, "and when they recovered from the confusion that moses threw them into we were lost to them in darkness, besides being pretty well beyond range. i hope, moses, that you aimed low." "yes, massa--but it's sca'cely fair when life an' def am in de balance to expect me to hit 'im on de legs on a dark night. legs is a bad targit. bullet's apt to pass between 'em. howseber, dat feller won't hop much for some time to come!" a couple of hours later, having carried the canoe and baggage across the spits of land above referred to, and thus put at least half-a-day's journey between themselves and their foes, they came to a halt for the night. "it won't be easy to find a suitable place to camp on," remarked nigel, glancing at the bank, where the bushes grew so thick that they overhung the water, brushing the faces of our travellers and rendering the darkness so intense that they had literally to feel their way as they glided along. "we will encamp where we are," returned the hermit. "i'll make fast to a bush and you may get out the victuals, moses." "das de bery best word you've said dis day, massa," remarked the negro with a profound sigh. "i's pritty well tired now, an' de bery t'ought ob grub comforts me!" "do you mean that we shall sleep in the canoe?" asked nigel. "ay, why not?" returned the hermit, who could be heard, though not seen, busying himself with the contents of the fore locker. "you'll find the canoe a pretty fair bed. you have only to slip down and pull your head and shoulders through the manhole and go to sleep. you won't want blankets in this weather, and, see--there is a pillow for you and another for moses." "i cannot _see_, but i can feel," said nigel, with a soft laugh, as he passed the pillow aft. "t'ank ee, nadgel," said moses; "here--feel behind you an' you'll find grub for yourself an' some to pass forid to massa. mind when you slip down for go to sleep dat you don't dig your heels into massa's skull. dere's no bulkhead to purtect it." "i'll be careful," said nigel, beginning his invisible supper with keen appetite. "but how about _my_ skull, moses? is there a bulkhead between it and _your_ heels?" "no, but you don't need to mind, for i allers sleeps doubled up, wid my knees agin my chin. it makes de arms an' legs feel more sociable like." with this remark moses ceased to encourage conversation--his mouth being otherwise engaged. thereafter they slipped down into their respective places, laid their heads on their pillows and fell instantly into sound repose, while the dark waters flowed sluggishly past, and the only sound that disturbed the universal stillness was the occasional cry of some creature of the night or the flap of an alligator's tail. chapter fourteen. a new friend found--new dangers encountered and new hopes delayed. when grey dawn began to dispel the gloom of night, nigel roy awoke with an uncomfortable sensation of having been buried alive. stretching himself as was his wont he inadvertently touched the head of van der kemp, an exclamation from whom aroused moses, who, uncoiling himself, awoke spinkie. it was usually the privilege of that affectionate creature to nestle in the negro's bosom. with the alacrity peculiar to his race, spinkie sprang through the manhole and sat down in his particular place to superintend, perhaps to admire, the work of his human friends, whose dishevelled heads emerged simultaneously from their respective burrows. dawn is a period of the day when the spirit of man is calmly reflective. speech seemed distasteful that morning, and as each knew what had to be done, it was needless. the silently conducted operations of the men appeared to arouse fellow-feeling in the monkey, for its careworn countenance became more and more expressive as it gazed earnestly and alternately into the faces of its comrades. to all appearance it seemed about to speak--but it didn't. pushing out from the shore they paddled swiftly up stream, and soon put such a distance between them and their late pursuers that all risk of being overtaken was at an end. all day they advanced inland without rest, save at the breakfast hour, and again at mid-day to dine. towards evening they observed that the country through which they were passing had changed much in character and aspect. the low and swampy region had given place to hillocks and undulating ground, all covered with the beautiful virgin forest with its palms and creepers and noble fruit-trees and rich vegetation, conspicuous among which magnificent ferns of many kinds covered the steep banks of the stream. on rounding a point of the river the travellers came suddenly upon an interesting group, in the midst of a most beautiful woodland scene. under the trees on a flat spot by the river-bank were seated round a fire a man and a boy and a monkey. the monkey was a tame orang-utan, youthful but large. the boy was a dyak in light cotton drawers, with the upper part of his body naked, brass rings on his arms, heavy ornaments in his ears, and a bright kerchief worn as a turban on his head. the man was a sort of nondescript in a semi-european shooting garb, with a wide-brimmed sombrero on his head, black hair, a deeply tanned face, a snub nose, huge beard and moustache, and immense blue spectacles. something not unlike a cheer burst from the usually undemonstrative van der kemp on coming in sight of the party, and he waved his hand as if in recognition. the nondescript replied by starting to his feet, throwing up both arms and giving vent to an absolute roar of joy. "he seems to know you," remarked nigel, as they made for a landing-place. "yes. he is the friend i have come to rescue," replied the hermit in a tone of quiet satisfaction. "he is a naturalist and lives with the rajah against whom the pirates are plotting." "he don't look z'if he needs much rescuin'," remarked moses with a chuckle, as they drew to land. the man looked in truth as if he were well able to take care of himself in most circumstances, being of colossal bulk although somewhat short of limb. "ah! mein frond! mine brodder!" he exclaimed, in fairly idiomatic english, but with a broken pronunciation that was a mixture of dutch, american, and malay. his language therefore, like himself, was nondescript. in fact he was an american-born dutchman, who had been transported early in life to the straits settlements, had received most of his education in hong kong, was an old school-fellow of van der kemp, became an enthusiastic naturalist, and, being possessed of independent means, spent most of his time in wandering about the various islands of the archipelago, making extensive collections of animal and vegetable specimens, which he distributed with liberal hand to whatever museums at home or abroad seemed most to need or desire them. owing to his tastes and habits he had been dubbed professor by his friends. "ach! van der kemp," he exclaimed, while his coal-black eyes glittered as they shook hands, "_vat_ a bootterfly i saw to-day! it beat all creation! the vay it flew--oh! but, excuse me--v'ere did you come from, and vy do you come? an' who is your frond?" he turned to nigel as he spoke, and doffed his sombrero with a gracious bow. "an englishman--nigel roy--who has joined me for a few months," said the hermit. "let me introduce you, nigel, to my good friend, professor verkimier." nigel held out his hand and gave the naturalist's a shake so hearty, that a true friendship was begun on the spot--a friendship which was rapidly strengthened when the professor discovered that the english youth had a strong leaning towards his own favourite studies. "ve vill hont an' shot togezzer, mine frond," he said, on making this discovery, "ant i vill show you v'ere de best bootterflies are to be fount--oh! sooch a von as i saw to--but, excuse me, van der kemp. vy you come here joost now?" "to save _you_," said the hermit, with a scintillation of his half-pitiful smile. "to safe _me_!" exclaimed verkimier, with a look of surprise which was greatly intensified by the rotundity of the blue spectacles. "vell, i don't feel to vant safing joost at present." "it is not that danger threatens _you_ so much as your friend the rajah," returned the hermit. "but if he falls, all under his protection fall along with him. i happen to have heard of a conspiracy against him, on so large a scale that certain destruction would follow if he were taken by surprise, so i have come on in advance of the conspirators to warn him in time. you know i have received much kindness from the rajah, so i could do no less than warn him of impending danger, and then the fact that you were with him made me doubly anxious to reach you in time." while the hermit was saying this, the naturalist removed his blue glasses, and slowly wiped them with a corner of his coat-tails. replacing them, he gazed intently into the grave countenance of his friend till he had finished speaking. "are zee raskils near?" he asked, sternly. "no. we have come on many days ahead of them. but we found a party at the river's mouth awaiting their arrival." "ant zey cannot arrife, you say, for several veeks?" "probably not--even though they had fair and steady winds." a sigh of satisfaction broke through the naturalist's moustache on hearing this. "zen i vill--_ve_ vill, you and i, mister roy,--go after ze bootterflies to-morrow!" "but we must push on," remonstrated van der kemp, "for preparations to resist an attack cannot be commenced too soon." "_you_ may push on, mine frond; go ahead if you vill, but i vill not leave zee bootterflies. you know vell zat i vill die--if need be--for zee rajah. ve must all die vonce, at least, and i should like to die-- if i must die--in a goot cause. what cause better zan frondship? but you say joost now zere is no dancher. vell, i vill go ant see zee bootterflies to-morrow. after zat, i will go ant die--if it must be-- with zee!" "i heartily applaud your sentiment," said nigel, with a laugh, as he helped himself to some of the food which the dyak youth and moses had prepared, "and if van der kemp will give me leave of absence i will gladly keep you company." "zank you. pass round zee victuals. my appetite is strong. it always vas more or less strong. vat say you, van der kemp?" "i have no objection. moses and i can easily take the canoe up the river. there are no rapids, and it is not far to the rajah's village; so you are welcome to go, nigel." "das de most 'straord'nary craze i eber know'd men inflicted wid!" said moses that night, as he sat smoking his pipe beside the dyak boy. "it passes my compr'ension what fun dey find runnin' like child'n arter butterflies, an' beetles, an' sitch like varmint. my massa am de wisest man on eart', yet _he_ go a little wild dat way too--sometimes!" moses looked at the dyak boy with a puzzled expression, but as the dyak boy did not understand english, he looked intently at the fire, and said nothing. next morning nigel entered the forest under the guidance of verkimier and the dyak youth, and the orang-utan, which followed like a dog, and sometimes even took hold of its master's arm and walked with him as if it had been a very small human being. it was a new experience to nigel to walk in the sombre shade beneath the tangled arches of the wilderness. in some respects it differed entirely from his expectations, and in others it surpassed them. the gloom was deeper than he had pictured it, but the shade was not displeasing in a land so close to the equator. then the trees were much taller than he had been led to suppose, and the creeping plants more numerous, while, to his surprise, the wild-flowers were comparatively few and small. but the scarcity of these was somewhat compensated by the rich and brilliant colouring of the foliage. the abundance and variety of the ferns also struck the youth particularly. "ah! zey are magnificent!" exclaimed verkimier with enthusiasm. "look at zat tree-fern. you have not'ing like zat in england--eh! i have found nearly von hoondred specimens of ferns. zen, look at zee fruit-trees. ve have here, you see, zee lansat, mangosteen, rambutan, jack, jambon, blimbing ant many ozers--but zee queen of fruits is zee durian. have you tasted zee durian?" "no, not yet." "ha! a new sensation is before you! stay, you vill eat von by ant by. look, zat is a durian tree before you." he pointed as he spoke to a large and lofty tree, which mr a.r. wallace, the celebrated naturalist and traveller, describes as resembling an elm in general character but with a more smooth and scaly bark. the fruit is round, or slightly oval, about the size of a man's head, of a green colour, and covered all over with short spines which are very strong and so sharp that it is difficult to lift the fruit from the ground. only the experienced and expert can cut the tough outer rind. there are five faint lines extending from the base to the apex of the fruit, through which it may be divided with a heavy knife and a strong hand, so as to get to the delicious creamy pulp inside. there is something paradoxical in the descriptions of this fruit by various writers, but all agree that it is inexpressibly good! says one--writing of the sixteenth century--"it is of such an excellent taste that it surpasses in flavour all the other fruits of the world." another writes: "this fruit is of a hot and humid nature. to those not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions! but immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food." wallace himself says of it: "when brought into the house, the smell is so offensive that some persons can never bear to taste it. this was my own case in malacca, but in borneo i found a ripe fruit on the ground, and, eating it out of doors, i at once became a confirmed durian-eater!" this was exactly the experience of nigel roy that day, and the way in which the fruit came to him was also an experience, but of a very different sort. it happened just as they were looking about for a suitable spot on which to rest and eat their mid-day meal. verkimier was in front with the orang-utan reaching up to his arm and hobbling affectionately by his side--for there was a strong mutual affection between them. the dyak youth brought up the rear, with a sort of game-bag on his shoulders. suddenly nigel felt something graze his arm, and heard a heavy thud at his side. it was a ripe durian which had fallen from an immense height and missed him by a hairbreadth. "zank got, you have escaped!" exclaimed the professor, looking back with a solemn countenance. "i have indeed escaped what might have been a severe blow," said nigel, stooping to examine the fruit, apparently forgetful that more might follow. "come--come avay. my boy vill bring it. men are sometimes killed by zis fruit. here now ve vill dine." they sat down on a bank which was canopied by ferns. while the boy was arranging their meal, verkimier drew a heavy hunting-knife from his belt and, applying it with an unusually strong hand to the durian, laid it open. nigel did not at all relish the smell, but he was not fastidious or apt to be prejudiced. he tasted--and, like mr wallace, "became a confirmed durian-eater" from that day. "ve draw near to zee region vere ve shall find zee bootterflies," said the naturalist, during a pause in their luncheon. "i hope we shall be successful," said nigel, helping himself to some more of what may be styled durian cream. "to judge from the weight and hardness of this fruit, i should think a blow on one's head from it would be fatal." "sometimes, not always. i suppose zat dyak skulls are strong. but zee wound is terrible, for zee spikes tear zee flesh dreadfully. zee dyak chief, rajah, with whom i dwell joost now, was floored once by one, and he expected to die--but he did not. he is alife ant vell, as you shall see." as he spoke a large butterfly fluttered across the scene of their festivities. with all the energy of his enthusiastic spirit and strong muscular frame the naturalist leaped up, overturned his dinner, rushed after the coveted specimen, tripped over a root, and measured his length on the ground. "zat comes of too much horry!" he remarked, as he picked up his glasses and returned, humbly, to continue his dinner. "mine frond, learn a lesson from a foolish man!" "i shall learn two lessons," said nigel, laughing--"first, to avoid your too eager haste, and, second, to copy, if i can, your admirable enthusiasm." "you are very goot. some more cheekin' if you please. zanks. ve most make haste viz our meal ant go to vork." the grandeur and novelty of the scenery through which they passed when they did go to work was a source of constant delight and surprise to our hero, whose inherent tendency to take note of and admire the wonderful works of god was increased by the unflagging enthusiasm and interesting running commentary of his companion, whose flow of language and eager sympathy formed a striking contrast to the profound silence and gravity of the dyak youth, as well as to the pathetic and affectionate selfishness of the man-monkey. it must not, however, be supposed that the young orang-utan was unworthy of his victuals, for, besides being an amusing and harmless companion, he had been trained to use his natural capacity for climbing trees in the service of his master. thus he ascended the tall durian trees, when ordered, and sent down some of the fruit in a few minutes--an operation which his human companions could not have accomplished without tedious delay and the construction of an ingenious ladder having slender bamboos for one of its sides, and the tree to be ascended for its other side, with splinters of bamboo driven into it by way of rounds. "zat is zee pitcher-plant," said verkimier, as nigel stopped suddenly before a plant which he had often read of but never seen. he was told by his friend that pitcher-plants were very numerous in that region; that every mountain-top abounded with them; that they would be found trailing along the ground and climbing over shrubs and stunted trees, with their elegant pitchers hanging in every direction. some of these, he said, were long and slender, others broad and short. the plant at which they were looking was a broad green one, variously tinted and mottled with red, and was large enough to hold two quarts of water. resuming the march nigel observed that the group of orchids was abundant, but a large proportion of the species had small inconspicuous flowers. some, however, had large clusters of yellow flowers which had a very ornamental effect on the sombre forest. but, although the exceptions were striking, he found that in borneo, as elsewhere, flowers were scarcer than he had expected in an equatorial forest. there were, however, more than enough of striking and surprising things to engage the attention of our hero, and arouse his interest. one tree they came to which rendered him for some moments absolutely speechless! to the intense delight of the professor, who marched his new-found sympathiser from one object of interest to another with the secret intention of surprising him, and when he had got him to the point of open-mouthed amazement he was wont to turn his spectacles full on his face, like the mouths of a blue binocular, in order to witness and enjoy his emotions! nigel found this out at last and was rather embarrassed in consequence. "zat," exclaimed the naturalist, after gazing at his friend for some time in silence, "zat is a tree vitch planted itself in mid-air and zen sent its roots down to zee ground and its branches up to zee sky!" "it looks as if it had," returned nigel; "i have seen a tree of the same kind near the coast. how came it to grow in this way?" "i know not. it is zought zat zey spring from a seed dropped by a bird into zee fork of anozer tree. zee seed grows, sends his roots down ant his branches up. ven his roots reach zee ground he lays hold, ant, ven strong enough, kills his support--zus returning efil for good, like a zankless dependent. ah! zere is much resemblance between plants and animals! com', ve must feed here," said the professor, resting his gun against one of the roots, "i had expected to find zee bootterflies sooner. it cannot be helped. let us make zis our banqueting-hall. ve vill have a durian to refresh us, ant here is a handy tree which seems to have ripe vones on it.--go," he added, turning to the orang-utan, "and send down von or two." the creature looked helplessly incapable, pitifully unwilling, scratching its side the while. evidently it was a lazy monkey. "do you hear?" said verkimier, sternly. the orang moved uneasily, but still declined to go. turning sharply on it, the professor bent down, placed a hand on each of his knees and stared through the blue goggles into the animal's face. this was more than it could stand. with a very bad grace it hobbled off to the durian tree, ascended it with a sort of lazy, lumbering facility, and hurled down some of the fruit without warning those below to look out. "my little frond is obstinate sometimes," remarked the naturalist, picking up the fruit, "but ven i bring my glasses to bear on him he always gives in, i never found zem fail. come now; eat, an' ve vill go to vork again. ve must certainly find zee bootterflies somevere before night." but verkimier was wrong. it was his destiny not to find the butterflies that night, or in that region at all, for he and his companion had not quite finished their meal when a dyak youth came running up to them saying that he had been sent by the rajah to order their immediate return to the village. "alas! ve most go. it is dancherous to disobey zee rajah--ant i am sorry--very sorry--zat i cannot show you zee bootterflies to-day. no matter.--go," (to the dyak youth), "tell your chief ve vill come. better lock zee next time!" chapter fifteen. hunting the great man-monkey. although professor verkimier had promised to return at once, he was compelled to encamp in the forest, being overtaken by night before he could reach the river and procure a boat. next morning they started at daybreak. the country over which they passed had again changed its character and become more hilly. on the summits of many of the hills dyak villages could be seen, and rice fields were met with as they went along. several gullies and rivulets were crossed by means of native bamboo bridges, and the professor explained, as he went along, the immense value of the bamboo to the natives. with it they make their suspension bridges, build their houses, and procure narrow planking for their floors. if they want broader planks they split a large bamboo on one side and flatten it out to a plank of about eighteen inches wide. portions of hollow bamboo serve as receptacles for milk or water. if a precipice stops a path, the dyaks will not hesitate to construct a bamboo path along the face of it, using branches of trees wherever convenient from which to hang the path, and every crevice or notch in the rocks to receive the ends of the bamboos by which it is supported. honey-bees in borneo hang their combs, to be out of danger no doubt, under the branches of the tappan, which towers above all the other trees of the forest. but the dyaks love honey and value wax as an article of trade; they therefore erect their ingenious bamboo ladder--which can be prolonged to any height on the smooth branchless stem of the tappan--and storm the stronghold of the bees with much profit to themselves, for bees'-wax will purchase from the traders the brass wire, rings, gold-edged kerchiefs and various ornaments with which they decorate themselves. when travelling, the dyaks use bamboos as cooking vessels in which to boil rice and other vegetables; as jars in which to preserve honey, sugar, etcetera, or salted fish and fruit. split bamboos form aqueducts by which water is conveyed to the houses. a small neatly carved piece of bamboo serves as a case in which are carried the materials used in the disgusting practice of betel-nut chewing--which seems to be equivalent to the western tobacco-chewing. if a pipe is wanted the dyak will in a wonderfully short space of time make a huge hubble-bubble out of bamboos of different sizes, and if his long-bladed knife requires a sheath the same gigantic grass supplies one almost ready-made. but the uses to which this reed may be applied are almost endless, and the great outstanding advantage of it is that it needs no other tools than an axe and a knife to work it. at about mid-day the river was reached, and they found a native boat, or prahu, which had been sent down to convey them to the rajah's village. here nigel was received with the hospitality due to a friend of van der kemp, who, somehow--probably by unselfish readiness, as well as ability, to oblige--had contrived to make devoted friends in whatever part of the malay archipelago he travelled. afterwards, in a conversation with nigel, the professor, referring to those qualities of the hermit which endeared him to men everywhere, said, with a burst of enthusiasm, which almost outdid himself-- "you cannot oonderstant van der kemp. no man can oonderstant him. he is goot, right down to zee marrow--kind, amiable, oonselfish, obliging, nevair seems to zink of himself at all, ant, abof all zings, is capable. vat he vill do, he can do--vat he can do he vill do. but he is sad-- very sad." "i have observed that, of course," said nigel. "do you know what makes him so sad?" the professor shook his head. "no, i do not know. nobody knows. i have tried to find out, but he vill not speak." the orang-kaya, or rich man, as this hill chief was styled, had provided lodgings for his visitors in the "head-house." this was a large circular building erected on poles. there is such a house in nearly all dyak villages. it serves as a trading-place, a strangers' room, a sleeping-room for unmarried youths, and a general council-chamber. here nigel found the hermit and moses enjoying a good meal when he arrived, to which he and the professor sat down after paying their respects to the chief. "the orang-kaya hopes that we will stay with him some time and help to defend the village," said van der kemp, when they were all seated. "of course you have agreed?" said nigel. "yes; i came for that purpose." "we's allers ready to fight in a good cause," remarked moses, just before filling his mouth with rice. "or to die in it!" added verkimier, engulfing the breast of a chicken at a bite. "but as zee pirates are not expected for some days, ve may as vell go after zee mias--zat is what zee natifs call zee orang-utan. it is a better word, being short." moses glanced at the professor out of the corners of his black eyes and seemed greatly tickled by his enthusiastic devotion to business. "i am also," continued the professor, "extremely anxious to go at zee bootterflies before--" "you die," suggested nigel, venturing on a pleasantry, whereat moses opened his mouth in a soundless laugh, but, observing the professor's goggles levelled at him, he transformed the laugh into an astounding sneeze, and immediately gazed with pouting innocence and interest at his plate. "do you always sneeze like zat?" asked verkimier. "not allers," answered the negro simply, "sometimes i gibs way a good deal wuss. depends on de inside ob my nose an' de state ob de wedder." what the professor would have replied we cannot say, for just then a dyak youth rushed in to say that an unusually large and gorgeous butterfly had been seen just outside the village! no application of fire to gunpowder could have produced a more immediate effect. the professor's rice was scattered on the floor, and himself was outside the head-house before his comrades knew exactly what was the matter. "he's always like that," said the hermit, with a slight twinkle in his eyes. "nothing discourages--nothing subdues him. twice i pulled him out of deadly danger into which he had run in his eager pursuit of specimens. and he has returned the favour to me, for he rescued me once when a mias had got me down and would certainly have killed me, for my gun was empty at the moment, and i had dropped my knife." "is, then, the orang-utan so powerful and savage?" "truly, yes, when wounded and driven to bay," returned the hermit. "you must not judge of the creature by the baby that verkimier has tamed. a full-grown male is quite as large as a man, though very small in the legs in proportion, so that it does not stand high. it is also very much stronger than the most powerful man. you would be quite helpless in its grip, i assure you." "i hope, with the professor," returned nigel, "that we may have a hunt after them, either before or after the arrival of the pirates. i know he is very anxious to secure a good specimen for some museum in which he is interested--i forget which." as he spoke, the youth who had brought information about the butterfly returned and said a few words to moses in his native tongue. "what does he say?" asked niger. "dat massa verkimier is in full chase, an' it's my opinion dat when he comes back he'll be wet all ober, and hab his shins and elbows barked." "why d'you think so?" "'cause dat's de way he hoed on when we was huntin' wid him last year. he nebber larns fro' 'sperience." "that's a very fine-looking young fellow," remarked nigel, referring to the dyak youth who had just returned, and who, with a number of other natives, was watching the visitors with profound interest while they ate. as the young man referred to was a good sample of the youth of his tribe, we shall describe him. though not tall, he was well and strongly proportioned, and his skin was of a reddish-brown colour. like all his comrades, he wore little clothing. a gay handkerchief with a gold lace border encircled his head, from beneath which flowed a heavy mass of straight, jet-black hair. large crescent-shaped ornaments hung from his ears. his face was handsome and the expression pleasing, though the mouth was large and the lips rather thick. numerous brass rings encircled his arms above and below the elbows. his only other piece of costume was a waist-cloth of blue cotton, which hung down before and behind. it ended in three bands of red, blue, and white. there were also rows of brass rings on his legs, and armlets of white shells. at his side he wore a long slender knife and a little pouch containing the materials for betel-chewing. "yes, and he is as good as he looks," said the hermit. "his name is gurulam, and all the people of his tribe have benefited by the presence in borneo of that celebrated englishman sir james brooke,--rajah brooke as he was called,--who did so much to civilise the dyaks of borneo and to ameliorate their condition." the prophecy of moses about the professor was fulfilled. just as it was growing dark that genial scientist returned, drenched to the skin and covered with mud, having tumbled into a ditch. his knuckles also were skinned, his knees and shins damaged, and his face scratched, but he was perfectly happy in consequence of having secured a really splendid specimen of a "bootterfly" as big as his hand; the scientific name of which, for very sufficient reasons, we will not attempt to inflict on our readers, and the description of which may be shortly stated by the single word--gorgeous! being fond of verkimier, and knowing his desire to obtain a full-grown orang-utan, gurulam went off early next morning to search for one. half-a-dozen of his comrades accompanied him armed only with native spears, for their object was not to hunt the animal, but to discover one if possible, and let the professor know so that he might go after it with his rifle, for they knew that he was a keen sportsman as well as a man of science. they did not, indeed, find what they sought for, but they were told by natives with whom they fell in that a number of the animals had been seen among the tree-tops not more than a day's march into the forest. they hurried home therefore with this information, and that day-- accompanied by the dyak youths, nigel, the hermit, and moses--verkimier started off in search of the mias; intending to camp out or to take advantage of a native hut if they should chance to be near one when night overtook them. descending the hill region, they soon came to more level ground, where there was a good deal of swamp, through which they passed on dyak roads. these roads consisted simply of tree-trunks laid end to end, along which the natives, being barefooted, walk with ease and certainty, but our booted hunters were obliged to proceed along them with extreme caution. the only one who came to misfortune was, as usual, the professor; and in the usual way! it occurred at the second of these tree-roads. "look, look at that remarkable insect!" exclaimed nigel, eagerly, in the innocence of his heart. the professor was in front of him; he obediently looked, saw the insect, made an eager step towards it, and next moment was flat on the swamp, while the woods rang with his companions laughter. the remarkable insect, whatever it was, vanished from the scene, and the professor was dragged, smiling though confused, out of the bog. these things affected him little. his soul was large and rose superior to such trifles. the virgin forest into which they penetrated was of vast extent; spreading over plain, mountain, and morass in every direction for hundreds of miles, for we must remind the reader that the island of borneo is considerably larger than all the british islands put together, while its inhabitants are comparatively few. verkimier had been absolutely revelling in this forest for several months--ranging its glades, penetrating its thickets, bathing, (inadvertently), in its quagmires, and maiming himself generally, with unwearied energy and unextinguishable enthusiasm; shooting, skinning, stuffing, preserving, and boiling the bones of all its inhabitants--except the human--to the great advantage of science and the immense interest and astonishment of the natives. yet with all his energy and perseverance the professor had failed, up to that time, to obtain a large specimen of a male orang-utan, though he had succeeded in shooting several small specimens and females, besides catching the young one which he had tamed. it was therefore with much excitement that he learned from a party of bees'-wax hunters, on the second morning of their expedition, that a large male mias had been seen that very day. towards the afternoon they found the spot that had been described to them, and a careful examination began. "you see," said verkimier, in a low voice, to nigel, as he went a step in advance peering up into the trees, with rifle at the "ready" and bending a little as if by that means he better avoided the chance of being seen. "you see, i came to borneo for zee express purpose of obtaining zee great man-monkey and vatching his habits.--hush! do i not hear somet'ing?" "nothing but your own voice, i think," said nigel, with a twinkle in his eye. "vell--hush! keep kviet, all of you." as the whole party marched in single file after the professor, and were at the moment absolutely silent, this order induced the display of a good many teeth. just then the man of science was seen to put his rifle quickly to the shoulder; the arches of the forest rang with a loud report; various horrified creatures were seen and heard to scamper away, and next moment a middle-sized orang-utan came crashing through the branches of a tall tree and fell dead with a heavy thud on the ground. the professor's rifle was a breech-loader. he therefore lost no time in re-charging, and hurried forward as if he saw other game, while the rest of the party--except van der kemp, nigel, and gurulam--fell behind to look at and pick up the fallen animal. "look out!" whispered nigel, pointing to a bit of brown hair that he saw among the leaves high overhead. "vere? i cannot see him," whispered the naturalist, whose eyes blazed enough almost to melt his blue glasses. "do _you_ fire, mr roy?" "my gun is charged only with small-shot, for birds. it is useless for such game," said nigel. "ach! i see!" up went the rifle and again the echoes were startled and the animal kingdom astounded, especially that portion at which the professor had fired, for there was immediately a tremendous commotion among the leaves overhead, and another orang of the largest size was seen to cross an open space and disappear among the thick foliage. evidently the creature had been hit, but not severely, for it travelled among the tree-tops at the rate of full five miles an hour, obliging the hunters to run at a rapid pace over the rough ground in order to keep up with it. in its passage from tree to tree the animal showed caution and foresight, selecting only those branches that interlaced with other boughs, so that it made uninterrupted progress, and also had a knack of always keeping masses of thick foliage underneath it so that for some time no opportunity was found of firing another shot. at last, however, it came to one of those dyak roads of which we have made mention, so that it could not easily swing from one tree to another, and the stoppage of rustling among the leaves told that the creature had halted. for some time they gazed up among the branches without seeing anything, but at last, in a place where the leaves seemed to have been thrust aside near the top of one of the highest trees, a great red hairy body was seen, and a huge black face gazed fiercely down at the hunters. verkimier fired instantly, the branches closed, and the monster moved off in another direction. in desperate anxiety nigel fired both barrels of his shot-gun. he might as well have fired at the moon. gurulam was armed only with a spear, and van der kemp, who was not much of a sportsman, carried a similar weapon. the rest of the party were still out of sight in rear looking after the dead mias. it was astonishing how little noise was made by so large an animal as it moved along. more than once the hunters had to halt and listen intently for the rustling of the leaves before they could make sure of being on the right track. at last they caught sight of him again on the top of a very high tree, and the professor got two more shots, but without bringing him down. then he was seen, quite exposed for a moment, walking in a stooping posture along the large limb of a tree, but the hunter was loading at the time and lost the chance. finally he got on to a tree whose top was covered with a dense mass of creepers which completely hid him from view. then he halted and the sound of snapping branches was heard. "you've not much chance of him now," remarked the hermit, as they all stood in a group gazing up into the tree-top. "i have often seen the mias act thus when severely wounded. he is making a nest to lie down and die in." "zen ve must shoot again," said the professor, moving round the tree and looking out for a sign of the animal. at last he seemed to have found what he wanted, for raising his rifle he took a steady aim and fired. a considerable commotion of leaves and fall of broken branches followed. then the huge red body of the mias appeared falling through, but it was not dead, for it caught hold of branches as it fell and hung on as long as it could; then it came crashing down, and alighted on its face with an awful thud. after firing the last shot verkimier had not reloaded, being too intent on watching the dying struggles of the creature, and when it fell with such violence he concluded that it was dead. for the same reason nigel had neglected to reload after firing. thus it happened that when the enormous brute suddenly rose and made for a tree with the evident intention of climbing it, no one was prepared to stop it except the dyak youth gurulam. he chanced to be standing between the mias and the tree. boldly he levelled his spear and made a thrust that would probably have killed the beast, if it had not caught the point of the spear and turned it aside. then with its left paw it caught the youth by the neck, seized his thigh with one of its hind paws, and fixed its teeth in his right shoulder. never was man rendered more suddenly and completely helpless, and death would have been his sure portion before the hunters had reloaded if van der kemp had not leaped forward, and, thrusting his spear completely through the animal's body, killed it on the spot. chapter sixteen. begins with a terrible fight and ends with a hasty flight. the hunt, we need scarcely say, was abruptly terminated, and immediate preparations were made for conveying the wounded man and the two orangs to the dyak village. this was quickly arranged, for the convenient bamboo afforded ready-made poles wherewith to form a litter on which to carry them. the huge creature which had given them so much trouble, and so nearly cost them one human life, was found to be indeed of the largest size. it was not tall but very broad and large. the exact measurements, taken by the professor, who never travelled without his tape-measure, were as follows:-- height from heel to top of head, feet inches. outstretched arms across chest, feet inches. width of face, foot inches. girth of arm, foot inches. girth of wrist, inches. the muscular power of such a creature is of course immense, as nigel and the professor had a rare chance of seeing that very evening--of which, more presently. on careful examination by nigel, who possessed some knowledge of surgery, it was found that none of gurulam's bones had been broken, and that although severely lacerated about the shoulders and right thigh, no very serious injury had been done--thanks to the promptitude and vigour of the hermit's spear-thrust. the poor youth, however, was utterly helpless for the time being, and had to be carried home. that afternoon the party reached a village in a remote part of the forest where they resolved to halt for the night, as no other resting-place could be reached before dark. while a supper of rice and fowl was being cooked by moses, van der kemp attended to the wounded man, and nigel accompanied the professor along the banks of the stream on which the village stood. having merely gone out for a stroll they carried no weapons except walking-sticks, intending to go only a short distance. interesting talk, however, on the character and habits of various animals, made them forget time until the diminution of daylight warned them to turn. they were about to do so when they observed, seated in an open place near the stream, the largest orang they had yet seen. it was feeding on succulent shoots by the waterside: a fact which surprised the professor, for his inquiries and experience had hitherto taught him that orangs never eat such food except when starving. the fat and vigorous condition in which this animal was, forbade the idea of starvation. besides, it had brought a durian fruit to the banks of the stream and thrown it down, so that either taste or eccentricity must have induced it to prefer the shoots. perhaps its digestion was out of order and it required a tonic. anyhow, it continued to devour a good many young shoots while our travellers were peeping at it in mute surprise through the bushes. that they had approached so near without being observed was due to the fact that a brawling rapid flowed just there, and the mias was on the other side of the stream. by mutual consent the men crouched to watch its proceedings. they were not a little concerned, however, when the brute seized an overhanging bough, and, with what we may style sluggish agility, swung itself clumsily but lightly to their side of the stream. it picked up the durian which lay there and began to devour it. biting off some of the strong spikes with which that charming fruit is covered, it made a small hole in it, and then with its powerful fingers tore off the thick rind and began to enjoy a feast. now, with monkeys, no less than with men, there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, for the mias had just begun its meal, or, rather, its dessert, when a crocodile, which the professor had not observed and nigel had mistaken for a log, suddenly opened its jaws and seized the big monkey's leg. the scene that ensued baffles description! grasping the crocodile with its other three hands by nose, throat, and eyes, the mias almost performed the american operation of gouging--digging its powerful thumbs and fingers into every crevice and tearing open its assailant's jaws. the crocodile, taken apparently by surprise, went into dire convulsions, and making for deep water, plunged his foe therein over head and ears. nothing daunted, the mias regained his footing, hauled his victim on to a mudbank, and, jumping on his back began to tear and pommel him. there was nothing of the prize-fighter in the mias. he never clenched his fist--never hit straight from the shoulder, but the buffeting and slapping which he gave resounded all over the place. at last he caught hold of a fold of his opponent's throat, which he began to tear open with fingers and teeth. wrenching himself free with a supreme effort the crocodile shot into the stream and disappeared with a sounding splash of its tail, while the mias waded lamely to the shore with an expression of sulky indignation on its great black face. slowly the creature betook itself to the shelter of the forest, and we need scarcely add that the excited observers of the combat made no attempt to hinder its retreat. it is said that the python is the only other creature that dares to attack the orang-utan, and that when it does so victory usually declares for the man-monkey, which bites and tears it to death. the people of the village in which the hunters rested that night were evidently not accustomed to white men--perhaps had never seen them before--for they crowded round them while at supper and gazed in silent wonder as if they were watching a group of white-faced baboons feeding! they were, however, very hospitable, and placed before their visitors an abundance of their best food without expecting anything in return. brass rings were the great ornament in this village--as they are, indeed, among the dyaks generally. many of the women had their arms completely covered with them, as well as their legs from the ankle to the knee. their petticoats were fastened to a coil of rattan, stained red, round their bodies. they also wore coils of brass wire, girdles of small silver coins, and sometimes broad belts of brass ring-armour. it was break of dawn next morning when our hunters started, bearing their wounded comrade and the dead orangs with them. arrived at the village they found the people in great excitement preparing for defence, as news had been brought to the effect that the pirates had landed at the mouth of the river, joined the disaffected band which awaited them, and that an attack might be expected without delay, for they were under command of the celebrated malay pirate baderoon. nigel observed that the countenance of his friend van der kemp underwent a peculiar change on hearing this man's name mentioned. there was a combination of anxiety, which was unnatural to him, and of resolution, which was one of his chief characteristics. "is baderoon the enemy whom you saw on the islet on our first night out?" asked nigel, during a ramble with the hermit that evening. "yes, and i fear to meet him," replied his friend in a low voice. nigel was surprised. the impression made on his mind since their intercourse was that van der kemp was incapable of the sensation of fear. "is he so very bitter against you?" asked nigel. "very," was the curt reply. "have you reason to think he would take your life if he could?" "i am sure he would. as i told you before, i have thwarted his plans more than once. when he hears that it is i who have warned the orang kaya against him, he will pursue me to the death, and--and i _must not_ meet him." "indeed!" exclaimed nigel, with renewed surprise. but the hermit took no note of the exclamation. anxiety had given place to a frown, and his eyes were fixed on the ground. it seemed to nigel so evident that he did not wish to pursue the subject, that he slightly changed it. "i suppose," he said, "that there is no fear of the dyaks of the village being unable to beat off the pirates now that they have been warned?" "none whatever. indeed, this is so well-known to baderoon that i think he will abandon the attempt. but he will not abandon his designs on me. however, we must wait and see how god will order events." next morning spies returned to the village with the information that the pirates had taken their departure from the mouth of the river. "do you think this is an attempt to deceive us?" asked the chief, turning to van der kemp, when he heard the news. "i think not. and even should it be so, and they should return, you are ready and well able to meet them." "yes, ready--and _well_ able to meet them," replied the orang-kaya, drawing himself up proudly. "did they _all_ go in one direction?" asked van der kemp of the youths who had brought the news. "yes, all went in a body to the north--except one boat which rowed southward." "hmm! i thought so. my friends, listen to me. this is no pretence. they do not mean to attack you now you are on your guard; but that boat which went south contains baderoon, and i feel certain that he means to hang about here till he gets the chance of killing me." "that is well," returned the chief, calmly. "my young men will hunt till they find where he is. then they will bring us the information and van der kemp will go out with a band and slay his enemy." "no, my friend," said the hermit, firmly; "that shall not be. i must get out of his way, and in order to do so will leave you at once, for there will be no further need for my services here." the chief looked at his friend in surprise. "well," he said, "you have a good judgment, and understand your own affairs. but you have already rendered me good service, and i will help you to fly--though such is not the habit of the dyaks! there is a trader's vessel to start for sumatra by the first light of day. will my friend go by that?" "i am grateful," answered the hermit, "but i need no help--save some provisions, for i have my little canoe, which will suffice." as this colloquy was conducted in the native tongue it was unintelligible to nigel, but after the interview with the chief the hermit explained matters to him, and bade moses get ready for a start several hours before dawn. "you see we must do the first part of our trip in the dark, for baderoon has a keen eye and ear. then we will land and sleep all day where the sharpest eye will fail to find us--and, luckily, pirates have been denied the power of scenting out their foes. when night comes we will start again and get out of sight of land before the next dawn." "mine frond," said the professor, turning his moon-like goggles full on the hermit. "i vill go viz you." "i should be only too happy to have your company," returned the hermit, "but my canoe cannot by any contrivance be made to hold more than three." "zat is no matter to me," rejoined verkimier; "you forget zee trader's boat. i vill go in zat to sumatra. ve vill find out zee port he is going to, ant you vill meet me zere. vait for me if i have not arrived--or i vill vait for you. i have longed to visit sumatra, ant vat better fronds could i go viz zan yourselfs?" "but, my good friend," returned the hermit, "my movements may not exactly suit yours. here they are,--you can judge for yourself. first i will, god permitting, cross over to sumatra in my canoe." "but it is t'ree hoondert miles across, if not more!" "no matter--there are plenty of islands on the way. besides, some passing vessel will give me a lift, no doubt. then i will coast along to one of the eastern ports, where i know there is a steamboat loading up about this time. the captain is an old friend of mine. he brought me and my companions the greater part of the way here. if i find him i will ask him to carry my canoe on his return voyage through sunda straits, and leave it with another friend of mine at telok betong on the south coast of sumatra--not far, as you know, from my home in krakatoa. then i will proceed overland to the same place, so that my friend nigel roy may see a little of the country." "ant vat if you do _not_ find your frond zee captain of zee steamer?" "why, then i shall have to adopt some other plan. it is the uncertainty of my movements that makes me think you should not depend on them." "zat is not'ing to me, van der kemp; you joost go as you say. i vill follow ant take my chance. i am use' to ooncertainties ant difficoolties. zey can not influence me." after a good deal of consideration this plan was agreed to. the professor spent part of the night in giving directions about the preserving of his specimens, which he meant to leave at the village in charge of a man whom he had trained to assist him, while van der kemp with his companions lay down to snatch a little sleep before setting out on their voyage, or, as the dyak chief persisted in calling it, their flight! when nigel had slept about five minutes--as he thought--he was awakened by moses. "don't make a noise, massa nadgel! dere may be spies in de camp for all we knows, so we mus' git off like mice. canoe's ready an' massa waitin'; we gib you to de last momint." in a few minutes our hero was sleepily following the negro through the woods to the spot where the canoe was in waiting. the night was very dark. this was in their favour,--at least as regarded discovery. "but how shall we ever see to make our way down stream?" asked nigel of the hermit in a whisper on reaching the place of embarkation. "the current will guide us. besides, i have studied the river with a view to this flight. be careful in getting in. now, moses, are you ready?" "all right, massa." "shove off, then." there was something so eerie in the subdued tones, and stealthy motions, and profound darkness, that nigel could not help feeling as if they were proceeding to commit some black and criminal deed! floating with the current, with as little noise as possible, and having many a narrow escape of running against points of land and sandbanks, they flew swiftly towards the sea, so that dawn found them among the mud flats and the mangrove swamps. here they found a spot where mangrove roots and bushes formed an impenetrable screen, behind which they spent the day, chiefly in sleep, and in absolute security. when darkness set in they again put forth, and cautiously clearing the river's mouth, were soon far out on the open sea, which was fortunately calm at the time, the slight air that blew being in their favour. "we are safe from pursuit now," said van der kemp in a tone of satisfaction, as they paused for a breathing spell. "o massa!" exclaimed moses at that moment, in a voice of consternation; "we's forgotten spinkie!" "so we have!" returned the hermit in a voice of regret so profound that nigel could scarce restrain a laugh in spite of his sympathy. but spinkie had not forgotten himself. observing probably, that these night expeditions were a change in his master's habits, he had kept an unusually watchful eye on the canoe, so that when it was put in the water, he had jumped on board unseen in the darkness, and had retired to the place where he usually slept under hatches when the canoe travelled at night. awakened from refreshing sleep at the sound of his name, spinkie emerged suddenly from the stern-manhole, right under the negro's nose, and with a sleepy "oo, oo!" gazed up into his face. "ho! dare you is, you mis'rible hyperkrite!" exclaimed moses, kissing the animal in the depth of his satisfaction. "he's here, massa, all right. now, you go to bed agin, you small bundle ob hair." the creature retired obediently to its place, and laying its little cheek on one of its small hands, committed itself to repose. van der kemp was wrong when he said they were safe. a pirate scout had seen the canoe depart. being alone and distant from the rendezvous of his commander, some time elapsed before the news could be conveyed to him. when baderoon was at length informed and had sailed out to sea in pursuit, returning daylight showed him that his intended victim had escaped. chapter seventeen. tells of the joys, etcetera, of the professor in the sumatran forests, also of a catastrophe averted. fortunately the weather continued fine at first, and the light wind fair, so that the canoe skimmed swiftly over the wide sea that separates borneo from sumatra. sometimes our travellers proceeded at night when the distance between islets compelled them to do so. at other times they landed on one of these isles when opportunity offered to rest and replenish the water-casks. we will not follow them step by step in this voyage, which occupied more than a week, and during which they encountered without damage several squalls in which a small open boat could not have lived. reaching at last the great island of sumatra--which, like its neighbour borneo, is larger in extent than the british islands--they coasted along southwards, without further delay than was absolutely necessary for rest and refreshment, until they reached a port where they found the steamer of which they were in search just about to start on its return voyage. van der kemp committed his little craft to the care of the captain, who, after vainly advising his friend to take a free passage with him to the straits of sunda, promised to leave the canoe in passing at telok betong. we may add that spinkie was most unwillingly obliged to accompany the canoe. "now, we must remain here till our friend verkimier arrives," said the hermit, turning to nigel after they had watched the steamer out of sight. "i suppose we must," said nigel, who did not at all relish the delay--"of course we must," he added with decision. "i sees no `ob course' about it, massa nadgel," observed moses, who never refrained from offering his opinion from motives of humility, or of respect for his employer. "my 'dvice is to go on an' let de purfesser foller." "but i promised to wait for him," said the hermit, with one of his kindly, half-humorous glances, "and you know i _never_ break my promises." "das true, massa, but you di'n't promise to wait for him for eber an' eber!" "not quite; but of course i meant that i would wait a reasonable time." the negro appeared to meditate for some moments on the extent of a "reasonable" time, for his huge eyes became huger as he gazed frowningly at the ground. then he spoke. "a `reasonable' time, massa, is such an oncertain time--wariable, so to speak, accordin' to the mind that t'inks upon it! hows'eber, if you's _promised_, ob coorse dat's an end ob it; for w'en a man promises, he's bound to stick to it." such devotion to principle was appropriately rewarded the very next day by the arrival of the trading prahu in which the professor had embarked. "we did not expect you nearly so soon," said nigel, as they heartily shook hands. "it vas because zee vind freshen soon after ve set sail--ant, zen, ve made a straight line for zis port, w'ereas you possibly crossed over, ant zen push down zee coast." "exactly so, and that accounts for your overtaking us," said the hermit. "is that the lad baso i see down there with the crew of the prahu?" "it is. you must have some strainch power of attracting frondship, van der kemp, for zee poor yout' is so fond of you zat he began to entreat me to take him, ant he says he vill go on vit zee traders if you refuse to let him follow you." "well, he may come. indeed, we shall be the better for his services, for i had intended to hire a man here to help to carry our things. much of our journeying, you see, must be done on foot." baso, to his great joy, thus became one of the party. we pass over the next few days, which were spent in arranging and packing their provisions, etcetera, in such a way that each member of the party should carry on his shoulders a load proportioned to his strength. in this arrangement the professor, much against his will, was compelled to accept the lightest load in consideration of his liability to dart off in pursuit of creeping things and "bootterflies" at a moment's notice. the least damageable articles were also assigned to him in consideration of his tendency at all times to tumble into bogs and stumble over fallen trees, and lose himself, and otherwise get into difficulties. we also pass over part of the journey from the coast, and plunge with our travellers at once into the interior of sumatra. one evening towards sunset they reached the brow of an eminence which, being rocky, was free from much wood, and permitted of a wide view of the surrounding country. it was covered densely with virgin forest, and they ascended the eminence in order that the hermit, who had been there before, might discover a forest road which led to a village some miles off, where they intended to put up for the night. having ascertained his exact position, van der kemp led his followers down to this footpath, which led through the dense forest. the trees by which they were surrounded were varied and magnificent-- some of them rising clear up seventy and eighty feet without a branch, many of them had superb leafy crowns, under any one of which hundreds of men might have found shelter. others had trunks and limbs warped and intertwined with a wild entanglement of huge creepers, which hung in festoons and loops as if doing their best to strangle their supports, themselves being also encumbered, or adorned, with ferns and orchids, and delicate twining epiphytes. a forest of smaller trees grew beneath this shade, and still lower down were thorny shrubs, rattan-palms, broad-leaved bushes, and a mass of tropical herbage which would have been absolutely impenetrable but for the native road or footpath along which they travelled. "a most suitable abode for tigers, i should think," remarked nigel to the hermit, who walked in front of him--for they marched in single file. "are there any in these parts?" "ay, plenty. indeed, it is because i don't like sleeping in their company that i am so anxious to reach a village." "are zey dangerows?" asked the professor, who followed close on nigel. "well, they are not safe!" replied the hermit. "i had an adventure with one on this very road only two years ago." "indeed! vat vas it?" asked the professor, whose appetite for anecdote was insatiable. "do tell us about it." "with pleasure. it was on a pitch-dark night that it occurred. i had occasion to go to a neighbouring village at a considerable distance, and borrowed a horse from a friend--" "anozer frond!" exclaimed the professor; "vy, van der kemp, zee country seems to be svarming vid your fronds." "i have travelled much in it and made many friends," returned the hermit. "the horse that i borrowed turned out to be a very poor one, and went lame soon after i set out. business kept me longer than i expected, and it was getting dark before i started to return. ere long the darkness became so intense that i could scarcely see beyond the horse's head, and could not distinguish the path. i therefore let the animal find his own way--knowing that he would be sure to do so, for he was going home. as we jogged along, i felt the horse tremble. then he snorted and came to a dead stop, with his feet planted firmly on the ground. i was quite unarmed, but arms would have been useless in the circumstances. suddenly, and fortunately, the horse reared, and next moment a huge dark object shot close past my face--so close that its fur brushed my cheek--as it went with a heavy thud into the jungle on the other side. i knew that it was a tiger and felt that my life, humanly speaking, was due to the rearing of the poor horse." "are ve near to zee spote?" asked the professor, glancing from side to side in some anxiety. "not far from it!" replied the hermit, "but there is not much fear of such an attack in broad daylight and with so large a party." "ve are not a very large party," returned the professor. "i do not zink i would fear much to face a tiger vid my goot rifle, but i do not relish his choomping on me unavares. push on, please." they pushed on and reached the village a little before nightfall. hospitality is a characteristic of the natives of sumatra. the travellers were received with open arms, so to speak, and escorted to the public building which corresponds in some measure to our western town-halls. it was a huge building composed largely of bamboo wooden-planks and wicker-work, with a high thatched roof, and it stood, like all the other houses, on posts formed of great tree-stems which rose eight or ten feet from the ground. "you have frunds here too, i zink," said verkimier to the hermit, as they ascended the ladder leading to the door of the hall. "well, yes--i believe i have two or three." there could be no doubt upon that point, unless the natives were consummate hypocrites, for they welcomed van der kemp and his party with effusive voice, look and gesture, and immediately spread before them part of a splendid supper which had just been prepared; for they had chanced to arrive on a festive occasion. "i do believe," said nigel in some surprise, "that they are lighting up the place with petroleum lamps!" "ay, and you will observe that they are lighting the lamps with congreve matches--at least with matches of the same sort, supplied by the dutch and chinese. many of their old customs have passed away, (among others that of procuring fire by friction), and now we have the appliances of western civilisation to replace them." "no doubt steam is zee cause of zee change," remarked the professor. "that," said nigel, "has a good deal to do with most things--from the singing of a tea-kettle to the explosion of a volcano; though, doubtless, the commercial spirit which is now so strong among men is the proximate cause." "surely dese people mus' be reech," said the professor, looking round him with interest. "they are rich enough--and well off in every respect, save that they don't know very well how to make use of their riches. as you see, much of their wealth is lavished on their women in the shape of ornaments, most of which are of solid gold and silver." there could be little doubt about that, for, besides the ornaments proper, such as the bracelets and rings with which the arms of the young women were covered, and earrings, etcetera,--all of solid gold and native-made--there were necklaces and collars composed of spanish and american dollars and british half-crowns and other coins. in short, these sumatran young girls carried much of the wealth of their parents on their persons, and were entitled to wear it until they should be relegated to the ranks of the married--the supposed-to-be unfrivolous, and the evidently unadorned! as this was a region full of birds, beasts, and insects of many kinds, it was resolved, for the professor's benefit, that a few days should be spent in it. accordingly, the village chief set apart a newly-built house for the visitors' accommodation, and a youth named grogo was appointed to wait on them and act as guide when they wished to traverse any part of the surrounding forest. the house was on the outskirts of the village, a matter of satisfaction to the professor, as it enabled him at once to plunge into his beloved work unobserved by the youngsters. it also afforded him a better opportunity of collecting moths, etcetera, by the simple method of opening his window at night. a mat or wicker-work screen divided the hut into two apartments, one of which was entirely given over to the naturalist and his _materiel_. "i vil begin at vonce," said the eager man, on taking possession. and he kept his word by placing his lamp on a table in a conspicuous position, so that it could be well seen from the outside. then he threw his window wide open, as a general invitation to the insect world to enter! moths, flying beetles, and other creatures were not slow to accept the invitation. they entered by twos, fours, sixes--at last by scores, insomuch that the room became uninhabitable except by the man himself, and his comrades soon retired to their own compartment, leaving him to carry on his work alone. "you enjoy this sort of thing?" said nigel, as he was about to retire. "enchoy it? yes--it is `paradise regained!'" he pinned a giant moth at the moment and gazed triumphant through his blue glasses. "`paradise lost' to the moth, anyhow," said nigel with a nod, as he bade him good-night, and carefully closed the wicker door to check the incursions of uncaptured specimens. being rather tired with the day's journey, he lay down on a mat beside the hermit, who was already sound asleep. but our hero found that sleep was not easily attainable so close to an inexhaustible enthusiast, whose every step produced a rattling of the bamboo floor, and whose unwearied energy enabled him to hunt during the greater part of the night. at length slumber descended on nigel's spirit, and he lay for some time in peaceful oblivion, when a rattling crash awoke him. sitting up he listened, and came to the conclusion that the professor had upset some piece of furniture, for he could hear him distinctly moving about in a stealthy manner, as if on tip-toe, giving vent to a grumble of dissatisfaction every now and then. "what _can_ he be up to now, i wonder?" murmured the disturbed youth, sleepily. the hermit, who slept through all noises with infantine simplicity, made no answer, but a peculiar snort from the negro, who lay not far off on his other side, told that he was struggling with a laugh. "hallo, moses! are you awake?" asked nigel, in a low voice. "ho yes, massa nadgel. i's bin wakin' a good while, larfin' fit to bu'st my sides. de purfesser's been a-goin' on like a mad renoceros for more'n an hour. he's arter suthin', which he can't ketch. listen! you hear 'im goin' round an' round on his tip-toes. dere goes anoder chair. i only hope he won't smash de lamp an' set de house a-fire." "vell, vell; i've missed him zee tence time. nevair mind. have at you vonce more, you aggravating leetle zing!" thus the unsuccessful man relieved his feelings, in a growling tone, as he continued to move about on tip-toe, rattling the bamboo flooring in spite of his careful efforts to move quietly. "why, verkimier, what are you after?" cried nigel at last, loud enough to be heard through the partition. "ah--i am sorry to vake you," he replied, without, however, suspending his hunt. "i have tried my best to make no noice, but zee bamboo floor is--hah! i have 'im at last!" "what is it?" asked nigel, becoming interested. "von leetle bat. he come in vis a moss--" "a what?" "a moss--a big, beautiful moss." "oh! a moth--well?" "vell, i shut zee window, capture zee moss, ant zen i hunt zee bat with my bootterfly-net for an hour, but have only captured him zis moment. ant he is--sooch a--sooch a splendid specimen of a _very_ rar' species, zee _caelops frizii_--gootness! zere goes zee lamp!" the crash that followed told too eloquently of the catastrophe, and broke the slumbers even of the hermit. the whole party sprang up, and entered the naturalist's room with a light, for the danger from fire was great. fortunately the lamp had been extinguished in its fall, so that, beyond an overpowering smell of petroleum and the destruction of a good many specimens, no serious results ensued. after securing the _caelops frithii_, removing the shattered glass, wiping up the oil, and putting chairs and tables on their legs, the professor was urged to go to bed,--advice which, in his excitement, he refused to take until it was suggested that, if he did not, he would be totally unfit for exploring the forest next day. "vy, it is next day already!" he exclaimed, consulting his watch. "just so. now _do_ turn in." "i vill." and he did. chapter eighteen. a trying ordeal--danger threatens and flight again resolved on. when the early birds are singing, and the early mists are scattering, and the early sun is rising to gladden, as with the smile of god, all things with life in earth and sea and sky--then it is that early-rising man goes forth to reap the blessings which his lazy fellow-man fails to appreciate or enjoy. among the early risers that morning was our friend moses. gifted with an inquiring mind, the negro had proceeded to gratify his propensities by making inquiries of a general nature, and thus had acquired, among other things, the particular information that the river on the banks of which the village stood was full of fish. now, moses was an ardent angler. "i lub fishing," he said one day to nigel when in a confidential mood; "i can't tell you how much i lub it. seems to me dat der's nuffin' like it for proggin' a man!" when nigel demanded an explanation of what proggin' meant, moses said he wasn't quite sure. he could "understand t'ings easy enough though he couldn't allers 'splain 'em." on the whole he thought that prog had a compound meaning--it was a combination of poke and pull "wid a flavour ob ticklin' about it," and was rather pleasant. "you see," he continued, "when a leetle fish plays wid your hook, it progs your intellec' an' tickles up your fancy a leetle. when he grabs you, dat progs your hopes a good deal. when a big fish do de same, dat progs you deeper. an' when a real walloper almost pulls you into de ribber, dat progs your heart up into your t'roat, where it stick till you land him." with surroundings and capacities such as we have attempted to describe, it is no wonder that moses sat down on the river-bank and enjoyed himself, in company with a little malay boy, who lent him his bamboo rod and volunteered to show him the pools. but there were no particular pools in that river. it was a succession of pools, and fish swarmed in all of them. there were at least fifteen different species which nothing short of an ichthyologist could enumerate correctly. the line used by moses was a single fibre of bark almost as strong as gut; the hook was a white tinned weapon like a small anchor, supplied by traders, and meant originally for service in the deep sea. the bait was nothing in particular, but, as the fish were not particular, that was of no consequence. the reader will not be surprised, then, when we state that in an hour or so moses had had his heart progged considerably and had filled a large bag with superb fish, with which he returned, perspiring, beaming, and triumphant to breakfast. after breakfast the whole party went forth for what verkimier styled "zee business of zee day," armed with guns, spears, botanical boxes, bags, wallets, and butterfly-nets. in the immediate neighbourhood of the village large clearings in the forest were planted as coffee gardens, each separated from the other for the purpose of isolation, for it seems that coffee, like the potato, is subject to disease. being covered with scarlet flowers these gardens had a fine effect on the landscape when seen from the heights behind the village. passing through the coffee grounds the party was soon in the tangled thickets of underwood through which many narrow paths had been cut. we do not intend to drag our readers through bog and brake during the whole of this day's expedition; suffice it to say that the collection of specimens made, of all kinds, far surpassed the professor's most sanguine expectations, and, as for the others, those who could more or less intelligently sympathise did so, while those who could not were content with the reflected joy of the man of science. at luncheon--which they partook of on the river-bank, under a magnificently umbrageous tree--plans for the afternoon were fixed. "we have kept together long enough, i think," said van der kemp. "those of us who have guns must shoot something to contribute to the national feast on our return." "vell, let us divide," assented the amiable naturalist. indeed he was so happy that he would have assented to anything--except giving up the hunt. "von party can go von vay, anoder can go anoder vay. i vill continue mine business. zee place is more of a paradise zan zee last. ve must remain two or tree veeks." the hermit glanced at nigel. "i fear it is impossible for me to do so," said the latter. "i am pledged to return to batavia within a specified time, and from the nature of the country i perceive it will take all the time at my disposal to reach that place so as to redeem my pledge." "ha! zat is a peety. vell, nevair mind. let us enchoy to-day. com', ve must not vaste more of it in zee mere gratification of our animal natures." acting on this broad hint they all rose and scattered in different groups--the professor going off ahead of his party in his eager haste, armed only with a butterfly-net. now, as the party of natives,--including baso, who carried the professor's biggest box, and grogo, who bore his gun,--did not overtake their leader, they concluded that he must have joined one of the other parties, and, as it was impossible to ascertain which of them, they calmly went hunting on their own account! thus it came to pass that the man of science was soon lost in the depths of that primeval forest! but little cared the enthusiast for that--or, rather, little did he realise it. with perspiration streaming from every pore--except where the pores were stopped by mud--he dashed after "bootterflies" with the wisdom of solomon and the eagerness of a school-boy, and not until the shades of evening began to descend did his true position flash upon him. then, with all the vigour of a powerful intellect and an enlightened mind, he took it in at a glance--and came to a sudden halt. "vat _shall_ i do?" he asked. not even an echo answered, and the animal kingdom was indifferent. "lat me see. i have been vandering avay all dis time. now, i have not'ing to do but right-about-face and vander back." could reasoning be clearer or more conclusive? he acted on it at once, but, after wandering back a long time, he did not arrive at any place or object that he had recognised on the outward journey. meanwhile, as had been appointed, the rest of the party met a short time before dark at the rendezvous where they had lunched. "where is the professor, baso?" asked van der kemp as he came up. baso did not know, and looked at grogo, who also professed ignorance, but both said they thought the professor had gone with nigel. "i thought he was with _you_," said the latter, looking anxiously at the hermit. "he's hoed an' lost his-self!" cried moses with a look of concern. van der kemp was a man of action. "not a moment to lose," he said, and organised the band into several smaller parties, each led by a native familiar with the jungle. "let this be our meeting-place," he said, as they were on the point of starting off together; "and let those of us who have fire-arms discharge them occasionally." meanwhile, the professor was walking at full speed in what he supposed to be--and in truth was--"back." he was not alone, however. in the jungle close beside him a tiger prowled along with the stealthy, lithe, sneaking activity of a cat. by that time it was not absolutely dark, but the forest had assumed a very sombre appearance. suddenly the tiger made a tremendous bound on to the track right in front of the man. whether it had miscalculated the position of its intended victim or not we cannot say, but it crouched for another spring. the professor, almost instinctively, crouched also, and, being a brave man, stared the animal straight in the face without winking! and so the two crouched there, absolutely motionless and with a fixed glare, such as we have often seen in a couple of tom-cats who were mutually afraid to attack each other. what the tiger thought at that critical and crucial moment we cannot tell, but the professor's thoughts were swift, varied, tremendous-- almost sublime, and once or twice even ridiculous! "vat shall i do? deaf stares me in zee face! no veapons! only a net, ant he is _not_ a bootterfly! science, adieu! home of my chilthood, farevell! my moder--hah! zee fusees!" such were a few of the thoughts that burned but found no utterance. the last thought however led to action. verkimier, foolish man! was a smoker. he carried fusees. slowly, with no more apparent motion than the hour-hand on the face of a watch, he let his hand glide into his coat-pocket and took out the box of fusees. the tiger seemed uneasy, but the bold man never for one instant ceased to glare, and no disturbed expression or hasty movement gave the tiger the slightest excuse for a spring. bringing the box up by painfully slow degrees in front of his nose the man opened it, took out a fusee, struck it, and revealed the blue binoculars! the effect on the tiger was instantaneous and astounding. with a demi-volt or backward somersault it hurled itself into the jungle whence it had come with a terrific roar of alarm, and its tail--undoubtedly though not evidently--between its legs! heaving a deep, long-drawn sigh, the professor stood up and wiped his forehead. then he listened intently. "a shote, if mine ears deceive me not!" he said, and listened again. he was right. another shot, much nearer, was heard, and he replied with a shout to which joy as much as strength of lung gave fervour. hurrying along the track--not without occasional side-glances at the jungle--the hero was soon again in the midst of his friends; and it was not until his eyes refused to remain open any longer that he ceased to entertain an admiring circle that night with the details of his face-to-face meeting with a tiger. but verkimier's anticipations in regard to that paradise were not to be realised. the evil passions of a wicked man, with whom he had personally nothing whatever to do, interfered with his plans. in the middle of the night a native malay youth named babu arrived at the village and demanded an interview with the chief. that worthy, after the interview, conducted the youth to the hut where his visitors lived, and, rousing van der kemp without disturbing the others, bade him listen to what the young man had to say. an expression of great anxiety overspread the hermit's usually placid countenance while babu was speaking. "it is fate!" he murmured, as if communing with himself--then, after a pause--"no, there is no such thing as fate. it is, it must be, the will of god. go, young man, mention this to no one. i thank you for the kindness which made you take so long a journey for my sake." "it is not kindness, it is love that makes me serve you," returned the lad earnestly. "every one loves you, van der kemp, because that curse of mankind, _revenge_, has no place in your breast." "strange! how little man does know or guess the secret thoughts of his fellow!" said the hermit with one of his pitiful smiles. "_revenge_ no place in me!--but i thank you, boy, for the kind thought as well as the effort to save me. my life is not worth much to any one. it will not matter, i think, if my enemy should succeed. go now, babu, and god be with you!" "he will surely succeed if you do not leave this place at once," rejoined the youth, in a tone of decision. "baderoon is furious at all times. he is worse than ever just now, because you have thwarted his plans--so it is said--very often. if he knew that _i_ am now thwarting them also, he would hunt me to death. i will not leave you till you are safe beyond his reach." the hermit looked at the lad with kindly surprise. "how comes it," he said, "that you are so much interested in me? i remember seeing you two years ago, but have no recollection of having done you any service." "do you not remember that my mother was ill when you spent a night in our hut, and my little sister was dying? you nursed her, and tried your best to save her, and when you could not save her, and she died, you wept as if the child had been your own. i do not forget that, van der kemp. sympathy is of more value than service." "strangely mistaken again!" murmured the hermit. "who can know the workings of the human mind! self was mixed with my feelings-- profoundly--yet my sympathy with you and your mother was sincere." "we never doubted that," returned babu with a touch of surprise in his tone. "well now, what do you propose to do, as you refuse to leave me?" asked the hermit with some curiosity. "i will go on with you to the next village. it is a large one. the chief man there is my uncle, who will aid me, i know, in any way i wish. i will tell him what i know and have heard of the pirate's intention, of which i have proof. he will order baderoon to be arrested on suspicion when he arrives. then we will detain him till you are beyond his reach. that is not unjust." "true--and i am glad to know by your last words that you are sensitive about the justice of what you propose to do. indifference to pure and simple justice is the great curse of mankind. it is not indeed the root, but it is the fruit of our sins. the suspicion that detains baderoon is more than justified, for i could bring many witnesses to prove that he has vowed to take my life, and i _know_ him to be a murderer." at breakfast-time van der kemp announced to his friends his intention of quitting the village at once, and gave an account of his interview with the malay lad during the night. this, of course, reconciled them to immediate departure,--though, in truth, the professor was the only one who required to be reconciled. "it is _very_ misfortunate," he remarked with a sigh, which had difficulty in escaping through a huge mass of fish and rice. "you see zee vonderful variety of ornizological specimens i could find here, ant zee herbareum, not to mention zee magnificent _amblypodia eumolpus_ ant ozer bootterflies--ach!--a leetle mor' feesh if you please. zanks. my frond, it is a great sacrifice, but i vill go avay viz you, for i could not joostify myself if i forzook you, ant i cannot ask you to remain vile your life is in dancher." "i appreciate your sentiments and sacrifice thoroughly," said the hermit. "so does i," said moses, helping himself to coffee; "but ob course if i didn't it would be all de same. pass de venison, massa nadgel, an' don't look as if you was goin' to gib in a'ready. it spoils my appetite." "you will have opportunities," continued van der kemp, addressing the professor, "to gather a good many specimens as we go along. besides, if you will consent to honour my cave in krakatoa with a visit, i promise you a hearty welcome and an interesting field of research. you have no idea what a variety of species in all the branches of natural history my little island contains." hereupon the hermit proceeded to enter into details of the flora, fauna, and geology of his island-home, and to expatiate in such glowing language on its arboreal and herbal wealth and beauty, that the professor became quite reconciled to immediate departure. "but how," he asked, "am i to get zere ven ve reach zee sea-coast? for your canoe holds only t'ree, as you have told me." "there are plenty of boats to be had. besides, i can send over my own boat for you to the mainland. the distance is not great." "goot. zat vill do. i am happay now." "so," remarked nigel as he went off with moses to pack up, "his `paradise regained' is rather speedily to be changed into paradise forsaken! `off wi' the old love and on wi' the new.' `the expulsive power of a new affection!'" "das true, massa nadgel," observed moses, who entertained profound admiration for anything that sounded like proverbial philosophy. "de purfesser am an affectionit creeter. 'pears to me dat he lubs de whole creation. he kills an' tenderly stuffs 'most eberyt'ing he kin lay hands on. if he could only lay hold ob baderoon an' stuff an' stick him in a moozeum, he'd do good service to my massa an' also to de whole ob mankind." chapter nineteen. a terrible murder and a strange revelation. after letting the chief of the village know that the news just received rendered it necessary that they should proceed at once to the next town--but carefully refraining from going into particulars lest baderoon should by any means be led to suspect their intentions--the party started off about daybreak under the guidance of the malay youth babu. anxious as he was that no evil should befall his friend, nigel could not help wondering that a man of such a calm spirit, and such unquestionable courage, should be so anxious to escape from this pirate. "i can't understand it at all," he said to moses, as they walked through the forest together a little in rear of the party. "no more kin i, massa nadgel," answered the negro, with one of those shakes of the head and glares of solemn perplexity with which he was wont to regard matters that were too deep for him. "surely van der kemp is well able to take care of himself against any single foe." "das true, massa nadgel,--'gainst any half-dozen foes as well." "fear, therefore, cannot be the cause." the negro received this with a quiet chuckle. "no," said he. "massa nebber knowed fear, but ob dis you may be bery sure, massa's _allers_ got good reasons for what he does. one t'ing's sartin, i neber saw him do nuffin' for fear, nor revenge, nor anger, no, nor yet for fun; allers for lub--and," added moses, after a moment's thought, "sometimes for money, when we goes on a tradin' 'spidition--but he don't make much account ob dat." "well, perhaps the mystery may be cleared up in time," said nigel, as they closed up with the rest of the party, who had halted for a short rest and some refreshment. this last consisted largely of fruit, which was abundant everywhere, and a little rice with water from sparkling springs to wash it down. in the afternoon they reached the town--a large one, with a sort of market-place in the centre, which at the time of their arrival was crowded with people. strangers, especially europeans, were not often seen in that region, so that van der kemp and his friends at once attracted a considerable number of followers. among these was one man who followed them about very unobtrusively, usually hanging well in rear of the knot of followers whose curiosity was stronger than their sense of propriety. this man wore a broad sun-hat and had a bandage round his head pulled well over one eye, as if he had recently met with an accident or been wounded. he was unarmed, with the exception of the kriss, or long knife, which every man in that region carries. this was no other than baderoon himself, who had outwitted his enemies, had somehow discovered at least part of their plans, and had hurried on in advance of them to the town, where, disguising himself as described, he awaited their arrival. babu conducted his friends to the presence of his kinsman the chief man of the town, and, having told his story, received a promise that the pirate should be taken up when he arrived and put in prison. meanwhile he appointed to the party a house in which to spend the night. baderoon boldly accompanied the crowd that followed them, saw the house, glanced between the heads of curious natives who watched the travellers while eating their supper, and noted the exact spot on the floor of the building where van der kemp threw down his mat and blanket, thus taking possession of his intended couch! he did not, however, see that the hermit afterwards shifted his position a little, and that babu, desiring to be near his friend, lay down on the vacated spot. in the darkest hour of the night, when even the owls and bats had sought repose, the pirate captain stole out of the brake in which he had concealed himself, and, kriss in hand, glided under the house in which his enemy lay. native houses, as we have elsewhere explained, are usually built on posts, so that there is an open space under the floors, which is available as a store or lumber-room. it is also unfortunately available for evil purposes. the bamboo flooring is not laid so closely but that sounds inside may be heard distinctly by any one listening below. voices were heard by the pirate as he approached, which arrested his steps. they were those of van der kemp and nigel engaged in conversation. baderoon knew that as long as his enemy was awake and conversing he might probably be sitting up and not in a position suitable to his fell purpose. he crouched therefore among some lumber like a tiger abiding its time. "why are you so anxious not to meet this man?" asked nigel, who was resolved, if possible without giving offence, to be at the bottom of the mystery. for some moments the hermit was silent, then in a constrained voice he said slowly--"because revenge burns fiercely in my breast. i have striven to crush it, but cannot. i fear to meet him lest i kill him." "has he, then, done you such foul wrong?" "ay, he has cruelly--fiendishly--done the worst he could. he robbed me of my only child--but i may not talk of it. the unholy desire for vengeance burns more fiercely when i talk. `vengeance is mine, saith the lord.' my constant prayer is that i may not meet him. good-night." as the hermit thus put an abrupt end to the conversation he lay down and drew his blanket over him. nigel followed his example, wondering at what he had heard, and in a few minutes their steady regular breathing told that they were both asleep. then baderoon advanced and counted the bamboo planks from the side towards the centre of the house. when looking between the heads of the people he had counted the same planks above. standing under one he looked up, listened intently for a few seconds, and drew his kriss. the place was almost pitch-dark, yet the blade caught a faint gleam from without, which it reflected on the pirate's face as he thrust the long keen weapon swiftly, yet deliberately, between the bamboos. a shriek, that filled those who heard it with a thrill of horror, rang out on the silent night. at the same moment a gush of warm blood poured over the murderer's face before he could leap aside. instant uproar and confusion burst out in the neighbourhood, and spread like wildfire until the whole town was aroused. when a light was procured and the people crowded into the hut where the strangers lay, van der kemp was found on his knees holding the hand of poor babu, who was at his last gasp. a faint smile, that yet seemed to have something of gladness in it, flitted across his pale face as he raised himself, grasped the hermit's hand and pressed it to his lips. then the fearful drain of blood took effect and he fell back--dead. one great convulsive sob burst from the hermit as he leaped up, drew his knife, and, with a fierce glare in his blue eyes, rushed out of the room. vengeance would indeed have been wreaked on baderoon at that moment if the hermit had caught him, but, as might have been expected, the murderer was nowhere to be found. he was hid in the impenetrable jungle, which it was useless to enter in the darkness of night. when daybreak enabled the towns-people to undertake an organised search, no trace of him could be discovered. flight, personal safety, formed no part of the pirate's plan. the guilty man had reached that state of depravity which, especially among the natives of that region, borders close on insanity. while the inhabitants of the village were hunting far a-field for him, baderoon lay concealed among some lumber in rear of a hut awaiting his opportunity. it was not very long of coming. towards afternoon the various searching parties began to return, and all assembled in the market-place, where the chief man, with the hermit and his party, were assembled discussing the situation. "i will not now proceed until we have buried poor babu," said van der kemp. "besides, baderoon will be sure to return. i will meet him now." "i do not agree viz you, mine frond," said the professor. "zee man is not a fool zough he is a villain. he knows vat avaits him if he comes." "he will not come openly," returned the hermit, "but he will not now rest till he has killed me." even as he spoke a loud shouting, mingled with shrieks and yells, was heard at the other end of the main street. the sounds of uproar appeared to approach, and soon a crowd of people was seen rushing towards the market-place, uttering cries of fear in which the word "amok" was heard. at the sound of that word numbers of people-- specially women and children--turned and fled from the scene, but many of the men stood their ground, and all of them drew their krisses. among the latter of course were the white men and their native companions. we have already referred to that strange madness, to which the malays seem to be peculiarly liable, during the paroxysms of which those affected by it rush in blind fury among their fellows, slaying right and left. from the terrified appearance of some of the approaching crowd and the maniac shouts in rear, it was evident that a man thus possessed of the spirit of amok was venting his fury on them. another minute and he drew near, brandishing a kriss that dripped with the gore of those whom he had already stabbed. catching sight of the white men he made straight for them. he was possessed of only one eye, but that one seemed to concentrate and flash forth the fire of a dozen eyes, while his dishevelled hair and blood-stained face and person gave him an appalling aspect. "it is baderoon!" said van der kemp in a subdued but stern tone. nigel, who stood next to him, glanced at the hermit. his face was deadly pale; his eyes gleamed with a strange almost unearthly light, and his lips were firmly compressed. with a sudden nervous motion, unlike his usually calm demeanour, he drew his long knife, and to nigel's surprise cast it away from him. at that moment a woman who came in the madman's way was stabbed by him to the heart and rent the air with her dying shriek as she fell. no one could have saved her, the act was so quickly done. van der kemp would have leaped to her rescue, but it was too late; besides, there was no need to do so now, for the maniac, recognising his enemy, rushed at him with a shout that sounded like a triumphant yell. seeing this, and that his friend stood unarmed, as well as unmoved, regarding baderoon with a fixed gaze, nigel stepped a pace in advance to protect him, but van der kemp seized his arm and thrust him violently aside. next moment the pirate was upon him with uplifted knife, but the hermit caught his wrist, and with a heave worthy of samson hurled him to the ground, where he lay for a moment quite stunned. before he could recover, the natives, who had up to this moment held back, sprang upon the fallen man with revengeful yells, and a dozen knives were about to be buried in his breast when the hermit sprang forward to protect his enemy from their fury. but the man whose wife had been the last victim came up at the moment and led an irresistible rush which bore back the hermit as well as his comrades, who had crowded round him, and in another minute the maniac was almost hacked to pieces. "i did not kill him--thank god!" muttered van der kemp as he left the market-place, where the relatives of those who had been murdered were wailing over their dead. after this event even the professor was anxious to leave the place, so that early next morning the party resumed their journey, intending to make a short stay at the next village. failing to reach it that night, however, they were compelled to encamp in the woods. fortunately they came upon a hill which, although not very high, was sufficiently so, with the aid of watch-fires, to protect them from tigers. from the summit, which rose just above the tree-tops, they had a magnificent view of the forest. many of the trees were crowned with flowers among which the setting sun shone for a brief space with glorious effulgence. van der kemp and nigel stood together apart from the others, contemplating the wonderful scene. "what must be the dwelling-place of the creator himself when his footstool is so grand?" said the hermit in a low voice. "that is beyond mortal ken," said nigel. "true--true. eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor mind conceived it. yet, methinks, the glory of the terrestrial was meant to raise our souls to the contemplation of the celestial." "and yet how signally it has failed in the case of baderoon," returned nigel, with a furtive glance at the hermit, whose countenance had quite recovered its look of quiet simple dignity. "would it be presumptuous if i were to ask why it is that this pirate had such bitter enmity against you?" "it is no secret," answered the hermit, in a sad tone. "the truth is, i had discovered some of his nefarious plans, and more than once have been the means of preventing his intended deeds of violence--as in the case of the dyaks whom we have so lately visited. besides, the man had done me irreparable injury, and it is one of the curious facts of human experience that sometimes those who injure us hate us because they have done so." "may i venture to ask for a fuller account of the injury he did you?" said nigel with some hesitancy. for some moments the hermit did not answer. he was evidently struggling with some suppressed feeling. turning a look full upon his young friend, he at length spoke in a low sad voice--"i have never mentioned my grief to mortal man since that day when it pleased god to draw a cloud of thickest darkness over my life. but, nigel, there is that in you which encourages confidence. i confess that more than once i have been tempted to tell you of my grief--for human hearts crave intelligent sympathy. my faithful servant and friend moses is, no doubt, intensely sympathetic, but--but--well, i cannot understand, still less can i explain, why i shrink from making a confidant of him. certainly it is not because of his colour, for i hold that the _souls_ of men are colourless!" "i need not trouble you with the story of my early life," continued the hermit. "i lost my dear wife a year after our marriage, and was left with a little girl whose lovely face became more and more like that of her mother every day she lived. my soul was wrapped up in the child. after three years i went with her as a passenger to batavia. on the way we were attacked by a couple of pirate junks. baderoon was the pirate captain. he killed many of our men, took some of us prisoners, sank the vessel, seized my child, and was about to separate us, putting my child into one junk while i was retained, bound, in the other." he paused, and gazed over the glowing tree-tops into the golden horizon, with a longing, wistful look. at the same time something like an electric shock passed through nigel's frame, for was not this narrative strangely similar in its main features to that which his own father had told him on the keeling islands about beautiful little kathleen holbein and her father? he was on the point of seizing the hermit by the hand and telling him what he knew, when the thought occurred that attacks by pirates were common enough in those seas, that other fathers might have lost daughters in this way, and that, perhaps, his suspicion might be wrong. it would be a terrible thing, he thought, to raise hope in his poor friend's breast unless he were pretty sure of the hope being well founded. he would wait and hear more. he had just come to this conclusion, and managed to subdue the feelings which had been aroused, when van der kemp turned to him again, and continued his narrative--"i know not how it was, unless the lord gave me strength for a purpose as he gave it to samson of old, but when i recovered from the stinging blow i had received, and saw the junk hoist her sails and heard my child scream, i felt the strength of a lion come over me; i burst the bonds that held me and leaped into the sea, intending to swim to her. but it was otherwise ordained. a breeze which had sprung up freshened, and the junk soon left me far behind. as for the other junk, i never saw it again, for i never looked back or thought of it--only, as i left it, i heard a mocking laugh from the one-eyed villain, who, i afterwards found out, owned and commanded both junks." nigel had no doubt now, but the agitation of his feelings still kept him silent. "need i say," continued the hermit, "that revenge burned fiercely in my breast from that day forward? if i had met the man soon after that, i should certainly have slain him. but god mercifully forbade it. since then he has opened my eyes to see the crucified one who prayed for his enemies. and up till now i have prayed most earnestly that baderoon and i might _not_ meet. my prayer has not been answered in the way i wished, but a _better_ answer has been granted, for the sin of revenge was overcome within me before we met." van der kemp paused again. "go on," said nigel, eagerly. "how did you escape?" "escape! where was i--oh! i remember," said the hermit, awaking as if out of a dream; "well, i swam after the junk until it was out of sight, and then i swam on in silent despair until so completely exhausted that i felt consciousness leaving me. then i knew that the end must be near and i felt almost glad; but when i began to sink, the natural desire to prolong life revived, and i struggled on. just as my strength began a second time to fail, i struck against something. it was a dead cocoa-nut tree. i laid hold of it and clung to it all that night. next morning i was picked up by some fishermen who were going to telok betong by the outer passage round sebesi island, and were willing to land me there. but as my business connections had been chiefly with the town of anjer, i begged of them to land me on the island of krakatoa. this they did, and it has been my home ever since. i have been there many years." "have you never seen or heard of your daughter since?" asked nigel eagerly, and with deep sympathy. "never--i have travelled far and near, all over the archipelago; into the interior of the islands, great and small, but have failed to find her. i have long since felt that she must be dead--for--for she could not live with the monsters who stole her away." a certain contraction of the mouth, as he said this, and a gleam of the eyes, suggested to nigel that revenge was not yet dead within the hermit's breast, although it had been overcome. "what was her name?" asked nigel, willing to gain time to think how he ought to act, and being afraid of the effect that the sudden communication of the news might have on his friend. "winnie--darling winnie--after her mother," said the hermit with deep pathos in his tone. a feeling of disappointment came over our hero. winnie bore not the most distant resemblance to kathleen! "did you ever, during your search," asked nigel slowly, "visit the cocos-keeling islands?" "never. they are too far from where the attack on us was made." "and you never heard of a gun-boat having captured a pirate junk and--" "why do you ask, and why pause?" said the hermit, looking at his friend in some surprise. nigel felt that he had almost gone too far. "well, you know--" he replied in some confusion, "you--you are right when you expect me to sympathise with your great sorrow, which i do most profoundly, and--and--in short, i would give anything to be able to suggest hope to you, my friend. men should _never_ give way to despair." "thank you. it is kindly meant," returned the hermit, looking at the youth with his sad smile. "but it is vain. hope is dead now." they were interrupted at this point by the announcement that supper was ready. at the same time the sun sank, like the hermit's hope, and disappeared beyond the dark forest. chapter twenty. nigel makes a confidant of moses--undertakes a lonely watch and sees something wonderful. it was not much supper that nigel roy ate that night. the excitement resulting from his supposed discovery reduced his appetite seriously, and the intense desire to open a safety-valve in the way of confidential talk with some one induced a nervously absent disposition which at last attracted attention. "you vant a goot dose of kvinine," remarked verkimier, when, having satiated himself, he found time to think of others--not that the professor was selfish by any means, only he was addicted to concentration of mind on all work in hand, inclusive of feeding. the hermit paid no attention to anything that was said. his recent conversation had given vent to a flood of memories and feelings that had been pent-up for many years. after supper nigel resolved to make a confidant of moses. the negro's fidelity to and love for his master would ensure his sympathy at least, if not wise counsel. "moses," he said, when the professor had raised himself to the seventh heaven by means of tobacco fumes, "come with me. i want to have a talk." "das what i's allers wantin', massa nadgel; talkin's my strong point, if i hab a strong point at all." they went together to the edge of a cliff on the hill-top, whence they could see an almost illimitable stretch of tropical wilderness bathed in a glorious flood of moonlight, and sat down. on a neighbouring cliff, which was crowned with a mass of grasses and shrubs, a small monkey also sat down, on a fallen branch, and watched them with pathetic interest, tempered, it would seem, by cutaneous irritation. "moses, i am sorely in need of advice," said nigel, turning suddenly to his companion with ill-suppressed excitement. "well, massa nadgel, you _does_ look like it, but i'm sorry i ain't a doctor. p'r'aps de purfesser would help you better nor--" "you misunderstand me. can you keep a secret, moses?" "i kin try--if--if he's not too diffikilt to keep." "well, then; listen." the negro opened his eyes and his mouth as if these were the chief orifices for the entrance of sound, and advanced an ear. the distant monkey, observing, apparently, that some unusual communication was about to be made, also stretched out its little head, cocked an ear, and suspended its other operations. then, in low earnest tones, nigel told moses of his belief that van der kemp's daughter might yet be alive and well, and detailed the recent conversation he had had with his master. "now, moses; what d'ye think of all that?" profundity unfathomable sat on the negro's sable brow as he replied, "massa nadgel, i don't bery well know _what_ to t'ink." "but remember, moses, before we go further, that i tell you all this in strict confidence; not a word of it must pass your lips." the awful solemnity with which nigel sought to impress this on his companion was absolutely trifling compared with the expression of that companion's countenance, as, with a long-drawn argumentative and remonstrative _oh_! he replied:-- "massa nadgel. does you really t'ink i would say or do any mortal t'ing w'atsumiver as would injure _my_ massa?" "i'm _sure_ you would not," returned nigel, quickly. "forgive me, moses, i merely meant that you would have to be very cautious--very careful--that you do not let a word slip--by accident, you know--i believe you'd sooner die than do an intentional injury to van der kemp. if i thought you capable of _that_, i think i would relieve my feelings by giving you a good thrashing." the listening monkey cocked its ear a little higher at this, and moses, who had at first raised his flat nose indignantly in the air, gradually lowered it, while a benignant smile supplanted indignation. "you're right dere, massa nadgel. i'd die a t'ousand times sooner dan injure massa. as to your last obserwation, it rouses two idees in my mind. first, i wonder how you'd manidge to gib me a t'rashin', an' second, i wonder if your own moder would rikognise you arter you'd tried it." at this the monkey turned its other ear as if to make quite sure that it heard aright. nigel laughed shortly. "but seriously, moses," he continued; "what do you think i should do? should i reveal my suspicions to van der kemp?" "cer'nly not!" answered the negro with prompt decision. "what! wake up all his old hopes to hab 'em all dashed to bits p'raps when you find dat you's wrong!" "but i feel absolutely certain that i'm _not_ wrong!" returned nigel, excitedly. "consider--there is, first, the one-eyed pirate; second, there is--" "'scuse me, massa nadgel, dere's no occasion to go all ober it again. i'll tell you what you do." "well?" exclaimed nigel, anxiously, while his companion frowned savagely under the force of the thoughts that surged through his brain. "here's what you'll do," said moses. "well?" (impatiently, as the negro paused.) "we're on our way home to krakatoa." "yes--well?" "one ob our men leabes us to-morrer--goes to 'is home on de coast. kitch one ob de steamers dat's allers due about dis time." "well, what of that?" "what ob dat! why, you'll write a letter to your fadder. it'll go by de steamer to batavia. he gits it long before we gits home, so dere's plenty time for 'im to take haction." "but what good will writing to my father do?" asked nigel in a somewhat disappointed tone. "_he_ can't help us." "ho yes, he can," said moses with a self-satisfied nod. "see here, i'll tell you what to write. you begin, `dear fadder--or dearest fadder'-- i's not quite sure ob de strengt' ob your affection. p'raps de safest way." "oh! get on, moses. never mind that." "ho! it's all bery well for you to say dat, but de ole gen'leman'll mind it. hows'ever, put it as you t'ink best--`dear fadder, victual your ship; up anchor; hois' de sails, an' steer for de cocos-keelin' islands. go ashore; git hold ob do young 'ooman called kat'leen hobbleben.'" "holbein, moses." "_what_! is she moses too?" "no, no! get on, man." "well, `dearest fadder, git a hold ob her, whateber her name is, an' carry her off body and soul, an' whateber else b'longs to her. take her to de town ob anjer an' wait dere for furder orders.' ob course for de windin' up o' de letter you must appeal agin to de state ob your affections, for, as--" "not a bad idea," exclaimed nigel. "why, moses, you're a genius! of course i'll have to explain a little more fully." "'splain what you please," said moses. "my business is to gib you de bones ob de letter; yours--bein' a scholar--is to clove it wid flesh." "i'll do it, moses, at once." "i should like," rejoined moses, with a tooth-and-gum-disclosing smile, "to see your fadder when he gits dat letter!" the picture conjured up by his vivid imagination caused the negro to give way to an explosive laugh that sent the eavesdropping monkey like a brown thunderbolt into the recesses of its native jungle, while nigel went off to write and despatch the important letter. next day the party arrived at another village, where, the report of their approach having preceded them, they were received with much ceremony--all the more that the professor's power with the rifle had been made known, and that the neighbourhood was infested by tigers. there can be little doubt that at this part of the journey the travellers must have been dogged all the way by tigers, and it was matter for surprise that so small a party should not have been molested. possibly the reason was that these huge members of the feline race were afraid of white faces, being unaccustomed to them, or, perchance, the appearance and vigorous stride of even a few stalwart and fearless men had intimidated them. whatever the cause, the party reached the village without seeing a single tiger, though their footprints were observed in many places. the wild scenery became more and more beautiful as this village was neared. although flowers as a rule were small and inconspicuous in many parts of the great forest through which they passed, the rich pink and scarlet of many of the opening leaves, and the autumn-tinted foliage which lasts through all seasons of the year, fully made up for the want of them--at least as regards colour, while the whole vegetation was intermingled in a rich confusion that defies description. the professor went into perplexed raptures, his mind being distracted by the exuberant wealth of subjects which were presented to it all at the same time. "look zere!" he cried, at one turning in the path which opened up a new vista of exquisite beauty--"look at zat!" "ay, it is a siamang ape--next in size to the orang-utan," said van der kemp, who stood at his friend's elbow. the animal in question was a fine full-grown specimen, with long jet-black glancing hair. its height might probably have been a few inches over three feet, and the stretch of its arms over rather than under five feet, but at the great height at which it was seen--not less than eighty feet--it looked much like an ordinary monkey. it was hanging in the most easy nonchalant way by one hand from the branch of a tree, utterly indifferent to the fact that to drop was to die! the instant the siamang observed the travellers it set up a loud barking howl which made the woods resound, but it did not alter its position or seem to be alarmed in any degree. "vat a 'straordinary noise!" remarked the professor. "it is indeed," returned the hermit, "and it has an extraordinary appliance for producing it. there is a large bag under its throat extending to its lips and cheeks which it can fill with air by means of a valve in the windpipe. by expelling this air in sudden bursts it makes the varied sounds you hear." "mos' vonderful! a sort of natural air-gun! i vill shoot it," said the professor, raising his deadly rifle, and there is no doubt that the poor siamang would have dropped in another moment if van der kemp had not quietly and gravely touched his friend's elbow just as the explosion took place. "hah! you tooched me!" exclaimed the disappointed naturalist, looking fiercely round, while the amazed ape sent forth a bursting crack of its air-gun as it swung itself into the tree-top and made off. "yes, i touched you, and if you _will_ shoot when i am so close to you, you cannot wonder at it--especially when you intend to take life uselessly. the time now at the disposal of my friend nigel roy will not permit of our delaying long enough to kill and preserve large specimens. to say truth, my friend, we must press on now, as fast as we can, for we have a very long way to go." verkimier was not quite pleased with this explanation, but there was a sort of indescribable power about the hermit, when he was resolved to have his way, that those whom he led found it impossible to resist. on arriving at the village they were agreeably surprised to find a grand banquet, consisting chiefly of fruit, with fowl, rice, and indian corn, spread out for them in the balai or public hall, where also their sleeping quarters were appointed. an event had recently occurred, however, which somewhat damped the pleasure of their reception. a young man had been killed by a tiger. the brute had leaped upon him while he and a party of lads were traversing a narrow path through the jungle, and had killed him with one blow of its paw. the other youths courageously rushed at the beast with their spears and axes, and, driving it off, carried the body of their comrade away. "we have just buried the young man," said the chief of the village, "and have set a trap for the tiger, for he will be sure to visit the grave." "my friends would like to see this trap," said the hermit, who, of course, acted the part of interpreter wherever they went, being well acquainted with most of the languages and dialects of the archipelago. "there will yet be daylight after you have finished eating," said the chief. although anxious to go at once to see this trap, they felt the propriety of doing justice to what had been provided for them, and sat down to their meal, for which, to say truth, they were quite ready. then they went with a large band of armed natives to see this curious tiger-trap, the bait of which was the grave of a human being! the grave was close to the outskirts of the village, and, on one side, the jungle came up to within a few yards of it. the spot was surrounded by a strong and high bamboo fence, except at one point where a narrow but very conspicuous opening had been left. here a sharp spear was so arranged beside the opening that it could be shot across it at a point corresponding with the height of a tiger's heart from the ground--as well, at least, as that point could be estimated by men who were pretty familiar with tigers. the motive power to propel this spear was derived from a green bamboo, so strong that it required several powerful men to bend it in the form of a bow. a species of trigger was arranged to let the bent bow fly, and a piece of fine cord passed from this across the opening about breast-high for a tiger. the intention was that the animal, in entering the enclosure, should become its own executioner-- should commit unintentional suicide, if we may so put it. "i have an ambition to shoot a tiger," said nigel to van der kemp that evening. "do you think the people would object to my getting up into a tree with my rifle and watching beside the grave, part of the night?" "i am sure that they would not. but your watch will probably be in vain, for tigers are uncommonly sagacious creatures and seem to me to have exceptional powers for scenting danger." "no matter, i will try." accordingly, a little before dark that evening our hero borrowed the professor's double-barrelled rifle, being more suitable for large game than his own gun, and sauntered with moses down to the grave where he ensconced himself in the branches of a large tree about thirty feet from the ground. the form of the tree was such, that among its forks nigel could form a sort of nest in which he could sit, in full view of the poor youth's grave, without the risk of falling to the ground even if he should chance to drop asleep. "good-night, massa nadgel," said moses as he turned to leave his companion to his solitary vigil. "see you not go to sleep." "no fear of _that_!" said nigel. "an' whateber you do, don't miss." "i'll do my best--good-night." while there was yet a little daylight, our hunter looked well about him; took note of the exact position of the fence, the entrance to the enclosure, and the grave; judged the various distances of objects, and arranged the sights of the rifle, which was already loaded with a brace of hardened balls. then he looked up through the tree-tops and wished for darkness. it came sooner than he expected. night always descends more suddenly in tropical than in temperate regions. the sun had barely dipped below the horizon when night seemed to descend like a pall over the jungle, and an indescribable sensation of eerieness crept over nigel's spirit. objects became very indistinct, and he fancied that he saw something moving on the newly-made grave. with a startled feeling he grasped his weapon, supposing that the tiger must have entered the enclosure with cat-like stealth. on second thoughts, however, he discarded the idea, for the entrance was between him and the grave, and still seemed quite visible. do what he would, however, the thought of ghosts insisted on intruding upon him! he did not believe in ghosts--oh no!--had always scouted the idea of their existence. why, therefore, did he feel uncomfortable? he could not tell. it must simply be the excitement natural to such a very new and peculiar situation. he would think of something else. he would devote his mind to the contemplation of tigers! in a short time the moon would rise, he knew--then he would be able to see better. while he was in this very uncomfortable state of mind, with the jungle wrapped in profound silence as well as gloom, there broke on the night air a wail so indescribable that the very marrow in nigel's bones seemed to shrivel up. it ceased, but again broke forth louder than before, increasing in length and strength, until his ears seemed to tingle with the sound, and then it died away to a sigh of unutterable woe. "i have always," muttered nigel, "believed myself to be a man of ordinary courage, but _now_--i shall write myself a coward, if not an ass!" he attempted to laugh at this pleasantry, but the laugh was hollow and seemed to freeze in his gullet as the wail broke forth again, ten times more hideous than at first. after a time the wail became more continuous, and the watcher began to get used to it. then a happy thought flashed into his mind--this was, perhaps, some sort of mourning for the dead! he was right. the duty of the father of the poor youth who had been killed was, for several days after the funeral, to sit alone in his house and chant from sunset till daybreak a death-dirge, or, as it is called, the _tjerita bari_. it was not till next day that this was told to him, but meanwhile the surmise afforded him instantaneous relief. as if nature sympathised with his feelings, the moon arose at the same time and dispelled the thick darkness, though it was not till much later that, sailing across a clear sky, she poured her bright beams through the tree-tops and finally rested on the dead man's grave. by that time nigel had quite recovered his equanimity, and mentally blotted out the writing of "coward" and "ass" which he had written against himself. but another trouble now assailed him. he became sleepy! half-a-dozen times at least within half-an-hour he started wide awake under the impression that he was falling off the tree. "this will never do," he exclaimed, rising to his feet, resting his rifle in a position of safety, and then stretching himself to his utmost extent so that he became thoroughly awake. after this "rouser," as he called it, he sat down again, and almost immediately fell fast asleep. how long he sat in this condition it is impossible to say, but he opened his eyes at length with an indescribable sensation that _something_ required attention, and the first thing they rested on, (for daylight was dawning), was an enormous tiger not forty yards away from him, gliding like a shadow and with cat-like stealth towards the opening of the enclosure. the sight was so sudden and so unexpected that, for the moment, he was paralysed. perhaps he thought it was a dream. before he could recover presence of mind to seize his rifle, the breast of the animal had touched the fatal line; the trigger was drawn; the stout bamboo straightened with a booming sound, and the spear--or, rather, the giant arrow--was shot straight through the tiger's side! then occurred a scene which might well have induced nigel to imagine that he dreamt, for the transfixed creature bounded into the enclosure with a terrific roar that rang fearfully through the arches of the hitherto silent forest. rushing across the grave, it sprang with one tremendous bound right over the high fence, carrying the spear along with it into the jungle beyond. by that time nigel was himself again, with rifle in hand, but too late to fire. the moment he heard the thud of the tiger's descent, he slid down the tree, and, forgetful or regardless of danger,--went crashing into the jungle, while the yells and shouts of hundreds of aroused natives suggested the peopling of the region with an army of fiends. but our hero had not to go far. in his haste he almost tumbled over the tiger. it was lying stone dead on the spot where it had fallen! a few minutes more and the natives came pouring round him, wild with excitement and joy. soon he was joined by his own comrades. "well, you've managed to shoot him, i see," said van der kemp as he joined the group. "alas! no. i have not fired a shot," said nigel, with a half disappointed look. "you's got de better ob him anyhow," remarked moses as he pushed to the front. "the spear got the better of him, moses." "vell now, zat is a splendid animal. lat me see," said the professor, pulling out his tape-measure. it was with difficulty that the man of science made and noted his measurements, for the people were pressing eagerly round the carcase to gratify their revenge by running their spears into the still warm body. they dipped the points in the blood and passed their krisses broadside over the creature that they might absorb the courage and boldness which were supposed to emanate from it! then they skinned it, and pieces of the heart and brain were eaten raw by some of those whose relatives had been killed by tigers. finally the skull was hacked to pieces for the purpose of distributing the teeth, which are used by the natives as charms. chapter twenty one. in which the professor distinguishes himself. leaving this village immediately after the slaying of the tiger, the party continued to journey almost by forced marches, for not only was nigel roy very anxious to keep tryst with his father, and to settle the question of kathleen's identity by bringing father and daughter together, but van der kemp himself, strange to say, was filled with intense and unaccountable anxiety to get back to his island-home. "i don't know how it is," he said to nigel as they walked side by side through the forest, followed by moses and the professor, who had become very friendly on the strength of a certain amount of vacant curiosity displayed by the former in regard to scientific matters--"i don't know how it is, but i feel an unusually strong desire to get back to my cave. i have often been absent from home for long periods at a time, but have never before experienced these strange longings. i say strange, because there is no such thing as an effect without a cause." "may not the cause be presentiment?" suggested nigel, who, knowing what a tremendous possibility for the hermit lay in the future, felt a little inclined to be superstitious. it did not occur to him just then that an equally, if not more, tremendous possibility lay in the future for himself--touching his recent discovery or suspicion! "i do not believe in presentiments," returned the hermit. "they are probably the result of indigestion or a disordered intellect, from neither of which complaints do i suffer--at least not consciously!" "but you have never before left home in such peculiar circumstances," said nigel. "have you not told me that this is the first time for about two hundred years that krakatoa has broken out in active eruption?" "true, but that cannot be to me the cause of longings or anxieties, for i have seen many a long-dormant crater become active without any important result either to me or to any one else." "stop, stop!" cried professor verkimier in a hoarse whisper at that moment; "look! look at zee monkeys!" monkeys are very abundant in sumatra, but the nest of them which the travellers discovered at that time, and which had called forth the professor's admiration, was enough--as moses said--to make a "renocerus laugh." the trees around absolutely swarmed with monkeys; those of a slender form and with very long tails being most numerous. they were engaged in some sort of game, swinging by arms, legs, and tails from branches, holding on to or chasing each other, and taking the most astonishing leaps in circumstances where a slip would have no doubt resulted in broken limbs or in death. "stand still! oh! _do_ stand still--like you vas petrivied," said the professor in a low voice of entreaty. being quite willing to humour him, the whole party stood immovable, like statues, and thus avoided attracting the attention of the monkeys, who continued their game. it seemed to be a sort of "follow my leader," for one big strong fellow led off with a bound from one branch to another which evidently tried the nerves of his more timid and less agile companions. they all succeeded, however, from the largest even to the smallest--which last was a very tiny creature with a pink face, a sad expression, and a corkscrew tail. for a time they bounded actively among the branches, now high, now low, till suddenly the big leader took a tremendous leap, as if for the express purpose of baffling or testing his companions. it was immensely amusing to see the degrees of trepidation with which the others followed. the last two seemed quite unable to make up their minds to the leap, until the others seemed about to disappear, when one of them took heart and bounded wildly across. thus little pink-face with the corkscrew tail was left alone! twice did that little monkey make a desperate resolution to jump, and twice did its little heart fail as it measured the distance between the branches and glanced at the abyss below. its companions seemed to entertain a feeling of pity for it. numbers of them came back, as if to watch the jump and encourage the little one. a third time it made an abortive effort to spring, and looked round pitifully, whereupon moses gave vent to an uncontrollable snort of suppressed laughter. "vat you mean by zat?" growled the professor angrily. the growl and snort together revealed the intruders, and all the monkeys, except pink-face, crowding the trees above the spot where they stood, gazed down upon them with expressions in which unparalleled indignation and inconceivable surprise struggled for the mastery. then, with a wild shriek, the whole troop fled into the forest. this was too much for poor, half-petrified pink-face with the twisted tail. seeing that its comrades were gone in earnest, it became desperate, flung itself frantically into the air with an agonising squeak, missed its mark, went crashing through the slender branches and fell to the ground. fortunately these branches broke its fall so that it arose unhurt, bounded into a bush, still squeaking with alarm, and made after its friends. "why did you not shoot it, professor?" asked nigel, laughing as much at verkimier's grave expression as at the little monkey's behaviour. "vy did i not shot it?" echoed the professor. "i vould as soon shot a baby. zee pluck of zat leetle creature is admirable. it vould be a horrible shame to take his life. no! i do love to see ploock vezer in man or beast! he could not shoomp zat. he _knew_ he could not shoomp it, but he _tried_ to shoomp it. he vould not be beat, an' i vould not kill him--zough i vant 'im very mooch for a specimen." it seemed as if the professor was to be specially rewarded for his self-denial on this occasion, for while he was yet speaking, a soft "hush!" from van der kemp caused the whole party to halt in dead silence and look at the hermit inquiringly. "you are in luck, professor," he murmured, in a soft, low voice--very different from that hissing whisper which so many people seem to imagine is an inaudible utterance. "i see a splendid argus pheasant over there making himself agreeable to his wife!" "vare? oh! vare?" exclaimed the enthusiast with blazing eyes, for although he had already seen and procured specimens of this most beautiful creature, he had not yet seen it engage in the strange love-dance--if we may so call it--which is peculiar to the bird. "you'll never get near enough to see it if you hiss like a serpent," said the hermit. "get out your binoculars, follow me, and hold your tongue, all of you--that will be the safest plan. tread lightly." it was a sight to behold the professor crouching almost double in order to render himself less conspicuous, with his hat pushed back, and the blue glasses giving him the appearance of a great-eyed seal. he carried his butterfly-net in one hand, and the unfailing rifle in the other. fortunately the hermit's sharp and practised eye had enabled him to distinguish the birds in the distance before their advance had alarmed them, so that they were able to reach a mound topped with low bushes over which they could easily watch the birds. "zat is very koorious an' most interesting," murmured the professor after a short silence. he was right. there were two argus pheasants, a male and female--the male alone being decorated superbly. the argus belongs to the same family as the peacock, but is not so gaudy in colouring, and therefore, perhaps, somewhat more pleasing. its tail is formed chiefly by an enormous elongation of the two tail quills, and of the secondary wing feathers, no two of which are exactly the same, and the closer they are examined the greater is seen to be the extreme beauty of their markings, and the rich varied harmony of their colouring. when a male argus wishes to show off his magnificence to his spouse--or when she asks him to show it off we know not which--he makes a circle in the forest some ten or twelve feet in diameter, which he clears of every leaf, twig, and branch. on the margin of this circus there is invariably a projecting branch, or overarching root a few feet above the ground, on which the female takes her place to watch the exhibition. this consists of the male strutting about, pluming his feathers, and generally displaying his gorgeous beauty. "vat ineffable vanity!" exclaimed the professor, after gazing for some time in silence. his own folly in thus speaking was instantly proved by the two birds bringing the exhibition to an abrupt close and hastily taking wing. not long after seeing this they came to a small but deep and rapid river, which for a time checked their progress, for there was no ford, and the porters who carried verkimier's packages seemed to know nothing about a bridge, either natural or artificial. after wandering for an hour or so along its banks, however, they found a giant tree which had fallen across the stream, and formed a natural bridge. on the other side of the stream the ground was more rugged and the forest so dense that they had to walk in a sort of twilight--only a glimpse of blue sky being visible here and there through the tree-tops. in some places, however, there occurred bright little openings which swarmed with species of metallic tiger-beetles and sand-bees, and where sulphur, swallow-tailed, and other butterflies sported their brief life away over the damp ground by the water's edge. the native forest path which they followed was little better than a tunnel cut through a grove of low rattan-palms, the delicate but exceedingly tough tendrils of which hung down in all directions. these were fringed with sharp hooks which caught their clothing and tore it, or held on unrelentingly, so that the only way of escape was to step quietly back and unhook themselves. this of itself would have rendered their progress slow as well as painful, but other things tended to increase the delay. at one place they came to a tree about seven feet in diameter which lay across the path and had to be scrambled over, and this was done with great difficulty. at another, a gigantic mud-bath-- the wallowing hole of a herd of elephants--obstructed the way, and a yell from one of the porters told that in attempting to cross it he had fallen in up to the waist. a comrade in trying to pull him out also fell in and sank up to the armpits. but they got over it--as resolute men always do--somehow! "zis is horrible!" exclaimed the professor, panting from his exertions, and making a wild plunge with his insect-net at some living creature. "hah! zee brute! i have 'im." the man of science was flat on his stomach as he spoke, with arm outstretched and the net pressed close to the ground, while a smile of triumph beamed through the mud and scratches on his face. "what have you got?" asked nigel, doing his best to restrain a laugh. "a splendid _ornit'optera_ a day-flying moss," said verkimier as he cautiously rose, "vich mimics zee _trepsichrois mulciber_. ant zis very morning i caught von _leptocircus virescens_, vich derives protection from mimicking zee habits ant appearance of a dragon-fly." "what rubbish dat purfesser do talk!" remarked moses in an undertone to the hermit as they moved on again. "not such rubbish as it sounds to you, moses. these are the scientific names of the creatures, and you know as well as he does that many creatures think they find it advantageous to pretend to be what they are not. man himself is not quite free from this characteristic. indeed, you have a little of it yourself," said the hermit with one of his twinkling glances. "when you are almost terrified out of your wits don't you pretend that there's nothing the matter with you?" "nebber, massa, nebber!" answered the negro with remonstrative gravity. "when i's nigh out ob my wits, so's my innards feels like nuffin' but warmish water, i gits whitey-grey in de chops, so i's told, an' blue in de lips, an' i _pretends_ nuffin'--i don't care _who_ sees it!" the track for some distance beyond this point became worse and worse. then the nature of the ground changed somewhat--became more hilly, and the path, if such it could be styled, more rugged in some places, more swampy in others, while, to add to their discomfort, rain began to fall, and night set in dark and dismal without any sign of the village of which they were in search. by that time the porters who carried verkimier's boxes seemed so tired that the hermit thought it advisable to encamp, but the ground was so wet and the leeches were so numerous that they begged him to go on, assuring him that the village could not be far distant. in another half-hour the darkness became intense, so that a man could scarcely see his fellow, even when within two paces of him. ominous mutterings and rumblings like distant thunder also were heard, which appeared to indicate an approaching storm. in these circumstances encamping became unavoidable, and the order was given to make a huge fire to scare away the tigers, which were known to be numerous, and the elephants whose fresh tracks had been crossed and followed during the greater part of the day. the track of a rhinoceros and a tapir had also been seen, but no danger was to be anticipated from those creatures. "shall we have a stormy night, think you?" asked nigel, as he assisted in striking a light. "it may be so," replied the hermit, flinging down one after another of his wet matches, which failed to kindle. "what we hear may be distant thunder, but i doubt it. the sounds seem to me more like the mutterings of a volcano. some new crater may have burst forth in the sumatran ranges. this thick darkness inclines me to think so--especially after the new activity of volcanic action we have seen so recently at krakatoa. let me try your matches, nigel, perhaps they have escaped-- mine are useless." but nigel's matches were as wet as those of the hermit. so were those of the professor. luckily moses carried the old-fashioned flint and steel, with which, and a small piece of tinder, spark was at last kindled, but as they were about to apply it to a handful of dry bamboo scrapings, an extra spurt of rain extinguished it. for an hour and more they made ineffectual attempts to strike a light. even the cessation of the rain was of no avail. "vat must ve do _now_?" asked the professor in tones that suggested a woe-begone countenance, though there was no light by which to distinguish. "grin and bear it," said nigel, in a voice suggestive of a slight expansion of the mouth--though no one could see it. "dere's nuffin' else left to do," said moses, in a tone which betrayed such a very wide expansion that nigel laughed outright. "hah! you may laugh, my yoong frond, bot if zee tigers find us out or zee elephants trample on us, your laughter vill be turned to veeping. vat is zat? is not zat vonderful?" the question and exclamation were prompted by the sudden appearance of faint mysterious lights among the bushes. that the professor viewed them as unfriendly lights was clear from the click of his rifle-locks which followed. "it is only phosphoric light," explained van der kemp. "i have often seen it thus in electric states of the atmosphere. it will probably increase--meanwhile we must seat ourselves on our boxes and do the best we can till daylight. are you there, boys?" this question, addressed to the bearers in their native tongue, was not answered, and it was found, on a _feeling_ examination, that, in spite of leeches, tigers, elephants, and the whole animal creation, the exhausted porters had flung themselves on the wet ground and gone to sleep while their leaders were discussing the situation. dismal though the condition of the party was, the appearances in the forest soon changed the professor's woe into eager delight, for the phosphorescence became more and more pronounced, until every tree-stem blinked with a palish green light, and it trickled like moonlight over the ground, bringing out thick dumpy mushrooms like domes of light. glowing caterpillars and centipedes crawled about, leaving a trail of light behind them, and fireflies, darting to and fro, peopled the air and gave additional animation to the scene. in the midst of the darkness, thus made singularly visible, the white travellers sat dozing and nodding on their luggage, while the cries of metallic-toned horned frogs and other nocturnal sounds peculiar to that weird forest formed their appropriate lullaby. but moses neither dozed nor nodded. with a pertinacity peculiarly his own he continued to play a running accompaniment to the lullaby with his flint and steel, until his perseverance was rewarded with a spark which caught on a dry portion of the tinder and continued to burn. by that time the phosphoric lights had faded, and his spark was the only one which gleamed through intense darkness. how he cherished that spark! he wrapped it in swaddling clothes of dry bamboo scrapings with as much care as if it had been the essence of his life. he blew upon it tenderly as though to fan its delicate brow with the soft zephyrs of a father's affection. again he blew more vigorously, and his enormous pouting lips came dimly into view. another blow and his flat nose and fat cheeks emerged from darkness. still another--with growing confidence--and his huge eyes were revealed glowing with hope. at last the handful of combustible burst into a flame, and was thrust into a prepared nest of twigs. this, communicating with a heap of logs, kindled a sudden blaze which scattered darkness out of being, and converted thirty yards of the primeval forest into a chamber of glorious light, round which the human beings crowded with joy enhanced by the unexpectedness of the event, and before which the wild things of the wilderness fled away. when daylight came at last, they found that the village for which they had been searching was only two miles beyond the spot where they had encamped. here, being thoroughly exhausted, it was resolved that they should spend that day and night, and, we need scarcely add, they spent a considerable portion of both in sleep--at least such parts of both as were not devoted to food. and here the professor distinguished himself in a way that raised him greatly in the estimation of his companions and caused the natives of the place to regard him as something of a demi-god. of course we do not vouch for the truth of the details of the incident, for no one save himself was there to see, and although we entertained the utmost regard for himself, we were not sufficiently acquainted with his moral character to answer for his strict truthfulness. as to the main event, there was no denying that. the thing happened thus:-- towards the afternoon of that same day the travellers began to wake up, stretch themselves, and think about supper. in the course of conversation it transpired that a tiger had been prowling about the village for some days, and had hitherto successfully eluded all attempts to trap or spear it. they had tethered a goat several times near a small pond and watched the spot from safe positions among the trees, with spears, bows and arrows, and blow-pipes ready, but when they watched, the tiger did not come, and when they failed to watch, the tiger did come and carried off the goat. thus they had been baffled. "mine frond," said the professor to the hermit on hearing this. "i vill shot zat tiger! i am resolved. vill you ask zee chief to show me zee place ant zen tell his people, on pain of def, not to go near it all night, for if zey do i vill certainly shot zem--by accident of course!" the hermit did as he was bid, but advised his sanguine friend against exposing himself recklessly. the chief willingly fell in with his wishes. "won't you tell us what you intend to do, professor?" asked nigel, "and let us help you." "no, i vill do it all by mineself--or die! i vill vant a shofel or a spade of some sort." the chief provided the required implement, conducted his visitor a little before sunset to the spot, just outside the village, and left him there armed with his rifle, a revolver, and a long knife or kriss, besides the spade. when alone, the bold man put off his glasses, made a careful inspection of the ground, came to a conclusion--founded on scientific data no doubt--as to the probable spot whence the tiger would issue from the jungle when about to seize the goat, and, just opposite that spot, on the face of a slope about ten yards from the goat, he dug a hole deep enough to contain his own person. the soil was sandy easy to dig, and quite dry. it was growing dusk when the professor crept into this rifle-pit, drew his weapons and the spade in after him, and closed the mouth of the pit with moist earth, leaving only a very small eye-hole through which he could see the goat standing innocently by the brink of the pool. "now," said he, as he lay resting on his elbows with the rifle laid ready to hand and the revolver beside it; "now, i know not vezer you can smell or not, but i have buried mineself in eart', vich is a non-conductor of smell. ve shall see!" it soon became very dark, for there was no moon, yet not so dark but that the form of the goat could be seen distinctly reflected in the pond. naturally the professor's mind reverted to the occasion when nigel had watched in the branches of a tree for another tiger. the conditions were different, and so, he thought, was the man! "mine yoong frond," he said mentally, "is brav', oondoubtedly, but his nerves have not been braced by experience like mine. it is vell, for zere is more dancher here zan in a tree. it matters not. i am resolf to shot zat tigre--or die!" in this resolute and heroic frame of mind he commenced his vigil. it is curious to note how frequently the calculations of men fail them-- even those of scientific men! the tiger came indeed to the spot, but he came in precisely the opposite direction from that which the watcher expected, so that while verkimier was staring over the goat's head at an opening in the jungle beyond the pond, the tiger was advancing stealthily and slowly through the bushes exactly behind the hole in which he lay. suddenly the professor became aware of _something_! he saw nothing consciously, he heard nothing, but there stole over him, somehow, the feeling of a dread presence! was he asleep? was it nightmare? no, it was night-tiger! he knew it, somehow; he _felt_ it--but he could not see it. to face death is easy enough--according to some people--but to face nothing at all is at all times trying. verkimier felt it to be so at that moment. but he was a true hero and conquered himself. "come now," he said mentally, "don't be an ass! don't lose your shance by voomanly fears. keep kviet." another moment and there was a very slight sound right over his head. he glanced upwards--as far as the little hole would permit--and there, not a foot from him, was a tawny yellow throat! with a tremendous paw moving slowly forward--so slowly that it might have suggested the imperceptible movement of the hour-hand of a watch, or of a glacier. there was indeed motion, but it was not perceptible. the professor's perceptions were quick. he did not require to think. he knew that to use the rifle at such close quarters was absolutely impossible. he knew that the slightest motion would betray him. he could see that as yet he was undiscovered, for the animal's nose was straight for the goat, and he concluded that either his having buried himself was a safeguard against being smelt, or that the tiger had a cold in its head. he thought for one moment of bursting up with a yell that would scare the monster out of his seven senses--if he had seven-- but dismissed the thought as cowardly, for it would be sacrificing success to safety. he knew not what to do, and the cold perspiration consequent upon indecision at a supreme moment broke out all over him. suddenly he thought of the revolver! like lightning he seized it, pointed it straight up and fired. the bullet--a large army revolver one--entered the throat of the animal, pierced the root of the tongue, crashed through the palate obliquely, and entered the brain. the tiger threw one indescribable somersault and fell--fell so promptly that it blocked the mouth of the pit, all the covering earth of which had been blown away by the shot, and verkimier could feel the hairy side of the creature, and hear the beating of its heart as it gasped its life away. but in his cramped position he could not push it aside. well aware of the tenacity of life in tigers, he thought that if the creature revived it would certainly grasp him even in its dying agonies, for the weight of its body and its struggles were already crushing in the upper part of the hole. to put an end to its sufferings and his own danger, he pointed the revolver at its side and again fired. the crash in the confined hole was tremendous--so awful that the professor thought the weapon must have burst. the struggles of the tiger became more violent than ever, and its weight more oppressive as the earth crumbled away. again the cold perspiration broke out all over the man, and he became unconscious. it must not be supposed that the professor's friends were unwatchful. although they had promised not to disturb him in his operations, they had held themselves in readiness with rifle, revolver, and spear, and the instant the first shot was heard, they ran down to the scene of action. before reaching it the second shot quickened their pace as they ran down to the pond--a number of natives yelling and waving torches at their heels. "here he is," cried moses, who was first on the scene, "dead as mutton!" "what! the professor?" cried nigel in alarm. "no; de tiger." "where's verkimier?" asked the hermit as he came up. "i dun know, massa," said moses, looking round him vacantly. "search well, men, and be quick, he may have been injured," cried van der kemp, seizing a torch and setting the example. "let me out!" came at that moment from what appeared to be the bowels of the earth, causing every one to stand aghast gazing in wonder around and on each other. "zounds! vy don't you let me _out_?" shouted the voice again. there was an indication of a tendency to flight on the part of the natives, but nigel's asking "where _are_ you?" had the effect of inducing them to delay for the answer. "here--oonder zee tigre! kweek, i am suffocat!" instantly van der kemp seized the animal by the tail, and, with a force worthy of hercules, heaved it aside as if it had been a dead cat, revealing the man of science underneath--alive and well, but dishevelled, scratched, and soiled--also, as deaf as a door-post. chapter twenty two. a python discovered and a geyser interviewed. "it never rains but it pours" is a well-known proverb which finds frequent illustration in the experience of almost every one. at all events verkimier had reason to believe in the truth of it at that time, for adventures came down on him, as it were, in a sort of deluge, more or less astounding, insomuch that his enthusiastic spirit, bathing, if we may say so, in an ocean of scientific delight, pronounced sumatra to be the very paradise of the student of nature. we have not room in this volume to follow him in the details of his wonderful experiences, but we must mention one adventure which he had on the very day after the tiger-incident, because it very nearly had the effect of separating him from his travelling companions. being deaf, as we have said--owing to the explosion of his revolver in the hole--but not necessarily dumb, the professor, after one or two futile attempts to hear and converse, deemed it wise to go to bed and spend the few conscious minutes that might precede sleep in watching van der kemp, who kindly undertook to skin his tiger for him. soon the self-satisfied man fell into a sweet infantine slumber, and dreamed of tigers, in which state he gave vent to sundry grunts, gasps, and half-suppressed cries, to the immense delight of moses, who sat watching him, indulging in a running commentary suggestive of the recent event, and giving utterance now and then to a few imitative growls by way of enhancing the effect of the dreams! "look! look! massa nadgel, he's twitchin' all ober. de tiger's comin' to him now." "looks like it, moses." "yes--an', see, he grip de 'volver--no, too soon, or de tiger's hoed away, for he's stopped twitchin'!--dare; de tiger comes agin!" a gasp and clenching of the right hand seemed to warrant this assumption. then a yell rang through the hut; moses displayed all, and more than all his teeth, and the professor, springing up on one elbow, glared fearfully. "i'n't it awrful?" inquired moses in a low tone. the professor awoke mentally, recognised the situation, smiled an imbecile smile, and sank back again on his pillow with a sigh of relief. after that, when the skinning of the tiger was completed, the dreams appeared to leave him, and all his comrades joined him in the land of nod. he was first to awake when daylight entered their hut the following morning, and, feeling in a fresh, quiescent state of mind after the excitement of the preceding night, he lay on his back, his eyes fixed contentedly on the grand tiger-skin which hung on the opposite wall. by degrees his eyes grew wearied of that object, and he allowed them to travel languidly upwards and along the roof until they rested on the spot directly over his head, where they became fixed, and, at the same time, opened out to a glare, compared to which all his previous glaring was as nothing--for there, in the thatch, looking down upon him, was the angular head of a huge python. the snake was rolled up in a tight coil, and had evidently spent the night within a yard of the professor's head! being unable to make out what sort of snake it was, and fearing that it might be a poisonous one, he crept quietly from his couch, keeping his eyes fixed on the reptile as he did so. one result of this mode of action was that he did not see where he was going, and inadvertently thrust one finger into moses' right eye, and another into his open mouth. the negro naturally shut his mouth with a snap, while the professor opened his with a roar, and in another moment every man was on his feet blinking inquiringly. "look! zee snake!" cried the professor, when moses released him. "we must get him out of that," remarked van der kemp, as he quietly made a noose with a piece of rattan, and fastened it to the end of a long pole. with the latter he poked the creature up, and, when it had uncoiled sufficiently, he slipped the noose deftly over its head. "clear out, friends," he said, looking round. all obeyed with uncommon promptitude except the professor, who valiantly stood his ground. van der kemp pulled the python violently down to the floor, where it commenced a tremendous scuffle among the chairs and posts. the hermit kept its head off with the pole, and sought to catch its tail, but failed twice. seeing this the professor caught the tail as it whipped against his legs, and springing down the steps so violently that he snapped the cord by which the hermit held it, and drew the creature straight out--a thick monster full twelve feet long, and capable of swallowing a dog or a child. "out of zee way!" shouted the professor, making a wild effort to swing the python against a tree, but the tail slipped from his grasp, the professor fell, and the snake went crashing against a log, under which it took refuge. nigel, who was nearest to it, sprang forward, fortunately caught its tail, and, swinging it and himself round with such force that it could not coil up at all, dashed it against a tree. before it could recover from the shock, moses had caught up a hatchet and cut its head off with one blow. the tail wriggled for a few seconds, and the head gaped once or twice, as if in mild surprise at so sudden a finale. "zat is strainch--very strainch," slowly remarked the professor, as, still seated on the ground, he solemnly noted these facts. "not so _very_ strange, after all," said van der kemp; "i've seen the head of many a bigger snake cut off at one blow." "mine frond, you mistake me. it is zee vorking of physical law in zee spiritual vorld zat perplexes me. moses has cut zee brute in two-- physical fact, substance can be divided. zee two parts are still alife, zerfore, zee life--zee spirit--has also been divided!" "it is indeed very strange," said nigel, with a laugh. "stranger still that you may cut a worm into several parts, and the life remains in each, but, strangest of all, that you should sit on the ground, professor, instead of rising up, while you philosophise. you are not hurt, i hope--are you?" "i razer zink i am," returned the philosopher with a faint smile; "mine onkle, i zink, is spraint." this was indeed true, and it seemed as if the poor man's wanderings were to be, for a time at least, brought to an abrupt close. fortunately it was found that a pony could be procured at that village, and, as they had entered the borders of the mountainous regions, and the roads were more open and passable than heretofore, it was resolved that the professor should ride until his ankle recovered. we must now pass over a considerable portion of time and space, and convey the reader, by a forced march, to the crater of an active volcano. by that time verkimier's ankle had recovered and the pony had been dismissed. the heavy luggage, with the porters, had been left in the low grounds, for the mountain they had scaled was over , feet above the sea-level. only one native from the plain below accompanied them as guide, and three of their porters whose inquiring minds tempted them to make the ascent. at about , feet the party reached what the natives called the dempo or edge of the volcano, whence they looked down into the sawah or ancient crater, which was a level space composed of brown soil surrounded by cliffs, and lying like the bottom of a cup feet below them. it had a sulphurous odour, and was dotted here and there with clumps of heath and rhododendrons. in the centre of this was a cone which formed the true--or modern--crater. on scrambling up to the lip of the cone and looking down some feet of precipitous rock they beheld what seemed to be a pure white lake set in a central basin of feet in diameter. the surface of this lakelet smoked, and although it reflected every passing cloud as if it were a mirror, it was in reality a basin of hot mud, the surface of which was about thirty feet below its rim. "you will soon see a change come over it," said the hermit, as the party gazed in silent admiration at the weird scene. he had scarcely spoken, when the middle of the lake became intensely black and scored with dark streaks. this, though not quite obvious at first from the point where they stood, was caused by the slow formation of a great chasm in the centre of the seething lake of mud. the lake was sinking into its own throat. the blackness increased. then a dull sullen roar was heard, and next moment the entire lake upheaved, not violently, but in a slow, majestic manner some hundreds of feet into the air, whence it fell back into its basin with an awful roar which reverberated and echoed from the rocky walls of the caldron like the singing of an angry sea. an immense volume of steam--the motive power which had blown up the lake--was at the same time liberated and dissipated in the air. the wave-circles died away on the margin of the lake, and the placid, cloud-reflecting surface was restored until the geyser had gathered fresh force for another upheaval. "amazing!" exclaimed nigel, who had gazed with feelings of awe at this curious exhibition of the tremendous internal forces with which the creator has endowed the earth. "vonderful!" exclaimed the professor, whose astonishment was such, that his eyebrows rose high above the rim of his huge blue binoculars. moses, to whom such an exhibition of the powers of nature was familiar, was, we are sorry to say, not much impressed, if impressed at all! indeed he scarcely noticed it, but watched, with intense teeth-and-gum disclosing satisfaction, the faces of two of the native porters who had never seen anything of the kind before, and whose terrified expressions suggested the probability of a precipitate flight when their trembling limbs became fit to resume duty. "will it come again soon?" asked nigel, turning to van der kemp. "every fifteen or twenty minutes it goes through that process all day and every day," replied the hermit. "but, if i may joodge from zee stones ant scoriae around," said the professor, "zee volcano is not always so peaceful as it is joost now." "you are right. about once in every three years, and sometimes oftener, the crops of coffee, bananas, rice, etcetera, in this region are quite destroyed by sulphur-rain, which covers everything for miles around the crater." "hah! it vould be too hote a place zis for us, if zat vas to happin joost now," remarked verkimier with a smile. "it cannot be far off the time now, i should think," said van der kemp. all this talk moses translated, and embellished, to the native porters with the solemn sincerity of a true and thorough-paced hypocrite. he had scarcely finished, and was watching with immense delight the changeful aspect of their whitey-green faces, when another volcanic fit came on, and the deep-toned roar of the coming explosion was heard. it was so awesome that the countenance even of van der kemp became graver than usual. as for the two native porters, they gazed and trembled. nigel and the professor also gazed with lively expectation. moses--we grieve to record it--hugged himself internally, and gloated over the two porters. another moment and there came a mighty roar. up went the mud-lake hundreds of feet into the air; out came the steam with the sound of a thousand trombones, and away went the two porters, head over heels, down the outer slope of the cone and across the sawah as if the spirit of evil were after them. there was no cause, however, for alarm. the mud-lake, falling back into its native cup, resumed its placid aspect and awaited its next upheaval with as much tranquillity as if it had never known disturbance in the past, and were indifferent about the future. that evening our travellers encamped in close proximity to the crater, supped on fowls roasted in an open crevice whence issued steam and sulphurous smells, and slept with the geyser's intermittent roar sounding in their ears and re-echoing in their dreams. chapter twenty three. tells of volcanic fires and a strange return "home." this tremendous introduction to volcanic fires was but the prelude to a period of eruptive action which has not been paralleled in the world's history. for a short time after this, indeed, the genial nature of the weather tended to banish from the minds of our travellers all thoughts of violence either in terrestrial or human affairs, and as the professor devoted himself chiefly to the comparatively mild occupation of catching and transfixing butterflies and beetles during the march southward, there seemed to be nothing in the wide universe above or below save peace and tranquillity--except, perhaps, in the minds of beetles and butterflies! throughout all this period, nevertheless, there were ominous growlings, grumblings, and tremors--faint but frequent--which indicated a condition of mother earth that could not have been called easy. "some of the volcanoes of java must be at work, i think," said nigel one night, as the party sat in a small isolated wood-cutter's hut discussing a supper of rice and fowls with his friends, which they were washing down with home-grown coffee. "it may be so," said van der kemp in a dubious tone; "but the sounds, though faint, seem to me a good deal nearer. i can't help thinking that the craters which have so recently opened up in krakatoa are still active, and that it may be necessary for me to shift my quarters, for my cave is little more, i suspect, than the throat of an ancient volcano." "hah! say you so, mine frond? zen i vould advise you to make no delay," said the professor, critically examining a well-picked drumstick. "you see, it is not pleasant to be blown up eizer by the terrestrial eruptions of zee vorld or zee celestial explosions of your vife.--a leetle more rice, moses if you please. zanks." "now, mine fronds," he continued, after having disposed of a supper which it might have taxed a volcano's throat to swallow, "it is viz great sorrow zat i must part from you here." "part! why?" asked the hermit in surprise. "vy, because i find zis contrie is heaven upon eart'. zat is, of course, only in a scientific point of view. zee voods are svarming, zee air is teeming, ant zee vaters are vallo'ing vit life. i cannot tear myself avay. but ve shall meet again--at telok betong, or krakatoa, or anjer, or batavia." it was found that the man of science was also a man of decision. nothing would persuade him to go a step further. the wood-cutter's hut suited him, so did the wood-cutter himself, and so, as he said, did the region around him. with much regret, therefore, and an earnest invitation from the hermit to visit his cave, and range the almost unexplored woods of his island, the travellers parted from him; and our three adventurers, dismissing all attendants and hiring three ponies, continued their journey to the southern shores of sumatra. as they advanced it soon became evident that the scene of volcanic activity was not so far distant as the island of java, for the air was frequently darkened by the falling of volcanic dust which covered the land with a greyish powder. as, however, at least sixteen volcanoes have been registered in the island of sumatra, and there are probably many others, it was impossible to decide where the scene of eruption was, that caused those signs. one afternoon the travellers witnessed a catastrophe which induced them to forego all idea of spending more time in examining the country. they had arrived at a village where they found a traveller who appeared to be going about without any special object in view. he spoke english, but with a foreign accent. nigel naturally felt a desire to become sociable with him, but he was very taciturn and evidently wished to avoid intercourse with chance acquaintances. hearing that there were curious hot-water and mud springs not far off, the stranger expressed a desire to visit them. nigel also felt anxious to see them, and as one guide was sufficient for the party the stranger joined the party and they went together. the spot they were led to was evidently a mere crust of earth covering fierce subterranean fires. in the centre of it a small pond of mud was boiling and bubbling furiously, and round this, on the indurated clay, were smaller wells and craters full of boiling mud. the ground near them was obviously unsafe, for it bent under pressure like thin ice, and at some of the cracks and fissures the sulphurous vapour was so hot that the hand could not be held to it without being scalded. nigel and the stranger walked close behind the native guide, both, apparently, being anxious to get as near as possible to the central pond. but the guide stopped suddenly, and, looking back, said to van der kemp that it was not safe to approach nearer. nigel at once stopped, and, looking at the stranger, was struck by the wild, incomprehensible expression of his face as he continued to advance. "stop! stop, sir!" cried the hermit on observing this, but the man paid no attention to the warning. another instant and the crust on which he stood gave way and he sank into a horrible gulf from which issued a gust of sulphurous vapour and steam. the horror which almost overwhelmed nigel did not prevent him bounding forward to the rescue. well was it for him at that time that a cooler head than his own was near. the strong hand of the hermit seized his collar on the instant, and he was dragged backward out of danger, while an appalling shriek from the stranger as he disappeared told that the attempt to succour him would have been too late. a terrible event of this kind has usually the effect of totally changing, at least for a time, the feelings of those who witness it, so as to almost incapacitate them from appreciating ordinary events or things. for some days after witnessing the sudden and awful fate of this unknown man, nigel travelled as if in a dream, taking little notice of, or interest in, anything, and replying to questions in mere monosyllables. his companions seemed to be similarly affected, for they spoke very little. even the volatile spirit of moses appeared to be subdued, and it was not till they had reached nearly the end of their journey that their usual flow of spirits returned. arriving one night at a village not very far from the southern shores of sumatra they learned that the hermit's presentiments were justified, and that the volcano which was causing so much disturbance in the islands of the archipelago was, indeed, the long extinct one of krakatoa. "i've heard a good deal about it from one of the chief men here," said the hermit as he returned to his friends that night about supper-time. "he tells me that it has been more or less in moderate eruption ever since we left the island, but adds that nobody takes much notice of it, as they don't expect it to increase much in violence. i don't agree with them in that," he added gravely. "why not?" asked nigel. "partly because of the length of time that has elapsed since its last eruption in ; partly from the fact that that eruption--judging from appearances--must have been a very tremendous one, and partly because my knowledge of volcanic action leads me to expect it; but i could not easily explain the reason for my conclusions on the latter point. i have just been to the brow of a ridge not far off whence i have seen the glow in the sky of the krakatoa fires. they do not, however, appear to be very fierce at the present moment." as he spoke there was felt by the travellers a blow, as if of an explosion under the house in which they sat. it was a strong vertical bump which nearly tossed them all off their chairs. van der kemp and his man, after an exclamation or two, continued supper like men who were used to such interruptions, merely remarking that it was an earthquake. but nigel, to whom it was not quite so familiar, stood up for a few seconds with a look of anxious uncertainty, as if undecided as to the path of duty and prudence in the circumstances. moses relieved him. "sot down, massa nadgel," said that sable worthy, as he stuffed his mouth full of rice; "it's easier to sot dan to stand w'en its eart'quakin'." nigel sat down with a tendency to laugh, for at that moment he chanced to glance at the rafters above, where he saw a small anxious-faced monkey gazing down at him. he was commenting on this creature when another prolonged shock of earthquake came. it was not a bump like the previous one, but a severe vibration which only served to shake the men in their chairs, but it shook the small monkey off the rafter, and the miserable little thing fell with a shriek and a flop into the rice-dish! "git out o' dat--you scoundril!" exclaimed moses, but the order was needless, for the monkey bounced out of it like india-rubber and sought to hide its confusion in the thatch, while moses helped himself to some more of the rice, which, he said, was none the worse for being monkeyfied! at last our travellers found themselves in the town of telok betong, where, being within forty-five miles of krakatoa, the hermit could both see and hear that his island-home was in violent agitation; tremendous explosions occurring frequently, while dense masses of smoke were ascending from its craters. "i'm happy to find," said the hermit, soon after their arrival in the town, "that the peak of rakata, on the southern part of the island where my cave lies, is still quiet and has shown no sign of breaking out. and now i shall go and see after my canoe." "do you think it safe to venture to visit your cave?" asked nigel. "well, not absolutely safe," returned the hermit with a peculiar smile, "but, of course, if you think it unwise to run the risk of--" "i asked a simple question, van der kemp, without any thought of myself," interrupted the youth, as he flushed deeply. "forgive me, nigel," returned the hermit quickly and gravely, "it is but my duty to point out that we cannot go there without running _some_ risk." "and it is _my_ duty to point out," retorted his hurt friend, "that when any man, worthy of the name, agrees to follow another, he agrees to accept all risks." to this the hermit vouchsafed no further reply than a slight smile and nod of intelligence. thereafter he went off alone to inquire about his canoe, which, it will be remembered, his friend, the captain of the steamer, had promised to leave for him at this place. telok betong, which was one of the severest sufferers by the eruption of , is a small town at the head of lampong bay, opposite to the island of krakatoa, from which it is between forty and fifty miles distant. it is built on a narrow strip of land at the base of a steep mountain, but little above the sea, and is the chief town of the lampong residency, which forms the most southerly province of sumatra. at the time we write of, the only european residents of the place were connected with government. the rest of the population was composed of a heterogeneous mass of natives mingled with a number of chinese, a few arabs, and a large fluctuating population of traders from borneo, celebes, new guinea, siam, and the other innumerable isles of the archipelago. these were more or less connected with prahus laden with the rich and varied merchandise of the eastern seas. as each man in the town had been permitted to build his house according to his own fancy, picturesque irregularity was the agreeable result. it may be added that, as each man spoke his own language in his own tones, babel and noise were the consequence. in a small hut by the waterside the hermit found the friend--a malay--to whom his canoe had been consigned, and, in a long low shed close by, he found the canoe itself, with the faithful spinkie in charge. "don't go near the canoe till you've made friends with the monkey," said the malay in his own tongue, as he was about to put the key in the door. "why not?" asked the hermit. "because it is the savagest brute i ever came across," said the man. "it won't let a soul come near the canoe. i would have killed it long ago if the captain of the steamer had not told me you wished it to be taken great care of. there, look out! the vixen is not tied up." he flung open the shed-door and revealed spinkie seated in his old place, much deteriorated in appearance and scowling malevolently. the instant the poor creature heard its master's voice and saw his form--for his features must have been invisible against the strong light--the scowl vanished from its little visage. with a shriek of joy it sprang like an acrobat from a spring-board and plunged into the hermit's bosom--to the alarm of the malay, who thought this was a furious attack. we need not say that van der kemp received his faithful little servant kindly, and it was quite touching to observe the monkey's intense affection for him. it could not indeed wag its tail like a dog, but it put its arms round its master's neck with a wondrously human air, and rubbed its little head in his beard and whiskers, drawing itself back now and then, putting its black paws on his cheeks, turning his face round to the light and opening its round eyes wide--as well as its round little mouth--as if to make sure of his identity--then plunging into the whiskers again, and sometimes, when unable to contain its joy, finding a safety-valve in a little shriek. when the meeting and greeting were over, van der kemp explained that he would require his canoe by daybreak the following morning, ordered a few provisions to be got ready, and turned to leave. "you must get down, spinkie, and watch the canoe for one night more," said the hermit, quietly. but spinkie did not seem to perceive the necessity, for he clung closer to his master with a remonstrative, croak. "get down, spinkie," said the hermit firmly, "and watch the canoe." the poor beast had apparently learned that medo-persic law was not more unchangeable than van der kemp's commands! at all events it crept down his arm and leg, waddled slowly over the floor of the shed with bent back and wrinkled brow, like a man of ninety, and took up its old position on the deck, the very personification of superannuated woe. the hermit patted its head gently, however, thus relieving its feelings, and probably introducing hope into its little heart before leaving. then he returned to his friends and bade them prepare for immediate departure. it was the night of the th of august, and as the eruptions of the volcano appeared to be getting more and more violent, van der kemp's anxiety to reach his cave became visibly greater. "i have been told," said the hermit to nigel, as they went down with moses to the place where the canoe had been left, "the history of krakatoa since we left. a friend informs me that a short time after our departure the eruptions subsided a little, and the people here had ceased to pay much attention to them, but about the middle of june the volcanic activity became more violent, and on the th, in particular, it was observed that the vapour-column and the force of the explosions were decidedly on the increase." "at katimbang, from which place the island can be seen, it was noticed that a second column of vapour was ascending from the centre of the island, and that the appearance of perboewatan had entirely changed, its conspicuous summit having apparently been blown away. in july there were some explosions of exceptional violence, and i have now no doubt that it was these we heard in the interior of this island when we were travelling hither, quite lately. on the th of this month, i believe, the island was visited in a boat by a government officer, but he did not land, owing to the heavy masses of vapour and dust driven about by the wind, which also prevented him from making a careful examination, but he could see that the forests of nearly the whole island have been destroyed--only a few trunks of blighted trees being left standing above the thick covering of pumice and dust. he reported that the dust near the shore was found to be twenty inches thick." "if so," said nigel, "i fear that the island will be no longer fit to inhabit." "i know not," returned the hermit sadly, in a musing tone. "the officer reported that there is no sign of eruption at rakata, so that my house is yet safe, for no showers of pumice, however deep, can injure the cave." nigel was on the point of asking his friend why he was so anxious to revisit the island at such a time, but, recollecting his recent tiff on that subject, refrained. afterwards, however, when van der kemp was settling accounts with the malay, he put the question to moses. "i can't help wondering," he said, "that van der kemp should be so anxious to get back to his cave just now. if he were going in a big boat to save some of his goods and chattels i could understand it, but the canoe, you know, could carry little more than her ordinary lading." "well, massa nadgel," said moses, "it's my opinion dat he wants to go back 'cause he's got an uncommon affekshnit heart." "how? surely you don't mean that his love of the mere place is so strong that--" "no, no, massa nadgel--'snot dat. but he was awrful fond ob his wife an' darter, an' i know he's got a photogruff ob 'em bof togidder, an' i t'ink he'd sooner lose his head dan lose dat, for i've seed him look at 'em for hours, an' kiss 'em sometimes w'en he t'ought i was asleep." the return of the hermit here abruptly stopped the conversation. the canoe was carried down and put into the water, watched with profound interest by hundreds of natives and traders, who were all more or less acquainted with the hermit of rakata. it was still daylight when they paddled out into lampong bay, but the volumes of dust which rose from krakatoa--although nearly fifty miles off--did much to produce an unusually early twilight. "goin' to be bery dark, massa," remarked moses as they glided past the shipping. "shall i light de lamp?" "do, moses, but we shan't need it, for as we get nearer home the volcanic fires will light us on our way." "de volcanic dust is a-goin' to powder us on our way too, massa. keep your hands out o' the way, spinkie," said the negro as he fixed a small oil-lamp to the mast, and resumed his paddle. "after we get out a bit the wind will help us," said the hermit. "yes, massa, if he don't blow too strong," returned moses, as a squall came rushing down the mountains and swept over the bay, ruffling its now dark waters into foaming wavelets. altogether, what with the increasing darkness and the hissing squall, and the night-voyage before them, and the fires of krakatoa which were now clearly visible on the horizon, nigel roy felt a more eerie sensation in his breast than he ever remembered to have experienced in all his previous life, but he scorned to admit the fact--even to himself, and said, mentally, that it was rather romantic than otherwise! just then there burst upon their ears the yell of a steam-whistle, and a few moments later a steamer bore straight down on them, astern. "steamer ahoy!" shouted van der kemp. "will ye throw us a rope?" "ay! ay!--ease 'er!--stop 'er! where are 'ee bound for?" demanded an unmistakably english voice. "krakatoa!" replied the hermit. "where are you?" "anjer, on the java coast. do 'ee want to be smothered, roasted, and blown up?" asked the captain, looking down on the canoe as it ranged alongside the dark hull. "no, we want to get home." "home! well, you're queer fellows in a queer eggshell for such waters. every man to his taste. look out for the rope!" "all right, cappen," cried moses as he caught the coil. next moment the steamer went ahead, and the canoe ploughed over the sunda straits at the rate of thirteen miles an hour, with her sharp prow high out of the water, and the stern correspondingly low. the voyage, which would have otherwise cost our three travellers a long laborious night and part of next day, was by this means so greatly shortened that when daybreak arrived they were not more than thirteen miles to the east of krakatoa. nearer than this the steamboat could not take them without going out of her course, but as van der kemp and nigel gratefully acknowledged, it was quite near enough. "well, i should just think it was rather too near!" said the captain with a grin. and, truly, he was justified in making the remark, for the explosions from the volcano had by that time become not only very frequent, but tremendously loud, while the dense cloud which hung above it and spread far and wide over the sky covered the sea with a kind of twilight that struggled successfully against the full advent of day. lightning too was playing among the rolling black masses of smoke, and the roaring explosions every now and then seemed to shake the very heavens. casting off the tow-rope, they turned the bow of their canoe to the island. as a stiffish breeze was blowing, they set the sails, close-reefed, and steered for the southern shore at that part which lay under the shadow of rakata. chapter twenty four. an awful night and terrible morning. it was a matter of some satisfaction to find on drawing near to the shore that the peak of rakata was still intact, and that, although most other parts of the island which could be seen were blighted by fire and covered deeply with pumice-dust, much of the forest in the immediate neighbourhood of the cave was still undestroyed though considerably damaged. "d'you think our old harbour will be available, moses?" asked van der kemp as they came close to the first headland. "pr'aps. bes' go an' see," was the negro's practical reply. "evidently rakata is not yet active," said nigel, looking up at the grey dust-covered crags as the canoe glided swiftly through the dark water. "that is more than can be said for the other craters," returned the hermit. "it seems to me that not only all the old ones are at work, but a number of new ones must have been opened." the constant roaring and explosions that filled their ears and the rain of fine ashes bore testimony to the truth of this, though the solid and towering mass of rakata rose between them and the part of krakatoa which was in eruption, preventing their seeing anything that was passing except the dense masses of smoke, steam, and dust which rose many miles into the heavens, obstructing the light of day, but forming cloud-masses from which the lurid flames of the volcano were reflected downward. on reaching the little bay or harbour it was found much as they had left it, save that the rocks and bushes around were thickly covered with dust, and their boat was gone. "strange! at such a time one would scarcely have expected thieves to come here," said the hermit, looking slowly round. "no t'ief bin here, massa," said moses, looking over the side of the canoe. "i see de boat!" he pointed downwards as he spoke, and on looking over the side they saw the wreck of the boat at the bottom, in about ten feet of water, and crushed beneath a ponderous mass of lava, which must have been ejected from the volcano and afterwards descended upon the boat. the destruction of the boat rendered it impossible to remove any of the property of the hermit, and nigel now saw, from his indifference, that this could not have been the cause of his friend's anxiety and determination to reach his island-home in spite of the danger that such a course entailed. that there was considerable danger soon became very obvious, for, having passed to some extent at this point beyond the shelter of the cliffs of rakata, and come partly into view of the other parts of the island, the real extent of the volcanic violence burst upon nigel and moses as a new revelation. the awful sublimity of the scene at first almost paralysed them, and they failed to note that not only did a constant rain of pumice-dust fall upon them, but that there was also a pretty regular dropping of small stones into the water around them. their attention was sharply aroused to this fact by the fall of a lump of semi-molten rock, about the size of a cannon-shot, a short distance off, which was immediately followed by not less than a cubic yard of lava which fell close to the canoe and deluged them with spray. "we must go," said the hermit quietly. "no need to expose ourselves here, though the watching of the tremendous forces that our creator has at command does possess a wonderful kind of fascination. it seems to me the more we see of his power as exerted on our little earth, the more do we realise the paltriness of our conception of the stupendous might that upholds the universe." while he was speaking, van der kemp guided the canoe into its little haven, and in a few minutes he and moses had carried it into the shelter of the cave out of which nigel had first seen it emerge. then the lading was carried up, after which they turned into the track which led to the hermit's home. the whole operation may be said to have been performed under fire, for small masses of rock kept pattering continually on the dust-covered ground around them, causing cloudlets, like smoke, to spring up wherever they struck. nigel and moses could not resist glancing upward now and then as they moved quickly to and fro, and they experienced a shrinking sensation when a stone fell very near them, but each scorned to exhibit the smallest trace of anxiety, or to suggest that the sooner they got from under fire the better! as for van der kemp, he moved about deliberately as if there was nothing unusual going on, and with an absent look on his grave face as though the outbursts of smoke, and fire, and lava, which turned the face of day into lurid night, and caused the cliffs to reverberate with unwonted thunders, had no effect whatever on his mind. a short walk, however, along the track, which was more than ankle-deep in dust, brought them under the sheltering sides of rakata, up which they soon scrambled to the mouth of their cave. here all was found as they had left it, save that the entrance was knee-deep in pumice-dust. and now a new and very strange sensation was felt by each of them, for the loud reports and crackling sounds which had assailed their ears outside were reduced by the thick walls of the cave to a continuous dull groan, as it were, like the soft but thunderous bass notes of a stupendous organ. to these sounds were added others which seemed to be peculiar to the cave itself. they appeared to rise from crevices in the floor, and were no doubt due to the action of those pent-up subterranean fires which were imprisoned directly, though it may be very far down, under their feet. every now and then there came a sudden increase of the united sounds as if the "swell" of the great organ had been opened, and such out-gushing was always accompanied with more or less of indescribable shocks followed by prolonged tremors of the entire mountain. if the three friends had been outside to observe what was taking place, they would have seen that these symptoms were simultaneous with occasional and extremely violent outbursts from the crater of perboewatan and his compeers. indeed they guessed as much, and two of them at least were not a little thankful that, awesome as their position was, they had the thick mountain between them and the fiery showers outside. of all this the hermit took no notice, but, hastening into the inner cavern, opened a small box, and took therefrom a bundle of papers and a little object which, at a first glance, nigel supposed to be a book, but which turned out to be a photograph case. these the hermit put carefully into the breast-pocket of his coat and then turned to his companions with a sigh as if of relief. "i think there is no danger of anything occurring at this part of the island," he remarked, looking round the cave, "for there is no sign of smoke and no sulphurous smell issuing from any of the crevices in walls or floor. this, i think, shows that there is no direct communication with rakata and the active volcano--at least not at present." "do you then think there is a possibility of an outbreak at some future period?" asked nigel. "who can tell? people here, who don't study the nature of volcanoes much, though surrounded by them, will expect things ere long to resume their normal condition. i can never forget the fact that the greater part of krakatoa stands, as you know, exactly above the spot where the two great lines of volcanic action cross, and right over the mouth of the immense crater to which perboewatan and all the other craters serve as mere chimneys or safety-valves. we cannot tell whether a great eruption similar to that of may not be in store for us. the only reason that i can see for the quiescence of this peak of rakata is, as i said to you once before, that it stands not so much above the old crater as above and on the safe side of its lip." "i t'ink, massa, if i may ventur' to speak," said moses, "dat de sooner we git off his lip de better lest we tumble into his mout'." "you may be right, moses, and i have no objection to quit," returned the hermit, "now that i have secured the photograph and papers. at the same time i fear the rain of stones and lava is growing worse. it might be safer to stay till there is a lull in the violence of the eruption, and then make a dash for it. what say you, nigel?" "i say that you know best, van der kemp. i'm ready to abide by your decision, whatever it be." "well, then, we will go out and have a look at the state of matters." the view from the entrance was not calculated to tempt them to forsake the shelter of the cave, however uncertain that might be. the latest explosions had enshrouded the island in such a cloud of smoke and dust, that nothing whatever was visible beyond a few yards in front, and even that space was only seen by the faint rays of the lamp issuing from the outer cave. this lamp-light was sufficient, however, to show that within the semi-circle of a few yards there was a continuous rain of grey ashes and dust mingled with occasional stones of various sizes-- some larger than a man's fist. "to go out in that would be simply to court death," said nigel, whose voice was almost drowned by the noise of the explosions and fall of material. as it was manifest that nothing could be done at the moment except to wait patiently, they returned to the cave, where they lighted the oil-stove, and moses--who had taken the precaution to carry up some provisions in a bag from the canoe--proceeded to prepare a meal. "stummicks must be attended to," he murmured to himself as he moved about the cave-kitchen and shook his head gravely. "collapses in dat region is wuss, a long way, dan 'splosion of the eart'!" meanwhile, nigel and the hermit went to examine the passage leading to the observatory. the eruption had evidently done nothing to it, for, having passed upwards without difficulty, they finally emerged upon the narrow ledge. the scene that burst upon their astonished gaze here was awful in the extreme. it will be remembered that while the hermit's cave was on the southern side of krakatoa, facing java, the stair and passage leading to the observatory completely penetrated the peak of rakata, so that when standing on the ledge they faced northward and were thus in full view of all the craters between them and perboewatan. these were in full blast at the time, and, being so near, the heat, as well as the dust, molten lava, and other missiles, instantly drove them back under the protection of the passage from which they had emerged. here they found a small aperture which appeared to have been recently formed--probably by a blow from a mass of falling rock--through which they were able to obtain a glimpse of the pandemonium that lay seething below them. they could not see much, however, owing to the smoke which filled the air. the noise of the almost continuous explosions was so loud, that it was impossible to converse save by placing the mouth to the ear and shouting. fortunately soon after their ascent the wind shifted and blew smoke, fire, and dust away to the northward, enabling them to get out on the ledge, where for a time they remained in comparative safety. "look! look at your mirrors!" exclaimed nigel suddenly, as his wandering gaze happened to turn to the hermit's sun-guides. and he might well exclaim, for not only was the glass of these ingenious machines shivered and melted, but their iron frameworks were twisted up into fantastic shapes. "lightning has been at work here," said van der kemp. it did not at the moment occur to either of them that the position on which they stood was peculiarly liable to attack by the subtle and dangerous fluid which was darting and zigzagging everywhere among the rolling clouds of smoke and steam. a louder report than usual here drew their attention again to the tremendous scene that was going on in front of them. the extreme summit of perboewatan had been blown into a thousand fragments, which were hurtling upwards and crackling loudly as the smaller masses were impelled against each other in their skyward progress. this crackling has been described by those who heard it from neighbouring shores as a "strange rustling sound." to our hermit and his friend, who were, so to speak, in the very midst of it, the sound rather resembled the continuous musketry of a battle-field, while the louder explosions might be compared to the booming of artillery, though they necessarily lose by the comparison, for no invention of man ever produced sounds equal to those which thundered at that time from the womb of krakatoa. immediately after this, a fountain of molten lava at white heat welled up in the great throat that had been so violently widened, and, overflowing the edges of the crater, rolled down its sides in fiery rivers. all the other craters in the island became active at the same moment and a number of new ones burst forth. indeed it seemed to those who watched them that if these had not opened up to give vent to the suppressed forces the whole island must have been blown away. as it was, the sudden generation of so much excessive heat set fire to what remained of trees and everything combustible, so that the island appeared to be one vast seething conflagration, and darkness was for a time banished by a red glare that seemed to nigel far more intense than that of noonday. it is indeed the partiality, (if we may say so), of conflagration-light which gives to it the character of impressive power with which we are all so familiar--the intense lights being here cut sharply off by equally intense shadows, and then grading into dull reds and duller greys. the sun, on the other hand, bathes everything in its genial glow so completely that all nature is permeated with it, and there are no intense contrasts, no absolutely black and striking shadows, except in caverns and holes, to form startling contrasts. "these safety-valves," said the hermit, referring to the new craters, "have, under god, been the means of saving us from destruction." "it would seem so," said nigel, who was too overwhelmed by the sight to say much. even as he spoke the scene changed as if by magic, for from the cone of perboewatan there issued a spout of liquid fire, followed by a roar so tremendous that the awe-struck men shrank within themselves, feeling as though that time had really come when the earth is to melt with fervent heat! the entire lake of glowing lava was shot into the air, and lost in the clouds above, while mingled smoke and steam went bellowing after it, and dust fell so thickly that it seemed as if sufficient to extinguish the raging fires. whether it did so or not is uncertain. it may have been that the new pall of black vapour only obscured them. at all events, after the outburst the darkness of night fell suddenly on all around. just then the wind again changed, and the whole mass of vapour, smoke, and ashes came sweeping like the very besom of destruction towards the giddy ledge on which the observers stood. nigel was so entranced that it is probable he might have been caught in the horrible tempest and lost, had not his cooler companion grasped his arm and dragged him violently into the passage--where they were safe, though half suffocated by the heat and sulphurous vapours that followed them. at the same time the thunderous roaring became so loud that conversation was impossible. van der kemp therefore took his friend's hand and led him down to the cave, where the sounds were so greatly subdued as to seem almost a calm by contrast. "we are no doubt in great danger," said the hermit, gravely, as he sat down in the outer cave, "but there is no possibility of taking action to-night. here we are, whether wisely or unwisely, and here we must remain--at least till there is a lull in the eruption. `god is our refuge.' he ought to be so at _all_ times, but there are occasions when this great, and, i would add, glorious fact is pressed upon our understandings with unusual power. such a time is this. come--we will see what his word says to us just now." to nigel's surprise, and, he afterwards confessed, to his comfort and satisfaction, the hermit called the negro from his work, and, taking down the large bible from its shelf, read part of the th psalm, "god is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea." he stopped reading at the verse where it is written, "be still, and know that i am god." then, going down on his knees,--without even the familiar formula, "let us pray"--he uttered a brief but earnest prayer for guidance and deliverance "in the name of jesus." rising, he quietly put the bible away, and, with the calmness of a thoroughly practical man, who looks upon religion and ordinary matters as parts of one grand whole, ordered moses to serve the supper. thus they spent part of that memorable night of th august in earnest social intercourse, conversing chiefly and naturally about the character, causes, and philosophy of volcanoes, while perboewatan and his brethren played a rumbling, illustrative accompaniment to their discourse. the situation was a peculiar one. even the negro was alive to that fact. "ain't it koorious," he remarked solemnly in a moment of confidence after swallowing the last bite of his supper. "ain't it koorious, massa nadgel, dat we're a sottin' here comf'rably enjoyin' our wittles ober de mout' ob a v'licano as is quite fit to blow us all to bits an' hois' us into de bery middle ob next week--if not farder?" "it is strange indeed, moses," said nigel, who however added no commentary, feeling indisposed to pursue the subject. seeing this, moses turned to his master. "massa," he said. "you don' want nuffin' more to-night, i s'pose?" "no, moses, nothing." "an' is you _quite_ easy in your mind?" "quite," replied the hermit with his peculiar little smile. "den it would be wuss dan stoopid for me to be oneasy, so i'll bid ye bof good-night, an' turn in." in this truly trustful as well as philosophical state of mind, the negro retired to his familiar couch in the inner cave, and went to sleep. nigel and the hermit sat up for some time longer. "van der kemp," said the former, after a pause, "i--i trust you won't think me actuated by impertinent curiosity if i venture to ask you about--the--photograph that i think you--" "my young friend!" interrupted the hermit, taking the case in question from his breast-pocket; "i should rather apologise to you for having appeared to make any mystery of it--and yet," he added, pausing as he was about to open the case, "i have not shown it to a living soul since the day that--well, well,--why should i hesitate? it is all i have left of my dead wife and child." he placed the case in the hands of nigel, who almost sprang from his seat with excitement as he beheld the countenance of a little child of apparently three or four years of age, who so exactly resembled kathy holbein--allowing of course for the difference of age--that he had now no doubt whatever as to her being the hermit's lost daughter. he was on the point of uttering her name, when uncertainty as to the effect the sudden disclosure might have upon the father checked him. "you seem surprised, my friend," said van der kemp gently. "most beautiful!" said nigel, gazing intently at the portrait. "that dear child's face seems so familiar to me that i could almost fancy i had seen it." he looked earnestly into his friend's face as he spoke, but the hermit was quite unmoved, and there was not a shadow of change in the sad low tone of his voice as he said-- "yes, she was indeed beautiful, like her mother. as to your fancy about having seen it--mankind is formed in groups and types. we see many faces that resemble others." the absent look that was so common to the solitary man here overspread his massive features, and nigel felt crushed, as it were, back into himself. thus, without having disclosed his belief, he retired to rest in a very anxious state of mind, while the hermit watched. "don't take off your clothes," he said. "if the sounds outside lead me to think things are quieting down, i will rouse you and we shall start at once." it was very early on the morning of the th when van der kemp roused our hero. "are things quieter?" asked nigel as he rose. "yes, a little, but not much--nevertheless we must venture to leave." "is it daylight yet?" "no. there will be no daylight to-day!" with which prophecy the hermit left him and went to rouse moses. "massa," said the faithful negro. "isn't you a-goin' to take nuffin' wid you? none ob de books or t'ings!" "no--nothing except the old bible. all the rest i leave behind. the canoe could not carry much. besides, we may have little time. get ready; quick! and follow me." moses required no spur. the three men left the cave together. it was so intensely dark that the road could not be distinguished, but the hermit and his man were so familiar with it that they could have followed it blindfold. on reaching the cave at the harbour, some light was obtained from the fitful outbursts of the volcano, which enabled them to launch the canoe and push off in safety. then, without saying a word to each other, they coasted along the shore of the island, and, finally, leaving its dangers behind them, made for the island of java--poor spinkie sitting in his accustomed place and looking uncommonly subdued! scarcely had they pushed off into sunda straits when the volcano burst out afresh. they had happily seized on the only quiet hour that the day offered, and had succeeded, by the aid of the sails, in getting several miles from the island without receiving serious injury, although showers of stones and masses of rock of all sizes were falling into the sea around them. van der kemp was so far right in his prophecy that there would be no daylight that day. by that time there should have been light, as it was nearly seven o'clock on the memorable morning of the th of august. but now, although the travellers were some miles distant from krakatoa, the gloom was so impervious that nigel, from his place in the centre of the canoe, could not see the form of poor spinkie--which sat clinging to the mast only two feet in front of him--save when a blaze from perboewatan or one of the other craters lighted up island and ocean with a vivid glare. at this time the sea began to run very high and the wind increased to a gale, so that the sails of the canoe, small though they were, had to be reduced. "lower the foresail, nigel," shouted the hermit. "i will close-reef it. do you the same to the mainsail." "ay, ay, sir," was the prompt reply. moses and nigel kept the little craft straight to the wind while the foresail was being reefed, van der kemp and the former performing the same duty while nigel reefed the mainsail. suddenly there came a brief but total cessation of the gale, though not of the tumultuous heaving of the waters. during that short interval there burst upon the world a crash and a roar so tremendous that for a few moments the voyagers were almost stunned! it is no figure of speech to say that the _world_ heard the crash. hundreds, ay, thousands of miles did the sound of that mighty upheaval pass over land and sea to startle, more or less, the nations of the earth. the effect of a stupendous shock on the nervous system is curiously various in different individuals. the three men who were so near to the volcano at that moment involuntarily looked round and saw by the lurid blaze that an enormous mass of krakatoa, rent from top to bottom, was falling headlong into the sea; while the entire heavens were alive with flame, lightning, steam, smoke, and the upward-shooting fragments of the hideous wreck! the hermit calmly rested his paddle on the deck and gazed around in silent wonder. nigel, not less smitten with awe, held his paddle with an iron grasp, every muscle quivering with tension in readiness for instant action when the need for action should appear. moses, on the other hand, turning round from the sight with glaring eyes, resumed paddling with unreasoning ferocity, and gave vent at once to his feelings and his opinion in the sharp exclamation--"blown to bits!" chapter twenty five. adventures of the "sunshine" and an unexpected reunion. we must request the reader to turn back now for a brief period to a very different scene. a considerable time before the tremendous catastrophe described in the last chapter--which we claim to have recorded without the slightest exaggeration, inasmuch as exaggeration were impossible--captain david roy, of the good brig _sunshine_, received the letter which his son wrote to him while in the jungles of sumatra. the captain was seated in the back office of a batavian merchant at the time, smoking a long clay pipe--on the principle, no doubt, that moderate poisoning is conducive to moderate health! as he perused the letter, the captain's eyes slowly opened; so did his mouth, and the clay pipe, falling to the floor, was reduced to little pieces. but the captain evidently cared nothing for that. he gave forth a prolonged whistle, got up, smote upon his thigh, and exclaimed with deep-toned emphasis-- "the rascal!" then he sat down again and re-perused the letter, with a variety of expression on his face that might have recalled the typical april day, minus the tears. "the rascal!" he repeated, as he finished the second reading of the letter and thrust it into his pocket. "i knew there was somethin' i' the wind wi' that little girl! the memory o' my own young days when i boarded and captured the poetess is strong upon me yet. i saw it in the rascal's eye the very first time they met--an' he thinks i'm as blind as a bat, i'll be bound, with his poetical reef-point-pattering sharpness. but it's a strange discovery he has made and must be looked into. the young dog! he gives me orders as if he were the owner." jumping up, captain roy hurried out into the street. in passing the outer office he left a message with one of the clerks for his friend the merchant. "tell him," he said, "that i'll attend to that little business about the bill when i come back. i'm going to sail for the keeling islands this afternoon." "the keeling islands?" exclaimed the clerk in surprise. "yes--i've got business to do there. i'll be back, all bein' well, in a week--more or less." the clerk's eyebrows remained in a raised position for a few moments, until he remembered that captain roy, being owner of his ship and cargo, was entitled to do what he pleased with his own and himself. then they descended, and he went on with his work, amusing himself with the thought that the most curious beings in the world were seafaring men. "mr moor," said the captain somewhat excitedly, as he reached the deck of his vessel, "are all the men aboard?" "all except jim sloper, sir." "then send and hunt up jim sloper at once, for we sail this afternoon for the keeling islands." "very well, sir." mr moor was a phlegmatic man; a self-contained and a reticent man. if captain roy had told him to get ready to sail to the moon that afternoon, he would probably have said "very well, sir," in the same tone and with the same expression. "may i ask, sir, what sort of cargo you expect there?" said mr moor; for to his practical mind some re-arrangement of the cargo already on board might be necessary for the reception of that to be picked up at keeling. "the cargo we'll take on board will be a girl," said the captain. "a what, sir?" "a girl." "very well, sir." this ended the business part of the conversation. thereafter they went into details so highly nautical that we shrink from recording them. an amateur detective, in the form of a shipmate, having captured jim sloper, the _sunshine_ finally cleared out of the port of batavia that evening, shortly before its namesake took his departure from that part of the southern hemisphere. favouring gales carried the brig swiftly through sunda straits and out into the indian ocean. two days and a half brought her to the desired haven. on the way, captain roy took note of the condition of krakatoa, which at that time was quietly working up its subterranean forces with a view to the final catastrophe; opening a safety-valve now and then to prevent, as it were, premature explosion. "my son's friend, the hermit of rakata," said the captain to his second mate, "will find his cave too hot to hold him, i think, when he returns." "looks like it, sir," said mr moor, glancing up at the vast clouds which were at that time spreading like a black pall over the re-awakened volcano. "do you expect 'em back soon, sir?" "yes--time's about up now. i shouldn't wonder if they reach batavia before us." arrived at the keeling islands, captain roy was received, as usual, with acclamations of joy, but he found that he was by no means as well fitted to act the part of a diplomatist as he was to sail a ship. it was, in truth, a somewhat delicate mission on which his son had sent him, for he could not assert definitely that the hermit actually was kathleen holbein's father, and her self-constituted parents did not relish the idea of letting slip, on a mere chance, one whom they loved as a daughter. "why not bring this man who claims to be her father _here_?" asked the perplexed holbein. "because--because, p'raps he won't come," answered the puzzled mariner, who did not like to say that he was simply and strictly obeying his son's orders. "besides," he continued, "the man does not claim to be anything at all. so far as i understand it, my boy has not spoken to him on the subject, for fear, i suppose, of raisin' hopes that ain't to be realised." "he is right in that," said mrs holbein, "and we must be just as careful not to raise false hopes in dear little kathy. as your son says, it may be a mistake after all. we must not open our lips to her about it." "right you are, madam," returned the captain. "mum's the word; and we've only got to say she's goin' to visit one of your old friends in anjer--which'll be quite true, you know, for the landlady o' the chief hotel there is a great friend o' yours, and we'll take kathy to her straight. besides, the trip will do her health a power o' good, though i'm free to confess it don't need no good to be done to it, bein' a at the present time. now, just you agree to give the girl a holiday, an' i'll pledge myself to bring her back safe and sound--with her father, if he's _him_; without him if he isn't." with such persuasive words captain roy at length overcame the holbein objections. with the girl herself he had less difficulty, his chief anxiety being, as he himself said, "to give her reasons for wishin' her to go without tellin' lies." "wouldn't you like a trip in my brig to anjer, my dear girl?" he had almost said daughter, but thought it best not to be too precipitate. "oh! i should like it _so_ much," said kathleen, clasping her little hands and raising her large eyes to the captain's face. "_dear_ child!" said the captain to himself. then aloud, "well, i'll take you." "but i--i fear that father and mother would not like me to go--perhaps." "no fear o' them, my girl," returned the captain, putting his huge rough hand on her pretty little head as if in an act of solemn appropriation, for, unlike too many fathers, this exemplary man considered only the sweetness, goodness, and personal worth of the girl, caring not a straw for other matters, and being strongly of opinion that a man should marry young if he possess the spirit of a man or the means to support a wife. as he was particularly fond of kathleen, and felt quite sure that his son had deeper reasons than he chose to express for his course of action, he entertained a strong hope, not to say conviction, that she would also become fond of nigel, and that all things would thus work together for a smooth course to this case of true love. it will be seen from all this that captain david roy was a sanguine man. whether his hopes were well grounded or not remains to be seen. meanwhile, having, as mr moor said, shipped the cargo, the _sunshine_ set sail once more for sunda straits in a measure of outward gloom that formed a powerful contrast to the sunny hopes within her commander's bosom, for krakatoa was at that time progressing rapidly towards the consummation of its designs, as partly described in the last chapter. short though that voyage was, it embraced a period of action so thrilling that ever afterwards it seemed a large slice of life's little day to those who went through it. we have said that the culminating incidents of the drama began on the night of the th. before that time, however, the cloud-pall was fast spreading over land and sea, and the rain of pumice and ashes had begun to descend. the wind being contrary, it was several days before the brig reached the immediate neighbourhood of krakatoa, and by that time the volcano had begun to enter upon the stage which is styled by vulcanologists "paroxysmal," the explosions being extremely violent as well as frequent. "it is very awful," said kathleen in a low voice, as she clasped the captain's arm and leaned her slight figure on it. "i have often heard the thunder of distant volcanoes, but never been so near as to hear such terrible sounds." "don't be frightened, my ducky," said the captain in a soothing tone, for he felt from the appearance of things that there was indeed some ground for alarm. "volcanoes always look worse when you're near them." "i not frightened," she replied. "only i got strange, solemn feelings. besides, no danger can come till god allows." "that's right, lass. mrs holbein has been a true mother if she taught you that." "no, she did not taught me that. my father taught me that." "what! old holbein?" "no--my father, who is dead," she said in a low voice. "oh! i see. my poor child, i should have understood you. forgive me." as the captain spoke, a tremendous outburst on krakatoa turned their minds to other subjects. they were by that time drawing near to the island, and the thunders of the eruption seemed to shake not only the heavens but even the great ocean itself. though the hour was not much past noon the darkness soon became so dense that it was difficult to perceive objects a few yards distant, and, as pieces of stone the size of walnuts, or even larger, began to fall on the deck, the captain sent kathleen below. "there's no saying where or when a big stone may fall, my girl," he said, "and it's not the habit of englishmen to let women come under fire, so you'll be safer below. besides, you'll be able to see something of what's goin' on out o' the cabin windows." with the obedience that was natural to her, kathleen went down at once, and the captain made everything as snug as possible, battening down the hatches and shortening sail so as to be ready for whatever might befall. "i don't like the look o' things, mr moor," said the captain when the second mate came on deck to take his watch. "no more do i, sir," answered mr moor calmly. the aspect of things was indeed very changeable. sometimes, as we have said, all nature seemed to be steeped in thick darkness, at other times the fires of the volcano blazed upward, spreading a red glare on the rolling clouds and over the heaving sea. lightning also played its part as well as thunder, but the latter was scarcely distinguishable from the volcano's roar. three days before sunday the th of august, captain roy--as well as the crews of several other vessels that were in sunda straits at the time--had observed a marked though gradual increase in the violence of the eruption. on that day, as we read in the _report of the krakatoa committee of the royal society_, about p.m. the detonations caused by the explosive action attained such violence as to be heard at batavia, about english miles away. at p.m. of the same day, captain thompson of the _medea_, when about miles east-north-east of the island, saw a black mass rising like clouds of smoke to a height which has been estimated at no less than miles! and the detonations were at that time taking place at intervals of ten minutes. but, terrible though these explosions must have been, they were but as the whisperings of the volcano. an hour later they had increased so much as to be heard at bandong and other places miles away, and at p.m. they had become so tremendous as to be heard over the whole island of java, the eastern portion of which is about miles from krakatoa. and the sounds thus heard were not merely like distant thunder. in batavia--although, as we have said, miles off--they were so violent during the whole of that terrible sunday night as to prevent the people from sleeping. they were compared to the "discharge of artillery close at hand," and caused a rattling of doors, windows, pictures, and chandeliers. captain watson of the _charles bal_, who chanced to be only miles south of the volcano, also compared the sounds to discharges of artillery, but this only shows the feebleness of ordinary language in attempting to describe such extraordinary sounds, for if they were comparable to close artillery at batavia, the same comparison is inappropriate at only ten miles' distance. he also mentions the crackling noise, probably due to the impact of fragments in the atmosphere, which were noticed by the hermit and nigel while standing stunned and almost stupefied on the giddy ledge of rakata that same sunday. about five in the evening of that day, the brig _sunshine_ drew still nearer to the island, but the commotion at the time became so intense, and the intermittent darkness so profound, that captain roy was afraid to continue the voyage and shortened sail. not only was there a heavy rolling sea, but the water was seething, as if about to boil. "heave the lead, mr moor," said the captain, who stood beside the wheel. "yes, sir," answered the imperturbable second mate, who thereupon gave the necessary order, and when the depth was ascertained, the report was "ten fathoms, sand, with a hot bottom." "a hot bottom! what do you mean?" "the lead's 'ot, sir," replied the sailor. this was true, as the captain found when he applied his hand to it. "i do believe the world's going on fire," he muttered; "but it's a comfort to know that it can't very well blaze up as long as the sea lasts!" just then a rain of pumice in large pieces, and quite warm, began to fall upon the deck. as most people know, pumice is extremely light, so that no absolute injury was done to any one, though such rain was excessively trying. soon, however, a change took place. the dense vapours and dust-clouds which had rendered it so excessively dark were entirely lighted up from time to time by fierce flashes of lightning which rent as well as painted them in all directions. at one time this great mass of clouds presented the appearance of an immense pine-tree with the stem and branches formed of volcanic lightning. captain roy, fearing that these tremendous sights and sounds would terrify the poor girl in the cabin, was about to look in and reassure her, when the words "oh! how splendid!" came through the slightly opened door. he peeped in and saw kathleen on her knees on the stern locker, with her hands clasped, gazing out of one of the stern windows. "hm! she's all right," he muttered, softly re-closing the door and returning on deck. "if she thinks it's splendid, she don't need no comfortin'! it's quite clear that she don't know what danger means--and why should she? humph! there go some more splendid sights for her," he added, as what appeared to be chains of fire ascended from the volcano to the sky. just then a soft rain began to fall. it was warm, and, on examination at the binnacle-lamp, turned out to be mud. slight at first, it soon poured down in such quantities that in ten minutes it lay six inches thick on the deck, and the crew had to set to work with shovels to heave it overboard. at this time there was seen a continual roll of balls of white fire down the sides of the peak of rakata, caused, doubtless, by the ejection of white-hot fragments of lava. then showers of masses like iron cinders fell on the brig, and from that time onward till four o'clock of the morning of the th, explosions of indescribable grandeur continually took place, as if the mountains were in a continuous roar of terrestrial agony--the sky being at one moment of inky blackness, the next in a blaze of light, while hot, choking, and sulphurous smells almost stifled the voyagers. at this point the captain again became anxious about kathleen and went below. he found her in the same place and attitude--still fascinated! "my child," he said, taking her hand, "you must lie down and rest." "oh! no. do let me stay up," she begged, entreatingly. "but you must be tired--sleepy." "sleepy! who could sleep with such wonders going on around? pray _don't_ tell me to go to bed!" it was evident that poor kathy had the duty of obedience to authority still strong upon her. perhaps the memory of the holbein nursery had not yet been wiped out. "well, well," said the captain with a pathetic smile, "you are as safe-- comfortable, i mean--here as in your berth or anywhere else." as there was a lull in the violence of the eruption just then, the captain left kathleen in the cabin and went on deck. it was not known at that time what caused this lull, but as it preceded the first of the four grand explosions which effectually eviscerated--emptied--the ancient crater of krakatoa, we will give, briefly, the explanation of it as conjectured by the men of science. lying as it did so close to the sea-level, the krakatoa volcano, having blown away all its cones, and vents, and safety-valves--from perboewatan southward, except the peak of rakata--let the sea rush in upon its infernal fires. this result, ordinary people think, produced a gush of steam which caused the grand terminal explosions. vulcanologists think otherwise, and with reason--which is more than can be said of ordinary people, who little know the power of the forces at work below the crust of our earth! the steam thus produced, although on so stupendous a scale, was free to expand and therefore went upwards, no doubt in a sufficiently effective gust and cloud. but nothing worthy of being named a blow-up was there. the effect of the in-rushing water was to cool the upper surface of the boiling lava and convert it into a thick hard solid crust at the mouth of the great vent. in this condition the volcano resembled a boiler with all points of egress closed and the safety-valve shut down! oceans of molten lava creating expansive gases below; no outlet possible underneath, and the neck of the bottle corked with tons of solid rock! one of two things must happen in such circumstances: the cork must go or the bottle must burst! both events happened on that terrible night. all night long the corks were going, and at last--krakatoa burst! in the hurly-burly of confusion, smoke, and noise, no eye could note the precise moment when the island was shattered, but there were on the morning of the th four supreme explosions, which rang loud and high above the horrible average din. these occurred--according to the careful investigations made, at the instance of the dutch indian government, by the eminent geologist, mr r.d.m. verbeek--at the hours of : , : , : , and : in the morning. of these the third, about , was by far the worst for violence and for the widespread devastation which it produced. at each of these explosions a tremendous sea-wave was created by the volcano, which swept like a watery ring from krakatoa as a centre to the surrounding shores. it was at the second of these explosions--that of : --that the fall of the mighty cliff took place which was seen by the hermit and his friends as they fled from the island, and, on the crest of the resulting wave, were carried along they scarce knew whither. as the previous wave--that of : --had given the brig a tremendous heave upwards, the captain, on hearing the second, ran down below for a moment to tell kathleen there would soon be another wave, but that she need fear no danger. "the brig is deep and has a good hold o' the water," he said, "so the wave is sure to slip under her without damage. i wish i could hope it would do as little damage when it reaches the shore." as he spoke a strange and violent crash was heard overhead, quite different from volcanic explosions, like the falling of some heavy body on the deck. "one o' the yards down!" muttered the captain as he ran to the cabin door. "hallo, what's that, mr moor?" "canoe just come aboard, sir." "a canoe?" "yes, sir. crew, three men and a monkey. all insensible--hallo!" the "hallo!" with which the second mate finished his remark was so unlike his wonted tone, and so full of genuine surprise, that the captain ran forward with unusual haste, and found a canoe smashed to pieces against the foremast, and the mate held a lantern close to the face of one of the men while the crew were examining the others. a single glance told the captain that the mud-bespattered figure that lay before him as if dead was none other than his own son! the great wave had caught the frail craft on its crest, and, sweeping it along with lightning speed for a short distance, had hurled it on the deck of the _sunshine_ with such violence as to completely stun the whole crew. even spinkie lay in a melancholy little heap in the lee scuppers. you think this a far-fetched coincidence, good reader! well, all we can say is that we could tell you of another--a double-coincidence, which was far more extraordinary than this one, but as it has nothing to do with our tale we refrain from inflicting it on you. chapter twenty six. a climax. three of those who had tumbled thus unceremoniously on the deck of the _sunshine_ were soon sufficiently recovered to sit up and look around in dazed astonishment--namely nigel, moses, and the monkey--but the hermit still lay prone where he had been cast, with a pretty severe wound on his head, from which blood was flowing freely. "nigel, my boy!" "father!" exclaimed the youth. "where am i? what has happened?" "don't excite yourself, lad," said the mariner, stooping and whispering into his son's ear. "we've got _her_ aboard!" no treatment could have been more effectual in bringing nigel to his senses than this whisper. "is--is--van der kemp safe?" he asked anxiously. "all right--only stunned, i think. that's him they're just goin' to carry below. put 'im in my bunk, mr moor." "ay ay, sir." nigel sprang up. "stay, father," he said in a low voice. "_she_ must not see him for the first time like this." "all right, boy. i understand. you leave that to me. my bunk has bin shifted for'id--more amidships--an' kathy's well aft. they shan't be let run foul of each other. you go an' rest on the main hatch till we get him down. why, here's a nigger! where did you pick him? oh! i remember. you're the man we met, i suppose, wi' the hermit on krakatoa that day o' the excursion from batavia." "yes, das me. but we'll meet on krakatoa no more, for dat place am blown to bits." "i'm pretty well convinced o' that by this time, my man. not hurt much, i hope?" "no, sar--not more 'n i can stan'. but i's 'fraid dat poor spinkie's a'most used up--hallo! what you gwine to do with massa?" demanded the negro, whose wandering faculties had only in part returned. "he's gone below. all right. now, you go and lie down beside my son on the hatch. i'll--see to van der kemp." but captain david roy's intentions, like those of many men of greater note, were frustrated by the hermit himself, who recovered consciousness just as the four men who carried him reached the foot of the companion-ladder close to the cabin door. owing to the deeper than midnight darkness that prevailed a lamp was burning in the cabin--dimly, as if, infected by the universal chaos, it were unwilling to enlighten the surrounding gloom. on recovering consciousness van der kemp was, not unnaturally, under the impression that he had fallen into the hands of foes. with one effectual convulsion of his powerful limbs he scattered his bearers right and left, and turning--like all honest men--to the light, he sprang into the cabin, wrenched a chair from its fastenings, and, facing round, stood at bay. kathleen, seeing this blood-stained giant in such violent action, naturally fled to her cabin and shut the door. as no worse enemy than captain roy presented himself at the cabin door, unarmed, and with an anxious look on his rugged face, the hermit set down the chair, and feeling giddy sank down on it with a groan. "i fear you are badly hurt, sir. let me tie a handkerchief round your wounded head," said the captain soothingly. "thanks, thanks. your voice is not unfamiliar to me," returned the hermit with a sigh, as he submitted to the operation. "i thought i had fallen somehow into the hands of pirates. surely an accident must have happened. how did i get here? where are my comrades--nigel and the negro?" "my son nigel is all right, sir, and so is your man moses. make your mind easy--an' pray don't speak while i'm working at you. i'll explain it all in good time. stay, i'll be with you in a moment." the captain--fearing that kathleen might come out from curiosity to see what was going on, and remembering his son's injunction--went to the girl's berth with the intention of ordering her to keep close until he should give her leave to come out. opening the door softly and looking in, he was startled, almost horrified, to see kathleen standing motionless like a statue, with both hands pressed tightly over her heart. the colour had fled from her beautiful face; her long hair was flung back; her large lustrous eyes were wide open and her lips slightly parted, as if her whole being had been concentrated in eager expectancy. "what's wrong, my girl?" asked the captain anxiously. "you've no cause for fear. i just looked in to--." "that voice!" exclaimed kathleen, with something of awe in her tones--"oh! i've heard it so often in my dreams." "hush! shush! my girl," said the captain in a low tone, looking anxiously round at the wounded man. but his precautions were unavailing,--van der kemp had also heard a voice which he thought had long been silent in death. the girl's expression was almost repeated in his face. before the well-meaning mariner could decide what to do, kathleen brushed lightly past him, and stood in the cabin gazing as if spell-bound at the hermit. "winnie!" he whispered, as if scarcely daring to utter the name. "father!" she extended both hands towards him as she spoke. then, with a piercing shriek, she staggered backward, and would have fallen had not the captain caught her and let her gently down. van der kemp vaulted the table, fell on his knees beside her, and, raising her light form, clasped her to his heart, just as nigel and moses, alarmed by the scream, sprang into the cabin. "come, come; away wi' you--you stoopid grampusses!" cried the captain, pushing the intruders out of the cabin, following them, and closing the door behind him. "this is no place for bunglers like you an' me. we might have known that natur' would have her way, an' didn't need no help from the like o' us. let's on deck. there's enough work there to look after that's better suited to us." truly there was enough--and more than enough--to claim the most anxious attention of all who were on board of the _sunshine_ that morning, for hot mud was still falling in showers on the deck, and the thunders of the great volcano were still shaking heaven, earth, and sea. to clear the decks and sails of mud occupied every one for some time so earnestly that they failed to notice at first that the hermit had come on deck, found a shovel, and was working away like the rest of them. the frequent and prolonged blazes of intense light that ever and anon banished the darkness showed that on his face there sat an expression of calm, settled, triumphant joy, which was strangely mingled with a look of quiet humility. "i thank god for this," said nigel, going forward when he observed him and grasping his hand. "you knew it?" exclaimed the hermit in surprise. "yes. i knew it--indeed, helped to bring you together, but did not dare to tell you till i was quite sure. i had hoped to have you meet in very different circumstances." "`it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps,'" returned the hermit reverently. "god bless you, nigel. if you have even aimed at bringing this about, i owe you _more_ than my life." "you must have lost a good deal of blood, van der kemp. are you much hurt?" asked nigel, as he observed the bandage round his friend's head. "somewhat. not much, i hope--but joy, as well as blood, gives strength, nigel." a report from a man who had just been ordered to take soundings induced the captain at this time to lay-to. "it seems to me," he said to nigel and the hermit who stood close beside him, "that we are getting too near shore. but in cases o' this kind the bottom o' the sea itself can't be depended on." "what part of the shore are we near, d'you think, father?" "stand by to let go the anchor!" roared the captain, instead of answering the question. "ay, ay, sir," replied the second mate, whose cool, sing-song, business-like tone at such a moment actually tended to inspire a measure of confidence in those around him. another moment, and the rattling chain caused a tremor through the vessel, which ceased when the anchor touched bottom, and they rode head to wind. coruscations of bluish light seemed to play about the masts, and balls of electric fire tipped the yards, throwing for a short time a ghastly sheen over the ship and crew, for the profound darkness had again settled down, owing, no doubt, to another choking of the krakatoa vent. before the light referred to went out, moses was struck violently on the chest by, something soft, which caused him to stagger. it was spinkie! in the midst of the unusual horrors that surrounded him, while clinging to the unfamiliar mizzen shrouds on which in desperation the poor monkey had found a temporary refuge, the electric fire showed him the dark figure of his old familiar friend standing not far off. with a shriek of not quite hopeless despair, and an inconceivable bound, spinkie launched himself into space. his early training in the forest stood him in good stead at that crisis! as already said he hit the mark fairly, and clung to moses with a tenacity that was born of mingled love and desperation. finding that nothing short of cruelty would unfix his little friend, moses stuffed him inside the breast of his cotton shirt. in this haven of rest the monkey heaved a sigh of profound contentment, folded his hands on his bosom, and meekly went to sleep. two of the excessively violent paroxysms of the volcano, above referred to, had by that time taken place, but the third, and worst--that which occurred about a.m.--was yet in store for them, though they knew it not, and a lull in the roar, accompanied by thicker darkness than ever, was its precursor. there was not, however, any lull in the violence of the wind. "i don't like these lulls," said captain roy to the hermit, as they stood close to the binnacle, in the feeble light of its lamp. "what is that striking against our sides, mr moor?" "looks like floating pumice, sir," answered the second mate, "and i think i see palm-trees amongst it." "ay, i thought so, we must be close to land," said the captain. "we can't be far from anjer, and i fear the big waves that have already passed us have done some damage. lower a lantern over the side,--no, fetch an empty tar-barrel and let's have a flare. that will enable us to see things better." while the barrel was being fastened to a spar so as to be thrust well out beyond the side of the brig, van der kemp descended the companion and opened the cabin door. "come up now, winnie, darling." "yes, father," was the reply, as the poor girl, who had been anxiously awaiting the summons, glided out and clasped her father's arm with both hands. "are things quieting down?" "they are, a little. it may be temporary, but--our father directs it all." "true, father. i'm _so_ glad of that!" "mind the step, we shall have more light on deck. there is a friend there who has just told me he met you on the cocos-keeling island, nigel roy;--you start, winnie?" "y-yes, father. i am _so_ surprised, for it is _his_ father who sails this ship! and i cannot imagine how he or you came on board." "well, i was going to say that i believe it is partly through nigel that you and i have been brought together, but there is mystery about it that i don't yet understand; much has to be explained, and this assuredly is not the time or place. here, nigel, is your old keeling friend." "ay--friend! humph!" said old roy softly to himself. "my dear--child!" said young roy, paternally, to the girl as he grasped her hand. "i cannot tell you how thankful i am that this has been brought about, and--and that _i_ have had some little hand in it." "there's more than pumice floating about in the sea, sir," said mr moor, coming aft at the moment and speaking to the captain in a low tone. "you'd better send the young lady below--or get some one to take up her attention just now." "here, nigel. sit down under the lee of the companion, an' tell kathy how this all came about," said the captain, promptly, as if issuing nautical orders. "i want you here, van der kemp." so saying, the captain, followed by the hermit, went with the second mate to the place where the flaming tar-barrel was casting a lurid glare upon the troubled sea. chapter twenty seven. "blown to bits." the sight that met their eyes was well calculated to shock and sadden men of much less tender feeling than van der kemp and captain roy. the water had assumed an appearance of inky blackness, and large masses of pumice were floating past, among which were numerous dead bodies of men, women, and children, intermingled with riven trees, fences, and other wreckage from the land, showing that the two great waves which had already passed under the vessel had caused terrible devastation on some parts of the shore. to add to the horror of the scene large sea-snakes were seen swimming wildly about, as if seeking to escape from the novel dangers that surrounded them. the sailors looked on in awe-stricken silence for some time. "p'raps some of 'em may be alive yet!" whispered one. "couldn't we lower a boat?" "impossible in such a sea," said the captain, who overheard the remark. "besides, no life could exist there." "captain roy," said van der kemp earnestly, "let me advise you to get your foresail ready to hoist at a moment's notice, and let them stand by to cut the cable." "why so? there seems no need at present for such strong measures." "you don't understand volcanoes as i do," returned the hermit. "this lull will only last until the imprisoned fires overcome the block in the crater, and the longer it lasts the worse will be the explosion. from my knowledge of the coast i feel sure that we are close to the town of anjer. if another wave like the last comes while we are here, it will not slip under your brig like the last one. it will tear her from her anchor and hurl us all to destruction. you have but one chance; that is, to cut the cable and run in on the top of it--a poor chance at the best, but if god wills, we shall escape." "if we are indeed as near shore as you think," said the captain, "i know what you say must be true, for in shoal water such a wave will surely carry all before it. but are you certain there will be another explosion?" "no man can be sure of that. if the last explosion emptied the crater there will be no more. if it did not, another explosion is certain. all i advise is that you should be ready for whatever is coming, and ready to take your only chance." "right you are, sir. send men to be ready to cut the cable, mr moor. and stand by the topsail halyards." "ay, ay, sir." during the anxious minutes that followed, the hermit rejoined winnie and nigel on the quarterdeck, and conversed with the latter in a low voice, while he drew the former to his side with his strong arm. captain roy himself grasped the wheel and the men stood at their various stations ready for action. "let no man act without orders, whatever happens," said the captain in a deep powerful voice which was heard over the whole ship, for the lull that we have mentioned extended in some degree to the gale as well as to the volcano. every one felt that some catastrophe was pending. "winnie, darling," said the hermit tenderly, as he bent down to see the sweet face that had been restored to him. "i greatly fear that there is soon to be another explosion, and it may be his will that we shall perish, but comfort yourself with the certainty that no hair of your dear head can fall without his permission--and in any event he will not fail us." "i know it, father. i have no fear--at least, only a little!" "nigel," said the hermit, "stick close to us if you can. it may be that, if anything should befall me, your strong arm may succour winnie; mine has lost somewhat of its vigour," he whispered. "trust me--nothing but death shall sunder us," said the anxious youth in a burst of enthusiasm. it seemed as if death were indeed to be the immediate portion of all on board the _sunshine_, for a few minutes later there came a crash, followed by a spout of smoke, fire, steam, and molten lava, compared to which all that had gone before seemed insignificant! the crash was indescribable! as we have said elsewhere, the sound of it was heard many hundreds of miles from the seat of the volcano, and its effects were seen and felt right round the world. the numerous vents which had previously been noticed on krakatoa must at that moment have been blown into one, and the original crater of the old volcano--said to have been about six miles in diameter--must have resumed its destructive work. all the eye-witnesses who were near the spot at the time, and sufficiently calm to take note of the terrific events of that morning, are agreed as to the splendour of the electrical phenomena displayed during this paroxysmal outburst. one who, at the time, was forty miles distant speaks of the great vapour-cloud looking "like an immense wall or blood-red curtain with edges of all shades of yellow, and bursts of forked lightning at times rushing like large serpents through the air." another says that "krakatoa appeared to be alight with flickering flames rising behind a dense black cloud." a third recorded that "the lightning struck the mainmast conductor five or six times," and that "the mud-rain which covered the decks was phosphorescent, while the rigging presented the appearance of saint elmo's fire." it may be remarked here, in passing, that giant steam-jets rushing through the orifices of the earth's crust constitute an enormous hydro-electric engine; and the friction of ejected materials striking against each other in ascending and descending also generates electricity, which accounts to some extent for the electrical condition of the atmosphere. in these final and stupendous outbursts the volcano was expending its remaining force in breaking up and ejecting the solid lava which constituted its framework, and not in merely vomiting forth the lava-froth, or pumice, which had characterised the earlier stages of the eruption. in point of fact--as was afterwards clearly ascertained by careful soundings and estimates, taking the average height of the missing portion at feet above water, and the depth at feet below it--two-thirds of the island were blown entirely off the face of the earth. the mass had covered an area of nearly six miles, and is estimated as being equal to one and one-eighth cubic miles of solid matter which, as moses expressed it, was blown to bits! if this had been all, it would have been enough to claim the attention and excite the wonder of the intelligent world--but this was not nearly all, as we shall see, for saddest of all the incidents connected with the eruption is the fact that upwards of thirty-six thousand human beings lost their lives. the manner in which that terrible loss occurred shall be shown by the future adventures of the _sunshine_. chapter twenty eight. the fate of the "sunshine." stunned at first, for a few minutes, by the extreme violence of the explosion, no one on board the _sunshine_ spoke, though each man stood at his post ready to act. "strange," said the captain at last. "there seems to be no big wave this time." "that only shows that we are not as near the island as we thought. but it won't be long of--see! there it comes," said the hermit. "now, winnie, cling to my arm and put your trust in god." nigel, who had secured a life-buoy, moved close to the girl's side, and looking anxiously out ahead saw a faint line of foam in the thick darkness which had succeeded the explosion. already the distant roar of the billow was heard, proving that it had begun to break. "the wind comes with it," said van der kemp. "stand by!" cried the captain, gazing intently over the side. next moment came the sharp order to hoist the foretopsail and jib, soon followed by "cut the cable!" there was breeze enough to swing the vessel quickly round. in a few seconds her stern was presented to the coming wave, and her bow cleft the water as she rushed upon what every one now knew was her doom. to escape the great wave was no part of the captain's plan. to have reached the shore before the wave would have been fatal to all. their only hope lay in the possibility of riding in on the top of it, and the great danger was that they should be unable to rise to it stern first when it came up, or that they should turn broadside on and be rolled over. they had not long to wait. the size of the wave, before it came near enough to be seen, was indicated by its solemn, deep-toned, ever-increasing roar. the captain stood at the wheel himself, guiding the brig and glancing back from time to time uneasily. suddenly the volcano gave vent to its fourth and final explosion. it was not so violent as its predecessors had been, though more so than any that had occurred on the day before, and the light of it showed them the full terrors of their situation, for it revealed the mountains of java-- apparently quite close in front, though in reality at a considerable distance--with a line of breakers beating white on the shore. but astern of them was the most appalling sight, for there, rushing on with awful speed and a sort of hissing roar, came the monstrous wave, emerging, as it were, out of thick darkness, like a mighty wall of water with a foaming white crest, not much less--according to an average of the most reliable estimates--than feet high. well might the seamen blanch, for never before in all their varied experience had they seen the like of that. on it came with the unwavering force of fate. to the eye of captain roy it appeared that up its huge towering side no vessel made by mortal man could climb. but the captain had too often stared death in the face to be unmanned by the prospect now. steadily he steered the vessel straight on, and in a quiet voice said-- "lay hold of something firm--every man!" the warning was well timed. in the amazement, if not fear, caused by the unwonted sight, some had neglected the needful precaution. as the billow came on, the bubbling, leaping, and seething of its crest was apparent both to eye and ear. then the roar became tremendous. "darling winnie," said nigel at that moment. "i will die for you or with you!" the poor girl heard, but no sign of appreciation moved her pale face as she gazed up at the approaching chaos of waters. next moment the brig seemed to stand on its bows. van der kemp had placed his daughter against the mast, and, throwing his long arms round both, held on. nigel, close to them, had grasped a handful of ropes, and every one else was holding on for life. another moment and the brig rose as if it were being tossed up to the heavens. immediately thereafter it resumed its natural position in a perfect wilderness of foam. they were on the summit of the great wave, which was so large that its crest seemed like a broad, rounded mass of tumbling snow with blackness before and behind, while the roar of the tumult was deafening. the brig rushed onward at a speed which she had never before equalled even in the fiercest gale--tossed hither and thither by the leaping foam, yet always kept going straight onward by the expert steering of her captain. "come aft--all of you!" he shouted, when it was evident that the vessel was being borne surely forward on the wave's crest. "the masts will go for certain when we strike." the danger of being entangled in the falling spars and cordage was so obvious that every one except the hermit and nigel obeyed. "here, nigel," gasped the former. "i--i've--lost blood--faint!--" our hero at once saw that van der kemp, fainting from previous loss of blood, coupled with exertion, was unable to do anything but hold on. indeed, he failed even in that, and would have fallen to the deck had nigel not caught him by the arm. "can you run aft, winnie?" said nigel anxiously. "yes!" said the girl, at once understanding the situation and darting to the wheel, of which and of captain roy she laid firm hold, while nigel lifted the hermit in his arms and staggered to the same spot. winnie knelt beside him immediately, and, forgetting for the moment all the horrors around her, busied herself in replacing the bandage which had been loosened from his head. "oh! mr roy, save him!--save him!" cried the poor child, appealing in an agony to nigel, for she felt instinctively that when the crash came her father would be utterly helpless even to save himself. nigel had barely time to answer when a wild shout from the crew caused him to start up and look round. a flare from the volcano had cast a red light over the bewildering scene, and revealed the fact that the brig was no longer above the ocean's bed, but was passing in its wild career right through, or rather _over_, the demolished town of anjer. a few of the houses that had been left standing by the previous waves were being swept--hurled--away by this one, but the mass of rolling, rushing, spouting water was so deep, that the vessel had as yet struck nothing save the tops of some palm-trees which bent their heads like straws before the flood. even in the midst of the amazement, alarm, and anxiety caused by the situation, nigel could not help wondering that in this final and complete destruction of the town no sign of struggling human beings should be visible. he forgot at the moment, what was terribly proved afterwards, that the first waves had swallowed up men, women, and children by hundreds, and that the few who survived had fled to the hills, leaving nothing for the larger wave to do but complete the work of devastation on inanimate objects. ere the situation had been well realised the volcanic fires went down again, and left the world, for over a hundred surrounding miles, in opaque darkness. only the humble flicker of the binnacle-light, like a trusty sentinel on duty, continued to shed its feeble rays on a few feet of the deck, and showed that the compass at least was still faithful to the pole! then another volcanic outburst revealed the fact that the wave which carried them was thundering on in the direction of a considerable cliff or precipice--not indeed quite straight towards it, but sufficiently so to render escape doubtful. at the same time a swarm of terror-stricken people were seen flying towards this cliff and clambering up its steep sides. they were probably some of the more courageous of the inhabitants who had summoned courage to return to their homes after the passage of the second wave. their shrieks and cries could be heard above even the roaring of the water and the detonations of the volcano. "god spare us!" exclaimed poor winnie, whose trembling form was now partially supported by nigel. as she spoke darkness again obscured everything, and they could do naught but listen to the terrible sounds--and pray. on--on went the _sunshine_, in the midst of wreck and ruin, on this strange voyage over land and water, until a check was felt. it was not a crash as had been anticipated, and as might have naturally been expected, neither was it an abrupt stoppage. there was first a hissing, scraping sound against the vessel's sides, then a steady checking--we might almost say a hindrance to progress--not violent, yet so very decided that the rigging could not bear the strain. one and another of the backstays parted, the foretopsail burst with a cannon-like report, after which a terrible rending sound, followed by an indescribable crash, told that both masts had gone by the board. then all was comparatively still--comparatively we say, for water still hissed and leaped beneath them like a rushing river, though it no longer roared, and the wind blew in unfamiliar strains and laden with unwonted odours. at that moment another outburst of krakatoa revealed the fact that the great wave had borne the brig inland for upwards of a mile, and left her imbedded in a thick grove of cocoa-nut palms! chapter twenty nine. tells chiefly of the wonderful effects of this eruption on the world at large. the great explosions of that morning had done more damage and had achieved results more astounding than lies in the power of language adequately to describe, or of history to parallel. let us take a glance at this subject in passing. an inhabitant of anjer--owner of a hotel, a ship-chandler's store, two houses, and a dozen boats--went down to the beach about six on the morning of that fateful th of august. he had naturally been impressed by the night of the th, though, accustomed as he was to volcanic eruptions, he felt no apprehensions as to the safety of the town. he went to look to the moorings of his boats, leaving his family of seven behind him. while engaged in this work he observed a wave of immense size approaching. he leaped into one of his boats, which was caught up by the wave and swept inland, carrying its owner there in safety. but this was the wave that sealed the doom of the town and most of its inhabitants, including the hotel-keeper's family and all that he possessed. this is one only out of thousands of cases of bereavement and destruction. a lighthouse-keeper was seated in his solitary watch-tower, speculating, doubtless, on the probable continuance of such a violent outbreak, while his family and mates--accustomed to sleep in the midst of elemental war--were resting peacefully in the rooms below, when one of the mighty waves suddenly appeared, thundered past, and swept the lighthouse with all its inhabitants away. this shows but one of the many disasters to lighthouses in sunda straits. a dutch man-of-war--the _berouw_--was lying at anchor in lampong bay, fifty miles from krakatoa. the great wave came, tore it from its anchorage, and carried it--like the vessel of our friend david roy-- nearly two miles inland! masses of coral of immense size and weight were carried four miles inland by the same wave. the river at anjer was choked up; the conduit which used to carry water into the place was destroyed, and the town itself was laid in ruins. but these are only a few of the incidents of the great catastrophe. who can conceive, much less tell of, those terrible details of sudden death and disaster to thousands of human beings, resulting from an eruption which destroyed towns like telok betong, anjer, tyringin, etcetera, besides numerous villages and hamlets on the shores of java and sumatra, and caused the destruction of more than , souls? but it is to results of a very different kind, and on a much more extended scale, that we must turn if we would properly estimate the magnitude, the wide-spreading and far-reaching influences, and the extraordinary character, of the krakatoa outburst of . in the first place, it is a fact, testified to by some of the best-known men of science, that the shock of the explosion extended _appreciably_ right round the world, and seventeen miles, (some say even higher!) up into the heavens. mr verbeek, in his treatise on this subject, estimates that a cubic mile of krakatoa was propelled in the form of the finest dust into the higher regions of the atmosphere--probably about thirty miles! the dust thus sent into the sky was of "ultra-microscopic fineness," and it travelled round and round the world in a westerly direction, producing those extraordinary sunsets and gorgeous effects and afterglows which became visible in the british isles in the month of november following the eruption; and the mighty waves which caused such destruction in the vicinity of sunda straits travelled--not once, but at least--six times round the globe, as was proved by trustworthy and independent observations of tide-gauges and barometers made and recorded at the same time in nearly all lands--including our own. other volcanoes, it is said by those who have a right to speak in regard to such matters, have ejected more "stuff," but not one has equalled krakatoa in the intensity of its explosions, the appalling results of the sea-waves, the wonderful effects in the sky, and the almost miraculous nature of the sounds. seated on a log under a palm-tree in batavia, on that momentous morning of the th, was a sailor who had been left behind sick by captain roy when he went on his rather quixotic trip to the keeling islands. he was a somewhat delicate son of the sea. want of self-restraint was his complaint--leading to a surfeit of fruit and other things, which terminated in a severe fit of indigestion and indisposition to life in general. he was smoking--that being a sovereign and infallible cure for indigestion and all other ills that flesh is heir to, as every one knows! "i say, old man," he inquired, with that cheerful tone and air which usually accompanies incapacity for food. "do it always rain ashes here?" the old man whom he addressed was a veteran malay seaman. "no," replied the malay, "sometimes it rain mud--hot mud." "do it? oh! well--anything for variety, i s'pose," returned the sailor, with a growl which had reference to internal disarrangements. "is it often as dark as this in the daytime, an' is the sun usually green?" he asked carelessly, more for the sake of distracting the mind from other matters than for the desire of knowledge. "sometime it's more darker," replied the old man. "i've seed it so dark that you couldn't see how awful dark it was." as he spoke, a sound that has been described by ear-witnesses as "deafening," smote upon their tympanums, the log on which they sat quivered, the earth seemed to tremble, and several dishes in a neighbouring hut were thrown down and broken. "i say, old man, suthin' busted there," remarked the sailor, taking the pipe from his mouth and quietly ramming its contents down with the end of his blunt forefinger. the malay looked grave. "the gasometer?" suggested the sailor. "no, that _never_ busts." "a noo mountain come into action, p'raps, an blow'd its top _off_?" "shouldn't wonder if that's it--close at hand too. we's used to that here. but them's bigger cracks than or'nar'." the old malay was right as to the cause, but wrong as to distance. instead of being a volcano "close at hand," it was krakatoa eviscerating itself a hundred miles off, and the sound of its last grand effort "extended over degrees, equal to about miles." on that day all the gas lights were extinguished in batavia, and the pictures rattled on the walls as though from the action of an earthquake. but there was no earthquake. it was the air-wave from krakatoa, and the noise produced by the air-waves that followed was described as "deafening." the effect of the sounds of the explosions on the straits settlements generally was not only striking but to some extent amusing. at carimon, in java-- miles distant from krakatoa--it was supposed that a vessel in distress was firing guns, and several native boats were sent off to render assistance, but no distressed vessel was to be found! at acheen, in sumatra-- miles distant--they supposed that a fort was being attacked and the troops were turned out under arms. at singapore-- miles off--they fancied that the detonations came from a vessel in distress and two steamers were despatched to search for it. and here the effect on the telephone, extending to ishore, was remarkable. on raising the tubes a perfect roar as of a waterfall was heard. by shouting at the top of his voice, the clerk at one end could make the clerk at the other end hear, but he could not render a word intelligible. at perak-- miles off--the sounds were thought to be distant salvos of artillery, and commander the honourable f vereker, r.n., of h.m.s. _magpie_, when miles distant, (in latitude degrees minutes north, longitude degrees minutes east), states that the detonations of krakatoa were distinctly heard by those on board his ship, and by the inhabitants of the coast as far as banguey island, on august th. he adds that they resembled distant heavy cannonading. in a letter from saint lucia bay-- miles distant--it was stated that the eruption was plainly heard all over borneo. a government steamer was sent out from the island of timor-- miles off--to ascertain the cause of the disturbance! in south australia also, at places miles away, explosions were heard on the th and th which "awakened" people, and were thought worthy of being recorded and reported. from tavoy, in burmah-- miles away--the report came--"all day on august th unusual sounds were heard, resembling the boom of guns. thinking there might be a wreck or a ship in distress, the tavoy superintendent sent out the police launch, but they `could see nothing.'" and so on, far and near, similar records were made, the most distant spot where the sounds were reported to have been heard being rodriguez, in the pacific, nearly miles distant! one peculiar feature of the records is that some ships in the immediate neighbourhood of krakatoa did not experience the shock in proportionate severity. probably this was owing to their being so near that a great part of the concussion and sound flew over them--somewhat in the same way that the pieces of a bomb-shell fly over men who, being too near to escape by running, escape by flinging themselves flat on the ground. each air-wave which conveyed these sounds, commencing at krakatoa as a centre, spread out in an ever-increasing circle till it reached a distance of degrees from its origin and encircled the earth at its widest part, after which it continued to advance in a contracting form until it reached the antipodes of the volcano; whence it was reflected or reproduced and travelled back again to krakatoa. here it was turned right-about-face and again despatched on its long journey. in this way it oscillated backward and forward not fewer than six times before traces of it were lost. we say "traces," because these remarkable facts were ascertained, tracked, and corroborated by independent barometric observation in all parts of the earth. for instance, the passage of the great air-wave from krakatoa to its antipodes, and from its antipodes back to krakatoa, was registered six times by the automatic barometer at greenwich. the instrument at kew observatory confirmed the records of greenwich, and so did the barometers of other places in the kingdom. everywhere in europe also this fact was corroborated, and in some places even a seventh oscillation was recorded. the greenwich record shows that the air-waves took about thirty-six hours to travel from pole to pole, thus proving that they travelled at about the rate of ordinary sound-waves, which, roughly speaking, travel at the rate of between six and seven hundred miles an hour. the height of the sea-waves that devastated the neighbouring shores, being variously estimated at from to feet, is sufficiently accounted for by the intervention of islands and headlands, etcetera, which, of course, tended to diminish the force, height, and volume of waves in varying degrees. these, like the air-waves, were also registered--by self-acting tide-gauges and by personal observation--all over the world, and the observations _coincided as to date with the great eruptions of the th and th of august_. the influence of the sea-waves was observed and noted in the java sea--which is shallow and where there are innumerable obstructions--as far as miles, but to the west they swept over the deep waters of the indian ocean on to cape horn, and even, it is said, to the english channel. the unusual disturbance of ocean in various places was sufficiently striking. at galle, in ceylon, where the usual rise and fall of the tide is feet, the master-attendant reports that on the afternoon of the th four remarkable waves were noticed in the port. the last of these was preceded by an unusual recession of the sea to such an extent that small boats at their anchorage were left aground--a thing that had never been seen before. the period of recession was only one-and-a-half minutes; then the water paused, as it were, for a brief space, and, beginning to rise, reached the level of the highest high-water mark in less than two minutes, thus marking a difference of feet inches instead of the ordinary feet. at one place there was an ebb and flood tide, of unusual extent, within half-an-hour. at another, a belt of land, including a burying-ground, was washed away, so that, according to the observer, "it appeared as if the dead had sought shelter with the living in a neighbouring cocoa-nut garden!" elsewhere the tides were seen to advance and recede ten or twelve times--in one case even twenty times--on the th. at trincomalee the sea receded three times and returned with singular force, at one period leaving part of the shore suddenly bare, with fish struggling in the mud. the utilitarian tendency of mankind was at once made manifest by some fishermen who, seizing the opportunity, dashed into the struggling mass and began to reap the accidental harvest, when--alas for the poor fishermen!--the sea rushed in again and drove them all away. in the mauritius, however, the fishers were more fortunate, for when their beach was exposed in a similar manner, they succeeded in capturing a good many fish before the water returned. even sharks were disturbed in their sinister and slimy habits of life by this outburst of krakatoa--and no wonder, when it is recorded that in some places "the sea looked like water boiling heavily in a pot," and that "the boats which were afloat were swinging in all directions." at one place several of these monsters were flung out of their native home into pools, where they were left struggling till their enemy man terminated their career. everywhere those great waves produced phenomena which were so striking as to attract the attention of all classes of people, to ensure record in most parts of the world, and to call for the earnest investigation of the scientific men of many lands--and the conclusion to which such men have almost universally come is, that the strange vagaries of the sea all over the earth, the mysterious sounds heard in so many widely distant places, and the wonderful effects in the skies of every quarter of the globe, were all due to the eruption of the krakatoa volcano in . with reference to these last--the sky-effects--a few words may not be out of place here. the superfine "ultra-microscopic" dust, which was blown by the volcano in quantities so enormous to such unusual heights, was, after dropping its heavier particles back to earth, caught by the breezes which always blow in the higher regions from east to west, and carried by them for many months round and round the world. the dust was thickly and not widely spread at first, but as time went on it gradually extended itself on either side, becoming visible to more and more of earth's inhabitants, and at the same time becoming necessarily less dense. through this medium the sun's rays had to penetrate. in so far as the dust-particles were opaque they would obscure these rays; where they were transparent or polished they would refract and reflect them. that the material of which those dust-particles was composed was very various has been ascertained, proved, and recorded by the krakatoa committee. the attempt to expound this matter would probably overtax the endurance of the average reader, yet it may interest all to know that this dust-cloud travelled westward within the tropics at the rate of about double the speed of an express train--say miles an hour; crossed the indian ocean and africa in three days, the atlantic in two, america in two, and, in short, put a girdle round the world in thirteen days. moreover, the cloud of dust was so big that it took two or three days to pass any given point. during its second circumnavigation it was considerably spread and thinned, and the third time still more so, having expanded enough to include europe and the greater part of north america. it had thinned away altogether and disappeared in the spring of . who has not seen--at least read or heard of--the gorgeous skies of the autumn of ? not only in britain, but in all parts of the world, these same skies were seen, admired, and commented on as marvellous. and so they were. one of the chief peculiarities about them, besides their splendour, was the fact that they consisted chiefly of "afterglows"--that is, an increase of light and splendour _after_ the setting of the sun, when, in an ordinary state of things, the grey shadows of evening would have descended on the world. greenish-blue suns; pink clouds; bright yellow, orange, and crimson afterglows; gorgeous, magnificent, blood-red skies--the commentators seemed unable to find language adequately to describe them. listen to a german observer's remarks on the subject:-- "the display of november th was the grandest and most manifold. i give a description as exactly as possible, for its overwhelming magnificence still presents itself to me as if it had been yesterday. when the sun had set about a quarter of an hour there was not much afterglow, but i had observed a remarkably yellow bow in the south, about degrees above the horizon. in about ten minutes more this arc rose pretty quickly, extended itself all over the east and up to and beyond the zenith. the sailors declared, `sir, that is the northern lights.' i thought i had never seen northern lights in greater splendour. after five minutes more the light had faded, though not vanished, in the east and south, and the finest purple-red rose up in the south-west; one could imagine one's-self in fairyland." all this, and a great deal more, was caused by the dust of krakatoa! "but how--how--why?" exclaims an impatient and puzzled reader. "ay--there's the rub." rubbing, by the way, may have had something to do with it. at all events we are safe to say that whatever there was of electricity in the matter resulted from friction. here is what the men of science say--as far as we can gather and condense. the fine dust blown out of krakatoa was found, under the microscope, to consist of excessively thin, transparent plates or irregular specks of pumice--which inconceivably minute fragments were caused by enormous steam pressure in the interior and the sudden expansion of the masses blown out into the atmosphere. of this glassy dust, that which was blown into the regions beyond the clouds must have been much finer even than that which was examined. these glass fragments were said by dr flugel to contain either innumerable air-bubbles or minute needle-like crystals, or both. small though these vesicles were when ejected from the volcano, they would become still smaller by bursting when they suddenly reached a much lower pressure of atmosphere at a great height. some of them, however, owing to tenacity of material and other causes, might have failed to burst and would remain floating in the upper air as perfect microscopic glass balloons. thus the dust was a mass of particles of every conceivable shape, and so fine that no watches, boxes, or instruments were tight enough to exclude from their interior even that portion of the dust which was heavy enough to remain on earth! now, to the unscientific reader it is useless to say more than that the innumerable and varied positions of these glassy particles, some transparent, others semi-transparent or opaque, reflecting the sun's rays in different directions, with a complex modification of colour and effect resulting from the blueness of the sky, the condition of the atmosphere, and many other causes--all combined to produce the remarkable appearances of light and colour which aroused the admiration and wonder of the world in . the more one thinks of these things, and the deeper one dives into the mysteries of nature, the more profoundly is one impressed at once with a humbling sense of the limited amount of one's knowledge, and an awe-inspiring appreciation of the illimitable fields suggested by that comprehensive expression: "the wonderful works of god." chapter thirty. coming events, etcetera--wonderful changes among the islands. some days after the wreck of the _sunshine_, as described in a previous chapter, captain roy and his son stood on the coast of java not far from the ruins of anjer. a vessel was anchored in the offing, and a little boat lay on the shore. all sign of elemental strife had passed, though a cloud of smoke hanging over the remains of krakatoa told that the terrible giant below was not dead but only sleeping--to awake, perchance, after a nap of another years. "well, father," said our hero with a modest look, "it may be, as you suggest, that winnie van der kemp does not care for me more than for a fathom of salt water--" "i did not say salt water, lad, i said bilge--a fathom o' _bilge_ water," interrupted the captain, who, although secretly rejoiced at the fact of his son having fallen over head and ears in love with the pretty little cocos-keeling islander, deemed it his duty, nevertheless, as a sternly upright parent, to make quite sure that the love was mutual as well as deep before giving his consent to anything like courtship. "it matters not; salt or bilge water makes little difference," returned the son with a smile. "but all i can say is that i care for winnie so much that her love is to me of as much importance as sunshine to the world--and we have had some experience lately of what the want of _that_ means." "nonsense, nigel," returned the captain severely. "you're workin' yourself into them up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-patterin' regions again--which, by the way, should be pretty well choked wi' krakatoa dust by this time. come down out o' that if ye want to hold or'nary intercourse wi' your old father. she's far too young yet, my boy. you must just do as many a young fellow has done before you, attend to your dooties and forget her." "forget her!" returned the youth, with that amused, quiet expression which wise men sometimes assume when listening to foolish suggestions. "i could almost as easily forget my mother!" "a very proper sentiment, nigel, very--especially the `almost' part of it." "besides," continued the son, "she is not so _very_ young--and that difficulty remedies itself every hour. moreover, i too am young. i can wait." "the selfishness of youth is only equalled by its presumption," said the captain. "how d'ee know _she_ will wait?" "i don't know, father, but i _hope_ she will--i--_think_ she will." "nigel," said the captain, in a tone and with a look that were meant to imply intense solemnity, "have you ever spoken to her about love?" "no, father." "has she ever spoken to _you_?" "no--at least--not with her lips." "come, boy, you're humbuggin' your old father. her tongue couldn't well do it without the lips lendin' a hand." "well then--with neither," returned the son. "she spoke with her eyes-- not intentionally, of course, for the eyes, unlike the lips, refuse to be under control." "hm! i see--reef-point-patterin' poetics again! an' what did she say with her eyes!" "really, father, you press me too hard; it is difficult to translate eye-language, but if you'll only let memory have free play and revert to that time, nigh quarter of a century ago, when you first met with a certain _real_ poetess, perhaps--" "ah! you dog! you have me there. but how dare you, sir, venture to think of marryin' on nothin'?" "i don't think of doing so. am i not a first mate with a handsome salary?" "no, lad, you're not. you're nothin' better than a seaman out o' work, with your late ship wrecked in a cocoa-nut grove!" "that's true," returned nigel with a laugh. "but is not the cargo of the said ship safe in batavia? has not its owner a good bank account in england? won't another ship be wanted, and another first mate, and would the owner dare to pass over his own son, who is such a competent seaman--according to your own showing? come, father, i turn the tables on you and ask you to aid rather than resist me in this matter." "well, i will, my boy, i will," said the captain heartily, as he laid his hand on his son's shoulder. "but, seriously, you must haul off this little craft and clap a stopper on your tongue--ay, and on your eyes too--till three points are considered an' made quite clear. first, you must find out whether the hermit would be agreeable. second, you must look the matter straight in the face and make quite sure that you mean it. for better or for worse. no undoin' _that_ knot, nigel, once it's fairly tied! and, third, you must make quite sure that winnie is sure of her own mind, an' that--that--" "we're all sure all round, father. quite right. i agree with you. `all fair an' aboveboard' should be the sailing orders of every man in such matters, especially of every seaman. but, will you explain how i am to make sure of winnie's state of mind without asking her about it?" "well, i don't exactly see my way," replied the captain slowly. "what d'ee say to my soundin' her on the subject?" "couldn't think of it! you may be first-rate at deep-sea soundings, father, but you couldn't sound the depths of a young girl's heart. i must reserve that for myself, however long it may be delayed." "so be it, lad. the only embargo that i lay upon you is--haul off, and mind you don't let your figurehead go by the board. meanwhile, here comes the boat. now, nigel, none o' your courtin' till everything is settled and the wind fair--dead aft my lad, and blowin' stiff. you and the hermit are goin' off to krakatoa to-day, i suppose?" "yes. i am just now waiting for him and moses," returned nigel. "is winnie going?" "don't know. i hope so." "humph! well, if we have a fair wind i shall soon be in batavia," said the captain, descending to business matters, "and i expect without trouble to dispose of the cargo that we landed there, as _well_ as that part o' the return cargo which i had bought before i left for keeling-- at a loss, no doubt, but that don't matter much. then i'll come back here by the first craft that offers--arter which. ay!--ay! shove her in here. plenty o' water." the last remark was made to the seaman who steered the boat sent from the vessel in the offing. a short time thereafter captain roy was sailing away for batavia, while his son, with van der kemp, moses, winnie, and spinkie, was making for krakatoa in a native boat. the hermit, in spite of his injuries, had recovered his wonted appearance, if not his wonted vigour. winnie seemed to have suddenly developed into a mature woman under her recent experiences, though she had lost none of her girlish grace and attractiveness. as for moses-- time and tide seemed to have no effect whatever on his ebony frame, and still less, if possible, on his indomitable spirit. "now you keep still," he said in solemn tones and with warning looks to spinkie. "if you keep fidgitin' about you'll capsize de boat. you hear?" spinkie veiled his real affection for the negro under a look of supreme indifference, while winnie went off into a sudden giggle at the idea of such a small creature capsizing the boat. mindful of his father's warning, nigel did his best to "haul off" and to prevent his "figurehead" from going "by the board." but he found it uncommonly hard work, for winnie looked so innocent, so pretty, so unconscious, so sympathetic with everybody and everything, so very young, yet so wondrously wise and womanly, that he felt an irresistible desire to prostrate himself at her feet in abject slavery. "dear little thing," said winnie, putting her hand on spinkie's little head and smoothing him down from eyes to tail. spinkie looked as if half inclined to withdraw his allegiance from moses and bestow it on winnie, but evidently changed his mind after a moment's reflection. "o that i were a monkey!" thought nigel, paraphrasing shakespeare, "that i might--" but it is not fair to our hero to reveal him in his weaker moments! there was something exasperating, too, in being obliged, owing to the size of the boat, to sit so close to winnie without having a right to touch her hand! who has not experienced this, and felt himself to be a very hero of self-denial in the circumstances? "mos' awrful hot!" remarked moses, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "_you_ hot!" said nigel in surprise. "i thought nothing on earth could be too hot for you." "dat's your ignerance," returned moses calmly. "us niggers, you see, ought to suffer more fro' heat dan you whites." "how so?" "why, don't your flossiphers say dat black am better dan white for 'tractin' heat, an' ain't our skins black? i wish we'd bin' born white as chalk. i say, massa nadgel, seems to me dat dere's not much left ob krakatoa." they had approached near enough to the island by that time to perceive that wonderful changes had indeed taken place, and van der kemp, who had been for some time silently absorbed in contemplation, at last turned to his daughter and said-- "i had feared at first, winnie, that my old home had been blown entirely away, but i see now that the peak of rakata still stands, so perhaps i may yet show you the cave in which i have spent so many years." "but why did you go to live in such a strange place, dear father?" asked the girl, laying her hand lovingly on the hermit's arm. van der kemp did not reply at once. he gazed in his child's face with an increase of that absent air and far-away look which nigel, ever since he met him, had observed as one of his characteristics. at this time an anxious thought crossed him,--that perhaps the blows which his friend had received on his head when he was thrown on the deck of the _sunshine_ might have injured his brain. "it is not easy to answer your question, dear one," he said after a time, laying his strong hand on the girl's head, and smoothing her luxuriant hair which hung in the untrammelled freedom of nature over her shoulders. "i have felt sometimes, during the last few days, as if i were awaking out of a long long dream, or recovering from a severe illness in which delirium had played a prominent part. even now, though i see and touch you, i sometimes tremble lest i should really awake and find that it is all a dream. i have so often--so _very_ often--dreamed something like it in years gone by, but never so vividly as now! i cannot doubt--it is sin to doubt--that my prayers have been at last answered. god is good and wise. he knows what is best and does not fail in bringing the best to pass. yet i have doubted him--again and again." van der kemp paused here and drew his hand across his brow as if to clear away sad memories of the past, while winnie drew closer to him and looked up tenderly in his face. "when your mother died, dear one," he resumed, "it seemed to me as if the sun had left the heavens, and when _you_ were snatched from me, it was as though my soul had fled and nought but animal life remained. i lived as if in a terrible dream. i cannot recall exactly what i did or where i went for a long, long time. i know i wandered through the archipelago looking for you, because i did not believe at first that you were dead. it was at this time i took up my abode in the cave of rakata, and fell in with my good faithful friend moses." "your sarvint, massa," interrupted the negro humbly. "i's proud to be call your frind, but i's only your sarvint, massa." "truly you have been my faithful servant, moses," said van der kemp, "but not the less have you been my trusted friend. he nursed me through a long and severe illness, winnie. how long, i am not quite sure. after a time i nearly lost hope. then there came a very dark period, when i was forced to believe that you must be dead. yet, strange to say, even during this dark time i did not cease to pray and to wander about in search of you. i suppose it was the force of habit, for hope seemed to have died. then, at last, nigel found you. god used him as his instrument. and now, praise to his name, we are reunited--for ever!" "darling father!" were the only words that winnie could utter as she laid her head on the hermit's shoulder and wept for joy. two ideas, which had not occurred to him before, struck nigel with great force at that moment. the one was that whatever or wherever his future household should be established, if winnie was to be its chief ornament, her father must of necessity become a member of it. the other idea was that he was destined to possess a negro servant with a consequent and unavoidable monkey attendant! how strange the links of which the chain of human destiny is formed, and how wonderful the powers of thought by which that chain is occasionally forecast! how to convey all these possessions to england and get them comfortably settled there was a problem which he did not care to tackle just then. "see, winnie," said van der kemp, pointing with interest to a mark on the side of rakata, "yonder is the mouth of my cave. i never saw it so clearly before because of the trees and bushes, but everything seems now to have been burnt up." "das so, massa, an' what hasn't bin bu'nt up has bin blow'd up!" remarked the negro. "looks very like it, moses, unless that is a haze which enshrouds the rest of the island," rejoined the other, shading his eyes with his hands. it was no haze, however; for they found, on drawing nearer, that the greater part of krakatoa had, as we have already said, actually disappeared from the face of the earth. when the boat finally rounded the point which hid the northern part of the island from view, a sight was presented which it is not often given to human eyes to look upon. the whole mountain named the peak of rakata, ( feet high), had been split from top to bottom, and about one-half of it, with all that part of the island lying to the northward, had been blown away, leaving a wall or almost sheer precipice which presented a grand section of the volcano. pushing their boat into a creek at the base of this precipice, the party landed and tried to reach a position from which a commanding view might be obtained. this was not an easy matter, for there was not a spot for a foot to rest on which was not covered deeply with pumice-dust and ashes. by dint of perseverance, however, they gained a ledge whence the surrounding district could be observed, and then it was clearly seen how widespread and stupendous the effects of the explosion had been. where the greater part of the richly wooded island had formerly flourished, the ocean now rippled in the sunshine, and of the smaller islands around it _lang_ island had been considerably increased in bulk as well as in height. _verleden_ island had been enlarged to more than three times its former size and also much increased in height. the island named _polish hat_ had disappeared altogether, and two entirely new islets--afterwards named _steers_ and _calmeyer_ islands--had arisen to the northward. "now, friends," said van der kemp, after they had noted and commented on the vast and wonderful changes that had taken place, "we will pull round to our cave and see what has happened there." descending to the boat they rowed round the southern shores of rakata until they reached the little harbour where the boat and canoe had formerly been kept. chapter thirty one. ends with a struggle between inclination and duty. "cave's blowed away too!" was the first remark of moses as they rowed into the little port. a shock of disappointment was experienced by winnie, for she fancied that the negro had referred to her father's old home, but he only meant the lower cave in which the canoe had formerly been kept. she was soon relieved as to this point, however, but, when a landing was effected, difficulties that seemed to her almost insurmountable presented themselves, for the ground was covered knee-deep with pumice-dust, and the road to the upper cave was blocked by rugged masses of lava and ashes, all heaped up in indescribable confusion. on careful investigation, however, it was found that after passing a certain point the footpath was almost unencumbered by volcanic debris. this was owing to the protection afforded to it by the cone of rakata, and the almost overhanging nature of some of the cliffs on that side of the mountain; still the track was bad enough, and in places so rugged, that winnie, vigorous and agile though she was, found it both difficult and fatiguing to advance. seeing this, her father proposed to carry her, but she laughingly declined the proposal. whereupon nigel offered to lend her a hand over the rougher places, but this she also declined. then moses, stepping forward, asserted his rights. "it's _my_ business," he said, "to carry t'ings when dey's got to be carried. m'r'over, as i's bin obleeged to leabe spinkie in charge ob de boat, i feels okard widout somet'ing to carry, an' you ain't much heavier dan spinkie, miss winnie--so, come along." he stooped with the intention of grasping winnie as if she were a little child, but with a light laugh the girl sprang away and left moses behind. "'s'my opinion," said moses, looking after her with a grin, "dat if de purfesser was here he'd net her in mistook for a bufferfly. dar!--she's down!" he shouted, springing forward, but nigel was before him. winnie had tripped and fallen. "are you hurt, dear--child?" asked nigel, raising her gently. "oh no! only a little shaken," answered winnie, with a little laugh that was half hysterical. "i am strong enough to go on presently." "nay, my child, you _must_ suffer yourself to be carried at this part," said van der kemp. "take her up, nigel, you are stronger than i am _now_. i would not have asked you to do it before my accident!" our hero did not need a second bidding. grasping winnie in his strong arms he raised her as if she had been a feather, and strode away at a pace so rapid that he soon left van der kemp and moses far behind. "put me down, now," said winnie, after a little while, in a low voice. "i'm quite recovered now and can walk." "nay, winnie, you are mistaken. the path is very rough yet, and the dust gets deeper as we ascend. _do_ give me the pleasure of helping you a little longer." whatever winnie may have felt or thought she said nothing, and nigel, taking silence for consent, bore her swiftly onward and upward,--with an "excelsior" spirit that would have thrown the alpine youth with the banner and the strange device considerably into the shade,--until he placed her at the yawning black mouth of the hermit's cave. but what a change was there! the trees and flowering shrubs and ferns were all gone, lava, pumice, and ashes lay thick on everything around, and only a few blackened and twisted stumps of the larger trees remained to tell that an umbrageous forest had once flourished there. the whole scene might be fittingly described in the two words--grey desolation. "that is the entrance to your father's old home," said nigel, as he set his fair burden down and pointed to the entrance. "what a dreadful place!" said winnie, peering into the black depths of the cavern. "it was not dreadful when i first saw it, winnie, with rich verdure everywhere; and inside you will find it surprisingly comfortable. but we must not enter until your father arrives to do the honours of the place himself." they had not to wait long. first moses arrived, and, shrewdly suspecting from the appearance of the young couple that they were engaged in conversation that would not brook interruption, or, perhaps, judging from what might be his own wishes in similar circumstances, he turned his back suddenly on them, and, stooping down, addressed himself to an imaginary creature of the animal kingdom. "what a bootiful bufferfly you is, to be sure! up on sitch a place too, wid nuffin' to eat 'cept krakatoa dust. i wonder what your moder would say if she know'd you was here. you should be ashamed ob yourself!" "hallo! moses, what are you talking to over there?" "nuffin', massa nadgel. i was on'y habin' a brief conv'sation wid a member ob de insect wurld in commemoration ob de purfesser. leastwise, if it warn't a insect it must hab bin suffin' else. won't you go in, miss winnie?" "no, i'd rather wait for father," returned the girl, looking a little flushed, for some strange and totally unfamiliar ideas had recently floated into her brain and caused some incomprehensible flutterings of the heart to which hitherto she had been a stranger. mindful of his father's injunctions, however, nigel had been particularly careful to avoid increasing these flutterings. in a few minutes the hermit came up. "ah! winnie," he said, "there has been dire devastation here. perhaps inside things may look better. come, take my hand and don't be afraid. the floor is level and your eyes will soon get accustomed to the dim light." "i's afeared, massa," remarked moses, as they entered the cavern, "dat your sun-lights won't be wu'th much now." "you are right, lad. go on before us and light the lamps if they are not broken." it was found, as they had expected, that the only light which penetrated the cavern was that which entered by the cave's mouth, which of course was very feeble. presently, to winnie's surprise, moses was seen issuing from the kitchen with a petroleum lamp in one hand, the brilliant light of which not only glittered on his expressive black visage but sent a ruddy glare all over the cavern. van der kemp seemed to watch his daughter intently as she gazed in a bewildered way around. there was a puzzled look as well as mere surprise in her pretty face. "father," she said earnestly, "you have spoken more than once of living as if in a dream. perhaps you will wonder when i tell you that i experience something of that sort now. strange though this place seems, i have an unaccountable feeling that it is not absolutely new to me-- that i have seen it before." "i do not wonder, dear one," he replied, "for the drawings that surround this chamber were the handiwork of your dear mother, and they decorated the walls of your own nursery when you were a little child at your mother's knee. for over ten long years they have surrounded me and kept your faces fresh in my memory--though, truth to tell, it needed no such reminders to do that. come, let us examine them." it was pleasant to see the earnest face of winnie as she half-recognised and strove to recall the memories of early childhood in that singular cavern. it was also a sight worth seeing--the countenance of nigel, as well as that of the hermit, while they watched and admired her eager, puzzled play of feature, and it was the most amazing sight of all to see the all but superhuman joy of moses as he held the lamp and listened to facts regarding the past of his beloved master which were quite new to him--for the hermit spoke as openly about his past domestic affairs as if he and winnie had been quite alone. "he either forgets that we are present, or counts us as part of his family," thought nigel with a feeling of satisfaction. "what a dear comoonicative man!" thought moses, with unconcealed pleasure. "come now, let us ascend to the observatory," said the hermit, when all the things in the library had been examined. "there has been damage done there, i know; besides, there is a locket there which belonged to your mother. i left it by mistake one day when i went up to arrange the mirrors, and in the hurry of leaving forgot to return for it. indeed, one of my main objects in re-visiting my old home was to fetch that locket away. it contains a lock of hair and one of those miniatures which men used to paint before photography drove such work off the field." winnie was nothing loth to follow, for she had reached a romantic period of life, and it seemed to her that to be led through mysterious caves and dark galleries in the very heart of a still active volcano by her own father--the hermit of rakata--was the very embodiment of romance itself. but a disappointment awaited them, for they had not proceeded halfway through the dark passage when it was found that a large mass of rock had fallen from the roof and almost blocked it up. "there is a space big enough for us to creep through at the right-hand corner above, i think," said nigel, taking the lantern from moses and examining the spot. "jump up, moses, and try it," said the hermit. "if your bulky shoulders get through, we can all manage it." the negro was about to obey the order when nigel let the lantern fall and the shock extinguished it. "oh! massa nadgel; das a pritty business!" "never mind," said van der kemp. "i've got matches, i think, in my--no, i haven't. have you, moses?" "no, massa, i forgit to remember him." "no matter, run back--you know the road well enough to follow it in the dark. we will wait here till you return. be smart, now!" moses started off at once and for some moments the sound of clattering along the passage was heard. "i will try to clamber through in the dark. look after winnie, nigel-- and don't leave the spot where you stand, dear one, for there are cracks and holes about that might sprain your little ankles." "very well, father." "all right. i've got through, nigel; i'll feel my way on for a little bit. remain where you are." "winnie," said nigel when they were alone, "doesn't it feel awesome and strange to be standing here in such intense darkness?" "it does--i don't quite like it." "whereabouts are you?" said nigel. he carefully stretched out his hand to feel, as he spoke, and laid a finger on her brow. "oh! take care of my eyes!" exclaimed winnie with a little laugh. "i wish you would turn your eyes towards me for i'm convinced they would give some light--to _me_ at least. here, do let me hold your hand. it will make you feel more confident." to one who is at all familiar with the human frame, the way from the brow to the hand is comparatively simple. nigel soon possessed himself of the coveted article. like other things of great value the possession turned the poor youth's head! he forgot his father's warnings for the moment, forgot the hermit and moses and spinkie, and the thick darkness--forgot almost everything in the light of that touch! "winnie!" he exclaimed in a tone that quite alarmed her; "i--i--" he hesitated. the solemn embargo of his father recurred to him. "what is it! is there danger?" exclaimed the poor girl, clasping his hand tighter and drawing nearer to him. this was too much! nigel felt himself to be contemptible. he was taking unfair advantage of her. "winnie," he began again, in a voice of forced calmness, "there is no danger whatever. i'm an ass--a dolt--that's all! the fact is, i made my father a sort of half promise that i would not ask your opinion on a certain subject until--until i found out exactly what you thought about it. now the thing is ridiculous--impossible--for how can i know your opinion on any subject until i have asked you?" "quite true," returned winnie simply, "so you better ask me." "ha! _ha_!" laughed nigel, in a sort of desperate amusement, "i--i--yes, i _will_ ask you, winnie! but first i must explain--" "hallo! nigel!" came at that moment from the other side of the obstruction, "are you there--all right?" "yes, yes--i'm here--not all right exactly, but i'll be all right _some day_, you may depend upon that!" shouted the youth, in a tone of indignant exasperation. "what said you?" asked van der kemp, putting his head through the hole. "hi! i's a-comin', look out, dar!" hallooed moses in the opposite direction. "just so," said nigel, resuming his quiet tone and demeanour, "we'll be all right when the light comes. here, give us your hand, van der kemp." the hermit accepted the proffered aid and leaped down amongst his friends just as moses arrived with the lantern. "it's of no use going further," he said. "the passage is completely blocked up--so we must go round to where the mountain has been split off and try to clamber up. there will be daylight enough yet if we are quick. come." chapter thirty two. the last. descending to the boat they rowed round to the face of the great cliff which had been so suddenly laid bare when the peak of rakata was cleft from its summit to its foundations in the sea. it was a wonderful sight--a magnificent section, affording a marvellous view of the internal mechanism of a volcano. but there was no time to spend in contemplation of this extraordinary sight, for evening approached and the hermit's purpose had to be accomplished. high up near the top of the mighty cliff could be seen a small hole in the rock, which was all that remained of the observatory. "it will be impossible, i fear, to reach that spot," said nigel; "there does not appear to be foothold for a goat." "i will reach it," said the hermit in a low voice, as he scanned the precipice carefully. "so will i," said the negro. "no, moses, i go alone. you will remain in the boat and watch. if i fall, you can pick me up." "pick you up!" echoed moses. "if you tumbles a t'ousand feet into de water how much t'ink you will be lef' to pick up?" it was useless to attempt to dissuade van der kemp. being well aware of this, they all held their peace while he landed on a spur of the riven cliff. the first part of the ascent was easy enough, the ground having been irregularly broken, so that the climber disappeared behind masses of rock at times, while he kept as much as possible to the western edge of the mountain where the cleavage had occurred; but as he ascended he was forced to come out upon narrow ledges that had been left here and there on the face of the cliff, where he seemed, to those who were watching far below, like a mere black spot on the face of a gigantic wall. still upward he went, slowly but steadily, till he reached a spot nearly level with the observatory. here he had to go out on the sheer precipice, where his footholds were invisible from below. winnie sat in the boat with blanched face and tightly clasped hands, panting with anxiety as she gazed upwards. "it looks much more dangerous from here than it is in reality," said nigel to her in a reassuring tone. "das true, massa nadgel, das bery true," interposed moses, endeavouring to comfort himself as well as the others by the intense earnestness of his manner. "de only danger, miss winnie, lies in your fadder losin' his head at sitch a t'riffic height, an' dar's no fear at all ob dat, for massa neber loses his head--pooh! you might as well talk ob him losin' his heart. look! look! he git close to de hole now--he put his foot--yes--next step--dar! he've done it!" with the perspiration of anxiety streaming down his face the negro relieved his feelings by a wild prolonged cheer. nigel obtained the same relief by means of a deep long-drawn sigh, but winnie did not move; she seemed to realise her father's danger better than her companions, and remembered that the descent would be much more difficult than the ascent. they were not kept long in suspense. in a few minutes the hermit reappeared and began to retrace his steps--slowly but steadily-- and the watchers breathed more freely. moses was right; there was in reality little danger in the climb, for the ledges which appeared to them like mere threads, and the footholds that were almost invisible, were in reality from a foot to three feet wide. the only danger lay in the hermit's head being unable to stand the trial, but, as moses had remarked, there was no fear of that. the watchers were therefore beginning to feel somewhat relieved from the tension of their anxiety, when a huge mass of rock was seen to slip from the face of the cliff and descend with the thunderous roar of an avalanche. the incident gave those in the boat a shock, for the landslip occurred not far from the spot which van der kemp had reached, but as he still stood there in apparent safety there seemed no cause for alarm till it was observed that the climber remained quite still for a long time and seemed to have no intention of moving. "god help him!" cried nigel in sudden alarm, "the ledge has been carried away and he cannot advance! stay by the boat, moses, i will run to help him!" "no, massa nadgel," returned the negro, "i go to die wid 'im. boat kin look arter itself." he sprang on shore as he spoke, and dashed up the mountain-side like a hunted hare. our hero looked at winnie for an instant in hesitation. "go!" said the poor girl. "you know i can manage a boat--quick!" another moment and nigel was following in the track of the negro. they gained the broken ledge together, and then found that the space between the point which they had reached and the spot on which the hermit stood was a smooth face of perpendicular rock--an absolutely impassable gulf! van der kemp was standing with his back flat against the precipice and his feet resting on a little piece of projecting rock not more than three inches wide. this was all that lay between him and the hideous depth below, for nigel found on carefully drawing nearer that the avalanche had been more extensive than was apparent from below, and that the ledge beyond the hermit had been also carried away--thus cutting off his retreat as well as his advance. "i can make no effort to help myself," said van der kemp in a low but calm voice, when our hero's foot rested on the last projecting point that he could gain, and found that with the utmost reach of his arm he could not get within six inches of his friend's outstretched hand. besides, nigel himself stood on so narrow a ledge, and against so steep a cliff, that he could not have acted with his wonted power even if the hand could have been grasped. moses stood immediately behind nigel, where the ledge was broader and where a shallow recess in the rock enabled him to stand with comparative ease. the poor fellow seemed to realise the situation more fully than his companion, for despair was written on every feature of his expressive face. "what is to be done?" said nigel, looking back. "de boat-rope," suggested the negro. "useless," said van der kemp, in a voice as calm and steady as if he were in perfect safety, though the unusual pallor of his grave countenance showed that he was fully alive to the terrible situation. "i am resting on little more than my heels, and the strain is almost too much for me even now. i could not hold on till you went to the boat and returned. no, it seems to be god's will--and," added he humbly, "his will be done." "o god, send us help!" cried nigel in an agony of feeling that he could not master. "if i had better foothold i might spring towards you and catch hold of you," said the hermit, "but i cannot spring off my heels. besides, i doubt if you could bear my weight." "try, try!" cried nigel, eagerly extending his hand. "don't fear for my strength--i've got plenty of it, thank god! and see, i have my right arm wedged into a crevice so firmly that nothing could haul it out." but van der kemp shook his head. "i cannot even make the attempt," he said. "the slightest move would plunge me down. dear boy! i know that you and your father and moses will care for my winnie, and--" "massa!" gasped moses, who while the hermit was speaking had been working his body with mysterious and violent energy; "massa! couldn't you _fall_ dis way, an' nadgel could kitch your hand, an' i's got my leg shoved into a hole as nuffin' 'll haul it out ob. dere's a holler place here. if nadgel swings you into dat, an' i only once grab you by de hair--you're safe!" "it might be done--tried at least," said the hermit, looking anxiously at his young friend. "try it!" cried nigel, "i won't fail you." it is not possible for any except those who have gone through a somewhat similar ordeal to understand fully the test of cool courage which van der kemp had to undergo on that occasion. shutting his eyes for a moment in silent prayer, he deliberately worked with his shoulders upon the cliff against which he leaned until he felt himself to be on the point of falling towards his friend, and the two outstretched hands almost touched. "now, are you ready?" he asked. "ready," replied nigel, while moses wound both his powerful arms round his comrade's waist and held on. another moment and the hands clasped, nigel uttered an irrepressible shout as the hermit swung off, and, coming round with great violence to the spot where the negro had fixed himself, just succeeded in catching the edge of the cliff with his free hand. "let go, nigel," he shouted;--"safe!" the poor youth was only too glad to obey, for the tremendous pull had wrenched his arm out of the crevice in which he had fixed it, and for a moment he swayed helplessly over the awful abyss. "don't let me go, moses!" he yelled, as he made a frantic but futile effort to regain his hold,--for he felt that the negro had loosened one of his arms though the other was still round him like a hoop of iron. "no fear, nadgel," said moses, "i's got you tight--only don' wriggle. now, massa, up you come." moses had grasped his master's hair with a grip that well-nigh scalped him, and he held on until the hermit had got a secure hold of the ledge with both hands. then he let the hair go, for he knew that to an athlete like his master the raising himself by his arms on to the ledge would be the work of a few seconds. van der kemp was thus able to assist in rescuing nigel from his position of danger. but the expressions of heartfelt thankfulness for this deliverance which naturally broke from them were abruptly checked when it was found that moses could by no means extract his leg out of the hole into which he had thrust it, and that he was suffering great pain. after some time, and a good deal of violent wrenching, during which our sable hero mingled a few groans in strange fashion with his congratulations, he was got free, and then it was found that the strain had been too much for even his powerful bones and sinews, for the leg was broken. "my poor fellow!" murmured van der kemp, as he went down on his knees to examine the limb. "don' care a buttin for dat, massa. you're safe, an' nadgel's safe--an' it only cost a broken leg! pooh! das nuffin'!" said moses, unable to repress a few tears in the excess of his joy and pain! with considerable difficulty they carried the poor negro down to the boat, where they found winnie, as might be supposed, in a half-fainting condition from the strain of prolonged anxiety and terror to which she had been subjected; but the necessity of attending to the case of the injured moses was an antidote which speedily restored her. do you think, good reader, that nigel and winnie had much difficulty in coming to an understanding after that, or that the hermit was disposed to throw any obstacles in the way of true love? if you do, let us assure you that you are mistaken. surely this is information enough for any intelligent reader. still, it may be interesting to add, difficulties did not all at once disappear. the perplexities that had already assailed nigel more than once assailed him again--perplexities about a negro man-servant, and a household monkey, and a hermit father-in-law, and a small income--to say nothing of a disconsolate mother-poetess in england and a father roving on the high seas! how to overcome these difficulties gave him much thought and trouble; but they were overcome at last. that which seemed impossible to man proved to be child's-play in the hands of woman. winnie solved the difficulty by suggesting that they should all return to the cocos-keeling islands and dwell together there for evermore! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ let us drop in on them, good reader, at a later period, have a look at them, and bid them all good-bye. on a green knoll by the margin of the lagoon stands a beautiful cottage with a garden around it, and a pleasure-boat resting on the white coral sand in front. from the windows of that cottage there is a most magnificent view of the lagoon with its numerous islets and its picturesque palm-trees. within that cottage dwell nigel and winnie, and a brown-eyed, brown-haired, fair-skinned baby girl who is "the most extraordinary angel that ever was born." it has a nurse of its own, but is chiefly waited on and attended to by an antique poetess, who dwells in another cottage, a stone's-cast off, on the same green knoll. there she inspires an ancient mariner with poetical sentiments--not your up-in-the-clouds, reef-point-pattering nonsense, observe but the real genuine article, superior to "that other fellow's," you know--when not actively engaged with the baby. the first cottage is named rakata, in honour of our hermit, who is one of its inhabitants. the second is named krakatoa by its eccentric owner, captain roy. it must not be imagined, however, that our friends have settled down there to spend their lives in idleness. by no means. this probably would not be permitted by the "king of the cocos islands" even if they wished to do so. but they do not wish that. there is no such condition as idleness in the lives of good men and women. nigel has taken to general superintendence of the flourishing community in the midst of which he has cast his lot. he may be almost regarded as the prime minister of the islands, in addition to which he has started an extensive boat-building business and a considerable trade in cocoa-nuts, etcetera, with the numerous islands of the java sea; also a saw-mill, and a forge, and a sunday-school--in which last the pretty, humble-minded winnie lends most efficient aid. indeed it is said that she is the chief manager as well as the life and soul of that business, though nigel gets all the credit. captain roy sometimes sails his son's vessels, and sometimes looks after the secular education of the sunday-school children--the said education being conducted on the principle of unlimited story-telling with illimitable play of fancy. but his occupations are irregular-- undertaken by fits and starts, and never to be counted on. his evenings he usually devotes to poetry and pipes--for the captain is obstinate, and sticks--like most of us--to his failings as well as his fancies. there is a certain eccentric individual with an enthusiastic temperament and blue binoculars who pays frequent and prolonged visits to the keeling islands. it need scarcely be said that his name is verkimier. there is no accounting for the tastes of human beings. notwithstanding all his escapes and experiences, that indomitable man of science still ranges, like a mad philosopher, far and wide over the archipelago in pursuit of "bootterflies ant ozer specimens of zee insect vorld." it is observed, however, even by the most obtuse among his friends, that whereas in former times the professor's flights were centrifugal they have now become centripetal--the keeling islands being the great centre towards which he flies. verkimier is, and probably will always be, a subject of wonder and of profound speculation to the youthful inhabitants of the islands. they don't understand him and he does not understand them. if they were insects he would take deep and intelligent interest in them. as they are merely human beings, he regards them with that peculiar kind of interest with which men regard the unknown and unknowable. he is by no means indifferent to them. he is too kindly for that. he studies them deeply, though hopelessly, and when he enters the sunday-school with his binoculars--which he often does, to listen--a degree of awe settles down on the little ones which it is impossible to evoke by the most solemn appeals to their spiritual natures. nigel and winnie have a gardener, and that gardener is black--as black as the ace of spades or the king of ashantee. he dwells in a corner of the rakata cottage, but is addicted to spending much of his spare time in the krakatoa one. he is as strong and powerful as ever, but limps slightly on his right leg--his "game" leg, as he styles it. he is, of course, an _immense_ favourite with the young people--not less than with the old. he has been known to say, with a solemnity that might tickle the humorous and horrify the timid, that he wouldn't "hab dat game leg made straight agin! no, not for a hundred t'ousand pounds. 'cause why?--it was an eber-present visible reminder dat once upon a time he had de libes ob massa and nadgel in his arms a-hangin' on to his game leg, an' dat, t'rough gracious goodness, he sabe dem bof!" ha! you may smile at moses if you will, but he can return the smile with kindly interest, for he is actuated by that grand principle which will sooner or later transform even the scoffers of earth, and which is embodied in the words--"love is the fulfilling of the law." even the lower animals testify to this fact when the dog licks the hand that smites it and accords instant forgiveness on the slightest encouragement. does not spinkie prove it also, when, issuing at call, from its own pagoda in the sunniest corner of the rakata garden, it forsakes cocoa-nuts, sugar-cane, fruits, and other delights, to lay its little head in joyful consecration on the black bosom of its benignant friend? and what of moses' opinion of the new home? it may be shortly expressed in his own words-- "it's heaben upon eart', an' de most happiest time as eber occurred to me was dat time when sunda straits went into cumbusti'n an' krakatoa was blown to bits." the end. available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/jackyoungcanoema grinrich transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). small capitals have been rendered in full capitals. [illustration: as the deer bounced up the bank, jack fired--_page _] jack the young canoeman an eastern boy's voyage in a chinook canoe by george bird grinnell author of "jack in the rockies," "jack the young ranchman," "jack among the indians," "pawnee hero stories," "blackfoot lodge tales," "the story of the indian," "the indian of to-day," etc. illustrated by edwin willard deming and by half-tone engravings of photographs [illustration] new york frederick a. stokes company publishers copyright, by frederick a. stokes company published in september, all rights reserved the university press, cambridge, u.s.a. preface the mountains which border the british columbia coast between the mouth of the frazer river and the southeastern point of alaska are still unknown to the world at large. few people have sailed up the wonderful fiords, which, as great water-floored canyons, run back forty or fifty miles into the interior. fewer still have penetrated by land into the mountains where there are neither roads nor trails, and where progress on foot is barred by a thousand insurmountable obstacles. since the time that jack danvers made his voyage in a chinook canoe along this beautiful coast, it has not greatly changed. the mountains still abound in game, the sea in fish; the scenery is as beautiful as it was then; and over the waters, dancing blue beneath the brilliant sky, or black under the heavy rain clouds, the indian still paddles his high-prowed canoe. contents chapter page i. victoria, v. i. ii. how jack and hugh came to british columbia iii. a mysterious water monster iv. the cobbler naturalist of burrard inlet v. an unexpected bear vi. of indians in armor vii. seammux in danger viii. the coast indians and their ways ix. preparation for the voyage x. the start xi. food from the sea xii. the island deer xiii. an adventure of the cassiar xiv. bute inlet xv. the work that glaciers do xvi. a mother's courage xvii. jack meets a seal pirate xviii. millions of salmon xix. fishing with a siwash xx. off for a hunt in the mountains xxi. last days in british columbia xxii. the homeward road illustrations as the deer bounded up the bank, jack fired _frontispiece_ jack fired at the white spot on the beast's breast _facing page_ seammux also rolled after the goat, and he, too, disappeared " " here they wear white men's clothes, including shoes and hats " " "close to some of the houses stand tall carved poles, called totem poles" " " when they saw the canoe they all stopped and began to stare at it " " drove her short horns deep into his side " " an indian salmon weir " " jack the young canoeman chapter i victoria, v. i. "say, hugh, what is that indian doing in that canoe? i thought at first that he was paddling, but he doesn't seem to move, and that doesn't look like a paddle that he has in his hand." "to tell you the truth, son, i don't know what he is doing. this business here on the salt water puzzles me, and everything is strange and queer. this ain't like the prairie, nor these ain't like any mountains that i've ever seen. i am beginning at the bottom and have got to learn everything. but about that indian in the canoe, you can see that the boat doesn't move; and you can see, too, if you look sharp, that he's anchored. don't you see that taut line reaching down into the water?" "that's so," said jack; "he surely is anchored, but he works his arms just as if he were paddling. i am going to ask this man over here." jack walked over to a sailor who stood leaning against the rail of the deck on which they were sitting, and who was looking over the water, and said to him: "will you tell me, sir, what that indian is doing in the canoe over there?" the man turned his head and looked in the direction in which jack was pointing, and said: "yes, i can tell you what he is doing; he is fishing. don't you see that every stroke he makes he is bringing up some herrings?" "no, i don't see it, and i will be much obliged to you if you will describe to me how he is fishing." "of course i will," said the man. "you see his canoe is anchored there in that deep water, just this side of that point around which the tide runs strong. at this season of the year the herrings gather in big schools in that eddy there. of course we don't know just how they lie, but they must be mighty thick together. that thing the indian has in his hand is a pole about a dozen feet long, flattened on the sides, and maybe a couple of inches across in its widest part. the flattening makes the pole sort of oval shaped, if you should saw through it; and each of the narrow edges of the pole is studded with a row of sharp nails, about an inch or two apart. these nails are firmly driven into the wood and the points that stick out for about an inch are very sharp. the nails run for about one half the length of the pole. the indian, sitting in his canoe and holding the upper part of the pole in his two hands, as you see, just as he would hold a paddle, sweeps the end of it, that has the nails in, through the water, using just the same motion that he does in paddling. the herrings down there are so thick that every time he passes the pole vertically through the water it strikes the bodies of three or four of the fish with force enough to drive the nails into them; and as the man continues the stroke they are pushed ahead of the pole. when the stroke is finished and the end of the pole brought out of the water, the fish are still sticking on the nails. then, you will see, if you watch him, he brings the nailed end of the pole in over the canoe, taps the pole on the canoe, and the fish drop off into the bottom of the boat. don't you see the white shiny specks on the pole every time he makes a stroke?" "yes," said jack, "of course i see them, but that is a new way of fishing to me, and i never should have guessed what he was trying to do. i should think it would take a long time to get fish enough for a mess in that way." "don't you believe it," said the sailor; "one of those fellows may get a bushel or two of fish in two or three hours. just you watch the pole as one brings it up and see how many fish he gets to a stroke, and then figure how many strokes he makes to a minute." jack watched for a few minutes and saw that at every sweep of the pole two or half a dozen fish were brought up and knocked loose so as to fall into the canoe, and he made up his mind that after all this was a quick and easy way of fishing. in the meantime hugh had strolled up and was listening to their talk, but without making any comment. presently jack said to the sailor: "we are not near enough to make a very good guess at the size of those fish; how big are they?" "oh," said the sailor, "they are not very big, maybe not more than four or six inches long, but there are lots of them, as you can see. they catch oolichans in that way too, when they are here, but they have gone now. we only have them during the month of may, but then they gather in certain places and there are worlds of them. the indians catch them, and the white folks catch them; in fact, for a little while pretty nearly everybody lives on oolichans. they are mighty good eating, i can tell you, and besides those eaten fresh, lots of them are smoked and salted. the indians don't save many of them. what they don't eat fresh they use to make oil with, for the oolichan is an awful fat fish and you can get lots of oil out of them. they are so fat, that after they have been dried you can light them at one end and they will burn just like a candle. i expect that is the reason that sometimes they are called candle-fish." "say, friend," said hugh, "you ain't joking, are you?" "no," said the man, "i ain't joking; that's just the way it is, like i tell you." "well, no offence," said hugh. "where i come from, in the mountains and in the cattle country, sometimes the boys, when a stranger comes around, sort of josh him in a good-natured way, and tell tall stories just to see how much he will believe. i didn't know that maybe you had such a custom as that out here." "no, sir," said the sailor, "we don't do anything like that here. we suppose that people ask us questions about the country because they want to know how things really are, and we tell them just what the facts are." "well," said hugh, "it seems to me, from what i have seen, that the facts are strange enough here, and it wouldn't be necessary for you to stretch them a mite to astonish folks." soon after this hugh and jack went back to the place where they had been sitting, in the shelter of the deck cabin, and sat there looking over the beautiful view that was stretched out before them. neither said very much. both were impressed by the beauty of the scene and the novelty of their surroundings; for neither of them had ever seen anything like it before. "i tell you, son," said hugh, "this here is a wonderful country to me, and i never saw anything to match it. you see it's the first time that i ever got down to the edge of the salt water. i don't know what to make of it all. everything is different; the mountains and timber, the people, the animals, and the birds. and as for fish--why! i never supposed there was any place in the world where fish were as plenty as they are here." "yes," said jack, "it's surely a wonderful country. there is something new to look at every minute; and it's all just as different as can be from anything i ever saw before. i was talking to one of the passengers here a little while ago and he told me that these indians here live almost altogether on fish. they dig clams and catch mussels and catch the salmon and the herrings and those little fish this sailor was talking about; and they kill seals and porpoises and even whales. it's all mighty strange, but doesn't it show just how people fit themselves to the conditions that surround them? now, suppose you take one of the blackfeet, turn him loose on his horse at the edge of the water, and how do you think he would go to work to get his next meal? why, he would starve to death." "he surely would," said hugh. "don't you know, that the things these indians here eat would be sort of poison to the blackfeet? it is against their medicine to eat fish or most anything that lives in the water. they think those things are not fit to eat, and many of them would starve before they would even touch them." the vessel ploughed its way through the strait with the land rising high on the right and lower on the left-hand side. both coasts were rock-bound, and the heavy swell dashed against the shore great waves, whose foam flew high into the air. away to the south rose high rough mountains, their summits white with snow. to the north the land rose gently, and green fields, dotted here and there with white houses, stretched away for miles. beyond were hills, forest-clad. the travellers were busy looking in all directions at the beautiful prospect spread before them. suddenly, not far from the ship, a great head rose above the water, remaining there for a moment looking at the boat. jack saw it and called out to his companion: "o hugh! that must be a sea-lion or a fur seal! it's bigger than the seals that i have seen on the coast of maine." after a moment the head disappeared beneath the water. but in a few moments several other heads were seen; and these seals, less timid than the first, swam along not far from the boat, showing their great bodies partly out of the water, and sometimes, in chasing one another, jumping high into the air. further along, the boat startled from the surface of the water a group of black birds. less in size than ducks, they flew swiftly along, close to the water's surface. jack could see that on the shoulders of each bird was a round spot of white, while the legs were coral-red. "there is a new bird to me, hugh, and i bet it is to you, too. that must be one of the birds they call guillemots. they live up in the north and breed on the ledges of the rock. i have read about them often." "well," said hugh, "there's surely plenty to see here; and i wouldn't be surprised if you and i travelled around all the time with our mouths open, just because we are too surprised to remember to shut them." all this time the boat was moving swiftly along. toward afternoon she rounded a sharp point of rocks; and, proceeding up a narrow channel, the buildings of the town of victoria were soon seen in the distance. hugh said: "that must be our landing place, son. i'll be glad to get ashore and stretch my legs. i take it, this here land that we are coming to is an island, and very likely there won't be a horse in the place. we'll have to do all of our travelling afoot, or in one of these cranky canoes, and i haven't much of a notion of getting into one of them. i'll be a good deal like you were the first time you got on a horse--afraid i'll fall off; and yet i don't know as they'll be any harder to ride in than the birch canoes i used to travel in up in the north." victoria, where our travellers landed that afternoon, was a charming, quiet town of six or seven thousand inhabitants, situated on the extreme southeastern point of vancouver island. for many years after its settlement it had been nothing more than the hudson's bay fort and trading post, with a few dwellings occupied by those employed there. but the discovery of gold in small quantities on the frazer river in , and later on at the placer mines on the quesnelle and at caribou, made a great change in the prospects of the place. word of the new diggings travelled fast and soon reached california, causing a world of excitement among the mining population of that state, then ripe for a fresh move. a rush took place, and all those who travelled toward the new mines in british columbia passed by the drowsy old hudson's bay fort, where hitherto the only event of the year had been the arrival of the ship from england with the mail. now the fort was startled by the coming of twenty thousand miners, who pitched their tents about it and founded victoria. buildings sprang up and trade was attracted. every one going to the mines or coming from them passed through the town and paid its tribute, and high hopes were entertained of its future importance. people who lived there began to call it "the emporium of commerce," "the metropolis of the northwest coast of america." but, unfortunately for victoria, the mines, which caused this excitement soon ceased to pay; and the town's commerce fell off. it did not fulfil the promises of its early youth, and its growth has since been slow. now, however, there was a prospect of speedy communication with the rest of the world; for during the summer when our travellers reached there, the canadian pacific railroad was being built and the loyal inhabitants of victoria were again anticipating that the place would become a great city--"a second san francisco." there was reason for their hopes. while the railroad could not directly reach victoria, its terminus on the mainland would be within easy reach of the island city, and would give vancouver island a market for its products. its trade at that time was little or nothing, for the goods sent to the united states had to pay a heavy duty, which left little margin for profit. hugh and jack spent several days at victoria. the country was picturesque and attractive, and the roads good. they took long walks into the country to the gorge and to cedar hill, from which a beautiful view of the city could be obtained. the panorama included also a view of the straits of fuca, the gulf of georgia with its hundreds of islands, and the mainland, rough with mountain peaks, among which, rising above all, stood mt. baker, calm and white, a snow-clad monarch. while they remained in the town they lived literally on the fat of the land. victoria boasted one of the best hotels in the world; not a pretentious structure, but one where everything that was good to eat, in abundance, well cooked and well served, was furnished. there were fish of many sorts,--salmon and sea bass, herring and oolichans, oysters and clams, crabs, game, delicious vegetables, and abundance of fruit. mr. sturgis had given to hugh a letter to an acquaintance of his in victoria, and one day hugh and jack called on mr. mactavish. he was an old hudson bay man, who, after retiring from the service of the company had come to victoria to live. he had a delightful family, and a charming house, full of a multitude of interesting curiosities, picked up during his long service in the north. of these, one of the most interesting was a complete set of dinner dishes, carved out of black slate by the haida indians of the north. while the figures exhibited on these were conventional in form and of indian type, the carving was so remarkably good that it was hard for hugh and jack to believe that the work was indian. neither had ever seen anything done by indians more artistic than the ordinary painted skins of the plains' tribes; and when they saw such delicate, beautifully carved work, often inlaid with the white teeth or fragments of bones of animals, it was hard for them to understand how it all could have been done by native artists. mr. mactavish told them much about the life of the island,--the fishing and hunting. he said that at that very time, during the month of july, the salt waters of the straits and of the gulf of georgia abounded with salmon, which were readily taken by trolling; and when thus taken, on a light rod, furnished fine sport. many of the brooks of the island, too, afforded excellent trout fishing. about victoria there were found, he said, two species of grouse,--the ruffed grouse and the blue grouse. the california quail had been introduced and seemed to be increasing, but sportsmen did not care much for it, because it did not lie well to a dog, but ran when alarmed and took to the thickest brush, where it was impossible to shoot it. in the autumn ducks and geese occurred in great numbers; and, on the whole, shooting was good. their host also told them there was a considerable variety of big game. deer were abundant within a few miles of victoria; and it was not uncommon for people, starting out in the evening, to drive into the country and return the next night with several. there were some places where still-hunting could be successfully followed; but in most cases it was necessary to use hounds to drive the deer to the water, for the timber was so thick, and the underbrush and ferns so dense and tangled, that it was impossible to travel through the forests without making a great deal of noise. their entertainer astonished hugh and jack by telling them that further north on the island, in the neighborhood of comox, elk were to be found. they were not abundant, he said, and were hard to approach on account of the character of the forest; but they were certainly there. bears and panthers were everywhere quite abundant. sooke, a village about twenty miles from victoria, was a great place for bears. many of those killed were black or cinnamon; but it was reported that there were also grizzlies at sooke. the panthers were little hunted, except in places where farmers had flocks or herds to protect. they lived principally on the deer, which were very abundant. there were a few wolves, but except in winter they were seldom seen. mr. mactavish had a good knowledge of natural history; and he had much to say to jack, who was interested in the subject, about the curious forms of life found in the surrounding waters. when he heard that jack and hugh had come up there to spend a month travelling among the islands, he told them that the best thing that they could do would be to go over to the mainland, and there make the acquaintance of jack fannin, a cobbler, living on burrard inlet, as he knew more about the birds and mammals of the province than any other man. "fannin is the man for you," said mr. mactavish, "and you should see him before you make up your minds to do anything. he will give you the best advice possible; and perhaps you can even get him to go with you. that would be a great thing; it would add enormously to your pleasure, and would save you many delays. and as he has mined, hunted, canoed, and chopped logs over much of the coast, he knows it as well as any one." our friends spent a long, delightful afternoon with mr. mactavish, and when they spoke of returning to their hotel he would not let them go, but kept them with him for the evening meal. they walked back through the clear, cool moonlight to victoria, and before they had reached there had agreed that they would go by the first steamer to new westminster to hunt up mr. fannin. the next day when they told mr. mactavish of their decision, he congratulated them on their good judgment and gave them a letter to a friend in new westminster, who would take care of them and see that they lost no time in finding the man they wanted. the hospitality and kindness shown the two americans by mr. mactavish was typical of the treatment they received everywhere in british columbia. people there, they found, had time to enjoy life. they did not rush about, after the headlong american fashion, but took things quietly and easily. the stores were opened about nine or ten in the morning, and at twelve they were closed. the shop-keepers went home to lunch, appearing again and reopening their places about two o'clock; keeping them open until four or five in the afternoon. then their day's work was over and they closed up for the night. chapter ii how jack and hugh came to british columbia two days later hugh and jack started by steamer for the town of new westminster, near the mouth of the fraser river, on the mainland. the trip was one of great beauty, for the boat wound its way here and there amid the many islands of the gulf; and as each one was passed a new vista of beauty burst on the view. and, while the two travellers are sitting on the steamer's deck, admiring the wonderful scenery opening on all sides, wondering at the new birds and animals which appeared, and talking over the possibilities for their summer trip, it may be explained how it came to pass that these two friends found themselves so far from their homes and from the high, dry plains where the summers of the three previous years had been passed by both. it was six months before--to be exact, it was on christmas day--that the thought of the trip to british columbia had first been broached. mr. sturgis, jack's uncle, had come back from the ranch and was spending the winter with jack's father and mother at the house on thirty-eighth street; and it was while they were sitting at dessert during their christmas dinner that mr. sturgis had announced that during the next summer it would be necessary for him to go out to british columbia to inspect a mine in which he was interested, and had proposed that jack should go with him. for three years past jack had spent the summer on the western plains. ill health had been the first cause of his going out to swiftwater ranch, where he had learned to ride, to hunt big game, and to live the life of a ranchman. so greatly had he been benefited by this trip, that the next summer he was permitted to return to the ranch. then he and old hugh johnson had travelled north, across the lonely, buffalo-dotted plains, until they had come to the country of the piegan blackfeet, where they had spent the summer in the indian camp, and jack had seen much of indian life--of its charms and its dangers. he returned at length down the missouri river to the railroad, and so back to his home in new york for the winter's schooling. the third year, still in hugh's company, he had gone up the missouri river; and starting southwest from fort benton, had gone through the yellowstone park and back to the ranch, having a great deal of shooting and fishing and not a little of adventure. in this out-door life, in knocking about with hugh johnson and with other people who had been brought up to take care of themselves, jack had learned many lessons of the plains and the mountains. he had picked up a great store of the lore of the prairies, could find his way about, even though there might be neither road nor landmarks to guide him; and, under hugh's tuition, had become a good prairie man. he had also become very fond of the west; and when his uncle suggested that he should go with him to british columbia, he was delighted at the thought of the trip. being a boy of good sense, he said nothing when the suggestion was made, but watched the faces of his father and mother, to see how they felt about it. "british columbia seems a long way off, doesn't it, george?" said mr. danvers to his brother-in-law. "yes," said jack's mother, "it seems a terribly long way off. i have been badly enough frightened these last three years, when jack went out into a country full of cowboys and indians and wild animals; and i always let him go with the feeling that i shall never see him again. certainly the plains are far enough away for him. british columbia must be more than twice as far, and i don't feel as if i could think of that." "you and mary have hit it exactly," said mr. sturgis. "you both say it seems a long way off, but in practice it is no further off than where jack has been before, and, indeed, it is not nearly so far. british columbia is at least within reach of the rest of the world by steam communication and also by telegraph. you can learn in a very short time what is happening in british columbia, but when jack was out on the plains, between my ranch and fort benton, he was practically as far off as he would have been in central africa. the distance of british columbia is all in imagination. the country is one that we hear very little of, and for that reason we think it far away, but it is not so. now, i would like to have jack go with me. i don't mean that i want to take him up into the mountains to have him spend his days loafing around a mine while i am working; but i thought--if you feel like letting him go with me--we would have hugh johnson join us at the railroad, all go on together to british columbia, and let hugh and jack take a hunt or a canoe trip along the coast, while i go back to my mine in washington territory. i shall be there a month or six weeks, and after i have done my work and they have made their trip, we could meet and come across overland and home by the new railroad that's being built north from the union pacific to the mining regions of montana territory." when jack heard this fascinating plan he had to hold hard to his chair to keep still; and he couldn't help drawing in his breath with a sort of whistle, making a slight noise, so that his father looked at him and laughed a little. "you both know," continued mr. sturgis, "what these western trips have done for jack, and yet, really, i am not quite sure that you do know; i am not quite sure that you remember what a wee little bit of a white shrimp he was when he first went out to the ranch; how he changed during that summer, and how, when we came back in the autumn, you, mary, hardly knew the boy. see how he has grown, squared up--what a picture of health he is! you don't know--and perhaps i don't either, altogether; except so far as i have been told by hugh johnson, what a change has taken place in the boy's character. he has developed mentally as much as he has physically. he has gained balance, self-reliance; is sensible beyond his years in all matters that pertain to the out-door life, and is already, in many essentials, a man and a good companion, so far as his strength goes, in any situation where hard work, judgment, coolness, and discretion are required. all this means a great deal, more perhaps than any of us quite understand. if the boy had never gone west, he might have had a greater share of book learning, might have been further advanced toward entering college; but also, he might have been dead, and certainly he would have been very different in appearance from what he is now. you two had better think over the question of this trip. it will mean for the boy another summer spent out of doors, in surroundings that are wholly new to him. the life will be one of hard work whether they make a canoe trip, or a hunt; and it certainly will do them good. then, of course, it will give him a great deal of pleasure, will enlarge his ideas, and will be, in all respects, helpful to him. now, think it over, and when you are ready we will talk it over again." during the months of the winter, the subject had often been brought up. jack, when he was consulted, was, of course, eager to go, doubly so after he had learned that his uncle proposed to take hugh johnson along. at last his parents consented to his going. in the spring mr. sturgis went west to the ranch, as was his custom, and arrangements were made for jack to come west over the union pacific railroad as soon as school had closed. on the appointed day, the train bearing jack drew up at the little station nearest to mr. sturgis's ranch, and jack's uncle and hugh johnson stepped on board the train, while jack waved an enthusiastic greeting to joe, who sat in the wagon that had brought them from the ranch. then the three travellers sped on westward, plunging through the wasatch mountains, and at length reached the great salt lake basin. they stopped for a day at salt lake city, interesting for its beauty, its surroundings of great mountains, and its wonderful lake. jack had a swim in salt lake, and though he had been warned about it, experienced a curious sensation in swimming in its waters, it being impossible for him to sink. he swam about, or stood upright with his whole head out of the water, but found that diving was very difficult. then, as he began to dry off, after coming out of the water, it was curious to feel his skin become rough with a crust of salt which had to be washed off with fresh water before he could dress. as they were going back to the city on the railroad jack said to his uncle: "i wish you would tell me, uncle george, why this lake is so salt. of course i have heard you say that it has no outlet and that the rivers which flow into it are constantly bringing down a little salt in solution, which, in the course of many ages has become concentrated in the lake; but is that the whole story? it doesn't seem to me enough to account for it all." "it isn't, jack; you are quite right about that. the salt lake basin, of which the great salt lake now occupies but a comparatively small portion, is simply the bed of another far older and grander sheet of water that was once here, which the geologists called lake bonneville. if you take the trouble to look along the mountains while we are here you can see, at various levels, the terraces which indicate the height, on the mountains, of the waters of that inland sea at different periods. you will see, and in fact you can see from here," and he pointed toward the mountains, "these terraces running straight along the mountain sides, hundreds of feet above the level of the plain. now, lake bonneville was far larger than any body of water that now exists on this continent. its outlet was to the northwest, in idaho, toward snake river; and it extended southward for several hundred miles. at last a time came, when, by the elevation of the land, this outlet was cut off, and we had a body of water without any outlet. gradually evaporation, working for centuries, dried up this lake, and now all that remains of it is the salt lake, in which we have just been swimming. in that water is concentrated much of all of the salt and soda that was in the greater lake, as well as much of that brought down by the streams during the ages that have passed since the old outlet closed up. even salt lake is believed to be steadily growing smaller, drying up, and the flats around its border are now so full of salt and of alkali of one kind and another that they are wholly infertile and cannot be farmed. "the mormons have made out of the valley of the lake, however, a perfect garden spot. once it was a sage desert, as barren as anything that you have ever been over, more so perhaps. now you can see for yourself what grows here,--wheat, rye, barley, oats, green stretches of graceful corn, great patches of potatoes, orchards and hay fields; and to me it seems more like one of the farming states east of the missouri than it does like a sage desert." "well, that is mighty interesting, uncle george, and i am glad to hear it. i sometimes think that i would like mighty well to study geology. it seems as if the history of the earth we're living on ought to be as interesting a subject as one could take up." from salt lake the travellers hurried west, and before very long found themselves at san francisco. from there a steamer took them north along the rough and dangerous coasts of california, oregon, and washington to the strait of fuca and puget sound, where mr. sturgis left them; and finally to victoria. before the three parted, it had been decided that jack and hugh should get a canoe and some indians and make a trip through the gulf of georgia; and returning, should meet mr. sturgis in tacoma, washington, whence they would return to the east. it was almost sundown, when the steamer which bore jack and hugh approached the wharf at new westminster. after they had entered the mouth of the fraser river the ride had still been very interesting, for on either side of the steamer appeared at intervals great barn-like wooden buildings, which some of the passengers on board explained were salmon canning factories. loitering about these were a few chinamen, apparently attached to the factories; but not many people were about, for as yet the salmon had not begun to run. as the boat drew up to the wharf, a good many people from the town sat, awaiting its landing. among these, hugh and jack noticed a tall, well-built man, who seemed to keep his eyes constantly fixed on them. at last he bowed, and waved his hand, to which salutation they responded. they wondered who it could be, for they did not know that mr. mactavish had telegraphed to mr. james to look out for the travellers on this boat. as soon as the gangplank was run out, mr. james boarded the vessel, and coming up to them introduced himself. he took them to the hotel; and, seeing that they had comfortable rooms, left them there, saying that he would come back a little later and take them up to spend the evening at his house. two or three hours later the three were climbing the road, on their way to mr. james's house which was situated among the stumps of the ancient forest, which still stood in the suburbs of the town. here they spent a delightful evening, and before they parted for the night it was arranged that the next morning mr. hughes should take jack out for a little hunt, and try and show him one of the deer of the country. "we don't hunt here," said mr. james, "as you do back in the states, because we cannot. if it were practicable, i should prefer, as i should think most people would, to go out and take up a deer's track, follow him until i got within range and then, if i could, kill him; but that is impossible in the forests we have here. the trees grow over three hundred feet in height; there is much fallen timber in the woods, and the logs are from four to ten feet thick. besides that, the great precipitation produces such a heavy undergrowth that it is impossible to go through it noiselessly. therefore, if we want deer we are obliged here, to run the game into the water with dogs, and kill them there. it is not a sport that i greatly esteem, but at least we can kill an occasional deer when we want venison." "i should like very much to see it done once, mr. james," said jack, "as most of my hunting has been done in running buffalo, or finding my game and crawling up to it; and i have been taught that was the most sportsmanlike way to do it. yet, at the same time, it is easy to see that it cannot be done in a country such as you describe." "well," said hugh, "i guess i'll let you two go and do your hunting to-morrow morning alone. i don't think that it's worth while for me to go and see a deer shot over in the water. maybe i'll get up and walk out there with you, though. i'd like to stretch my legs after having been in that boat for so many days." before they parted, then, it was agreed that hugh and jack should present themselves at mr. james's house next morning as near to four o'clock as possible, when they would start to hunt for a deer near mirror lake. chapter iii a mysterious water monster it was still black night when hugh and jack arrived at mr. james's, about four o'clock the next morning. he was waiting for them, and, seated on the floor near the stove in the dining-room where he had been eating his breakfast, was an indian, whom he introduced as squawitch--"the sturgeon," as mr. james explained. by the time they had left the house the eastern sky had begun to pale, and day was at hand. it promised to be a perfect one. the sky was cloudless and no fog obscured the view. in the east, above the jagged and broken summits of the pitt river mountains, the stars were disappearing. the sky was beginning to grow gray and then to flush and glow, each instant becoming brighter. they walked at a brisk pace, at first climbing the hill and then passing along the level lands of the plateau. the three white men walked side by side in advance, and behind them came the indian, leading three splendid hounds, which from time to time tugged at their chains or whimpered as some scent from the forest met their nostrils. the air was cool, fresh, and exhilarating. a gentle breeze just moved the branches of the great trees, which were far larger than any hugh or jack had ever seen. from the recesses of the tangled forests came the sweet balsamic odors of firs and cedars, mingled with the faint damp smell of decaying vegetation, so characteristic of the forest in all climates. to jack and hugh all the trees and all the plants were new. they wondered at the vast size and height of the tree trunks, admired the maples with their large leaves, the thick tangle of underbrush, and beneath all the great ferns, higher than a man's head. they were passing between high walls of foliage, extending far above them on either side. above was a narrow strip of blue sky and before them the yellow road. multitudes of bright bits of color appeared along the roadside. the fireweed, familiar everywhere in the mountains, shone like a tongue of flame against a background of green. here and there, in wet springy places, the foxglove nodded its tall spikes of red or white blooms; and besides this there were many other flowers, all beautiful, but not known by name to the travellers. one beautiful white low-growing flower attracted jack's attention, and he dropped on his knees to examine it, declaring that it must be some sort of dogwood, so closely did it resemble--except in size--the ordinary white flowering dogwood of the eastern states. there were also berries of many colors, and in great abundance. many of these mr. james named for them as they passed along; salmon berries, red or yellow, blackberries, green and red, and blueberries of several kinds; the purple salal, the velvet berry, the scarlet and as yet unripe panicles of the elder, and the brilliant fruit of the umbrella plant were all there, and were constantly inviting them to stop and admire their beauties. to mr. james, who had lived in the country for many years, these sights were commonplace. to hugh and jack they were all remarkable and each one seemed to demand an explanation. but there was no time for that. mr. james and the indian had set their hearts on getting a deer, and it was necessary to step briskly to reach the hunting grounds before the sun had dried off the moisture and "killed" the scent. they walked so fast that there was little opportunity for conversation. nevertheless, jack found time to ask some questions. "i can see, mr. james," jack said, "by looking into this timber, how impossible it would be to hunt here in the way in which we do in the eastern states or on the plains. in the first place, the underbrush is so thick that one could not see any distance; and, in the second place, it would be impossible to go along without making so much noise that the deer would hear one." "that's precisely the fact," said mr. james, "and therefore, as i told you last night, the only way in which we can get deer here is by putting dogs on the track. there are many places on the islands of the gulf, where the country is open enough so that one can hunt on foot quietly, as we used to do where i lived back in canada, with a good prospect of getting an occasional shot, but that cannot be done here. then, too, there are plenty of places along the coast where the deer come down from the mountains to feed on the grass near the edge of the salt water, or to eat the dulse,--a sort of seaweed thrown up by the sea,--and where they can be shot from a canoe. the indians kill a great many in this way; but, except in winter, when they are driven down from the mountains by the heavy snows, that is not a method that is very certain." "if we make a canoe trip along the coast, as we were talking of doing, there might be a chance of getting deer along the shore, then?" queried jack. "yes, you are very likely to do that," said mr. james, "and quite likely, also, to see a bear in such a situation; for the bears often come down to the shore there, to feed on the seaweed, or to go along the beach hunting for fish or food of any kind that may have been thrown up by the sea. almost all the animals in this country, certainly all carnivorous animals, depend more or less on the beach for their living; and often in the morning, if you go along the shore, you will see the tracks of bears, foxes, wolves, deer, and perhaps two or three other species of animals that have gone along during the night. the beach is a pretty good hunting ground; and if you make your proposed trip you will find, all along, trails leading down from the hills to the water." for some little time hugh had been walking behind the others, by the side of the indian, and trying to talk to him in sign language; but, though occasionally the indian seemed to comprehend his gestures, it was evident that he was not a sign talker. presently hugh spoke to mr. james, and said: "i like these dogs you have here, mr. james; they remind me of the hounds we used to run foxes down in kentucky when i was a boy. two of them are as handsome hounds as i ever saw; and the other one, while not so good a hound, looks as if he were smart enough to keep up his end of the running all the time." "you have hit it exactly, mr. johnson," said their owner. "each of these dogs has its good points. captain and dinah are pretty nearly perfect to look at. captain has the best nose of any hound i ever saw, and a voice like a trumpet. dinah's nose is not quite so good as captain's, but she is considerably faster. wallace, as you say, does not look much like a hound, but he is fast and the very best fighter in the lot, and he is smart enough to know a good part of the time which way the deer is going, and to cut in ahead of the others and take the trail; and often he catches the deer alone. he is a great fighter; and if he once gets hold of a deer, he will surely kill it. i had the dogs out on one of the inlets last year, and was in a canoe on the water, myself, and i saw wallace overtake a deer, running along a narrow ledge on the face of the cliff, sixty feet above the water. wallace caught up with the deer, grabbed him and threw him off the cliff. he didn't let go, and the two fell into the water below. i have always thought that wallace would have been killed if i had not been there in the canoe to come up and kill the deer." "well," said hugh, "i suppose it's because i used to see so much of them when i was a youngster, but there's no sort of dog i like so well as a hound. the long muzzle, and those great long flapping ears and sad eyes always go right to my heart. if i ever have a place of my own and can afford it, i will surely have two or three good hounds; not to hunt with, but just for company." "yes," said mr. james, "they are mighty nice dogs, hounds are; but for myself, i like any kind of a dog. just at present i have none except these three. but i want to get a good bird dog; and i can tell you that is something hard to get in this country." by this time the sun was up and the brisk walk was making all hands wipe the perspiration from their brows. presently they came to a little trail off to the left of the road, and here they paused; while mr. james said a few words in the chinook jargon to the indian, who, with the dogs, disappeared in the forest. "now," said mr. james, "we are only a little way from the lake, and i have sent the indian off to start the dogs. we may as well walk down to where the canoe is and wait for him there." "well, son," said hugh, "you go on with mr. james and kill that deer if you can. i reckon i'll walk on a little farther along this road, and look at these trees and flowers; and then i'll turn around and go back to the town. i don't care much about looking on while you folks kill that deer. i'd rather look at this timber, and smell the scents that come out of it, and see these posies that seem to be growing everywhere. if you don't strike me on the road on your way back, why, i'll be at the hotel when you get there." "do just what you wish, mr. johnson," said mr. james; "but i'd like to have you come, if you feel like it. there's plenty of room for three in the canoe, and we can leave the indian on shore, and do our own paddling." "no," said hugh, "i guess i'll have more fun looking at all these strange things around me than i would have if i went in the canoe. jack will be safe with you, and we'll meet again later in the day." "yes," said mr. james, "of course we will. i want to have you come up and take dinner with me at noon; and then in the afternoon we will go over to burrard inlet and see fannin. you will like him. he is one of the finest fellows in the world, and it will be a great thing for you if you can get him to go with you on your trip." "oh! i hope we can!" cried jack; while hugh said: "i hope so too." then they parted, and mr. james and jack plunged into the forest while hugh walked briskly off along the road. a few minutes' walk brought them to the border of a beautiful little lake in the woods, surrounded on all sides by the high forest. on its shores they sat down; and while mr. james lit his pipe he talked and told jack something about this sheet of water. "we call it mirror lake," said he, "and on a morning like this you can easily see how well the name fits it, for everything is reflected in the smooth water. it is always a good place to get a deer, for scarcely anybody hunts here. the indians never by any chance go on it. they think that down under the water there lives what they call a selallicum--that means a supernatural monster. just what sort of a creature this is the indians do not seem to know; but it is some kind of an evil spirit that lives at the bottom of the lake; and when anybody goes out on the water in a canoe this monster rises to the surface, upsets the canoe, and swallows the people that are in it. the belief in this monster is held by all the indians. they won't go out on the lake. they won't even go near its margin when they are gathering berries. they think that i am a fool for daring to go out on it; and they say that some day the monster will rise and surely get me." pausing a moment, the speaker continued: "one time, when i was hunting on the lake i was careless in the canoe and upset, and my gun sank to the bottom, and, of course, i never got it again. the indians hearing of this told me that the selallicum had given me a warning not to come on the lake again, and that i had better respect this warning. there is only one indian in the whole country who will go out on the lake, and that is squawitch here. he is an old friend of mine, and has lots of confidence in me. but even he will never enter a canoe except in my company. i don't know just how he reasons about the matter; whether he thinks that i have some strong medicine which enables me to defy this monster or not; but he has been hunting here with me many times and is always ready to go again. this morning, though, he told me that an indian had seen the selallicum on the lake within two or three weeks." mr. james paused to refill his pipe, and as they sat there for a moment silent, suddenly the faint cry of the hounds was heard in the distance, and mr. james said: "there! hear that? that's captain. listen!" presently the shriller cry of dinah made itself heard, and as they sat listening to the cry of the hounds, which gradually grew more and more faint, squawitch parted the bushes near them, and, walking along a log toward the water, drew from the low brush a canoe and two paddles. he stepped into the canoe, pushed it ashore, and signing mr. james and jack to step in, took his seat in the stern. mr. james took the bow paddle and jack seated himself amidship. then, with a stroke or two of the paddles, the canoe shot out of the little cove on to the unruffled surface of mirror lake. certainly it well deserved its name! only a few hundred yards in width and less than a mile long, it was surrounded on all sides by a superb forest of gigantic firs. along its margin grew a narrow border of grass or low willows, separating the border from the dark forest; and beyond that border a fringe of lily pads floated motionless on the surface of the water. the little strip of grass, the tall green trees, and the blue sky above were so perfectly reflected in the clear water that jack could hardly tell where the reflection ended and the vegetation began. shut in on all sides by the vast untouched forests, the lake lay there like a great eye that gazed steadfastly and unwinkingly at the sky which it mirrored. the light breeze had fallen as the sun rose, and there was now not the slightest motion on the water. the stillness was unbroken for a time, and they sat listening for the cry of the hounds. the different inhabitants of the lake and forest, plying their usual vocations, soon began to reveal to the boy from the east glimpses of their life history. an old mother golden-eyed duck led her brood of half a dozen from among some low willows and began to teach them how to procure their food; calling to them now and then in low lisping tones, to which the little ones responded with soft peeping cries. at one side of the lake a little pine squirrel was gathering his winter store of green fir cones, which he cut from the tree and dropped to the ground with a great deal of noise. so great in fact was the noise, that when it first began jack was sorely tempted to ask mr. james what it was; but by listening he made out the cause for himself, and so was glad that he had not inquired. suddenly over the tops of the bordering trees a pair of superb white-headed eagles flew silently across the lake, the hindermost seeming to strive to overtake the one in advance. but when this happened the foremost bird, without closing his wings, swung over on his back, thrust out his talons threateningly toward his pursuer, and then turned over again, flew onward and out of sight. a little later two loons settled in the water not far from the canoe and began to call on each other with loud mournful cries. it was useless now to listen for the hounds, for the loons made so much noise that nothing else could be heard; but at length they took wing and disappeared. now that silence had again fallen over the lake, the cry of hounds could be heard once more, though far off and very faint. at length the sound came nearer and nearer, passing the west end of the lake, and again grew fainter and at last was lost. mr. james had just said with an air of disappointment that he feared the deer had taken water in burnaby lake, when jack heard the indian speak in suppressed but very emphatic tones to his companion. following the direction of their eyes, jack saw something slowly moving through the water at the other end of the lake. what it was he could not tell. certainly it did not look like anything that he had ever seen before. as much as anything, however, it resembled a wooden box two or three feet square, floating on the surface of the water; but, of course, a box would not be found in such a situation, and would not move. jack took it for granted that it was a deer, because he could not think of any other living thing likely to be in that place at that time. there was one man in the canoe, however, who evidently did not think that it was a deer, and was very much excited about it. that was the indian. chapter iv the cobbler naturalist of burrard inlet as soon as the moving object appeared mr. james had dipped his paddle into the water and given a hasty stroke. the indian did not move, but in a low voice said to mr. james in the chinook jargon: "what is that there in the water?" "the deer," said mr. james; "paddle!" "no," said squawitch, "it is not the deer, it is the monster. yes, it is a true monster. we must go to the shore at once, or we shall all be killed." and he dipped his paddle into the water as if to turn the canoe to the shore. "keep still," said mr. james. "i tell you it is the deer." and then, the moving object having by this time turned well out into the lake, he added: "_mam-mook_" (pull). giving a powerful stroke with his paddle, the canoe shot forward toward the mysterious thing. jack was listening to what was said, but did not understand the spoken words. he could see, however, that there was a difference of opinion between his companions as to what should be done. he thought he noticed, too, that the first few strokes given by the indian were weak and did little to force the canoe forward; but if they were not strong they were at least noiseless. meantime, with all his eyes, jack was watching the mysterious object; and as the canoe advanced toward it the mystery explained itself in a very simple way, and the indian's fears were calmed. they could soon make out a fine buck swimming slowly through the water, and could see that about his horns were twined some long sprays of fern, which overshadowed his head, and, falling down behind the horns, trailed through the water. the reflection cast by this mass of green, and the ripple of the water behind and on each side of the swimming animal, made the object vague and indefinite, and the whole was further blurred by the reflection of the trees near the margin of the lake. so, until they had come close to it, it was hard to tell what it was, and its mysterious appearance was, naturally enough, very alarming to one who was prepared to see something supernatural. the indian believed thoroughly in the existence of the selallicum in this lake, and, seeing in the water something unlike anything that he had ever beheld before, at once concluded that the monster had appeared. the slender canoe flew swiftly over the water and rapidly drew near the deer, which had not yet seen them, but was swimming quietly along, no doubt tired by its long run. jack, not burdened with a paddle, and having nothing to do but hold his rifle, studied the creature as they drew near, and saw that it bore a fine pair of horns, still in the velvet. the canoe was within twenty yards of the deer before the animal saw them. when he did so, he at once turned toward the shore, and swam rapidly--almost as fast as the canoe went. just before he reached the land, mr. james said to jack: "now be ready, and kill him as he leaves the water." jack rose carefully to his knees, put a cartridge in his rifle and, as the deer bounded up the bank, fired. the shot broke the deer's neck, and it fell on the bank just at the edge of the water. when he saw it fall jack felt sorry that he had shot. though there was sweet music in the bay of the hounds as they ran, interest in watching for the deer, hope as the cry of the dogs grew louder, anxiety lest the quarry had turned aside and gone away as the baying grew fainter, and some excitement in paddling after the animal, yet he did not like this method of hunting. after the deer had taken to the water and the boat had approached it, it seemed as if the animal had no chance, and jack lost pleasure in the shot, because he had too much time to think about it. the struggle that the deer made to reach the shore excited his sympathies, and now he regretted the shot that he had fired. on the other hand, it was easy to see, as mr. james had pointed out, that in such a land as this still-hunting was impossible. the deer having been secured, the task of transporting it to town was left to the indian, who would drag or carry it out to the road and wait there for the stage which would come in during the morning. mr. james and jack started on foot for new westminster, and when they had nearly reached there they overtook hugh, who had had his walk and was now going back to breakfast. but little was said as to the killing of the deer, beyond the fact that one had been secured; and just before they reached mr. james's house the latter said to them: "now, gentlemen, if you feel like it, let us take the stage this afternoon and go over to burrard inlet, where you can make fannin's acquaintance and see what you can do with him. i am anxious to have you meet him, for he is one of the salt of the earth. no man in the province knows so much about its birds and mammals as he, and no man can show you and tell you so many interesting things about them. he is an untrained naturalist, but a most keen observer. then, too, he is a great hunter, and one of the finest shots in the province. i will not say that he never misses, but he misses very seldom. now, can you be ready to start on the stage at two o'clock? it will pick us up at my house after dinner; and it might be well for you to leave word at the hotel that we want three seats this afternoon. it's not likely that the stage will be crowded, but it's no trouble to order the seats in advance. we will go over to the inlet and spend twenty-four hours there, and you will, no doubt, see a good many interesting things, and can then make up your minds about your plans for the future." before there was time given to reply, mr. james asked: "have either of you ever seen white goats?" "hugh has, mr. james," replied jack, "but i never have. i have been in the mountains quite near them, but i have never seen one, much less had a shot." "well," said mr. james, "there are plenty in the mountains of burrard inlet, and if all goes well you may see some before you are a week older. you will find hunting the goats very different from paddling up to a deer in the water and killing him just as he climbs the bank to get to shore." hugh and jack now left mr. james, agreeing to be at his house about noon for dinner. they had only made a few steps after saying good-bye when jack turned around and ran back to ask mr. james what they should take with them to burrard inlet: would they need their blankets? "no," said mr. james, "if you stop at the little settlement of hastings where fannin lives you will not need anything except your guns, as there is quite a good plain hotel there; but if you should go off to camp in the mountains, of course it would be well to have your beds with you. i think perhaps i would leave word to have them strapped on to the stage when it starts, and then you will be safe whatever happens." hugh and jack hurried back to town, but were too late to get any breakfast at the hotel. however, they got a bite at a restaurant, and then walked about the streets to see whatever sights there were until it was time to go to mr. james's home. they ordered the seats in the stage, and saw that their beds and bags were put aboard. then down at the water's edge they looked at the wharves and at the salmon canneries, and thus whiled away the morning. shortly before midday they returned to mr. james's house, where they had a delightful dinner, and a little while afterward took the stage. to pass swiftly along over the level yellow road that they had traversed on foot in the morning was very delightful. the drive was not a long one, only nine miles, and the stage drew in to hastings in the middle of the afternoon. here mr. fannin was found in the little cobbler-shop, where he spent his bachelor existence, surrounded by old shoes and new, rolls of leather, the tools of his trade, bear and wolf skins, stuffed birds, and a multitude of natural history specimens. jack thought it one of the most interesting places that he had ever been in. mr. fannin was kindness itself, and was much interested in the talk of the proposed canoe trip. but before that had been long discussed, jack was asking questions about the skins of many birds that he had never before seen, but about most of which he had read and knew of by pictures. there were specimens of the beautiful little harlequin duck, whose varied plumage gives it its name; of the black oyster catcher; of several species of gulls; of guillemots; of a number of shore birds, which were new to him, and many birds' eggs which he had never seen before. mr. fannin was a great talker and a man with a keen sense of humor. if in any incident there was anything funny, his fancy was likely to seize upon it. as the four sat on the grass on the high bank overlooking the inlet, mr. fannin pointed across the water to some low unpainted houses standing among the timber and said: "there is an indian village over there, and i must send somebody over to get seammux to come across to-morrow morning to go with us to the head of the north arm. i want to have you see the country up there, and it is possible that from the river you may be able to see some white goats on top of the hills. if you have never seen these animals you will see them now, for you will never have a better chance." as they sat there jack saw, not far off and up the arm, a fish-hawk dropping through the air to seize a fish. he touched mr. fannin and pointed. they both watched the beautiful bird until it struck the water with a splash that sent the spray high in the air about it. "now watch," said mr. fannin, "and you may see an eagle rob that osprey. that's a common sight here; it is always a beautiful one; but perhaps you have seen it in other places?" "no," said jack, "i never have, although i have read about it often. by jove," he added, "there is the eagle now!" and they saw a white-headed eagle flying low and swiftly up the inlet. the osprey had already risen to a considerable height with his fish, and had started to fly off with it over the woods. but as soon as he caught sight of the eagle he began to rise in spiral flight higher and higher, while the eagle followed him in wider circles. soon it was seen that the eagle was rapidly gaining upon the fish-hawk, and at last had risen above it and had made one or two darts at it. the fish-hawk seemed to avoid these attacks easily, but perhaps they made it nervous, and presently it dropped its prey. shining like a bar of silver, the fish fell, and was carried off by the wind diagonally to one side in a long slant. but as soon as it fell the eagle half closed its wings, fell after it, overtook it before it had fallen half way to the water, grasped the fish in its own great talons, and, spreading its wings, bore the prey off to a tall tree on the mountain side. "that was a wonderful sight," said jack. "i would not have missed it for anything. i feel as if i should remember that for a very long time." "yes," said mr. fannin, "i believe you will; it is something worth remembering." "so it is," said hugh; "it's one of the finest sights i ever saw. who would have thought that that eagle could drop as fast as the fish did, that he could direct himself so as to catch his prey, and that, after falling like that, he could stop. there's a whole lot of mighty wonderful things to be seen out here. it beats my time altogether." "is there any chance of our getting a shot at anything to-morrow morning, when we go up the north arm, mr. fannin?" asked jack. "of course i can't tell about that," said he, "but i should certainly take my gun along, if i were you. i always take mine whenever i go out. on the islands up there in the inlet there are plenty of deer; and it's possible that you might get a shot at a deer any time, while there's a bare chance that a goat might come down to the valley and you might get a shot at him. have you shot much with the rifle?" "well," said jack, "i have shot a little. i have killed the prairie game back on the plains, and a few mountain sheep; and i have run buffalo and killed two or three bears." "then you've had quite a little experience, and i suppose you're a pretty good shot." "no," said jack, "i don't think i am much of a shot, but i am pretty patient about waiting around and trying to get the shot i want." "ha!" said mr. fannin, "that sounds as if you had learned to hunt with the indians, or at all events with some good hunter." "well," said jack, "i have hunted some with indians; but the man who taught me whatever i know about hunting is sitting with us now--and that is hugh." "well," said hugh, "you took to it mighty natural, son. there are lots of people that have had a heap more experience than you have and can't come near you for a hunter." "well," said fannin, "i crossed the plains from canada in , and of course i did some hunting on the way; but ever since that time i've lived here in the province, where there's plenty of rough, thick timber, and where much of the hunting is done at short range. there's a great deal of game here, though not of many sorts,--mostly deer and bear, and, high up in the mountains, goats. farther inland there are sheep, and still beyond that, elk; and then there are elk on vancouver island, but i have never seen any of them. "the bears are plenty, and they make themselves very much at home. it's only a few days since that one of them came out of the woods just back of the hotel and went to the hog-pen and took a pig and walked off with it into the forest. the bear got his pig and nobody ever got him. "a year or two ago something of that kind happened, and with it one of the funniest things i ever saw. a bear came out and took a pig and went off with it, and an irishman, working on the place, saw it go. he picked up an axe and ran down to call me. i grabbed my rifle and we both started running into the timber where the bear had disappeared. we could still hear the squealing of the pig. we hadn't got far into the woods before we came upon an immense tree-trunk lying on the ground, which we had to climb over. it was six or eight feet high, and the irishman got there a little bit ahead of me. having nothing to carry but his axe, he climbed over first and jumped down on the other side. i was slower in getting up, and when i got on top of the trunk and was just about to jump down, i saw in front of me and walking toward me on its hind legs a big bear. the irishman was standing under me, backed up against the tree trunk, his hands at his sides and his axe lying at his feet, while the bear was stepping up to him as if he wanted to shake hands. the irishman was too frightened to yell or do anything. he just backed up against the tree hard. of course i saw all this at a glance, and i began to laugh so that i could hardly get my gun to my shoulder. but, by the time that the bear was within five or six steps of the irishman, i realized that something had to be done; and i fired and killed the bear. "it took that irishman about an hour to recover from his scare, and it seemed to me that he didn't get his color back for three or four days." after a little while the party went into the hotel and had their supper and then returned to fannin's shop. here, before it grew dark, they saw approaching a tall, oldish, stoop-shouldered man, who walked with a slight halt in his gait. said fannin: "oh! here comes old meigs. i am glad you are going to meet him. he is an american, an old prospector, who has spent all of his life mining down in arizona. he got a slight stroke of paralysis three or four years ago. he came up here and is living in a little cabin just below. he is a good fellow and has seen a great deal of western life." as meigs joined the group fannin introduced the strangers, and they were soon all talking together. "i am glad meigs came," said fannin, "because he reminds me of something that happened last year that i want to tell you about. two years ago a man who lived about here thought that he would raise some sheep. he didn't have money enough to get many, but he got half a dozen ewes and a ram, and turned them out to pick up their living along the shore and in the timber. they did very well for a while. but presently, when the man started to look them up, he found that there was one missing, and then another, and then the old ram disappeared. we never knew just what got them, but we suspected bears and wolves; and one day, going through the timber, i found the skeleton of a sheep, and another day the skeleton of another. about a year ago i took my rifle and went out for a little walk in the timber. i went a mile or two and didn't see anything, and then came back nearly to the road here. i climbed up on a stump and sat there for a while, listening to the birds and watching them. presently, in a trail that passed close to that stump, i saw the three sheep going along towards the road. i paid no particular attention to them, but after they had passed i got down from the stump, walked out to the trail, and started for the road myself. i could see the sheep not very far ahead of me, and, as they were feeding along and i was walking briskly, i got pretty close to them before they reached the road. they had almost got to it, and i was not far behind them, when suddenly a bear charged out of the timber, into the trail, and tried to grab one of the sheep. they rushed around a little crook in the trail, and the bear after them, before i could cock my rifle and put it to my shoulder. i started after them as hard as i could go, thinking that if the bear followed the sheep into the road i would surely get a good shot at him and would probably kill him. i rushed out into the road, and almost into the arms of meigs here, who had been walking away from the inlet; but the sheep and the bear had disappeared. i said to meigs: 'hello, meigs! what are you doing here?' he raised his hand to keep me from speaking, took a step or two forward, shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked up the trail by which i had just come out from the timber. i could not understand what was the matter with him, and presently i said in a low voice: 'what is the matter with you; what do you see?' "'i am just trying to see' he answered, 'what in thunder is the next thing that will come along that trail.' "he had been taking a little walk along the road and got just opposite the trail, you see, when suddenly the sheep rushed out, and then the bear, and then i came--all going as hard as we could go. it must have been a funny sight." "it was," said meigs, "and for a minute i thought i was crazy and seeing things that did not exist." "tell them about the morning that the wolf chased you," said fannin. "well," said meigs, as he pushed down the tobacco in his pipe and pulled on it two or three times, to get it going well, "that was quite a scare for me. of course i knew that the wolves were not dangerous in the country i came from, but i didn't know about them here. winter before last a wolf came down to the inlet and stopped right near here. we used to hear him howling often, and i always believed that he killed that old ram that fannin has been talking about. i set a trap for him two or three times, but he would not go near it. one morning, just at daylight, i heard him howling close above the cabin. i jumped out of my blankets, grabbed my gun, and stepped out to see if i could get a shot. i could not see him from the door, and i hurried up the trail, about thirty steps from the door of the cabin, to where the trail made a little bend. my rifle was an old-fashioned spencer carbine. i don't know whether any of you men ever saw one?" and he looked around the circle inquiringly. "go ahead," said hugh, "i know them. they miss fire half the time, and the other half they are just as likely to shoot around the corner as they are to shoot straight ahead." "yes," said meigs, "you have used one, i guess." "well," he continued, "when i got to the bend in that trail and looked around, there was the wolf a short hundred yards off, with his fore feet on a log, and his head toward me, just beginning to howl. i dropped down on one knee and drew a bead on his breast and pulled the trigger. the cartridge exploded, and if you'll believe me, when the smoke drifted away i could see that ball from that old spencer carbine corkscrewing toward the wolf as though it was never going to get there. in the meantime the wolf had jumped from the log on which it was standing and started toward me. i turned round and ran for the cabin. when i was ten or fifteen feet from the door the string of my drawers broke, and they fell down around my ankles and shackled me, so that i couldn't run. i had to come down on my hands and knees and scramble the rest of the way on all fours. when i got inside the cabin and slammed the door and looked back through a crack, of course the wolf was out of sight. "fannin thinks that this is a pretty good joke on me, and maybe it is." when hugh and jack had finished laughing over meigs's adventure, jack began to ask fannin about the indians that lived along the inlet. "like most of the siwashes about here," said fannin, "they are fish-eating people; though, of course, they kill a good many deer and some few white goats. their main dependence, however, is the salmon, of which, at the proper season of the year, they catch and dry great numbers." "i suppose," said jack, "that they have lost a good many of their primitive ways, have they not?" "yes," said fannin, "they are changing rapidly, yet within a short time i have seen them use the fire-sticks to kindle a fire. that does not look as if they were changing rapidly, does it?" "no," said jack, "i should say not. i should think they would use matches, or if not matches, at least flint and steel." "so they do," said fannin, "for many purposes, but for some others they use the fire-sticks. and that reminds me," he continued, "of dick griffin's joke about fire-sticks. he had been chopping logs at quite a distance from camp, and one day had to leave his job to come down to the main camp to get some grub. he started rather late, and when he had got half way it came on to rain and blow and get dark. he landed and spent the night in the timber, with nothing to eat, and with no fire, for he had left his matches behind, or they got wet or something. it was still raining when he got to the camp the next morning, and two or three men were standing around the fire. dick paddled in, took his canoe out of the water, walked up to the fire, and after the men had exchanged a few words with him, he said abruptly: 'boys, have you ever seen the indians make a fire by rubbing two sticks together?' they all said 'yes.' 'well,' said dick, 'i would like to know how long it takes them to do it. i know it can't be done in one night, for i spent all last night in trying to make a fire in just that way.'" the rest of the evening was spent in pleasant conversation, and many a story was told. before they parted for the night fannin said that he had arranged to have a little steamer take them up the inlet the next morning to the mouth of the river flowing into the north arm, from which they would have a good view of the surrounding mountains. chapter v an unexpected bear by eight o'clock the next morning the party had embarked on the tiny steamer "senator" on their way up burrard inlet. the little craft carried them swiftly along past the indian village on the north bank, past wooded hills and low grassy points, past rough granite mountain faces, where the few scattering trees found scarcely earth enough to support them, and were forced to drive their roots deep down into the crevices of the rocks, until, six miles above hastings, the boat turned sharply to the left and up the north arm of the inlet. here the hills on either side were nearer together and appeared higher and more rugged. their summits were capped with snow, which, in many of the gorges and ravines, extended far down toward the water's edge. the steep rock faces were covered with a harsh brown moss, which, except when wet, gave an excellent foothold to the climber. where the mountains were not too steep, and soil was not utterly wanting, there was a dense forest of douglas firs and cedars, some of the timber being very large. the various shades of green of the different trees gave a variety to the aspect of the forest, as a whole, which had almost the effect of cloud shadows, and added greatly to the beauty of the scene. jack and hugh did not weary in watching the constantly changing view. now and then the round head of a seal emerged from the quiet waters, looked for a moment at the boat and then disappeared. little groups of water birds, disturbed in their fishing or their resting, rose on wing and flew up or down the inlet. from the shores and mountains on either side, birds, large and small, were constantly flying across the inlet; and now and then a great fish sprang from the water, and fell back with a splash which could be heard. "i tell you, hugh," said jack, "we'll have things enough to talk about if we ever get back to the ranch and tell the cow-punchers there what we have seen on this trip." "you're dead right, son; they never imagined anything like this any more than i ever did; and what's more, we won't be able to tell it to them so that they can understand what it is like. that's the worst of going off and seeing things,--that when you go back you can't make other people see as you saw, or have the same feelings that you had when you took them in with your eyes." "yes," said jack, "talk is a pretty poor thing compared with seeing anything for yourself." "now, look at those waterfalls!" said hugh. "do you suppose it would be possible to tell anybody about those things so that they could really understand how they look?" "no," said jack, "i do not believe anybody could do that." down almost every slope within their view, and constantly changing as the boat's position changed, poured beautiful cascades, some of which deserved the title of waterfall. though now they carried but little water, their wide beds of naked rock showed that in the spring and early summer, when the snows were melting, they must be mighty torrents, sweeping everything before them with resistless power. even now they were very beautiful, and their delicate streams, stretching like white threads far up the mountain sides, could scarcely be distinguished in the distance from the lines of snow in the ravines; though, with the glasses, the leaping, wavering motion of the water could be discerned which distinguished the white hurrying flood from the unmoving snowdrift. they had passed up the arm and were just rounding a little point and beginning to get a view of some low grassy meadows running up from the water's edge, when hugh suddenly said to jack: "son, i believe that's a bear in that grass"; and jack, bringing his eyes down to the meadow's level, saw a small black object moving about in the grass. whatever it was, it had not yet seen the steamer. jack rushed into the cabin where fannin and mr. james were talking to the indian seammux and, grasping his rifle, said: "mr. fannin, i believe there is a bear out on the shore." in a moment all were looking at the animal, and there was now no doubt as to what it was. fannin stepped around to the pilot house and asked the captain to steer close to the shore, and also to see that the boat made as little noise as possible. they rapidly crept up toward the bear; but long before they had come within rifle-shot the animal saw them, stood up, looked for a moment or two, and then, turning about, bolted through the grass and disappeared in the forest. "well," said jack to mr. fannin, "that beats anything yet. i believe if anybody had been in a canoe and paddled along quietly, that bear would never have noticed him, and he might have got within gunshot." "yes," said mr. fannin, "of course he might. that's just what i've told you. it's quite possible that you will see something of that kind more than once before you get back." about twelve miles from where the north arm leaves the main inlet, the arm ends in the narrow valley of the salmon river. here the boat anchored, and here, after some little discussion, it was determined that jack, mr. fannin, and the indian should take the latter's canoe and go a short distance up the river to see whether a glimpse might not be had of the goats that dwelt on the summit of the mountains on the west side. in the meantime mr. james jointed his rod and set out to try to catch some trout; while hugh said that he would go with mr. james and watch the fishing. the indian's canoe was light, low, and slender, and when its three occupants were seated it was low in the water. mr. fannin had with him his rifle and his shot-gun; the rifle, perhaps, being carried out of compliment to jack, while the shot-gun was his constant companion, for he never knew at what moment he might not see some strange bird. they had gone but a short distance up the river when it became necessary for mr. fannin and jack to land and walk along the gravel bars, for the water in the rapids was so shoal that the loaded canoe could not ascend. when the swift water was reached, the indian laid down his paddle, took up his pole, and, standing in the stern of the canoe, prepared to drive the craft up the stream against the turbulent current. quietly pushing it along until he had almost reached the rushing water, he set his pole firmly against the bottom, and leaning back against it, sent the light craft fifteen or twenty feet up the stream, and then, before its way had ceased, recovered his pole and again set it against the stones of the bottom. standing as he did in the stern, the nose of the canoe rose high above the water; and, as it rushed forward, reminded jack of the head of some sea monster, whose lower jaw was buried beneath the surface. no matter how furiously the water rushed, boiled, and bubbled on either side, the light craft held perfectly straight, moved regularly forward until, when the rapids had been passed, fannin and jack stepped aboard once more and the paddles were resumed, only to be laid aside for the pole when another rapid was reached. here jack saw, and was delighted to see, some familiar friends of the rocky mountains,--the little dippers or water ouzels. on every little stretch of still water one or more would be started, flying from rock to rock and bobbing comically at each point where they alighted. many of the birds were young ones, not long from the nest, and were quite without fear, permitting a very close approach before they would fly. a number of broods of harlequin ducks were startled, some of them quite large and able to fly, while others seemed to be newly hatched. whatever their age, they seemed well able to take care of themselves, and could always keep ahead of the canoe until at last they disappeared from sight around some bend and were not seen again. everywhere along the stream grew the salmon berry bushes, laden with mature or ripening fruit. the bushes, in their manner of growth and in their berries, reminded jack of the eastern blackberries, but the ripe fruit was either red or yellow or black, all these colors growing on the same bush. as they passed on up the stream, the white men sometimes on the gravel bar and again in the canoe, they saw no other animal life except the ravens and eagles, which now and then flew over them, going up and down the valley. at one point were tracks where a bear had crossed the stream, and at another some old deer tracks. at length, about two miles from the mouth of the river, on a long gravel bar, where the river was wide and a good view could be had of the summits of the mountains, they landed to try to see some white goats. the guns, which had been lying in the canoe, were wet from the water which had been shipped in the passage up the rapids, and jack and mr. fannin took them out to dry. mr. fannin held his down to drain and then set them up against a pile of driftwood to dry. jack wiped the water from his rifle as well as he could, and walked along with it in his hand. the three had gone about forty yards from the canoe when mr. fannin and the indian stopped and began carefully to look over the hills above them. jack looked too, but saw nothing and walked on toward the upper end of the bar, where there was a huge drift-log, which he mounted to get a wider view. as he did so he looked back at the others and saw seammux suddenly point across the river and speak eagerly to his companion. at the same time mr. fannin turned toward jack and beckoned with his hand. jack thought that possibly a deer had shown itself in the brush and jumped from his perch on the log to run toward the others. the stones under his feet seemed to make a tremendously loud clatter as he ran; and, forgetting that the roar of the water would drown any noise that he might make, he feared that the game, whatever it might be, would hear him and run off into the brush. he was still fifty yards from the other two when fannin again turned toward him and raised his hand with a warning gesture. just as he did so there walked out from behind a bush into jack's view a good-sized bear. as he started to run jack had slipped a cartridge into his rifle, and, as soon as the animal appeared, he dropped on one knee and prepared to fire. the bear, however, was quite unconscious of the presence of man, and jack waited for a moment in the hope that the animal would stand still; for, with two persons looking on, he was anxious not to miss. the bear was about one hundred yards off, and there would be no excuse for a failure. it was gathering berries, and its attention was concentrated on that occupation. where the fruit hung low the bear reached up its head like a cow picking apples from a tree, and, winding its long tongue about the stem, stripped the berries and leaves from it. again it would stand up on its hind legs and, reaching the high branches with its forepaws, pull them down within reach of its mouth. two or three times jack was on the point of pulling the trigger, but he waited for a better opportunity, which came at last. the bear dropped on all fours and for an instant stood still, with head slightly raised, facing jack, who fired at the white spot on the beast's breast. just as the trigger was pulled the bear began to rear up for some berries; but, at the crack of the rifle, he whirled about and lumbered off into the brush. a moment later jack had run up to mr. fannin and asked: "did i hit him?" neither could tell, and mr. fannin sent seammux to bring the canoe up to where they were standing, so that they might cross over to look for the trail. [illustration: jack fired at the white spot on the beast's breast--_page _] in a few moments the canoe came up, and in a moment more they had crossed over and reached the opposite bank. mr. fannin and jack climbed up the steep bank and ran to the point where the bear had disappeared, while seammux, taking time only to secure the canoe, followed. they had not gone two yards into the bushes when jack saw a broad leaf covered with blood, and then thick drops--a plain trail running into the timber. by this time seammux was with them, and they pressed forward on the trail. once they overran it for a moment, but a low call from the indian told them that he had found it; and, as they overtook him, he stopped with an exclamation, and pointed. there, a few yards away, lay the bear curled up on his side, his paws over his nose. they looked for a moment, but he did not move, and then, holding his gun in readiness, jack walked around behind and gave the back a sharp push. the animal was quite dead, the ball having pierced the white spot and gone through the vitals. though it looked much smaller dead than it had when living, and though the distance to the river bank was short, it took some time to drag the bear out to the river, and then to lower it into the canoe. a little more time was devoted to studying the tops of the mountains for goats; then, as the sun was getting low, they stepped into the canoe, turned the vessel's prow down stream, and were soon hurrying merrily along over the dancing waters toward the river's mouth. jack, to whom this method of journeying was new, found it very exhilarating to fly down the rapids, dashing by the bank at almost railroad speed, the indian now and then giving a stroke of the paddle to keep the canoe straight, or sometimes to alter her course when a threatening rock appeared above the water. the rapids, that had been surmounted with much difficulty on the way up the stream, now disappeared behind them almost as soon as they were reached. it took but a short time to gain the mouth of the river, and the canoe was soon alongside the steamer. there everything was ready for a start. the bear in the canoe gave those on the steamer a surprise, and they were much gratified at the success of the short excursion. just as the steamer was about to start, seammux spoke and pointed toward the top of one of the mountains on the north side of the arm, where two very minute white spots were seen on the mountain top. when the glasses had been brought to bear and the specks had been watched for some little time, it appeared quite certain that they were white goats. although they were so distant that no motion could be detected, it soon became apparent that these white specks gradually changed their positions, both with regard to each other and to surrounding objects. the day was too far spent to allow any further investigation of them to be made, but as the boat started on its way down the north arm, mr. fannin assured jack that at last he had seen a couple of white goats. "if you want to see these animals at home," said mr. fannin, "the best thing we can do is to come back here and climb those mountains to where they live, and then we can see them and very likely get one or two. you are in no great hurry, i fancy, and you would not mind spending a day or two in camping on the top of these hills. we'll think it over and make up our minds about it to-night or to-morrow." "nothing would suit me better than just such a trip as you suggest, mr. fannin, and we can talk it over and decide about it to-night, as you say." if it had been pleasant coming up the arm and the inlet, it was not less so on the way down. the bird life was as abundant as it had been in the morning. jack and mr. fannin went to the bow and watched the creatures busy at their feeding. "tell me something about that black bird with the white shoulders, mr. fannin. i suppose it is one of the guillemots, is it not?" asked jack. "yes. that's the pigeon guillemot," said mr. fannin; "a very abundant bird here, found everywhere on the salt water. it's more plentiful in the gulf of georgia than it is up here in the inlet, but it's plenty enough everywhere. they breed on many of the islands, rearing their young in the rocks. they are industrious little birds, as you see, and are constantly diving for food. they eat a crustacean which looks to me a good deal like the crawfish that i used to see back east; and if you watch, you will see that many of these birds which fly by the vessel are carrying this crustacean in their bills. that means, i suppose, that by this time of the year the young are getting big enough to help themselves. i believe that when they are very young, though, the old ones swallow the food, which, after it has been partly digested, is disgorged into the mouths of the young ones." "there seem to be some ducks over there near the shore, can you tell what those are at this distance, mr. fannin?" asked jack. mr. fannin looked through the glasses and then replied: "yes, those are harlequin ducks. take the glasses and look at them. their plumage is easily recognized even at this distance. they breed here on the islands, i am told, though i have never found a nest. the indians say that they are very much more abundant on the river than they are down here on the salt water. i have never seen a nest, and don't even know where they breed, whether in the grass, or in holes in the rocks, or in the trees. of course, you know that there are some ducks that build in the holes in the trees?" "oh, yes," replied jack. "quite a number of them, though i have never found a duck's nest in a tree; and i feel that i should be a good deal surprised if i did find one." all along the inlet eagles, ospreys, and crows fairly swarmed, brought there by the abundance of the fish, which offer food to all of them. salmon and many other sorts of good fish run up the arm, while the dog-fish--a small shark--is everywhere. there is no reason why a fish-eating bird should starve here; and, besides the fish, the crows and ravens find abundant food along the shore in the various sorts of shell-fish that are everywhere abundant. a little later, as the two were sitting on the deck in front of the pilot house, enjoying the warm sun, the indian seammux came up, and, squatting down beside them, began to talk in chinook to mr. fannin. after he had spoken for a few moments mr. fannin answered him, and, turning to jack, said: "here is something that maybe will interest you. seammux is telling me a story about a selallicum that used to live in the north arm of the inlet, and in old times killed many indians. this monster must have been of great size. it was peculiar in form, too, being shaped like two fishes, whose bodies were joined together at the tail. it used to lie stretched across the mouth of the north arm, just beneath the surface of the water, one of its heads reaching across to the other shore. whenever a canoe attempted to pass up the arm, the monster would wait until the vessel was directly over its body and then would rise to the surface and upset the canoe, and devour the occupants. that is all that he has told me so far." he spoke to seammux, who replied at considerable length, and mr. fannin interpreted again. "'in this way,' he says, 'the monster killed many indians, for the north arm was a great hunting place, and fish and game and berries abounded along the river, so that the people had to go there to get them for food. at last, the loss of life caused by the monster became so terrible, that the squamisht indians had lost nearly half their people; and now no one dared to go up the arm, so that the people feared that they would starve.' "'in one of the villages there was a young man who had seen the misfortune of his people and pitied them. he felt so sorry for them that he at last determined that he would sacrifice himself for his race by killing this monster, even though it cost him his life. one day he went to his family and bade them good-by, saying that he was going away and should not be back for a long time. that day he went into the mountains and did not return again. in the mountains he fasted for many days, and prayed to the spirits, and at length one night when he was getting very weak, he dreamed that a large white goat stood near him as he slept and spoke to him, for a long time, telling him to take courage and advising him what he should do. the next day the young man went farther into the mountains and gathered certain roots and herbs, and after he had dried them and pounded them into powder, he mixed them with some sacred oil, and rubbed the mixture over his whole body, leaving no part of his skin untouched. then he walked down the mountains to the shore of the inlet, and dived into the water. for five years he lived in the water, scarcely ever coming out on shore; and in all these five years he never spoke to a man. he became so much at home in the water that he could swim faster than a seal or a salmon, and at the end of that time his spiritual power was so strong that he could call up to him the fishes or the seals and lift them into the canoe. "'now he was ready to fight the monster. he took with him two spears, one in each hand; swam to the mouth of the north arm, dived under the monster, and thrust the spears into it. then there was a fierce and terrible fight; but at length the battle ended, and the monster was dead. the young man was badly wounded, and expected to die. he floated on the surface of the water, like a dead salmon. as he lay there on the water, he heard the sound of a paddle, and soon a canoe came by him, and in the canoe sat his brother. the two recognized each other, and the brother lifted the wounded man into the canoe and took him to the shore. the wounded man said to him: "my brother, take me up into the mountains and gather there certain roots and herbs. these you must dry and then cook a little. then pound them into a fine powder, mix them with oil of the medicine-fish, and rub this oil all over me, leaving no part of my body untouched." the brother did so, and immediately the young man rose from the ground, and walked about, sound and whole. then the two brothers walked home to the village, and since that time, the monster has not been seen on the north arm.'" "that's a good story, mr. fannin, a bully story," said jack. "i wish, though, that i knew enough about the language to get along without an interpreter." "why, if you are willing to give a little attention and thought to the matter, you can learn this chinook jargon easily enough. there is no grammar to bother you, and i am sure that you will pick it up very quickly." "i must try and do so," replied jack, "if i am going to stay in this country." that night a council was held in mr. fannin's shop, and the plans of the two americans were discussed at length. after a good deal of talking, mr. fannin agreed to accompany them on their canoe trip. he would go back with them to victoria when they were ready, and prepare for the voyage. all hands were gratified at this decision. "but now," said fannin, "before you leave here, i think that you had better go up to the head of the north arm and make a hunt there for goats. of course, there's a probability that you may have plenty of hunting, on the trip, and there is also a probability that you may have no hunting at all. we may have good weather and favorable winds, in which case everything will run as smoothly as possible. we may have almost continuous rains, and head winds, and in that case we shall have to work very hard at the paddles all day long, to make any progress at all. i am like most other people. i always think that any short trip that i am going to take will turn out well--a good deal better than i had anticipated; but i have travelled in canoes so much about the shores of this province, that i know perfectly well that we shall meet with many difficulties and delays. i do not look for any danger. "if you feel like making a hunt here i will get seammux and another indian and two canoes, and we can go up the arm, to where we were to-day, climb the mountains, camp there for a couple of nights, have a hunt, come back here, take the stage for westminster, and from there go to victoria. by doing this, as i said before, you will be sure of at least one hunt. on the trip you will be pretty sure to kill something, perhaps enough to satisfy you as to white goats. what do you say?" "well, sir," said hugh, "i am getting to be a little old to climb mountains, but at the same time i should like to go up to the top of those that we saw to-day. i don't care so much about the hunting, but i would like to go up where i could see off a little way. almost ever since i left the ranch we've been in the timber, or else in big towns, shut in so that i haven't had any chance to use my eyes. i'm not used to that, and i would like to have a big view once more. what do you say, son?" he added, turning to jack. "tell me, mr. fannin," said jack, "what game will we be likely to see on top of those mountains?" "well," said fannin, "i never have hunted there. i can only tell you what the indians say. they report goats as plenty. they say that there are some bears; and they describe good-sized birds, which i think must be ptarmigan. at all events they speak of them as birds about as big as the grouse we have down here, but as turning white in winter. this of course fits the ptarmigan. i don't know whether they are the willow ptarmigan or the white-tail ptarmigan. i should be delighted if they proved to be the latter. besides that, there may be all sorts of rare northern birds up there. you see, it's pretty high up, quite above the timber line, according to what the indians tell." "well," said jack, "that sounds mighty nice, and i vote in favor of going, if hugh thinks best." "i say 'go'" said hugh. "now what does mr. james say?" he added, turning to the latter gentleman who sat silent, smoking his pipe. "mr. james says," said that gentleman, "that he wishes with all his heart that he could go with you, and was not obliged to return to-morrow to new westminster. by bad luck i have business there which cannot be put off; and so, i must return on the stage. you others had better stay here and make your hunt, and then when you come back you can tell me about it." so it was decided. the next morning mr. james took the stage for town, while fannin, hugh, and jack began to get indians, canoes, and provisions together, for their camping trip in the mountains. chapter vi of indians in armor the next morning was a busy one for all hands. a messenger had been sent across the inlet to summon seammux and another indian, and mr. fannin's camp outfit was brought down from the loft, got together and cleaned; and provisions were bought. by the middle of the day, seammux, and an indian named sillicum, had crossed the inlet, and anchored their canoes close to the shore. then the blankets, the food, and the mess kit were carried down and stowed in the boat, and by that time it was noon. immediately after the midday meal the party set out. mr. fannin had proposed that he and jack should go in the small canoe with the lighter load, and that hugh should go in the canoe with the two indians, who, being stronger and far more used to paddling than the white men, could move along at a better rate. "you and i," said fannin, "although our canoe is smaller and lighter, will have a good deal harder time in getting along than the indians. i suppose that you have never paddled much, and i haven't either, for a number of years. but now that you are going to make a canoe trip you must learn to paddle and must be able to do your share of the work." "of course i have paddled some," said jack, "in a birch-bark canoe, but i have never done much of it." "no," said fannin, "i suppose you have just paddled around a few miles for the fun of the thing, but you will find that if you undertake to paddle here for hours, or for a whole day, that it gets to be pretty tiresome work before the sun has set." "yes," said jack, "i should think it would be tiresome. quite different from riding a horse along over the prairie." mr. fannin turned to hugh, saying: "mr. johnson, it won't be necessary for you to paddle at all, unless you feel like doing so. the indians will do all that. they are both good canoemen, and all you will have to do is to sit in the boat and smoke your pipe." "well," said hugh, "i can certainly do that without much trouble. on the other hand, i think it might be well to take along another paddle for me, in case we are in water that is running strongly against us." another paddle having been secured, they stepped on board the canoes, pushed off, and were soon on their way up the inlet. the tide was running strongly in from the sea and for an hour or two their progress was very good. at first jack was a little awkward with his paddle, for the canoe was wider than any that he had ever seen before; and he was thus obliged to paddle with straighter arms. mr. fannin told him not to pay any attention at present to the direction of the canoe, but to leave all that to the stern paddle, which he, himself, wielded. so jack paddled steadily on one side of the canoe, but kept his eyes straight ahead and watched the direction toward which the bow pointed. they reached the north arm, and turning north, followed the westerly bank, and about six o'clock reached and passed up by the island just below the head of the arm. here fannin spoke to the indians, and after some little talk they turned toward the shore; and, when the bank was reached, unloaded their canoes, and prepared their camp. the top of the bank was four or five feet above the water's level, and the soil was quite dry. mr. fannin, looking carefully about for a camp, chose a somewhat elevated spot; and explained to the indians where the fire should be made and the beds placed. the indians each took an axe, went into the woods and presently returned, dragging a number of poles, two of which had crotched ends, and were already sharpened at the bottom. these were driven into the soil so that the crotches stood about six feet from the ground. between these crotches a pole was laid, and, resting on this pole, and running down to the ground at a low angle, were a dozen or twenty other poles, the whole forming the sloping roof of what was to be a brush leanto. then the indians went off again and presently returned with armfuls of cedar boughs with which they proceeded to thatch this roof, laying the butts up and the points down. it was not long before they had a thatched shelter, which would shed a pretty heavy rain. in the meantime, mr. fannin had kindled a fire, in front of the shelter and hugh and jack had brought in a good pile of wood. it was not easy here to find good fire-wood, however. so great is the prevalence of rain and fog in these coast forests that all the fallen tree trunks seemed to jack too wet to burn. however, hugh took an axe and began to cut and split some rather large logs, that, after the outer spongy layer of moist rotten wood had been passed, were found to be perfectly sound and dry. the indians now began to cook the evening meal of fried bacon, fried potatoes, and coffee; while the others brought the blankets from the canoes and spread their beds under the leanto so that their feet would be towards the fire. by the time this had been done, seammux announced that the food was ready, and before long the members of the party were sitting about the fire, highly enjoying their meal. after they had eaten, jack said: "i see, mr. fannin, that you have brought your shot-gun along, this time, just as you did yesterday, when we came out here. do you carry it with you everywhere?" "no," said fannin, "not everywhere; but i generally mean to have it with me whenever i go any great distance from home, and am so fixed that i can carry it and a few shells. of course, i often go out hunting just to get meat, and then i leave the shot-gun at home; but when i go out hunting for pleasure, and especially when i go into a new country, i always try to carry it; for one never knows when he may see a new bird, or at all events a bird that he cannot recognize. i would rather get hold of a bird that i've never seen before, than kill almost any game that can be found in the country. of course, if i were up in vancouver island in the country where the elk range, i would not carry the shot-gun, because i would want to get an elk more than any bird that i should be likely to see. a good many of those elk have been killed, of course, but i don't know that any of them have ever fallen into the hands of a naturalist; and we none of us know what they are. they may be the same elk that are found on the plains and in the rocky mountains, or they may be something quite different. i should like to be the man to bring out a skin of one of those animals and to have it compared with the elk that we know so well. i have seen two or three heads of the island elk, and to me they don't look like the elk of the east, but it's a long time since i saw an eastern elk, and maybe i have forgotten just how it looks." "are those elk plenty?" asked jack. "mr. james spoke about them, but he didn't seem to know much more than the fact that there were elk up on the island, back of comox." "no one knows much about them," replied fannin. "they live in the thick timber, high up on the mountains, and mainly on the western slope. the indians kill them sometimes, and bring in the skins and sell them, but not often. most of the skins they use to make clothing of, or else for ceremonial robes, or for armor." "armor?" queried jack; "that is something new to me. i never knew that indians wore armor. they have shields, of course; and i've seen plenty of these; and a very good protection they are, for they will stop an arrow, and are likely to turn a ball from an old-fashioned trade gun. isn't that so, hugh?" "yes, son," replied hugh, "that's all true enough; but indians do wear armor sometimes; or, at least, there are stories told of their wearing armor, but it was always something that they had got from the white men, and not anything that they had made themselves." "why, how's that, hugh? that's something that you never told me, and i don't think i ever heard the indians speak about it." "maybe not," said hugh, thoughtfully. "when i come to think of it, i don't believe the blackfeet ever had anything of that kind; but the pawnees did, and so did the cheyennes and the arapahoes. i will have to tell you that story some time." "tell it now," said fannin; and jack added: "yes, tell it now, hugh." "well," said hugh, "it's quite a long story, but i'll tell it to you if you like. but before i begin i'll tell you how i first heard about this armor. way back, more than twenty years ago, i used to hear the pawnees talk about an iron shirt that they had. they talked about it pretty freely, but i never got to see it. as near as i could tell, it was something to be worn on the body; perhaps hung around the neck and tied around the waist and under the arms. in other words, it didn't cover up the whole body, but was something like a breastplate,--something that would just protect a man's breast and belly if he were shot at or cut at from the front. "years after that, when with the cheyennes, i heard about a shirt, an iron shirt, that they had; and when they talked about it, as they often did, i found out that this shirt that the pawnees had they had captured from the cheyennes, who once owned that and a lot more things like it; in fact, a regular suit of iron clothes. there was a cap made of steel, with a kind of a mask that let down in front over the face; and a sort of a cape from behind that covered the neck. there was a coat that covered the whole body and the upper part of the arms, and laced up on one side; while there was a pair of leggings that covered the legs from the waist down to the ankles. according to the cheyenne's tell, the man that had this suit of clothes on could stand up and let people shoot at him all day long and he never would be hurt. but they said that these clothes were so powerful heavy that they were very hard to wear; that a man dressed up in them could hardly mount his horse, and that if he tumbled off and fell down, it was all that he could do to get on his legs again. for this reason they never wore the whole suit of clothes; but they would take a part of it and wear it into battle, and of course the man who wore it could go right into the thick of the shooting, and the arrows and the bullets would not hurt him at all, unless he happened to be hit on some part of his body that was not covered. "now, i think it was along about that the cheyennes and the pawnees had a big fight on republican river. a big war party of cheyennes, sioux, and apaches, kiowas and comanches had gone out to kill all the pawnees; they were going to wipe the pawnees off the earth. they found the pawnees hunting buffalo on the republican river, and attacked them, and they had a big fight, in which quite a number were killed on both sides, and among them a lot of the bravest of the cheyennes. a big chief, 'touching the cloud,' wore a part of this iron clothing--only the leggings, they say, spread out over the breast. he had been very brave, and the pawnees hadn't been able to hit him at all. during the fight he charged on a single pawnee, who ran away. the pawnee and touching the cloud were both mounted, and touching the cloud, who, notwithstanding his armor, wasn't taking any chances, rode up on the right-hand side of the pawnee to strike him. of course you can understand, that coming up on the right-hand side the pawnee could not turn around on his horse far enough to shoot back with his bow; whereas, if the cheyenne had ridden up on the left-hand side, the pawnee could have turned around, and, pulling the bowstring with his right hand, could shoot at the cheyenne. but as bad luck would have it, this pawnee that touching the cloud was going to strike was a left-handed man; so just as the cheyenne was going to strike him he whirled around on his horse and shot an arrow which, more by good luck than skill, i reckon, struck the cheyenne in the right eye and went through his brain. "that about ended the fight, and the cheyennes and their party went off licked. "that was one of the biggest misfortunes that the cheyennes ever had, for touching the cloud was a brave warrior, a wise man, and one of the handsomest among the cheyennes. he had been the orator for the cheyennes at the horse creek treaty in ; and later had gone to washington; and then, soon after his return, was killed, as i tell you." "well," said fannin, "that's an interesting story, and that indian was certainly in mighty hard luck. i guess it was fated that he should die." "well, hugh," remarked jack, "that's one of the best stories i ever heard, and it's queer that you never told it to me before. i guess there are lots of interesting things that you have seen and know that you have never let me hear about." "maybe there are, son; but it does seem to me that i've done a heap of talking since i've known you; more maybe than i've done in a good many years before." "but where did this armor come from, hugh?" asked jack. "well, i was going to come to that. you see, after touching the cloud was killed, the pawnees captured the armor that he had, and have kept it ever since. the rest of the clothes the cheyennes had a few years ago. i don't know what has become of them. "i asked particularly where these clothes came from, and the story the cheyennes tell is something like this: a good many years ago, i don't know whether it was fifty or a hundred years, one of them mexicans that used to come up trading from the south brought this suit of clothes with him, packed in a box. after he had been trading for a while in the arapahoe and cheyenne camps, he opened the box one day and took out these iron clothes, and showed them to the indians. pretty soon there were two or three of them that came to understand that an arrow or a bullet could not go through these clothes, and then they wanted to trade for them; but the mexican let on that he didn't want to sell them, and packed them again in the box and put them away. you see, the mexican could count on getting a big price for these things, for the indian who owned them could figure on being a pretty big man. in the first place, he would be safe in going into battle; and in the second place, he could do such brave things that he'd get up an almighty big name for himself right away; and in the third place, all the tribes that he went to war against, would soon learn that he could not be hurt in battle and would think that he had some powerful medicine or helper, and so they would always run away when he was with a party that attacked them. so the possession of these iron clothes would make a man famous for bravery, and that is the thing of all others that indians are eager for. well, the upshot of it was that these indians began bidding against each other for the iron clothes; and at last an arapahoe gave the mexican three or four buffalo horses for them, and got them. after a little while, however, he found out that there were some things about the suit that made it a less desirable piece of property than he had supposed; and when a cheyenne offered him a great price for it, he sold it to him; and so it passed from hand to hand, parts of it often being worn in battle, and always, or almost always protecting the wearer from any harm. that's all i know about the iron shirt. i expect it was one of those old coats of mail which the spaniards used to wear in early days when they first came to america." hugh stopped, refilled his pipe, which had gone out while he was talking, leaned over and took up a coal out of the ashes and deftly applied it to the bowl of the pipe; and then, after getting the tobacco well alight, turned to fannin and said: "now tell us, friend, about this armor that your indians out here use." "well," said fannin, "this armor is not of white man's make. the indians fix it up themselves. they make long shirts of elk-skin, and sew into them straight pieces of wood, sometimes round, and as thick as your finger, sometimes flat and a little wider than a common lath. the elk-skin and the wood make an armor that will stop an arrow or a knife thrust. it's a pretty clumsy article of clothing, and an indian who wears one of these coats of mail can't get around very easily; but he's pretty well protected, and i guess feels a whole lot braver with such a shirt on than he would feel if he were naked." "i guess he does," said hugh. "it's curious the way they worked that thing out for themselves. now, i can remember when i first came out on the plains that sometimes the trappers, if they were in a bad place and surrounded, used to wear shirts of the skins of two black-tail deer,--one in front and one behind and tied under the arms. they said that those skins, when wet, would turn an arrow. i wonder if they got that from the indians? i wouldn't be a mite surprised. "i have heard, too," he added, "that there are some other indians that use armor of this kind; and that the pueblo indians that live down south in arizona and new mexico use a sort of basket work to protect themselves in war. somebody told me once, but i can't remember who it was, that some of the southwest people wore shirts lined with cotton that would stop an arrow; and i know for sure that some of the plains' indians wadded their shields with buffalo hair or with feathers, which also helped to stop the arrows. i expect likely there's a good deal more of this armor business than we know anything about. for all i know, maybe there have been books written about it." "well," said fannin, "we ought to get an early start to-morrow morning if we are going to go up to the head of the arm and climb the mountains. i guess we'd better turn in." "i reckon we had," said hugh; while jack said: "i'm not a bit sleepy, and i wish you'd both go ahead and tell some more indian stories." "too late now," said fannin. "i guess we'll have plenty of time for indian stories a little later;" and before long they had all turned into their blankets. chapter vii seammux in danger they were early astir the next morning. it took but a little while to get breakfast, and to load the canoes, which were soon on their way up the north arm. by noon they had reached a point at the foot of the large island near its head, above which rose the great bare peak which they had seen two or three days ago, and on which lay a large bank of snow. here they landed. they unloaded the canoes, and, taking them out of the water, carried them a little distance into the forest and covered them with branches. then the blankets and provisions were made up into back loads, and, the indians bearing most of the burdens, the party set out to climb the mountain. it was a long, steep clamber, and it was not until five and a half hours later that they reached the border of the timber, from which the unwooded summit rose still higher. seammux advised making camp on the edge of the timber, declaring that a camp-fire made higher up on the mountains, where the goats ranged and fed, would be likely to frighten them; and before camp was made and supper cooked and eaten, darkness settled down, so that there was no opportunity that night of seeing anything in the hunting grounds. the climb had been a difficult one, and especially hard on the white men, whose muscles were unused to this sort of exercise. there was no disposition for conversation, and all hands sought their blankets soon after the meal was eaten. the next morning they were up by daylight; and after breakfast, leaving the timber behind them, started toward the summit, passing up a beautiful grassy swale, toward the higher land. it was absolutely still, except for the occasional call of a gray jay in the timber or the chatter of a flock of cross-bills. just before they reached the summit a dense fog settled down over the mountains and at once cut off every distant view. the air was cool, the fog heavy and wet, and, as it was useless to travel through this obscurity, they halted and sat about waiting for the air to clear. as they sat there, impatiently hoping that the mist would clear away, suddenly out of the fog, and close by them flew two birds, which looked to jack like cedar birds, but cedar birds bigger than he had ever seen before. "bohemian waxwings," said fannin, as he grasped his shot-gun. he rose to his feet to follow them, when the older indian spoke to him warningly, and after an exchange of a few sentences fannin sat down again. "what is it, mr. fannin?" asked jack. "are you going to try to get them?" "no," said fannin; "i wanted to, but seammux here says if i fire a shot it will scare the goats, and we shall not see one to-day. i don't believe it; but on the other hand, i don't know half as much about goats as the indian does; and as we came up here to get goats, i am not going to do anything that might interfere with our getting them." "of course i don't know anything about goats," said jack; "but i've heard that they are very gentle and not easily disturbed by noise. that's what the indians have told me, but of course we can't tell how true it is." "yes," said hugh, "the blackfeet and kutenais all say that you can fire many shots at a goat; and others, not far off, within easy ear-shot of the firing, will pay no attention to the noise." "well," said fannin, "we came up here to get goats, and those are what we must try for." it was nearly noon when a light breeze began to blow, and the fog seemed to grow thinner; and a little later, without the least warning, the great bank of fog which had hung over the mountains rolled away, and the sun burst forth from a cloudless sky. they could now see that they were on the crest of a mountain ridge that separated the valley of the north arm of burrard inlet and salmon river from that of seymour creek to the west. the divide they were on was broken and uneven, made up of sharp ridges, deep ravines, and rounded, smooth and sometimes almost level stretches. everywhere on the high divide, except on the tops of the rocky ridges, the ground was covered with heather, soft and yielding under foot, yet good to walk over. as they moved along the ridge, they could see at almost every step fresh signs of goats. none were in sight, but this meant nothing; for although the country was open and the eye could cover miles of territory, in any direction, yet the ground was so broken that goats might be anywhere close to them and still be out of sight. after a little while seammux left the party and started down the side of the ridge toward seymour creek; but he had hardly gone two hundred yards when he dropped to the ground, clambered up a short distance toward them, and made signs for them to come. "there," said fannin, "seammux sees something; i hope it's in a place where we can get to it." "i hope so," said jack, "and that it's not too far down the hill. anything that we kill down there of course has got to be carried up again." "well," said hugh, "the easiest way to find out where it is, is to go down to the indian; but go carefully; this plant under foot is mighty slippery, and you don't want to fall down and break your gun or knock off the sights." they scrambled down to the indian, who, as they approached, made signs for them to be cautious. when they had reached him, he pointed to the top of the bank below him, and they advanced to look over it, supposing that they might see goats, three or four hundred yards away, that would have to be carefully stalked. but instead of that, when they peered cautiously over it, there were four of the white beasts placidly feeding on the hillside, within thirty yards of them. the curious animals stood knee-deep in the heather, and seemed to be carefully picking out certain plants which grew here and there among it. their horns were sharp, shining black, and directed a little backward; and on each chin was a beard, reminding one of that of a buffalo, and easily explaining the common name "goat" given to them. the animals seemed so unsuspicious that fannin hardly felt like firing at them; but to jack, who had never before killed a goat, no such thought occurred. he was anxious to secure his animal. there were four shots, for the young indian, sillicum, carried a musket, though seammux had none; and it was but a moment before the four goats lay stretched on the mountain side. "well," said jack, as they stood over the animals which the indians were now preparing to skin, "that is about the simplest piece of hunting that i ever did. these goats don't seem to be much more suspicious than so many buffalo." "no," said hugh, "they are certainly gentle beasts, and that's just what i've always heard about them from the indians." "well," said jack, "now that i have killed one goat, i don't feel as if i cared very much to kill any more." "no," said mr. fannin, "there's not much sport in it. you must remember that these goats are scarcely ever disturbed, for no white men ever come here to hunt; and i don't believe the indians come once in five years. it's very possible that these goats never saw a man and never heard a shot before to-day." by this time the indians had dragged three of the goats to a level spot, where they could work, and then went off to bring the fourth one. seammux had just seized it by the hind leg to pull it up to this level place, when suddenly the goat came to life, sprang to its feet, and began to run down the hill, dragging seammux after it. the indian was plucky and would not let go, and his companion hurried to his aid. the ground grew more and more steep, and presently the indian and the goat fell and began to roll over. fannin, fearing lest seammux might get a bad fall, shouted: "_kloshe nannitch_ (look out), seammux." seammux loosened his hold of the goat, and tried to stop himself by grasping at the grass and weeds; but his momentum was too great. the goat continued to roll down the hill, and disappeared from sight; and seammux, rolling after the goat, also disappeared. "i am afraid he may have had a bad fall," said fannin, as he started running down the hill toward where the indian had vanished. sillicum had seated himself on the ground at the top of the steep place, and was slowly hitching himself down toward what seemed to be the edge of a cliff. hugh and jack were close behind fannin. when they reached the top of the steep place, which was only fifteen or twenty feet high, hugh said: "hold on here; i'll anchor myself to this little tree, and reach my gun down; and you, fannin, let yourself down by it as far as you can, and reach your gun down, and jack can get to the edge. he's the lightest of the lot." "will he be sure to hold on?" inquired fannin. [illustration: seammux also rolled after the goat, and he, too, disappeared--_page _] "yes," said hugh. "don't bother about jack, he'll do it." it took but a moment for hugh to pass his arm around the tree; and, holding his rifle by the muzzle, he stretched it down the slope, and fannin quickly passed down. grasping the rifle above the stock, he reached his gun down nearly to the edge of the slope. jack quickly scrambled down beside them, and, holding on by fannin's gun, at last found himself on the edge of the sheer cliff; and looking over, he saw, but a few feet below him, caught in the top of a fir tree that grew in a crevice of the rock, seammux, looking anxiously up at him. below him there was a fall of a hundred feet or more, and on the rocks, at the bottom of the cliff, lay the carcase of the goat. "hurrah!" said jack. "hold on, seammux, we'll get you up all right!" then he called back to hugh and fannin: "he's caught in a small tree, not more than ten feet below where i am, but i can't reach him. if we get a rope we'll have him out of that in two minutes." "all right," said fannin, "that's easily done. sillicum and i will go back to the camp and fetch the guys on the tent, and any other rope that's there. it's only a little way, and we'll be back in fifteen minutes. what sort of footing have you, jack?" "perfectly good," said jack; "there's a lot of gravel and broken stone here, on which there is no danger of slipping. i could stay here for a week." "well," said hugh, "make a safe place before you let go fannin's gun; and then stop there in sight of the indian. it will make him feel easier, that way." jack stamped out a place where he could stand and even sit, and spoke a few words to seammux, though the latter, of course, did not understand what he was saying. fannin called out to the indian, in a loud voice, telling him that they were going for a rope and would soon have him out of his trouble. seammux shouted back. fannin and sillicum climbed up the steep hill; and, leaving their guns behind them, started on a trot for the camp. to those who were watching at the edge of the cliff, they seemed gone a long time, but it was really only fifteen or twenty minutes before they came back again, each carrying a coil of rope. "good!" said hugh. "i'm glad you've got back. it seemed a long time to us watching here, and a good deal longer to seammux. how much rope have you got? why, that's bully! there's forty feet in one of those coils, and as the rope is a little light, we'll just double it." he knotted one end of each coil about the little tree, to which he had been holding; and, tossing the other ends to jack, said: "now, son, double this rope and then throw it over the indian, and tell him to put it under his arms. how's the edge of that rock there? is it sharp and likely to cut the rope, or does the soil and grass overhang it?" jack knotted the rope, and called back, saying: "no, there's no sharp edge to be seen; the earth and the grass run right out to the edge of the cliff and seem to overhang a little." "very well," said hugh. "pass the rope to the indian, and then tell us when you are ready for us to begin to pull up." jack called to seammux and made a sign that he was going to throw the rope to him. then tossing it out, it passed over the indian's head and one shoulder, and was caught on one of his arms. jack motioned to seammux how to fix the rope, and he did so; and then the men above took in all the slack, so that the rope was taut. then seammux slowly and carefully began to turn around in the tough bending tree that held him, and to work in toward the face of the cliff; and the men above began slowly to haul in on the rope. there was a moment or two of anxiety, while the rope at the edge of the cliff could be seen to swing and twist a little; and then the hand and arm of the indian appeared above the cliff, and presently the head. in a moment more he lay with his breast on its edge, clutching the weeds and grass with a vise-like grasp. after a moment's rest, he wriggled on and raised himself; and, helped by the rope, in another moment he stood beside jack, unharmed, but panting hard. "now, son," said hugh, "take hold of that rope and come up here." jack did so, and was immediately followed by seammux. all climbed up to a level place and threw themselves on the ground, seammux still panting from his exertion, and the others greatly relieved that the danger was over. "well, friend," said fannin in chinook, addressing the indian, "you wanted that goat so badly, why did you go only part way with him; why didn't you keep on to the bottom?" "ha!" said seammux. "i didn't want the goat. i thought that i could keep him from having a bad fall, but i held on too long. i couldn't stop him, and when i wanted to stop myself, i couldn't do that, either." "well," said fannin, "you 're a lucky man. you must have a powerful helper who caused you to roll over the cliff just where that small tree stuck out." "you speak truth," said seammux. "i shall make a sacrifice to that person when i get back to my house." after resting a little, they climbed farther up the hill to where the three goats lay, and the indians began to skin them. they were the first goats that jack had seen, and he was much interested in examining them. he wondered at the short, sharp, shiny horns, and the short, strong legs, the great hoofs with their soft pad-like cushions on the soles; and the great dew claws, which were worn and rounded, showing that they were of use to the animal in climbing up and down the hills. hugh pointed out to him a curious gland close behind the base of the horn; and when he smelled of it, as advised to do, he was almost overpowered by the strong odor of musk that came from it. "well now, son," said hugh, "is there no animal that these goats remind you of?" "there's one," said jack, "and i thought of it when i was pulling the trigger. "they remind me a good lot of the buffalo. look at the hump on the back, the low hind quarters, the legs with the long hair down to the knees, the shaggy coat and beard. these are all things that suggest buffalo, yet i suppose this animal here is not closely related to the buffalo. in fact, i am sure they are not; because my uncle has told me that they were antelope; but i am sure they look more like buffalo than they do like the antelope we see down on the prairie." "you are right," said hugh. "they look to me a good deal more like buffalo than antelope; but then mr. sturgis has talked to me about antelope, too; and he says that this antelope that we have here on the plains, isn't a regular antelope, but is a kind of an animal by itself, that hasn't got any close relations anywhere else in the world. he says that the real antelopes are found mostly in europe and asia and africa, and that these here goats are the only regular antelope that we've got in america." "yes," said jack, "that's so; that's just what he has told me, and i expect he knows." "i reckon he does, son," said hugh. "yes," said fannin, "that's all gospel, i expect. i don't know much about these things myself, except what i've read in books, but i have read just that." by this time the indian had skinned and cut up two of the goats, and fannin said: "well, let's leave the indians here and go on a little way farther, and see what else we can find." he picked up his shot-gun and said to seammux: "carry my rifle, seammux, so that if you see any game you may have something to shoot with." then, fannin carrying the shot-gun, the three began to climb toward the summit, working along just below the ridge. they had not gone very far, when close to the top of another ridge, running out from the main divide, they discovered a large billy-goat walking along the very edge of the cliff. he was some distance from them, and though they were in plain sight and made no effort to conceal themselves, he paid no attention to them. when they had come within three or four hundred yards of him, they sat down to watch him. he was feeding along, walking slowly, and stopping now and then to nip some plant which he liked. soon he turned sharply down the almost vertical cliff, and worked along slowly and without any apparent caution, farther down, about thirty or forty yards to where grew a large broad leafed plant, which, fannin said, the indians reported to be a favorite food of the animal. here he stopped and began feeding. as they watched him, and commented on his slow and clumsy, yet absolutely confident movements, a loud hoarse call, almost like that of a raven rapidly repeated, sounded on the mountain side just above them. all turned their heads to look, and saw a flock of eight grouse standing with outstretched necks, gazing at them. "ptarmigan!" said fannin. "i must have these." loading and firing in quick succession, he shot the eight birds. "i hope they are white tails," he said. "these are the first that i have ever seen, in this part of the country;"--and he clambered up to gather his prize. "look at that goat!" cried jack; and they turned their heads to look at the animal, which was still feeding on the very edge of the cliff in the same unconcerned manner as before the shots had been fired. yet he could not have failed to hear them, for the indians, who were much farther off, afterward spoke of hearing the reports. the birds were not the white-tailed ptarmigan, as had been hoped. besides that, they were in the last stage of moult; the plumage was worn and ragged, and they were hardly fit to skin, fannin said. but it was interesting to fannin and to jack to have found them on these mountains. leaving the goat still enjoying his meal, our friends pushed on. they climbed a high peak from which the whole range was visible toward the north and the south, and far off to the south the two indians were seen apparently approaching some game. before either had fired a shot, a heavy fog obscured the whole scene; but through it, a little later, came the sound of shot after shot until nine had been counted, and hugh remarked: "sounds like a battle down there." they learned later that seammux had fired nine shots at one goat before getting it, and his expenditure of ammunition was the cause of more than one joke at his expense. by this time having had all the hunting of goats that they wanted, they decided to return to the camp. before reaching it they were joined by the two indians, each carrying on his shoulders a heavy load of goat skins and meat. they had almost reached the camp, and were resting on the top of the highest knoll above it, when seammux, whose eyes were constantly roving over the country, pointed in the direction of seymour creek and said: "i think that's a bear." in the bottom of the ravine, about three quarters of a mile from where they were, some dark objects were seen, and the glasses showed these to be a bear and three good-sized cubs. there were hills on either side of the animals, and to approach them was not difficult. yet the very easiness of the hunting took away from its pleasure. the animals were unsuspicious; the cover good; there were three good rifles. a short stalk brought the hunters close to the bears. fannin said: "jack, you kill the old one, and we'll take the cubs. i will whistle, and when she looks up, you shoot." it all happened according to schedule, and sooner than it takes to tell it the four bears lay dead. that night there was plenty of fresh meat in camp. a side of young bear ribs was roasted by hugh, somewhat as they used to roast deer or buffalo ribs on the plains, and they were pronounced excellent by all hands. there was abundant broiled goat meat, which was deemed good by the indians; but somewhat lacking in flavor by the white men. after the meal was over and the pipes were going, mr. fannin asked jack his opinion of the day's sport. "well," said jack, "there's lots of game here, it's a good hunting country, and it's full of interesting life, but the fault i have to find with it is that it's too easy to get your game. a man doesn't have to work hard enough. he's pretty sure that if he keeps his eyes open and uses ordinary precaution, he can approach close enough to these very gentle animals to get them every time. to my mind, half the fun of hunting anything is the uncertainty as to whether you are going to be successful or not. if every time you take your rifle and start out you are sure that you are going to get some game, there is no more interest in it than there is in killing a beef for food at the ranch, or in butchering hogs on a farm. take away the element of uncertainty in hunting or fishing, and you have nothing left. an indian who goes out to kill buffalo does not regard the getting of the meat as fun, but as hard work; just as you or i might feel that pitching hay or riding the range for wages was work." "that's so, son; you've figured it out just right," said hugh. "it is work. the indian gets his pay in meat and the skins. the white man gets his pay in dollars and cents, so many of them a day or a month. now, when the white man goes hunting, he does it with the idea that he is having fun, that he is doing something opposite from work; but when the indian goes hunting he knows that he is working, and working hard. i suppose, maybe, it's just the difference between being a savage and being civilized." "i agree with you, jack," said mr. fannin, "that there's no fun whatever in hunting such as we've had to-day. of course, if we were off on a trip and needed meat for food, we would be glad to kill game just for the purpose of eating it, but not for the fun of hunting. the more a man works for his game, the more difficult it is to get, the greater his satisfaction in his success. "well, to-morrow, i think, we can perhaps get down home again; and if we can, we'll start on the stage for westminster the day after, and get to victoria the following night. then we can make our start for the north." chapter viii the coast indians and their ways two days later the party was once more in victoria. the sail from new westminster to victoria had been very delightful. after the swift run down the fraser river, between high walls of evergreen with their backgrounds of distant gray mountains, the boat passed out on the broad waters of the gulf of georgia. in every direction, save to the west, the view was of mountains backed by mountains; and above and beyond them all was mount baker, raising its sharp white cone toward the heavens. to the south were the deep waters of the gulf, dancing and sparkling in the sunlight, and dotted by thousands of islands. beyond, and over them all, was seen the mainland of the united states, with ranges of snow-clad mountains, above and beyond which one would sometimes catch a glimpse of majestic ranier. after the mouth of the river had been left, fannin called his companions' attention to an interesting point. "i want you to watch the water from now on, and notice before long when the boat leaves the current of the river and enters the waters of the gulf. you see the river is constantly carrying down a lot of mud and silt which must be mighty fine; for, instead of sinking, it runs away out here into the gulf before it disappears; and before long you will see a change in the color of the water where we leave the muddy current of the fraser and pass into the clean waters of the gulf." jack and hugh were on the lookout for this, and finally the point was reached where the turbid and clear waters met. hugh said: "why, that's just the way the two streams look where the missouri runs into the mississippi. the mississippi is black and clear; and the missouri, of course, is yellow and muddy. you can see the line plain always there." "yes," said jack, "and i have heard father talk about two streams in france, i think, where you see the same thing. one of them is the rhone, but the name of the other i have forgotten." a little later the steamer plunged in among the islands. the channel followed was difficult on account of the strong tides that were constantly rushing backward and forward through the narrow passage. careful piloting is needed here, for at certain stages of the tide it is difficult even for a strong steamer to stem it; and if the vessel is not kept straight she may be whirled around, and that may be the last of her. the sail was a succession of surprises. on many of the islands were settlers; but with, often, only a house or two in sight. passing around a point, indians could be seen fishing in the troubled waters or camping upon the shore. there were birds in great multitudes; and not a few sailing craft were seen passing here and there on errands of their own. after their two or three days of hard physical effort and life in camp, the dinner at the driard house tasted very good. the next morning they started out to study the matter of transportation to the north. mr. mactavish and fannin both said that if a small steamer or launch could be hired it would enable them to go a great deal farther, and see things much more easily, at only a slight added expense. some days, therefore, were spent in searching the wharves of the town and in excursions to other places in trying to secure what they wanted, but without success. there were several small launches, exactly suited to their purposes, but all these had been engaged for the salmon fishing on the fraser. the run of fish was likely to begin in a short time. that year it was expected to be very heavy, and all the canneries were making great preparations for the catch. there seemed no way to get steam transportation. failing this, the next best thing was to take a canoe and proceed by that slow means of conveyance as far north as time would permit. fannin, whose experience made him a good judge of what should be done, recommended that they take the steamer to nanaimo, distant from victoria about seventy miles. near that town there was an indian village, where canoes and help could be had, and from where a start could be made. when this plan had been discussed and agreed on, it remained only to get together a mess kit, hire a cook, and take the steamer. a whole day was spent in this work. the cook engaged was a virginian, known as "arizona charley," a man whose wanderings, including almost all of the united states, had at last brought him to victoria. he proved an excellent man, faithful and willing; and--unlike most cooks--unusually good-natured. as soon as he was engaged the party transported their blankets, arms, and mess kit to the wharf; and early the next morning they were ploughing the gulf toward the north. [illustration: here they wear white men's clothes, including shoes and hats--_page _] on this voyage, although so short, jack saw much that was new to him. as the vessel moved out from the wharf he was leaning on the rail with fannin, looking down on the passengers who occupied the lower deck. "it's hard for me to believe, mr. fannin," he said, "that these are indians; they do not look much more like the indians of the plains and the mountains than a chinaman does. there the men all wear robes or blankets. here they all wear white men's clothes, including shoes and hats. they seem civilized, quite as much as the italian laborers that we are beginning to see so many of in the east." "yes," said fannin, "they've changed greatly since i came into the country, and changed for the better. they're a pretty important element nowadays in the laboring population of the country; and for certain kinds of labor they are well fitted. they make good deck-hands, longshoremen, and fishermen; and many of them work in the lumber mills and canneries. they're very strong and are able to carry loads that a white man couldn't stagger under. many of them work regularly and lay up money." "i should think from what i have seen, and am seeing, that their natural way of getting around is in canoes. they must be skilful canoemen, aren't they?" asked jack. "a day or two ago i saw some little children not more than three or four years old, paddling with the older people, and apparently doing it not in fun, but really to help." "well," said fannin, "they learn to paddle before they learn to walk. i suppose it's because they see their parents do it. it's been my experience that the games of most children imitate the serious pursuits of their parents." "i'm sure that's so," said hugh. "among the indians i've seen it, i reckon, a thousand times. the little boys pretend to hunt, just as their fathers do; and the little girls pretend to pack wood and water, just like their mothers. i've seen a woman trudging down the creek with a back-load of wood that you'd think would break a horse's back; and following her would be a little girl hardly big enough to walk, having her rope over her back, and tied up in it a bundle of twigs. she walked along, imitating the gait of her mother, and when she got to the lodge threw down her load just as she saw her mother throw down hers." "well, anyhow," said fannin, "you can see that these children, doing this sort of work from babyhood until they're grown up, would get to be mighty skilful at it; and you can understand how they can work at it, just as you and hugh here can get on your horses in the morning and ride until dark; while, if i did that, in the first place, i'd have to be tied on the horse; and in the second place, i would not be able to walk for a week afterward. but there's no mistake about it, these siwashes are good watermen." "that's a word i've heard three or four times, mr. fannin," said jack, "and i'd like you to tell me what it is--what it means--siwash." "well, it means an indian," said fannin. "it's a chinook jargon word, and yet it don't exactly mean an indian either. it means a male indian. an indian woman is a klootchman." "klootchman!" said jack. "that sounds dutch." "well," said fannin, "i don't know what language it is. you know this chinook jargon is a language made up of words taken from many tongues. it's called chinook; but i don't feel sure that the words in it are mostly from the chinook language. i guess siwash, for example, is a french word--probably it was originally _sauvage_, meaning savage. there are lots of french words in the chinook jargon, though i can't think of them at the present moment. one of them, though, is _lecou_, meaning neck; and another is _lahache_, an axe. these are plain enough; but a good many of the words are taken from different indian languages, and are just hitched together without any grammar at all. it's a sort of a trade language; a good deal, i expect, like the pigeon english that the coast chinese are said to use in communicating with white men." "i suppose," said jack, "that the siwashes are mainly fishermen, are they not? about all i've seen have been on the water paddling around in their canoes, and whenever we've seen them doing anything, except paddling, they have been fishing." "yes," said fannin, "you're right about that; they are fishermen, or at least they derive the most of their subsistence from the water. of course they depend chiefly upon the salmon, which they eat fresh, and dry for winter food; for the salmon are here only in summer. the indians do some land hunting. they kill a good many deer, and some mountain goats, but their chief dependence for food is the salt-water fish. when the salmon begin to run in june or july, and before they have got into the fresh water streams, the indians catch them in numbers with a trolling spoon. of course the indians do considerable water hunting; that is to say, they kill seals, and porpoises, and now and then a whale; but what they depend on is fishing." "it means," said jack, "that to these indians the salmon are what the buffalo is to the indians of the plains." "yes," said fannin, "that's about it," and hugh added: "the canoe here is about the same as the horse back where we live." "just about," agreed fannin. "well," said hugh, "that's all mighty curious, and i'm mighty glad i've come out here to see it all. i never thought about it much before, but i always had an idea that all indians were about the same as those i knew most about; and that they lived about the same sort of lives. of course i can see now just what a fool notion that was to have, but i did not see it then." "but, mr. fannin," said jack, "these indians must have a lot of money. they are all provided with ordinary clothing, which they must buy; and they're pretty well fixed apparently, with everything that they need. where do they get this money? do all of them work, and get so much a day?" "no," said fannin, "not by a jugful. some of them work, and work pretty steadily; a good many work, and after they have been at it for a week or a month, they get tired of it, throw up their jobs and go off in their canoes. they do considerable trading with the whites, however. they gather a great deal of oil, and this is one of the main articles of trade. you saw over on burrard inlet a whole lot of dog-fish. well, the indians catch lots of these, and take the liver and throw the carcase overboard. the liver is full of oil, which brings a pretty fair price. they also kill lots of porpoises, and porpoise oil is salable. then, they make a great many baskets; mighty good ones too, they seem to be. some of them are water-tight, perfectly good for cooking, or for water buckets. they also make mats, both of reeds and of the bark of the cedar, and these are useful and sell well." "well," said jack, "how do they live? we've seen some tents on the beaches, but i suppose that in the winter time they must have something more substantial to live in than these tents." "yes," said fannin, "of course they do. though you must not think that the winters here are like the winters we have back east. it's pretty warm here, and we have little or no snow until you get back in among the mountains. the siwashes along the coast live in wooden houses. we'll see a lot of them before long, and then you'll know that they are better than i can tell you. they are made of big planks split off the cedar, and roofed with the same. all around the house, near to the walls, a platform is built, on which the people sit and sleep. in the middle of the house the ground is bare; and it is there that the fire is built for cooking and for warmth. there may be a number of families living in one of these houses, each family having its sleeping place--its room you might call it--but all of them cooking at and sitting about the common fire. the roof planks do not quite come together at the peak of the house and the smoke of the fire goes out through the hole. sometimes the roof beams and the posts which hold up the roof in front and behind are carved and painted. "close to some of the houses stand tall carved poles, called totem poles. one may be carved with a representation of a bear, a beaver, a frog, and an eagle, each animal resting on the head of the one carved below it on the pole. they are queer things to see, and if you will be patient for a few days we'll see them; and maybe we'll get some indians to explain them to us. they have something to do with the family history, and some people say that each of these animals that is carved on the pole represents an ancestor or ancestors of the man before whose house the pole stands." "well," said jack, "i'd like to see them. but from what you say, and from what i have seen, the indians must be mighty good carvers. the canoes that we've seen had queer figures on them, and mr. mactavish had some beautiful pieces of carving in black slate that he said came from queen charlotte islands; but i've forgotten what indians carved them." "oh, yes," said mr. fannin, "that is haida work. all the indians north from victoria are good at carving. of course the animals and figures that they represent do not agree with our ideas of how these things should be represented. most of the figures are grotesque, but they show fine workmanship; and if you give any of these indians a model to copy he will follow it very closely. up in the north they will hammer a bracelet or a spoon for you from a silver dollar; and they will put on it pretty much any design that you may give them." [illustration: close to some of the houses stand tall carved poles, called totem poles--_page _] "i see," said jack, "that all their canoes are carved in front; and the prows remind one a little bit of the pictures of the old viking ships; and then, again, of the still older boats that the romans had, only, of course, they were all rowed with oars, while the indians use paddles." "yes," said fannin, "these canoes that we have here are not like any that i know of anywhere else in the world. they're all made out of a single stick of wood and are of all sizes. there's one up at the bella-bella village, north of here, that's said to be the biggest boat on the coast. it's one of the old war canoes, is eighty feet long, and so deep that a man standing in it can't be seen by one standing on the ground by its side. such a canoe as that could only be made in the country where the white cedar grows, a wood that is light, easily worked and very durable. it's one of our biggest trees and sometimes grows to a height of three hundred feet, and runs up to ten, eleven, or twelve feet thick at the butt." "well," said jack, "with a tree of size to work on i can easily see how a canoe even as big as the one you speak of might be made; but what an awful long time it must take to whittle it out! i should think that the generation that began such a boat could not hope to see it finished." "well," said fannin, "it's not quite as bad as that, but it is slow work; and that is not surprising when you think that they have no tools to work with except the most primitive ones. after the cedar stick has been felled, and it has been found that no harm came to it in its fall, they go to work and shape the stick as well as they can with their axes, and then hollow it out by fire. in other words, they build a fire on the top and allow it to burn just so far in any direction, and so deep. after they have used the fire as far as they can to advantage, they take a little chipping tool, made of a blade of steel attached to a wooden handle, and chip the wood off in little flakes or slivers, reducing the whole to a proper thickness, say an inch or an inch and a half for a canoe thirty feet long. they have no models, and the eye is their only guide in shaping the canoes; but the lines are always correct, and as graceful as could be made by the most expert boat-builder. when they have shaped the canoe, its gunwales are slightly sprung apart so as to give some flare to the sides, and are held in position by narrow braces of timber stretching across the canoe and sewed to it by cedar twigs. they steam these twigs in the hot ashes so that they become pliable, and can be easily used for this sewing." "this cedar must be as useful to these indians as buffalo hides are to the plains' indians," said jack. "you pointed out to me some mats made of cedar bark, some hats and some rope, all of the same material. now you tell me that the canoes are made of cedar and sewed together with cedar twigs." "yes," replied fannin, "the cedar does a great deal for these people. i told you, too, that they built their houses of it." "there are two different types of canoes on this coast," he continued, "one belonging to the south and having a square stern and a bottom that is almost flat, and the northern canoe, which has a round bottom and an overhanging stern. the big canoe that i told you about at bella-bella is a northern canoe. in old times these big canoes were used by the northern indians on their war journeys against their enemies to the south. they would come down, perhaps seventy or eighty men in a canoe, attack a village, plunder it, capture a lot of the people for slaves, and then take to their canoes again, paddling back to their homes. these northern indians were great hands to go off on war parties. they were a good deal more warlike than these people down here." "this cedar that you talk about," asked hugh. "is there much of it to be had? i haven't seen anything yet that looked like the cedar that we see back east." "no," said fannin, "what you're thinking of is the red cedar, in some of its forms, i guess--the juniper. this is the white cedar, and looks as much as anything like a small tree that folks use for hedges back east, and call arbor vitæ; only i never saw any of those arbor vitæs grow anything near as big as the smallest of these cedars here. like the eastern cedar, however, this white cedar is very durable. i remember seeing in the woods once a fallen log, on which was growing a douglas fir two and a half feet in diameter. the seed of the fir had fallen on the log and sprouted, and, as the fir grew, it sent down its roots to the ground on either side of the cedar log, so that at last it straddled it. the fir was about two and a half feet in diameter, and so it had been growing there a great many years, but the fallen cedar log was to all appearance as sound as if it had not been lying there a year. the cedar log was covered with moss and most of its limbs had rotted off, but when i scraped away the moss and sounded the stick and cut into it, i could not see that it was at all decayed." "well, mr. fannin," asked jack, "how do they mend these canoes when they break them? of course they must be running onto the bars and onto the rocks all the time, and if a hole is punched in a solid wooden bottom like this it's hard to mend it again." "that's true," said fannin, "and they don't mean to let the canoe grate on rocks or get rubbed on the gravel beach if they can help it. notwithstanding its durability, cedar wood splits very easily. therefore the indians take the greatest care of their canoes, not bringing them up on the shore where they are likely to be worn or rubbed, but always anchoring them out in deep water; or else, if they bring them to shore, lifting them out of the water and sliding them along the bottom planks--that almost every canoe has two pair of--above the reach of the tide. although it is so durable, the cedar wood splits on the smallest provocation; and once or twice i have seen a canoe that touched roughly on the rocks, or was carelessly knocked against the beach, split in two and the two halves fall apart. of course in such a case it was pretty hard work to mend the canoe." "i should say it would be," remarked jack, "and i don't know how they would do it." "i'll tell you. they carry the loads up on the high ground to dry, and then they take the canoe, fit the two pieces together until no light can be seen through the crack, and then they sew them together with cedar twigs and plaster the crack over with gum. i've seen a vessel mended in that way, make a long cruise, but i confess i should not want to make a very long journey in a boat patched up like that." "i don't think i would either," said jack. "i shouldn't think it would be very safe." "mr. fannin," said jack, after a pause, "i suppose when we get started we'll have to paddle all the way?" "yes," said fannin, "you're likely to. of course, if the wind is fair these canoes can sail. there's almost always a chock in the bottom well forward in which a mast can be stepped, and when the wind is fair a sail is put up or a blanket is used. that helps along amazingly." "i'm glad that you've told me all this, for now when i talk with people up here on the coast they'll see that i know a little something and am not purely a pilgrim." chapter ix preparation for the voyage while jack and mr. fannin had been talking the vessel had been moving rapidly northward. the passengers were a mixed lot. on the upper deck were english, scotch, french, and americans, while on the lower were chinamen, a negro or two, and indians. many of these had considerable bundles of baggage; and with the indians were their women, their children, and their dogs. the rounded islands that rose everywhere from the water showed gray rocky slopes, the yellow of ripened grass, and here and there clumps of evergreen trees. the scene was a lovely one. "mr. fannin," said hugh, "i wish you'd tell me what's that plant that i see everywhere growing in the water. i suppose, maybe, it's a kind of seaweed, but it's bigger than any seaweed that i ever heard tell of, and there's worlds and worlds of it. the other day on the beach i picked up some of its leaves, if that's what they are, and i found them wonderfully tough. i found i couldn't break them apart with my hands, yet they seemed soft and full of water." "that's what we call kelp," said mr. fannin, "it grows in deep water, and its roots are attached to rocks or to stones or even to the sand at the bottom, and the stalk may be thirty or forty feet long. down in the deep water the stem is very slender, often scarcely as thick as a quill, but it increases by a gradual taper, until near the top it's nearly as thick as a man's wrist. at the end of the stem or stalk is a globular swelling which varies in size, but may be as big as a baseball. from the top of this swelling point, opposite to where it's attached to the stem, grows a bundle of a dozen or twenty ribbon-like leaves, each from one to six inches wide and from four to six feet long, and fluted or crimped along its edge for the whole length. the plant is brown in color throughout. responding, as it does, constantly to the motion of the water, it sometimes seems almost alive. it's a queer plant. sometimes it's a great hindrance to the man who is travelling and sometimes a great help to him." "i don't quite understand that," said jack. "i can see that it might be hard work to get through a bed of the kelp like that one over there that we are just passing, but how should it help a man?" "why," said fannin, "the stalks are very strong, and i've seen a large canoe held at anchor by a single stalk of the kelp. then, too, a big bed of the kelp is a great break to the sea. the waves can't break over a bed of kelp; and i have known of a case when a sudden squall got up, where a canoe, unable to reach shore or to get any other lee, would lie behind a kelp bed and hold onto the stalks until the squall was past." "do the indians make any use of the kelp?" asked jack. "yes," replied mr. fannin. "a number of the indians along the coast select the most slender stems, knot them together, and make fishing lines for the deep-sea fishing, on which they catch halibut sometimes weighing two hundred pounds. these stems are tremendously tough, and they almost never wear out. a man may coil up one of these long lines and hang it in his house for six months, and then, if he takes it down and soaks it in water over night, in the morning it will be pliable and perfectly fit to use." hugh had been listening to the conversation, but not taking any part in it; but now he pointed off over the kelp bed and said: "look there! see those birds walking around on the weed. i reckon they are cranes of some sort or other." fannin looked at them through his glasses and said, "yes, that's just what they are. two of those birds are great blue herons, and the others are large birds, but i can't tell just what they are. that's another thing that the kelp is useful for. you see the plants grow in thick beds, and the stems are continually moving in the current, and after a while they get tangled and twisted up so that it's impossible to force them apart. in that case it's useless to try to force a canoe through them. then, lying there so long as they do, and keeping the water quiet, a great deal of life is attracted to these beds. there are many fish that live near the surface, and in the warm waters there are crabs that live among the stems and sometimes crawl out on them and rest in the sunshine. there are many shells. all this smaller life entices the larger life, so that gulls and ducks and sandpipers are often seen walking along or resting on the kelp. it is just one of those things that we see often, where a lot of specially favorable conditions will attract the animals that are to be favored by these conditions." "well," said hugh, "i can't get over wondering at all these things i am seeing. this here is a new world to me, as different as can be from what i've been used to all my life; and i expect, come to think about it, that all over the world there are many such other strange bits of country that would astonish me, just as much as this does, and maybe would astonish you all, just as much as this does me." "yes," said fannin, "i guess that's about so." as they had been talking, the steamer had been winding in and out among the islands, stopping occasionally at some little settlement, and now and then slowing to take on goods or passengers, brought off in boats or canoes from some little house that stood on one of the yellow hillsides, half hidden among the trees. there were many settlers on these islands. most of them were engaged in stock raising. some of the islands had been turned into sheep ranges, and the settlers that had gone into this business were said by mr. fannin to have done well. certainly there was here no winter which could by any chance kill the sheep, while food was abundant. as the boat proceeded the settlements became fewer and fewer, until at last most of the island seemed unoccupied. all three of the travellers kept watching the open hillsides in the hope that some game might be seen, but none showed itself. "i suppose," said jack, "that there are some deer on these islands, are there not?" "yes," replied fannin, "on almost all the larger islands that are not thickly settled there are a good many deer; and when the settlements get to be too thick they can always start off and swim to another island and try that for a while, and, if they don't like that, pass to another." "what sort of deer are these?" asked jack. "are they like the one we killed at new westminster?" "yes," said fannin, "they are just like that; and i suppose they are the regular black-tail deer; not the big fellow that you have out on the plains, which, i understand, is properly called the mule deer. this is the only kind found along this north coast, as far as i know, until you get up far to the north and strike the moose. down on the islands of the strait of fuca, especially on whidby island, they have the virginia deer and plenty of them. but north of that i don't think they are found." it was noon when they passed gabriola island, where they had heard there lived a man who owned a launch. they landed here, hoping that possibly they might be able to engage this for their trip, but soon discovered that the boat had not been inspected for a year, and therefore could not be hired, unless the party was prepared to be stopped at any minute by some government official and ordered back to its starting point. about four o'clock in the afternoon they reached nanaimo, and fannin, hugh, and jack at once set out for the indian village, where it was believed a canoe could be had. the brisk walk through the quiet forest was pleasant, and the indian village of half a dozen great square plank houses interesting. after some inquiry fannin and a big indian drew off to one side and held a long and animated conversation in chinook, which, of course, was unintelligible to the other two. at length, however, fannin announced that he was prepared to close a bargain with the indian, by which a canoe, large enough to carry the whole party and their baggage, including the necessary paddles and a bowman and steersman, could be hired for a certain price per day, for as long a time as they desired. after a short consultation it was agreed that if the canoe proved satisfactory it should be engaged, and a start made the next morning. the whole party adjourned to the water's edge, where, drawn up on the beach were a number of canoes, all of them covered with boards, mats, and boughs, to protect them from the sun and rain. the canoe in question seemed satisfactory, and, the bargain having been closed, the indians promised solemnly that they would have the canoe at the wharf at six o'clock the next morning, so that an early start could be made. returning to town, the stores were visited and a number of necessary articles purchased. the party was already well armed, having three rifles, a shot-gun, and several revolvers; but a mess kit had to be bought, a keg for water, all the provisions needed, a tent of some kind, some mosquito net, rope, fine copper wire, saddler's silk or waxed thread, packages of tobacco, fishing tackle, and many small articles which do not take up much room, but which, under special circumstances, may add much to one's comfort. each of the party also provided himself here with a set of oil-skin clothing. they knew that they were going into a country where much rain falls, and wished to provide against that. after all their purchases had been made and they had seen them transported to the hotel close to the water's edge, where they were to pass the night, they started out to learn what they could about the town. the sole industry of nanaimo at that time was coal mining. here were great shafts and inclines, worked day and night by a great multitude of miners. many of them were canadians, but many, also, were quite newly arrived emigrants from the old world,--scotch, irish, and welsh. the coal--a good lignite--was in considerable demand along the coast, and it was even said that it was to be imported to puget sound points to supply newly built railroads there. the inhabitants of nanaimo, and indeed those of vancouver island, had talked much about a proposed railroad that had been partially surveyed from victoria up through the middle of the island to nanaimo. such a railroad, it was generally thought, would be an enormous benefit to the whole island. nanaimo was not an attractive place. the coal-dust with which it was everywhere powdered, together with the black smoke sent forth by the chimneys, gave the place an appearance of griminess which seemed to characterize most coal-mining towns. just why towns devoted to coal and iron mining always used to look so shabby and forlorn and discouraged, it would be hard to say; but most people familiar with such settlements in old times will agree that this was usually the case. it may have been that the laborers and their families were obliged to work so hard that they had neither time nor inclination to devote to adorning, even by simple and inexpensive methods, their dwellings or surroundings; or it may have been that their work in the mines was so fatiguing that it rendered them blind to the town's unattractiveness. even then great quantities of coal were mined at nanaimo. but as there were no railroads on vancouver island the coal was transported to its destination wholly by water. the coal deposits were vast, and people believed that in the future this would be a great mining town, and might yet be like some of the great mining centres of great britain. that night, after supper, as they were lounging about the office of the hotel, jack said to mr. fannin: "you have told me a lot about the canoeing and canoes of these indians, mr. fannin, but i don't think that you have spoken to me about the way they keep their canoes on the beach. those we saw this afternoon were all covered with mats and blankets, and i can understand how it might be necessary to keep them protected from the weather in that way if they were laid up for a long time; but, as i understand it, the canoes that we saw were being used every day." "that is true," said mr. fannin; "they are in use all the time, but, nevertheless, indians take the greatest precaution to protect them from the weather. it is easy enough to see why this is, if you consider that the making of a canoe is tremendously laborious, and at best takes many months. now, as i have already told you, the cedar of which they are made splits very easily indeed, and it might well enough be that exposure to the hot sun for a day or two would start a crack which would constantly grow larger, and ultimately weaken the canoe so that it could not be used. the indians are far-sighted enough to do everything in their power to protect their canoes. these coast indians take a great deal better care of their canoes than they do of any other property that they possess. as i have told you, they are all sea travellers, and their very existence depends on the possession of some means of getting about over the water. i do not know anything about it personally, but i understand that the aleuts of alaska, and the eskimo too, are just as careful about their boats as these indians are. of course it is natural." "of course it is," said hugh, "and you probably will see the same thing in any class of men. look at the way our plains' indians take care of their war horses and their arms and war clothes. those are the things on which they depend for food and for protection from their enemy; and they cannot afford to take any chances about them. of course their war clothes often have something of a sacred character; but you will find that if it comes to a pinch an indian will stick to his fastest running horse and his arms, and will let his war clothing go." "well," said fannin, "all this is just saying that indians are human beings like the rest of us." they went to bed pretty early that night, and fannin had them astir before the day had broken the next morning. on going down to the wharf they found the canoe there, just off the shore, and the two indians sitting in it, holding the craft in its place by an occasional paddle stroke. it took the men but a short time to bring down all their baggage, provisions, and mess kit to the canoe and stow the load. after a hasty meal at the hotel all stepped aboard and took their various stations. jack had been surprised to see how large a pile their baggage made before they begun to stow it; and after the canoe had been loaded, he wondered where they had packed it all. chapter x the start the sun was not very high when they pushed off. the wind blew in gusts from the southeast and the sky was obscured by a loose bank of clouds which occasionally gave down a little rain. the bow paddle was wielded by a gigantic indian, known as hamset; while in the stern, occupying the position of steersman, sat a much smaller man, whose unpronounceable ucletah name had been shortened for convenience to "jimmie." between the bow and the stern, seated on rolls of blankets, were the four whites--first, fannin, then charlie, the cook, then hugh, and last of all jack. each was provided with a paddle, and they worked two on each side of the canoe. the provisions were stored in one box, the mess kit in another, and the rolls of blankets were placed in the bottom of the canoe so as to trim it properly. the canoe was quite dry, and loose boards on the bottom would keep the cargo from getting wet, even if a little water were shipped. the breeze which was now blowing was a favorable one; and they had hardly started before it began to rain steadily and to threaten a wet, boisterous day. fannin was in great spirits at this prospect; for he, better than any one else, knew what a few days of favoring winds would accomplish toward hastening them along on their voyage. as the rain fell harder mats and rubber blankets were spread over the guns and bedding. the sail was hoisted, and all hands except the steersman took in their paddles and sat back with a satisfied air, as if they had nothing to do except to watch the breeze blowing and the land moving by them. farther to the southward there had been many islands, which would have cut off the breeze; but here the open waters of the gulf stretched away to windward for twenty or thirty miles, and there was nothing to break the force of the breeze. as they advanced various islands appeared, texada showing a high peak above the fog; and then other smaller islands,--denman and hornby. the wind kept blowing harder and harder, until at noon quite a sea was running, and the waves began to break over the sides of the vessel, necessitating bailing. the canoe was heavily loaded and set rather low in the water, cutting through the waves instead of riding over them as it should have done. this pleasant condition of things lasted for some time, but about two o'clock the sky cleared, the wind fell, and it was necessary to take to the paddles once more, for now the sail flapped idly against the mast and the canoe began to float back toward nanaimo--the tide having turned. the sea became as smooth as glass, the sun glared down from the unclouded sky with summery fierceness, and after a little while the travellers realized that the canoe trip might mean a lot of hard work. more than that, the canoe seemed to be anchored to the bottom, and, so far as could be judged from occasional glances toward the distant shore, did not move at all. the work became harder and harder, and hugh and jack at last realized that here was a struggle between the paddles and the tide, with the chances rather in favor of the tide. this, of course, meant that they must work harder. coats were stripped off, the crew bent to their work, and at last found that the craft did move, although very, very slowly. after a half hour's hard paddling jack said to hugh: "i tell you, hugh, watching that shore is like watching the hands of a watch. if you look at the shore you would think that we were perfectly motionless. it's only when you take some object on the beach and notice its position, and then, five or ten minutes later, look at it again that you find that our position has changed with relation to it, and that it is farther behind than it was when you last saw it." "yes," said fannin, "i've done lots of canoeing in my time, but i guess i shall learn something on this trip as well as the rest of you. we're pretty heavily loaded, and if we have head winds and tides much of the time we'll have to put in about all the hours every day working at these paddles. besides that, we've got to figure on being wind-bound for a certain number of days, and, taking it all in all, we can't hope to go very far. nevertheless, we can go far enough to see a good deal." the progress of the canoe was made more slow by the fact that its track skirted the shore, following quite closely all its windings, and hardly ever cutting across the bays, large or small, that indented the island. jack asked fannin why the indians did not go across from one headland to another, thus saving much paddling; and fannin explained that this was done partly to avoid the force of the tide, and partly from the habitual caution of the east coast indians. "on the waters of the gulf," said mr. fannin, "gales often spring up without giving much warning, and quite a heavy sea may follow the wind almost at once. these canoes, especially when heavily loaded, as ours is, cannot stand much battering by the waves." as the sun sank low, after a long spell of paddling, the bow of the canoe was turned into the mouth of qualicum river; and a little later, when close to the shore, the vessel was turned bow out and the stern pushed shoreward, till it grated gently on the pebbly beach. all hands at once sprang out, and it was a relief to get on firm ground again and to stretch the limbs, contracted by nearly twelve hours of sitting in one position. now the rolls of blankets were tossed on the beach, the provision box and mess kit and other property were unloaded and carried up to the meadow above. in a few moments a fire had been kindled, and preparations for the evening meal were begun. now, jack and fannin began putting together their fishing rods; hugh took his rifle and looked it over, wiping off the moisture that had accumulated on it, and got out some ammunition. the party wanted fresh meat and was going to try hard to get it. meantime the indians had taken out the boards from the canoe, placed them on the beach, and were sliding the vessel up, far above high-water mark. before jack had made many casts he had a rise or two, and he was doing his best to hook a fish when charlie's shout of "dinner" caused them all to lay aside their tools and repair to the fire for supper. it was a simple meal of bacon, bread, and coffee; but the work of the day had given all hearty appetites and they enjoyed it. then, a little later, jack went back to his fishing, and fannin, hugh, and hamset put off in the canoe and disappeared behind a bend of the river. being unable to do anything with the fish, which were now jumping everywhere at the mouth of the river, jack worked along up the stream, and around the next point was more successful. a fish rose to his flies and was hooked, and, after a brief struggle, was dragged up on the beach. it was a beautiful trout, only weighing half a pound, to be sure, but none the worse on that account, if regarded simply from the point of view of so much food. encouraged by this success, jack fished faithfully and carefully, and before long had killed half a dozen others, all about the same size as the first. most of these were taken in more or less shallow water near the beach, but at length he came to a place where an eddy of the stream had dug out a big hole not far from the edge of the bank, and casting over this two or three times, he had a rise which almost made his heart stop beating. the fish missed the fly, but rose again to another cast, and this time was hooked on a brown hackle. and then for a little while jack had the time of his life. the fish was far too strong for him to handle, and for a little time kept him running up and down the beach, following its powerful rushes, taking in line whenever he could, and yielding it when he must. once or twice the rush of the fish was so prolonged that almost all the line went off the spool, and he even ran into the river up to his knees in the effort to save some of his line. at last, however, the runs grew shorter, and the fish yielded and swayed over on its side and was towed up to the beach. but as soon as it saw jack it seemed to regain all its vigor, and darted away with a powerful rush. this was its last effort. gradually jack drew it into water which was more and more shallow, and finally up, so that its head rested on the beach. then seizing the leader he dragged it well in, and in a moment he had it in his hands. it was a beautiful and very powerful fish, and must have weighed between four and five pounds. a little later another fish was taken, not quite so large, to be sure, but big enough to give the angler a splendid fight; and then, as the sun had disappeared behind the forest, jack strung his trout on a willow twig and made his way back to camp. charlie received him with delight. "well," he said, "you're the kind of a man i like to be out with--somebody that can go out and get food to eat. i bet them other fellows won't bring in anything; but we've got enough here nearly for breakfast and dinner to-morrow. i wish if you have time you'd go out to-morrow morning and catch some more." "i'd like to," said jack. "those two big fellows over there gave me as much fun as i ever had in my life." "well," said charlie, "you'll have better fun than that to-morrow morning when you're eating that fish." "no," said jack, "i don't believe it. i think that i would rather have the fun of catching those two fish than eating the best meal that was ever cooked." from the camp jack wandered away along the beach and over the meadows back toward the forest that came down from the higher land. here he saw that this must be quite a camping place for indians, and that some had been there within a few days. there were the remains of recent fires, tent poles that had been cut only a few days before; and some little way back from the beach, and hardly to be seen among the timber, was an indian house in which jack discovered four canoes. when he returned to camp, charlie said: "i heard them fellows shooting, but i reckon they didn't get nothing; maybe a duck or two, but nothing fit to eat, like them fish you brought in." "yes," said jack, "i heard the shot, but it was from the shot-gun, not from a rifle." in the meantime the party in the canoe had pushed its way quite a long distance up the river. there was a possibility that a deer might be seen along the bank, or a brood of ducks feeding in the shallow water, and rifles and shot-gun were ready to secure anything that might make its appearance. for a long way the canoe advanced through the dense forest without much difficulty. then it came to a series of shallow rapids, up which so large a craft could not be taken. the canoe was then drawn as near the bank as possible. the indian carried the two white men ashore on his shoulders, and all three followed up the stream through the now darkening woods. they found many old tracks of deer, and from time to time passed the fresher slide of an otter; but no game was seen. as the light grew more and more dim, they faced about, went back to the canoe, and turned its nose down the stream. as the vessel swept noiselessly along the swift current, two or three broods of ducks were surprised by its sudden approach from behind the bend. on the upward journey the birds, warned by the noise of the paddles, had seen the craft before it was near them, and had crept ashore and hidden themselves in the grass. but now there was not time for this. a flock of mallards, startled from the water, sprang away in flight, and two of them were stopped by fannin, and fell back into the stream, to be picked up by hamset as the canoe swept by. it was only gray light next morning when all hands were astir. while the breakfast was being cooked bundles of bedding were rolled up and transported to the shore; and as soon as breakfast was over and the dishes washed, the canoe was pushed off and loaded; the paddlers took their places, and they set out again at just six o'clock by mr. fannin's watch. the day was bright and pleasant, with light airs from half a dozen quarters, but no breeze strong enough to justify the setting of the sail. just after they had pushed out of the mouth of the river, jack called fannin's attention to a flock of birds sitting on the water; and they were presently made out to be scoter ducks, of two kinds. there was an enormous multitude of them, and almost all seemed to be males. when too closely approached, fifty or five hundred of them would rise on the wing, swing out over their fellows, and then alight on the outside of the flock. "where in the world do all those birds come from, mr. fannin?" asked jack. "these are the birds that we call coots down on the atlantic coast; but i don't think at any one time i ever saw so many of them as we see this morning." "i don't know just what they're doing here," said fannin. "but, as nearly as i can see with my glasses, they seem to be all males; and i shouldn't be a bit surprised if the females were all ashore, at little springs or lakes, raising their broods. pretty soon these birds will begin to moult, and then the indians will try to get around them and drive them ashore and kill them. but this is a method that seldom succeeds with these birds. if they see that they are going to be forced on the shore they will dive and swim back under the boat." "that's pretty smart," said jack. "i have heard of the loons doing something like that, but i didn't suppose a coot had sense enough for that." "yes," said fannin, "that's what they're said to do." as they paddled along the head of a seal appeared above the water, close to them, and after watching them for a moment or two sank back out of sight. "son, why don't you try one of those fellows with your rifle," suggested hugh. "it looks as if there were time enough to draw a bead on one and kill it. i hear these indians eat that sort of meat; and i suppose what they can do we can too, if we get a chance." jack pulled his gun out of its case, put a couple of cartridges in his vest pocket, and declared he would try the seals the next time one gave him a chance. he did so, but the animals kept their heads above water so short a time that he was unable to get a satisfactory sight on one, and did not fire. "well," said hugh, "these fellows are pretty watchful and pretty quick; and as you don't know when they're coming up, it's a pretty hard matter to shoot at them." "so it is," said fannin, "and yet i think if one had practice enough they would be easy to kill. certainly the indians here, and still more to the north, get a great many of them, shooting them and then paddling quickly up and putting a spear in them before they sink. these little seals that we see are, of course, nothing but the common harbor seal; but when the big fur-seal herds pass up the coast the indians get a good many of them in that way, though many are killed by paddling up close to them when they are asleep on the water and spearing them. a long line is attached to the lance, the head of which is barbed, so that it will not draw out; and at length they pull the seal up close to the canoe and kill it, either with a club or by spearing it again. seal meat and seal oil are pretty important parts of the native food supply on this coast; but more so to the north than down here, where the food is more varied." "well," said hugh, "we've surely got to get some fresh meat of one kind or other, on this trip; if we don't, our grub will give out, and we'll have to travel back to the settlement hungry. there seems to be a world of food lying around,--deer, and fish, and seals, and all that. you see, fannin, jack and i are prairie men, and don't know how to earn a living on this water. if we were travelling back on the plains, or in the mountains, we'd think it mighty queer if we couldn't keep the camp in meat; but here we don't know how to go to work to do it. don't either of these indians understand how to catch these fish or to kill these animals?" "i expect the indians do," said fannin, "but i don't, for i never have had occasion to live in the country along the shore here. i'm something like you, a mountain hunter. but we ought to be able to catch some salmon, and to do it right here. you know that in a few days or weeks now all the rivers along the coast will be full of salmon, running up toward the heads of the stream to spawn. at the present time they are gathering in the salt water, each fish pushing toward the mouth of the river, in which it was hatched, and down which it made its way toward the sea. they say that all salmon go back to the streams in which they were bred to spawn. now, when they are in salt water, and before they reach the mouths of the rivers, the salmon will bite, and a great many of them are caught by trolling, either with bait or with a spoon. haven't you some fishing tackle there that you could throw overboard now, and let the bait follow the canoe? if we could get a few fish it would help out mightily with our eating." "why, yes," said jack; "of course there's some fishing tackle. let's get it out and try them." hugh bent down; and after fumbling in the provision box for a few moments, brought out a package which he passed over to fannin, saying to him: "you know more about these things than either of us, and you'd better pick out the lines and baits that are to be used." the long, strong line, with a lure of metal and feathers attached to it, was soon overboard, and dragging in the long sinuous wake that stretched out behind the canoe. jack held it in one hand as he wielded the paddle. all the power that they had was needed to push the boat along; and if one man should sit and fish in idleness it would not have been fair to the others. jack sat hopefully, expecting each moment to feel a tug on the line, but none came. "tell me, mr. fannin," he asked, "don't salmon bite after they get into the fresh water? you said that when in salt water they were caught in numbers. does that mean that they do not take the bait in fresh water?" "yes," replied fannin, "that's just what it means. when they get into the fresh water they seem to lose all interest in the food question, and will not take the bait or rise to a fly. some friends of mine, who are great fishermen, have tried bait,--spoons, flies, and grasshoppers,--but no attention was paid to any of these things. there's a story, you know, about some british commissioner, sent out years ago, when england and the united states were quarrelling over the question of who owned oregon and washington, and they say that this commissioner was a great salmon angler. they say that he was here during the salmon run, and fished the streams faithfully for them, without even getting a rise, though he could see millions of them. the story goes that he was so disgusted with the way the salmon acted that he went back to england and reported that the great territory in dispute was not worth quarrelling about, and not worth holding by great britain, because the salmon in the stream would not rise to a fly." "that's sure comical," said hugh; "but after all there's a good deal of human nature in it. we're all likely to look at things from our little narrow point of view and to think only of matters as they interest us." before very long jack found the holding of the trolling line something of a nuisance, and at fannin's suggestion passed it over to jimmie, the steersman, who tied it about one of his arms and kept up the work of paddling. that there was salmon about now was very evident, for great silvery fish were frequently seen jumping out of the water, or floundering about on the surface, throwing shining drops about them in showers. "why do these fish jump in that way, mr. fannin?" asked jack. "it's common enough to see fish jump out of the water and then fall back, but these, when they strike the water, act almost like a fish thrown on the shore, and flopping there." "the indians say," replied fannin, "and i guess very likely it's true, that this flopping around by the salmon is done for the purpose of ridding themselves of certain parasites that are attached to their bodies. i've often seen these parasites. they are flat, oval crustaceans, and a good deal like the common sow bugs--those little flattish, purple, many-legged bugs that we find under the bark of dead trees or sometimes under stones, back in the east. almost all salmon caught in salt water have some of these things stuck to them, sometimes only one and sometimes a dozen. they will be found chiefly about the fins, and especially on those of the back. they cling closely to the skin, and some force is needed to dislodge them; but as soon as the fish get in the fresh water they die and drop off." they were paddling along, not very far from a kelp bed, which lay north and south, along the channel that they were following for a mile or more, when suddenly jimmie dropped his paddle and began to haul in on his line. a moment's work, however, showed that he had no fish on it, and he let it go again. but fannin told him to draw in the line and see that the spoon was all right; for it occurred to him that the current might have carried the spoon in among the leaves of the kelp bed, that it might have caught in one of them, and been torn off. when the end of the line was recovered it appeared that this was just what had happened; and fannin, grumbling at the indian's carelessness, put on another spoon and threw the line overboard, but this time kept it in his own hand. it had hardly straightened out, when there was a violent tug on it, and fannin dropped his paddle and began to haul in the line rapidly, hand over hand. every one in the boat was more or less excited at the capture, and they all stopped paddling. the great fish was drawn nearer and nearer; sometimes out of sight, and sometimes struggling on the surface of the water and making a great splashing. it was not very long before it was close to the side. all the paddles were taken in; and fannin, being very careful to keep the fish away from the side of the canoe, let his right hand down close to the line, and grasped the fish close behind the gills, and lifted it into the canoe. jack, hugh, and charlie cheered vigorously, and the indians grinned with delight. it was a fine silvery fish, of ten pounds weight, fat and firm, promising delicious food. the fish was passed aft for the inspection of hugh and jack; and fannin called their especial attention to the presence on its back of three of the parasites of which they had been talking only a few moments ago. then, after they had all admired the fish, it was laid aside in a shady place and the canoe went on. chapter xi food from the sea the voyagers worked on steadily through the day, and three or four hours before sundown they landed at comox spit, two or three miles from the village of comox. all through the day numbers of hair-seals had been seen diligently fishing in the shoal waters, and often an old one was accompanied by her tiny young. there were hosts of water-fowl about the shore,--ducks of several kinds, seagulls, guillemots, and auks; while along the beach ran oyster catchers, turnstones, and many other shore birds. all these were picking a fat living there from the water or from the gravelly beach at the water's edge. the larger fowl fed on fish and mollusks on the bottom; the lesser ones on the small crustaceans, which are abundant among the vegetable life near the beach. at the end of the day the canoe passed through a great multitude of ducks, which seemed to contain many thousands of birds. near these were hundreds of great seagulls, sitting on the sand spits which project from the islands far out into the water. as the canoe moved toward these great flocks of ducks, the noise of their rising, the whistling rush of their wings and the pattering of their feet upon the water made such a tumult as almost to drown ordinary conversation. it was low water when they landed, and the boat's cargo had to be carried a long distance up to the meadow above the beach. after this had been done, the fire kindled and the tent put up, charlie called to them: "why don't you men try that mud flat for clams? you have a salmon to do to-night, but that won't last very long, and you had better try to get some more fresh meat." arming themselves with sharpened sticks, they scattered out over the mud flat, looking carefully for signs of clams, and before long were hard at work gathering them. jack had dug clams in the east before, but this was new business for hugh; and it was fun for jack to tell him how to look for the clams and how to unearth them when found. it took them but a short time to gather over half a bushel of the bivalves, which were taken up to the camp and washed off and covered up. their dinner of salmon was greatly enjoyed. after dinner jack and fannin, seeing some fish jumping out at the mouth of the river, pushed off in the canoe and spent some time casting for them. but although they tried almost all their most attractive flies, they did not get a single rise, though the fish kept jumping all around them. while still occupied at this, the sun went down and before long the indians began to make an extraordinary disturbance about the camp fire--shouting, rushing about, stooping down, and then throwing up their hands. when the two anglers reached the shore and inquired what had caused all the excitement, hugh picked up by the wing and held aloft a tiny mottled owl. the little bird had been hunting about over the flat, and, attracted by the light of the fire, had flown about it several times; and the indians, excited by its near approach, had begun to throw stones at it. a well-aimed shot by jimmie had brought down the bird, which charlie suggested would do for the next day's dinner. "we haven't got down quite to eating owls," said jack, with a laugh. "well," said hugh, "i've eaten owl a number of times, and it's not at all bad eating, though, of course, it depends a little bit on how hungry you are. i guess most everything that runs or flies is pretty good to eat, if one only has appetite enough. i have tried a whole lot of things, and i put owl down among the things that are real good." "how did you come to eat owl, hugh?" asked jack. "and when was it?" "it's a good many years ago," said hugh, "that i started, late in december, south from the platte river with lute north, expecting to load up a wagon with buffalo meat at once. we didn't take much grub with us as we meant to be gone only for a few days; and as buffalo had been plenty in the country to which we were going, we thought we could soon load the wagon. "we travelled three days without seeing a head of game, and then crossed the republican river and kept on south. in the river bottom we killed a turkey, but all the four-footed game seemed to have left the country. after going south two days longer and finding no game, not even an old bull, we turned back, for provisions were getting low. we crossed the republican again, but got stuck in the quicksands; and the wagon sunk so low that the water came into the wagon box and wet our things, without doing much harm, however, for the sugar was the only thing that was spoiled. the flour got wet, and left us only about enough for two or three more loaves of bread. but we had a little piece of bacon left, so we had enough to carry us through. it took some hours to get the wagon out; and that afternoon, after leaving the river, we saw three old bulls feeding on the side of a ridge. at first lute and i both intended to go after them; but as there was a better chance of approaching them if only one man went, and as lute was a fine shot, i told him to go ahead, and i waited in the wagon. he took a circuit and got around the bulls so that the wind was right, then crept up behind a ridge until he was within a hundred yards, and fired--and the bulls ran off over the hills. when lute came back, and i asked him how he came to miss them, he could give no explanation. 'i had as good a bead on that bull as i ever had on anything, and yet i missed him clean,' he said; 'shot clear over him.' "we camped that night in a wide and deep ravine, and in the morning when we got up we found that we were covered with snow, which was two or three feet deep, and which still kept falling. this was certainly a bad state of things. we lay in camp all day, only leaving it to tie the horses up to some brush where they could get something to eat. it stopped snowing that night, and the next morning we started out to try to kill something, but had no luck. the snow was so deep in the ravine that we could not travel there, but on the divide the wind had blown it all off. lute saw a wolf, but could not get a shot at it. i had seen nothing. we spent the rest of the evening trying to break a road out to the divide, and at night we made our last loaf of bread and ate half of it. it took us all the next day to get out to where the horses could travel, but we made some little distance, stopping at night and melting some snow for the horses, and for a cup of coffee apiece. next morning, as we were hitching up, i saw a white owl hunting along the edge of the ravine. the bird alighted about half a mile away, and i took my rifle and went out to try to kill it. i got to within seventy-five yards of it, and then it saw me; so i fired, and it did not fly away. when i got hold of it i found that i had shot high, and that my ball had just cut the top of its head. half an inch higher, and i would have missed. we ate half the owl that morning, and the rest that night. the next night we crossed the platte. when within four or five miles of town, just when we didn't need it, we killed a white-tail deer." "well," said jack, "you must have been pretty hungry when you got it." "yes," said hugh, "but it isn't very hard to go without eating. a man feels pretty wolfish for the first twenty-four hours, but then he doesn't get any hungrier. after that he begins to get weak; not very fast, of course, but he can't do as much as he can when he's well fed. he can't walk as far or climb as hard. to go without water, though, is a very different thing. if a man can't drink, he suffers a great deal, and keeps getting worse all the time." "well," said fannin, "in this country no man need suffer for want of water. these mountains are covered with it; it is running down them everywhere. there is usually food too, though sometimes fish and game, and seaweed and fern roots fail, and then the indians get hungry. one thing the indians eat, which i never saw eaten anywhere before, and that is the octopus or devil fish, as they're sometimes called. it isn't bad eating, and the indians think a great deal of it. they cut off the arms and boil them, and then when the skin is peeled off, they are perfectly white, looking almost like stalks of celery. the meat is tender and quite good, though to tell the truth, it hasn't got much flavor to it." "you speak of fern roots, mr. fannin," said jack, "i didn't know that they were ever eaten." "yes," replied fannin. "they're gathered and roasted in time of scarcity, and will support life for a time. the indians here have quite a variety in the way of vegetable food in dulse, seaweed, and berries. they dry the berries of different kinds, making them into cakes when they're nearly dry, and using them as a sort of bread in winter. there's what is called the soap-berry, which they use as a sort of flavoring. the berries are dried and pressed into cakes. when they want to use it, a portion of a cake is broken off, crumbled into fine pieces and put into a bucket with a little water. then a woman with bare arm begins to stir the mixture with her hand, and soon it becomes frothy. the more she stirs it, the more it foams up; and as the volume increases, more water is added, until at last the vessel which contains it, and which may hold several gallons, is full of this foam. then the indians sit about it, and scraping up the foam on their fingers, draw them between their lips. the taste of the foam is sharply bitter, something like the inner bark of the red willow. i've always supposed that these berries possessed some tonic quality like quinine. there are two or three kinds of seaweed that the indians eat. one they boil, and it makes a dish a great deal like what we call 'greens.' the other is dried, pressed into cakes, and used later in soups. this seaweed seems to be full of gelatine and thickens the soup. it is still the custom in the villages which are far from the settlements, for young women to chew this seaweed fine before cooking it. it's necessary to make it small before the boiling will soften it. the indians who live near the settlement, however, chop up the vegetable with a knife, a pair of scissors, or a tobacco cutter." "well," said jack, "i guess we'll want to avoid any soup if we stop at any indian villages." "well," said fannin, "it might be a good idea to be on the lookout, but they use this seaweed chiefly in the winter, so i don't think we need to be alarmed." camp was broken early next morning, and a start made soon after daylight. there was a long day of paddling. camp was made shortly before sundown, and soon after supper was eaten all hands went to bed. of course, efforts were made to procure fresh meat, but no more salmon were caught, nor any deer seen, though each day fannin was lucky enough to kill a few ducks with a shot-gun. each night as the time for camping approached, mr. fannin and the indians would be on the watch for a good landing-place. this had to be carefully chosen on account of the danger of scratching the bottom of the boat or striking it sharply on some rock or pebble, which might result in accident and cause several days' detention, or possibly even a serious calamity. when a landing was made, it was the first duty of the party to unload the canoe, and then to drag it up on the beach, safe above reach of the waves. as has been stated, the prow of the canoe was turned away from the shore, and she was backed toward some place where the sand was smooth and free from stones, or else where the pebbles were smoothly spread out, and as nearly as possible of the same size. the approach to the shore was slow and made carefully, and the paddles of those in the stern were thrust, handles down, against the beach, to ease the shock of her touching. then the steersman leaped overboard, and lifted and drew the canoe as far up the beach as he could. the others disembarked and helped to lift her still farther on to the beach. then her load was taken out, and carried up above high-water mark. after the whole load had been transported to the spot selected for the camp, every one, except the cook, who at once busied himself with preparations for the meal, returned to the water's edge. the loose boards in the bottom of the canoe--put there to protect the bottom from the careless dropping of some heavy article, or from a too heavy footfall--were taken out and placed on the beach, so as to form a smooth roadway for the canoe to slide on, and she was then dragged well up above high-water mark. the indians went into the forest to cut poles and pins for the tent, which was soon set up, and the beds made. before dinner was ready, the camp was in complete order. sometimes it happened that no satisfactory landing-place could be made, and then it was impossible to get the canoe out of the water on the rocks or the narrow beach where they were obliged to camp. in such cases the indians, after they had eaten, would re-embark, take the canoe out some distance from the shore and anchor it there, and spend the night in the vessel. next morning all the operations of unloading the canoe were reversed. while breakfast was being cooked the blankets were rolled up, the tent torn down, and everything but the mess kit and the provision boxes carried down to the canoe. after breakfast, and while the dishes were being washed, the canoe was loaded, the last thing put aboard being the mess kit and the provision boxes. about noon the next day, upon rounding a point of land, some low houses were seen in a little bay, and fannin, after speaking to the indians, said to the others: "here's the village of the cape mudge indians. had we not better stop here and see if we can't buy some dried salmon? we have got to have some provisions, unless you hunters can do better." when they paddled up to the village they found that it consisted of large houses made of "shakes," somewhat like the indian village that they had seen near nanaimo. in front of several of the houses stood poles, from forty to sixty feet high and curiously carved. one such pole, not yet erected, and in process of being carved, bore on one end the head of a large bird, which by some stretch of imagination might be taken for that of an eagle. the indians seen here, though little resembling the indians jack and hugh were familiar with on the plains, were at least clad like indians, that is to say, in breech-clout and blanket. physically they bore little resemblance to the more symmetrical horse indians of the plains, for, though their bodies seemed large and well developed, their legs were small and shrunken. the party's stay here was short, but they succeeded in purchasing a few salmon and then pushed off again. just outside of the village was a burial place of considerable size, in which were many small houses. the bodies of the dead were deposited in the small board houses, though those of poorer people were said to be placed in old canoes, which were then covered with boards. in front or at the side of each house stood a number of small poles, ten or twelve feet high, which indicated the number of potlatches or great feasts that the dead man had given, each pole standing for a potlatch. fastened to stouter and larger poles were small profiles of canoes carved out of thin boards, which showed how many canoes the dead man had given away during his life. over some of the houses stood large crosses, eight or ten feet high and covered with white cloth. "you see," said fannin, "a good many indians along the coast here are supposed to be christians, though it is pretty hard to tell just how much the indians understand of what the missionaries tell them, and just how far their lives are influenced by their teachings. no matter how good christians these indians who are buried here may have been, every one of them has been fitted out by his relations with a canoe for use in the land of the future, for they can conceive of no country where there is no water, nor of any means of getting about except in a canoe." that night after dinner as they were seated about the fire, hugh and fannin pulling at their pipes, charlie smoking a cigarette, and the indians--who that night slept aboard the canoe--singing one of their plaintive songs, jack asked mr. fannin to explain the meaning of the word "potlatch," which he had used earlier during the day. "well," said fannin, "potlatch is a word of the chinook jargon, and means to give, or a gift, according to the connection in which it is used. as we've been paddling along you've heard the indians say, 'potlatch tsook,' which means 'give water.' in other words, they want a drink. the great ambition of every indian in this country is to get property in such quantity that he can give a big feast, call all the people together, sometimes one village, sometimes all the villages of the tribe, and then hand around presents to everybody. it is in this way, according to their estimation, that they become chiefs or men of importance. wealth, in fact, seems to constitute a standard of rank among them, and the man who gives away the most is the biggest chief. later, he receives the reward of his generosity, for at subsequent potlatches, given by other people, he receives a gift proportionate to the amount of his own potlatch. when, therefore, an indian has accumulated money enough, he is likely to buy a great lot of food, crackers, tea, sugar, molasses, and flour, as well as calico and blankets. then he proceeds to invite all his friends, up and down the coast, to a potlatch. the feast consists mainly of boiled deer meat and salmon and oolichan oil, with the other food i have just mentioned. every guest has all the crackers he can eat. perhaps there is a small canoe full of molasses. each guest receives so many yards of calico, a part of the blankets are distributed among the visitors, and the remainder are scrambled for among the young men, the donor perhaps getting on top of a house and throwing the blankets down into the crowd below. the feasting and the giving may last for a week; and when the affair is over the guests go their several ways, leaving the giver of the potlatch a poor man. when the next potlatch takes place, however, he recovers a portion of his wealth, and after a few more have been given, he is better off than ever. sometimes at these feasts canoes are given away, and even guns and ammunition; and the greater the gift, the more is due the giver when those who have received gifts from him themselves give potlatches." "well," said jack, "that's a queer custom and a queer way of thinking. it seems, in certain ways, though, a good deal like the orders that were given in the bible, to take all you have and give it to the poor. but i suppose as a matter of fact, instead of giving it to the poor, these men who give these potlatches try to give to the rich instead, so that they may receive their gifts back again." "well," said hugh, "you will find among indians everywhere, that one making a gift to another, or a contribution for any purpose, expects to receive it back again. if a man should die before he had paid back the gift, his relations are required to make it up." "i guess indians are alike everywhere," said fannin. "queer people, queer people." "well," said hugh, "that's just exactly what the indians say about us: 'the white people are queer.'" chapter xii the island deer the next morning, after the canoe had been loaded, hugh said to fannin: "what's the course of the canoe from here? are you going to cross over any of those channels, or shall you follow the shore?" "we'll follow the shore," said fannin. "if this canoe wasn't so heavy we could carry it across this little point and save ourselves three or four miles of paddling, for you see, we've got to go way east and then come back west again, and follow around the bay that lies just over there." "that's just what i thought," said hugh. "now, suppose instead of my going into the canoe, and helping you fellows to paddle, i take it afoot across this neck, and along the shore; and see if i can't kill something. we need meat and there must be lots of deer here, though we've not seen any yet. there's plenty of sign, though." "that's a good idea," said fannin, "and i wish you would do it. you'll have a lot of time to hunt, but keep close to the shore and if you see us coming, get down on the beach and make a fire as a signal for us; otherwise we might overlook and pass you." "all right," said hugh, "i'll do so." "don't you want to go along, jack?" asked mr. fannin. secretly jack did want to go, very much, for he had an idea that hugh would find some game, and that there would be a chance to kill one of these island deer; but on the other hand, he thought he should not shirk his share of the paddling, and that one man could kill any deer that was seen just as well as two. so he said: "no, i'll go in the canoe;" and they pushed off and were soon growing smaller in the distance. hugh started across the open meadow, which lay between them and the other side of the long point. as he passed along through the grass, he saw many deer beds, and a number of tracks of wild animals among which was one in a muddy place, made by an enormous wolf. he walked slowly and watched the country, and at last came to the shore, followed it and was soon walking under the tall evergreens that grew down to the beach. turning into the forest, he moved quietly along among the great tree trunks. the ground was free from undergrowth, and moss covered, and here and there little rivulets trickled over the ground, sometimes bridged by fallen tree trunks, over which great bunches of soft green moss hung down to the ground. here and there, in the moss, were seen the sharply defined tracks of deer, seemingly just made, yet no indication of life was seen, save the occasional shadow of a bird, moving among the tree tops far above him. hugh had gone perhaps half a mile, keeping nearly parallel to the beach, and back from it about a hundred yards, when without warning, a deer stepped out from behind a group of tree trunks, and stood looking curiously at him. there was no wind, and the animal did not seem in the least alarmed. the shot was an easy one, and it was the work of but a few seconds to fire. the animal fell at once, and stepping up to him, hugh found that it was dead. it was very small, scarcely larger than a yearling black-tail of the rocky mountains, although it was a full grown buck. it resembled the rocky mountain black-tail somewhat, but its ears were small and the tail was quite different, being haired below. in a very few moments hugh had prepared the animal for transportation to the beach, and putting it on his back walked down to the shore. the canoe was not yet in sight, and hugh considered a little if it would be better to go on farther to see whether he could get another deer, but after thinking a few moments he determined to be satisfied with the one he had secured. so he built his fire as a signal for the canoe, skinned his deer, and for an hour or two sat waiting. at last a black speck was seen on the water close to the shore of the point, and as it crept forward, it grew larger and larger, until hugh could recognize his fellow travellers. when they came up to him, they wore broad smiles of satisfaction at his success, and when he had stepped on board the canoe went on again. it was not long after this that they were obliged to run seymour narrows, a contracted channel through which the tide boils, making eddies, whirlpools, and tide-rips, and where it was hard to see how a canoe could live. just before reaching it they passed a cliff on valdes island that was full of interest for jack and fannin. the dark gray precipice, crannied and creviced from base to summit, was occupied by a multitude of sea birds which were nesting in the holes and fissures in the rocks. of these, by far the most numerous were the pigeon guillemots, thousands of which were fishing in the waters close to the shore, or flying backward and forward between the water and their secure homes in the rocks. it was a pretty sight to see them diving for food, emerging from the depths with something in their bills, rising from the water, and each one swiftly flying toward some hole in the face of the precipice into which it disappeared without checking its flight; or at the mouth of which it alighted, and, clinging swallow-like to the inequalities of the rock, was met by its mate who took from it the food it had brought. then the bird would leave its position, fly horizontally over the water for a little distance, and drop vertically into the water, striking it with a great splash. the scene was a busy and noisy one, for the birds were continually chattering and calling among themselves. gracefully floating on the water, or winnowing their slow way to and fro over its surface, were white-breasted seagulls of several kinds; and fishing and hunting along the shore were ravens and crows, while white-headed eagles rested in the tall trees. before attempting the passage of seymour narrows, it was necessary to ascertain the stage of the water. to pass the narrows when the tide was against them was obviously impossible; nor would it do to attempt a passage at half tide, even if it were in their favor, for at that time the tossing waters would prove extremely dangerous to the canoe,--so the indians told fannin, and so fannin reported to the others. the bowman and two or three of the party landed near the head of the narrows and climbed high enough on the hillside to see the whole of the sluice-way, and as soon as the indian had looked at it, he turned about and started back, declaring that it was just at the end of the flood, and they should start without delay. to jack, the sight of the boiling water, the tossing waves and hurrying tide-rips seemed rather alarming, but there was no time to think of this. they embarked, and a few strokes of the paddle sent the canoe dashing along the rapid current. for the white occupants of the canoe, there was nothing to do but to paddle hard, each in his own place. it was interesting to watch the skill with which the indians guided the craft. it was of the first importance that steerage way should be kept on the canoe, for there were constant eddies and whirlpools, which must either be avoided or taken advantage of; and yet at the rate at which the craft was being hurried along by the tide, it was not easy to add to her speed. before long, the run became very exciting. hats were torn off and thrown into the bottom of the boat, perspiration started from every brow, and the men tore at their paddles as if their lives depended on it. even hugh, who was rarely moved, seemed to partake of the general excitement and his eye glowed and his color rose as his white hair and beard flew out in the wind. hamset, standing erect, in the bow of the canoe, flourished his mighty paddle, and in his own language shouted directions to jimmie, and in chinook to the remainder of the crew. at length the channel was reached, and here it became evident that the vessel had been a little late in starting; for, meeting the beginning of the ebb-tide, the canoe was checked, and presently it stood still and for nearly half an hour obstinately refused to move forward. but at length the efforts of the paddlers seemed to overcome the current and the boat started on, very slowly at first but fast enough to encourage the motive power. redoubling their efforts they rounded a little point, and taking advantage of a favoring eddy, passed out into quieter water and camped half an hour later in a little bay, which fannin said might fairly be named fatigue bay. that night, after the evening meal had been eaten, there was still an hour or two of daylight; and while fannin and charlie got out their lines and prepared to go fishing, hugh and jack took their rifles and climbed a thousand feet or so up the hillside to look at the view that lay before them, up and down the channel. during the climb they saw fresh bear-tracks and a number of familiar birds,--the louisiana tanager, the black-throated green warbler, and some others. not far away, a ruffed grouse was heard drumming. while perched on the face of the hillside, hugh told jack the simple story of the killing of the deer. "there was no special hunting to it," he said, "i just went through the timber, quietly, and presently the deer walked out and got shot. i didn't even know that it was there, but i'm glad to have the meat." they sat there until the sun had set, delighted with the calm beauty of the scene. in the trees above their heads, the little birds moved about uttering soft, faint notes. up from a ravine on the right came, again and again at short intervals, the vibrating thunder of the ruffed grouse's drumming, low and muttering at first, and finally dying away into the silence. twilight was upon the hill before they returned to camp, and as they picked their way down the steep rocks they heard from the direction of the boat a shot, and then another--both from hamset's rifle, and learned a little later that the indian had been shooting at a seal. fannin and charlie had caught some rock-cod, curious red and black fish with staring eyes, said to live at great depths. as the cliff rose straight up from the water's-edge, and there was no beach on which the canoe could be drawn, it was necessary that night to anchor it at a distance, and the two indians slept in it and chanted their plaintive songs until the middle of the night. around the camp fire the white men sat in silence, watching the strange shadows cast by the dancing flames on the overhanging rocks, or listening to the faintly heard rushing of the waters in the narrows, which they had just passed; or to the moonlight drumming of the grouse on the mountain side above them. it had been a hard day, and there was little inclination to talk. charlie, however, who was gratified at the killing of the deer, commented on that, and on deer hunting in distant lands. "why," said he, "you ought to see them pueblo indians go deer hunting down in arizona! they start off without anything but a knife, and when they find a deer, they just start to run after him and don't stop until they get him." "you don't mean," interrupted jack, "that they run him down?" "they do," said charlie; "run him down, catch him and cut his throat. why, sir, they are the best trailers in the world, and as for travelling, they can kill any horse that was ever foaled. they start after the deer, and when he sees them coming, of course he lights out, and is not seen again for some time. the indians take his trail, and start off at a dog trot, which they can keep up all day. every time they start the deer, he lets them get a little closer, and at last he's so tired that he only keeps a few yards ahead of them, but they keep on until he fairly drops, plum give out! i have known them, when the deer got pretty tired, to turn him and drive him right into the camp and kill him there, to save themselves the trouble of packing in the meat--make the game pack itself, you see." "that's a pretty tough story," said hugh, "but i guess it's all right. i've heard something about those fellows, though i never saw them. i once walked down an antelope, myself, and i wouldn't have believed it, if i hadn't done it. the antelope was wounded, of course. "the camp needed meat the worst way, and nobody seemed to be able to kill anything. there were antelope in the country, but very wild. i started on foot one afternoon, to try to get something, and after travelling two or three miles i looked over a little ridge, and saw three buck antelope feeding up a ravine toward a table-land above the valley where i was hunting. i could easily get around to the head of the ravine up which they were going, and if i could get there before they reached it, i would be sure to kill one of them. i started running as hard as i could, and had got within a quarter of a mile of the ravine, when, on taking a look, i saw that they had nearly reached the top. i was still about a hundred and fifty yards away when i saw the horns of one of them, as he walked up on the mesa. i dropped, and, when i had a fair shot, fired. i ought to have killed of course, but whether it was because i was so anxious to get him, or because i had been running hard and my hand was unsteady, i only broke the buck's hind leg just above the hock. all three started off, but the wounded one soon tailed out and then turned down a broad valley which led into the one up which i had come, but several miles farther from camp. well, i started after that buck, and after a long walk found him lying down in the valley. he saw me and ran off down the valley, long before i was able to shoot. i followed as fast as i could, running till my wind gave out, and then walking till i got it again. whenever i could get near enough, i fired a shot, just to keep him going. at last he grew so tired that he would let me get pretty close up to him before starting, and finally he lay down behind a bank, where i could creep up and kill him. i carried the meat into camp that evening, but when i got there i was so thirsty that i could not speak. my throat was swollen and my tongue was half as big as my fist." "well," said jack, "the antelope is a tough beast and will take a lot of killing, and of course you know better than i do, hugh, that the plains indians always speak of it as the swiftest and most long winded of animals." "yes," said hugh. "a man often ties an antelope's horn round his horse's neck by a string, to make the horse swift and long winded." "i saw a few antelope," said fannin, "when we crossed the plains, but not many, and i never killed one. they are mighty interesting animals, and what always seemed to me the most extraordinary thing about them is that they shed their horns." "yes," said hugh, "that's so, of course, all mountain men have always known that, but i heard only a few years ago that them professors that claim to know everything about all animals only found it out within the last fifteen or twenty years. something strange about that." "yes," said fannin, "but i suppose, maybe, these professors never had a chance to see many antelopes or know much about them." "yes, likely," said hugh. "well," he added, "it's getting late, and i expect we're all ready for bed. let's turn in;" and they did so. the next morning an early start and a full day's paddling carried the travellers to a point known as struggle cove, which they reached several hours before sundown. the country here looked better for hunting than any jack had seen, and he determined to start out to see if he could not find a deer. the woods were open, the ground carpeted, and the trees draped with a luxuriant growth of bright green moss, on which the foot fell as noiselessly as on a cushion. higher up on the mountain side there was the usual tangle of underbrush, but a little valley that skirted its base was comparatively open. as soon as dinner had been eaten jack set out. he had not gone far from camp when he came on to fresh deer tracks, which, after a little, turned up the hill and into the thick brush, where it seemed useless to follow. two or three other tracks were seen, all of which led into the same thick place; but at length he saw one that kept up the valley, and as it had been made but a short time before, he had strong hopes that he should see the deer. he followed the track very slowly and carefully, and as it grew more and more fresh, his caution became greater. he entered a low growth of hemlock, going very slowly, and, just as he was passing out, on the other side, he heard a deer jump, not fifty yards away, and in a moment saw it bound off up the mountain side. he threw up his gun and was just about to press the trigger when the animal stopped and looked back, giving him a certain shot. with the sound of the rifle the deer sank and rolled part way down the hill. this was very satisfactory. they had now two deer--enough to keep them in fresh meat quite a long time, for the weather was so cool that meat would not spoil. the deer taken was a buck, whose horns, still in the velvet, as did also his teeth, showed that he was full grown. yet, compared with the rocky mountain deer that jack had seen, he was quite a small animal. jack was doubtful about his ability to carry the carcase to camp, which was quite distant. but after dressing the deer and removing the head and shanks, he got it on his shoulders and slowly staggered toward the camp. it was a heavy load, and he was often obliged to stop and rest. before he got half way to his destination he was rejoiced to see hugh striding toward him. "well," said hugh, as he came up to where jack was sitting, "i had half a notion that you had killed something, and knew that if you had you would find your meat a pretty heavy load, so i came up to spell you in carrying it in. pretty heavy, isn't it?" "yes," said jack, "it weighs something, and the hardest part about it is to get it upon my back again after i've dropped it off to rest." "well," said hugh, "i'll smoke a pipe, and then take it the rest of the way. i guess i'm something more used to big loads, to say nothing about being some bigger and stronger." after hugh had finished his pipe he swung the deer on his shoulders with hardly an effort, and jack could not help envying him the splendid strength that he displayed. the advent of the second deer in camp was greeted with rejoicing. the indians grinned at the prospect of unlimited meat; charlie was delighted because he knew that the party would rather eat deer than bacon; and fannin and hugh realized that the provisions would hold out just so much longer for this reinforcement of food. it was at this camp that a slight modification of the manner of propelling the canoe was proposed and carried out. when the party had left nanaimo a couple of long, heavy, rough oars of indian manufacture had been thrown into the boat; and during the many days of paddling that had elapsed, the idea had occurred to fannin that if these oars could be used, more power could be applied to them than to two paddles. he therefore consulted with hamset on the question of rigging some rowlocks for the canoe, and this was easily arranged. the indians chose a couple of cedar saplings, each of which had two small branches growing from it on the same side, at right angles to the stem and three or four inches apart. he cut off about six inches of the main stem, trimmed down the side branches to within three inches of their point of outgrowth, and then split the main stem lengthwise so as to leave the branches standing up, looking like two thole pins. with a large awl he punched several holes in the side of the canoe just below the gunwale, and, taking some cedar twigs, warmed them in the ashes of the fire, and when they had become hot and pliable he sewed the piece of wood holding the thole pins firmly to the gunwale, afterward driving wedges beneath it so as to make it tight. this formed a capital rowlock. this was done on both sides of the boat, and thereafter fannin and charlie handled the oars, and their influence was felt at once in the increased speed of the canoe. rowing was much harder work than paddling, but it was also much more effective. the next day, however, the oars were not needed; the wind blew fair, the sail was hoisted, and the party ran through cardero channel and up loughborough inlet to its head, camping late in the afternoon. the scenery was very beautiful, with rounded or dome-shaped mountains timbered to their summits, and occasionally a sharp granite peak which ran up much higher and was covered with snow. the hills stood back at some distance from the water, and thus looked lower than they really were. it was not easy to find a good place to camp here. the meadow at the head of the inlet looked as if it might shelter many mosquitoes, but a little farther down the inlet was a flat, grass-grown but dangerously near to high-water mark. fannin shook his head doubtfully when he looked it over, for on the grass were a few fragments of seaweed; though the fresh meadow grass seemed to show that the flat was seldom covered by the tide. camp was made, and after supper fannin and both of the indians started off to look for game. jack and hugh were keeping camp, when suddenly jack observed that the water was rising higher than had been expected, and it was soon evident that a few inches more would cover the flat. they waited for a little while, in the hope that it would recede, but presently all hands had to rush about to keep things from getting wet. it took but a short time to roll up the bedding and carry it into the forest, to pull down the tent and to lift the provisions and mess kit up on drift logs. half an hour later camp had been remade in the forest, and six inches of water covered the flat where they had expected to sleep. chapter xiii an adventure of the cassiar the next morning the canoe started down the inlet, following the opposite shore. as they rounded a point of rocks, a few miles below the camp, they saw standing on the rocks close to the shore two deer, a buck and a doe. the sun was yet low, directly behind the canoe, and in the eyes of the deer. the deer saw the vessel, but did not seem able to make it out. the various members of the party got their rifles in readiness and put them where they could be easily reached, and then continued their steady paddling toward the deer. they had come to within a hundred and fifty yards of them, and might have pushed much nearer had not one of the indians fired a shot. this was the signal for a general fusillade, the result of which was--nothing. it is very often a fact that when several men are firing at one object it is missed by all. there is always a little excitement; each man is anxious to fire as soon as he can, for he is nervous and wishes himself to kill the game. the hurry and confusion throws every one a little off his balance, and the result is poor shooting. after the deer had disappeared into the forest, and the paddling had been resumed, hugh said: "well, i expect i've seen that happen fifty times. when you get a lot of men shooting at a group of animals they almost always get clear off, or if one of them is killed it's just an accident. i remember once seeing half a dozen antelope gallop by not more than fifty yards from a company of soldiers that were halted, and i believe every man fired half a dozen shots and not a hair was touched." "yes," said fannin, "you take even a couple of men who know each other, and who try to fire at game at the same time, and the result is always likely to be a miss; and if there are a lot of men firing at will they send their bullets in every direction except the right one." jack felt mortified at his failure to hold his gun as he felt he should have; but he was a little consoled to think that he had done no worse than the two older hunters who had also been shooting. charlie, on the other hand, not having a gun, seemed to be quite delighted with the result and did not hesitate to deride the other members of the party on their bad shooting. at the mouth of the inlet and between that point and philip's arm the tide was running very strong. the canoe had a fine sailing breeze behind it, the sails were spread, and the men worked hard at the paddling, but they were barely able to overcome the tide. jack was interested in the appearance of the current as it ran through the narrow channel. he could see that the surface of the water, instead of being level as we always suppose it to be, was here inclined, and that the water was evidently higher at the point from which it came than at the point toward which it was flowing--in other words, it was like the water in a stream flowing from a high level to a lower one. jack called hugh's attention to this singular appearance, and hugh at first hardly believed that it could be so. but, after carefully looking, he acknowledged that it seemed to be. fannin said that this was often the case in these narrow channels where the tide ran swiftly. just before they reached philip's arm the wind fell, and all save the indians landed on the shore, and, tying a rope to the bow of the boat, pulled it up around the last point into the quiet water beyond. here they took to the paddles again, and went on until dark, for some time looking in vain for a place where they could camp. the shore rose steeply from the water, and there was no place for one to spread his blankets. at last, quite after dark, as they were coasting along the shore, the sound of the running water was heard; and, landing near the mouth of the creek, they found a bit of moderately level ground. now, by the light of the fire, brush, stumps and rocks were cleared away and holes filled up, so that a comfortable night was passed. the next morning there was a fine breeze, and with some help from the paddles the canoe made good progress. during the day the mouth of two broad but short arms of the sea were passed, which fannin told them were frederick's and philip's arms. they enter the coast between mountains three or four thousand feet high, and are spots of great beauty. about the middle of the morning jack saw a couple of canoes, each of which held two or three indian women. jack asked fannin who these people were, and fannin appealed to hamset, who told him that they were women who had been gathering berries. while they were still a long way off hamset hailed the women with a curious singing call, and they replied with the same call, faintly heard across the waters. as the canoe approached the shore there was much conversation between the indians who chattered at a great rate. they all seemed disposed to stop and visit for a while, but fannin was anxious to push on, and after a few inquiries of one of the women about the rapids which were just ahead, the vessels parted company. long after the canoes were out of ear-shot of ordinary conversation the indians continued their talking to each other, in musical tones, laughing at each other's jokes as they came across the ever widening stretch of water. soon after leaving the indians, the canoe reached the mouth of a narrow channel through which ran a rapid, swifter than any yet seen. the passage was less than a hundred yards in width, and the water, so far as it could be seen ahead, presented to the eye nothing but a milk-white torrent, whose tossing waves were from three to five feet high. the indians seemed to hesitate a little about running this rapid, and both went ashore and followed down the bank for a little way, looking for the best course to follow. on their return they said that the passage might be made, and in a few moments the canoe was darting over the white water. all that could be done was to keep her straight. her motion was so rapid that it was quite impossible to feel the water with the paddles. while it lasted the run was quite exciting; but it was soon over, for the channel was only half a mile in length, and there was but little time to think about their possible danger or the pleasure of the passage. to jack it was a delightfully exhilarating ride, and there was enough uncertainty to it, a possibility of danger, in fact, which made it the most exciting experience of the trip. as the canoe moved slowly along over the stretch of quiet water at the foot of the rapids jack happened to glance over the side of the canoe, and saw, lying quietly on the white sand, a large school of beautiful trout. the fish were very large, some of them apparently a foot and a half long. he felt a great longing to stop there and take some of these fish, but they all felt that they had no time now to go fishing. the trout paid no attention to the craft, lying perfectly motionless, except when its shadow fell upon them. then they moved slowly away into the sunlight. threading its way among the beautiful islands which dotted cardero channel, the canoe moved slowly along until a point was reached where its course must be changed from southeast to northwest, to pass through the narrow passage between the mainland and stuart island, through arran rapid and then up into bute inlet. here there had been a fishing station for dog-fish--small sharks, valuable only for the oil that their liver contains, and destructive to all fish life. for some distance the shore was strewn with the carcases of dog-fish captured by the indians; and in some places the trees were almost black with the crows and ravens which had gathered here in great numbers to feed on the dead fish. the birds were very tame indeed, and often sat indolently on a limb, under which the canoe was passing. cocking their heads to one side they looked down on the travellers in an unconcerned and impudent fashion that was amusing or provoking according to the mood of the individual at whom they were gazing. at the head of the bay, just beyond the point where the ravens were so plenty, is an indian village where nearly a hundred years before the explorer vancouver had spent a winter during his voyage along this coast. the village is at the head of a deep bay. a beautiful clear stream of ice-cold water runs by it, and there is a considerable area of arable land on either side of the stream. the canoe stopped here, for the indians who were navigating it said that they wished to inquire of their friends about the passage of the rapids just ahead. as they waited, jack noticed running across the bay a number of small logs in a line, and finally inquired of fannin what this meant, and fannin asked the indians. after some little conversation fannin turned to jack and said: "why, that's a line running across the bay from one side to the other, and supported, as you see, by these log floats. about every twenty feet or so, smaller lines, six feet in length, and each one carrying a baited hook, hang down from the main line. you can easily see that as this main line runs right across the bay, no fish can get up or down without passing the baits. i expect they catch a whole lot of fish." "why," said hugh, "there's something that looks like home! that's nothing but a trot line, such as i've seen a thousand times when i was a boy back in kentucky. it's a sure good way of catching cat fish, but i never would have expected to see it out in this country and among these indians." beyond this village the canoe, after passing the very noticeable mountain which stretches across stuart island, and which looks like a high wall built along the coast, ran arran rapids. before entering the passage the party landed and climbed the hills, from which the whole stretch of troubled waters could be seen. to jack and hugh, and possibly to fannin, the prospect seemed rather terrible, and the roar of the torrent was not assuring. in some places the water was tossed up as if by a heavy gale, and white-capped waves reared snowy crests high in the air. near such an area of agitation were seen other spaces where deep whirlpools sucked away the water, leaving their centres much lower than the neighboring level; and scattered about among the waves and whirlpools were other stretches of water less violently agitated, where the green oil-like fluid rolled over and over with a slow, repressed motion. all the time the dull roar or a muffled moaning rose from the channel. "this," said fannin, "is what the indians call a '_skookumtsook_'" (strong water). the indians were watching the flood, waiting for the proper time to make a start, and at last hamset rose and led the way down to the canoe. the tide was just at the full; and at the end of the rapids the ebb was met and a hard struggle ensued, the paddles and oars flying as fast as they could. the canoe began to go backward, and as it slowly yielded to the irresistible force, hamset, the bowman, turned and shouted that they must make for the shore. they did so, and when they had nearly reached it he turned again and declared that a present must be given to the water or they would all be drowned; but before this sacrifice had been made, a few strokes carried the vessel into an eddy, which enabled it to creep along close to the shore until the more quiet water at the mouth of bute inlet was reached. just after leaving the rapids they came upon an indian camp, whose people had come down from their main village at the head of the inlet. the canoe pushed to shore to enable the travellers to talk with the people of the camp, and to make inquiries about the inlet, and what was to be found at its head. the indians had pleasant faces and manners, and seemed a kindly folk, much interested in the movements of the three "boston men," for they were quick to recognize hugh, jack, and charlie as different from fannin. they said that their village stood on a flat at the head of the inlet where the homalko river entered it. on the mountains about the village they said there was much ice, and that a trail led from the village to one of these glaciers. "now," they said, "our houses are empty, all our people being scattered along the coast fishing." this camp was the last to start out to try its luck. for provisions they had a porpoise, which they had killed on the way down, some herring, and one twenty-five pound salmon. charlie, who discovered the salmon, seized it at once, and lifted it up to view; and hugh, who was always amused at charlie's interest in the question of eatables, joked him about the way he "froze to" the fish, which fannin presently bought for "four bits" or half a dollar. a little later hugh, who was wandering about the camp, called jack, and pointed out to him one of the rakes with which the indians caught herrings. it was just as the sailor had described it to them when they were on the steamer; and it was easy to see how the keen points of the nails which projected from either edge of the pole could pierce and hold the herring. after they had left the village of the friendly homalko indians the canoe moved slowly along up the inlet, and an hour or two before sunset made camp on a gravelly beach two or three miles above the amor point. near camp there were a few trees, and noticeable among them a tall dead spruce, in which was a huge eagle's nest. from the time of their arrival until dark one of the eagles was coming and going, bringing food to the whistling young, whose voices were plainly heard and whose movements were sometimes seen. no feature of this coast was more interesting or more surprising to jack than the abundance of the eagles. they were seen everywhere and at all times. sometimes during the morning fifteen or twenty of the great birds were passed, and half a dozen of their nests. jack talked with fannin about their abundance. "of course they're plenty," said fannin, "and there's no reason why they shouldn't be. you see they're absolutely without enemies; no one ever thinks of injuring them, and none die except from old age or accident. they breed undisturbed, and there is, as you have seen, an unending supply of food. why shouldn't they increase? i can fancy that a time might come when the eagles would be so abundant here as to be a pest. though, just what harm they could do, it is hard to say. i hate an eagle, myself, and would be glad to destroy them all if i could; but then, i have a special reason for it." that night, as they were sitting about the fire, jack asked fannin what his reason was for disliking the eagles; and after a little hesitation fannin told him a story. "it was back in the sixties," he said; "and i had joined the rush to cassiar, and my partner and myself had struck a prospect late in the summer. it looked well, and we held on until too late. the snow came, and fell heavily, and we made up our minds that we would have to winter there, yet we had practically nothing to eat. we had built a cabin, but it was not fitted up for winter, and there was no stock of provisions. the question was, what should we do? if we started to go back to our own cabin, two hundred miles away, where our main supplies were stored, we could probably get there on short commons. on the other hand, this would mean wintering away from our prospect, doing no work on it through the winter, and wasting some weeks of time in spring to get back to it. on the other hand, if one of us stayed in the cabin with what provisions we had, and the other went back and got a fresh supply, we could winter by the prospect, work on it during the winter, and be on hand in the spring to push the summer work. this seemed the best thing for us to do. then came the question: 'who should go for the grub?' we were both willing to go. there was no special choice between going and staying. the man who stayed behind would have a pretty lonesome time of it, but would have enough to occupy him. the man who went would have a lonely time, too, but he would be travelling constantly and working hard. we could not make up our minds which should go, and finally we drew lots for it, and it fell to me to go. i took my snowshoes and toboggan and some grub, and started. as i would be gone some weeks, most of the food must be left with my partner, and i could depend in some sort on my rifle. i should have no time to hunt, but there was always some likelihood of running on game. "i started early one morning, and that afternoon it began to snow, and it kept on snowing for four days. i travelled slowly, for the ground was covered deep with a light, fluffy snow, on which snowshoes were not much good; and it was hard to haul the toboggan. moreover, the ground being hidden, i could not choose my way, and two or three times i got among rocks and timber, and broke one of my snowshoes. that meant a halt to mend it--a further delay. it was soon evident that i was going to run short of food. i kept going as fast as i could, and kept a good lookout for game, but saw nothing, in fact, not even a track. "about the tenth day out i saw one of these eagles roosting on a tree in the trail ahead of me; and, without seeming to notice it, i pressed on, thinking that before long i would be near enough to kill it, and that would give me so much more food. before i came within reach, however, it left its perch and soared into the air. but instead of flying away, it merely wheeled high over the valley; and at night, when i went into camp, it alighted in a tree not far off, and sat watching me. this continued for days, and all the time my grub allowance was growing smaller. i cut myself down first to half rations and then to quarter rations. i was beginning to grow weak, and still had a long distance to go before reaching our cabin. two or three times when the eagle had flown near me i had shot at it on the wing, hoping to kill it; but with no result except to call forth the whistling cry, which some writer has described as a 'maniac laugh.' "what with my hunger, my weakness, and my loneliness, it got so after a while that that eagle got on my nerves. i began to think that it was following me; just watching and waiting for me to get weak, and stumble, and fall, and freeze to death; and that then it would have a good meal off me. i began to think it was an evil spirit. every day i saw it, every day i looked for a chance to kill it, and every day it swung over me in broad circles and laughed at my misery. "i had now been travelling twenty days and knew that i must be getting close to the cabin. my grub was all gone, and i could hardly stagger along; but i still clung to my toboggan, for i knew that without that i couldn't take food back to my partner; and the thought of him back there at work on short allowance, and sure to starve to death unless i got back to him, added to my trouble. "at last one day about noon i came in sight of the cabin, just able to stagger, but still dragging the toboggan, which had nothing on it except my blanket and a little package of ammunition. i went up to the cabin door, opened it, went in and partly closed the door, leaving a crack through which i could watch for the eagle. i hoped that he would stop on one of the big trees near the cabin, and watch for me to come out. he did so, lighting on a limb about a hundred yards from the door. he made a big mark. i put the rifle through the crack, steadied it against the jamb, took as careful a sight as i ever took at anything, and pulled the trigger. when the gun cracked, the eagle spread his wings, soared off, and taking one turn over the valley, threw back his head, laughing at me. he sailed away over the mountains, and i never saw him again. "two or three full meals put heart into me once more, and with a good load of food, i started back to my partner. although the way was all uphill, i got to him in about two weeks. on the way back i killed two deer and some rabbits, and did not have to break into the load of provisions on my toboggan. when i reached him, i found that he was living in plenty. he had killed four caribou that had wandered down close to the cabin one night, and still had the carcases of two hung up, frozen. since that time i have never had any use for eagles." chapter xiv bute inlet bute inlet is the most remarkable as well as the most beautiful of the larger fiords of the british columbia coast. its great length and the height of the mountains that wall it in make it unequalled. nowhere at the sea-level can such stupendous mountains be seen so near at hand, nor such sublime views be had. at its mouth the inlet is only about a mile in width, and in its widest portion it is not more than two and a half miles. at the entrance, the hills are not especially high or rugged, but rise from the water in a series of rounded undulations. densely wooded to their summits, they roll away in smooth green waves to the higher more distant mountains of the interior. no sharp pinnacles of granite nor dark frowning precipices interrupt the green of the forests. the dome-shaped hills come into view one after another, always smooth and ever green. the scene is one of quiet picturesque beauty. a little farther up the inlet the scenery changes. the shores rise more abruptly from the water's edge, but though the mountains increase in height the soft green foliage of firs and cedars still rises toward the summits in an unbroken sweep. then masses of rock lift themselves above the timber line, glittering in the sunlight as though studded with jewels, or when shadowed by clouds frowning down cold, black, and forbidding. soon patches of snow begin to appear on the mountains; at first visible only as narrow white lines nestling in the deeper ravines, but farther along large snow banks came into view and before long extensive snow fields are seen, glittering white on the summits, or even down among the green of the mountain sides. the canoe started early and a fair wind enabled them to set the sail and to sit back at ease all through the long day and view undisturbedly the enchanting scenery which they were passing. jack had often heard his uncle describe a trip that he had made to norway, and his journey up some of the fiords of that rock-bound coast. as he now watched the shore and the mountains of bute inlet slip by, these descriptions were constantly brought to his mind. scarcely less impressive than the wonderful cliffs and mountains that he was seeing, were the beautiful streams, fed by the melting of the perpetual snow high upon the hills. these streams plunged over the precipices in beautiful falls and cascades. long before the water reached the rocks below, it was broken up into finest spray; and a white veil of mist waved to and fro before the black rocks, in fantastic and ever changing shapes. here the mountains had become much higher than any they had approached before. instead of peaks from twenty-five hundred to four thousand feet in height, they were close to those that reached an altitude of six or eight thousand feet. one of these was mt. powell, a naked peak stretching up like a pyramid, more than six thousand feet high; and farther on there were others still higher. the first of the glaciers was seen just to the north of fawn bluff, and was recognized by hugh, who called out to jack: "there, son, there's a chunk of ice. don't you see how it shines, blue in the sunlight, just like one of the glaciers that we got sight of in the piegan country?" "so it is, hugh. i recognize it. my! don't i wish we could get up close to it; but it's awful high on the mountains and terribly thick timber below it." "yes," said hugh, "i reckon it would be quite a climb to get up there." "how different these mountains are," said jack, "from our rockies. they rise so much more steeply; but like the rockies, there is a big cliff of wall rock on the top of each one of them." "yes," said hugh, "in the mountains that we see from the plains the slope is more gradual; first foot hills, and then a long timber slope, and then lastly the rocky peaks that rise above the timber line. but here there are no foot-hills, and there are no gradual rising slopes between us and the main peaks. a man's eye doesn't get a chance to adapt itself to the highest hills by measuring the gentler slopes that are nearer to him. here the mountains rise either in a continual slope or else in a series of cut walls, one above the other, to the straight up peaks. i don't believe the distance on foot to one of these mountains is more than twice the mountain's height. i don't believe many people that have not been here have had a chance to stand at the sea-level and look straight up to a snow peak right above them as high as these are. that is what makes these mountains seem so high and so wonderful." a few moments later the canoe rounded a point and a long reach of the inlet was exposed to view. "there," said fannin, "look off to the right! there's something that i don't think many people have seen." "my! i guess not!" exclaimed jack. off to the right was a tall mountain whose summit was hidden, but which seemed to end in a long horizontal crest crowned by a wavy covering of palest blue, the lower end of a great glacier. it could be conjectured that, running down from some very high point, this river of ice reached the top of this mighty precipice, and little by little was pushed over, breaking off in huge masses, which, from time to time, fell over the cliff and down into the hidden recesses at its foot, where possibly another smaller glacier made up of these icy fragments ran, for a little way, down the valley. "look at those little grassy spots scattered here and there along the mountain side," said fannin; "how are those for goat pastures? how bright those little meadows are by contrast with the dark foliage of the forest, the gray of the rocks, and the white of the snow banks. those must be great feeding places for the goats, and there, i guess, they are never bothered except by the eagles that try to catch the kids. surely there they must be safe from everything except enemies that can fly. except for the goats and the wood-chucks, i don't believe there are any living things up there but birds. i'll bet there are lots of ptarmigan up there, brown in summer and white in winter. the little mother bird scratches out a hollow in the turf and moss near some fringe of willows, and lays her brown spotted eggs there, which by this time are hatched. the young are queer, downy little chicks, buff in color, and streaked here and there with brown. you would hardly think it possible that they could stand the cold winds, the fogs, the rain, and the snows that they must be exposed to." "did you ever find a nest, mr. fannin?" asked jack. "yes," said fannin, "when we crossed the mountains on our way from the east, nearly twenty years ago, i found the nest of a white-tailed ptarmigan high up on the range, but i have never seen a nest of these black-tailed ptarmigan, such as we killed up on the head of the north arm. once or twice, though, i have come across a mother with her young ones, and i tell you the mother is a plucky bird. if you catch one of the young birds she will come back and attack you and make a pretty good fight. i have had one come up to my very feet and then fly against my legs, pecking at my overalls and rapping my legs with her wings, trying to frighten me into letting the young one go; and, of course, i always did it after i had finished looking at it." "i don't suppose there's much game up here," said hugh to fannin, "except these goats that live high up in the mountains. it seems too cold and damp here for anything like deer." "well," said fannin, "i don't know much about that. i, myself, have never been here before, and bute inlet is as strange to me and just as beautiful as it is to you." while all this talk was going on the canoe, pushed along by a good wind, had been hurrying up the inlet. they passed one great gorge between two mountains, so nearly straight that, as they looked up at it, they could see on the mountain's crest a great glacier; and, pouring out beneath it, a thundering torrent, which rushed down the gorge toward the inlet. from beneath the blue mountains of ice a tiny white thread ran down the slope, constantly increasing in size, its volume swollen by a hundred lesser streams which joined it on its way. always a torrent, and always milky white, it swept on, sometimes running along an even slope, at others leaping down precipices a hundred feet high, now undermining a thick crust of soil green with spruces, again burrowing beneath snowdrifts which almost filled the gorge. long before they came to it they heard the roar of its fall; and as they passed its mouth they could not hear the words that one called to the other. the rush of this great mass of water jack thought enough to frighten one. when they reached the mouth of the homalko river, at the head of the inlet, the sun had disappeared and the great walls of rock about them cast dark shadows. the peaks of the mountains were still touched by the sun, and the snow took on a rosy tint; and even the black granite walls were lightened and softened by a ruddy glow. but over the snow fields, on the high mountains, the rock walls and peaks cast strange, long shadows. as the sun sank lower and lower these shapes seemed to lengthen and to march along as if alive. slowly this glow faded, until only the highest peaks were touched by it; and then, one by one, as they grew dull, twilight, with stealthy footstep, cast shadows that softened and blended the harsher outlines of the scene. at the mouth of the homalko river began a couple of miles of long, hard pulling against its hurrying current. at last, however, after winding through wide meadows and among clumps of willows, they saw before them an open spot, and presently the houses of the indian village appeared, standing close to the border of the timbered stream. soon they had landed close to the houses, transferred their load to their shelter, and lifted the canoe up onto the meadow. the day had been one of excitement, if not of continued effort, and all were tired and hungry. moreover, as soon as the river had been entered, vast swarms of mosquitoes attacked them and made life miserable. happily, the insects did not enter the siwash house that they had appropriated, but any one who ventured out of doors was at once attacked. that night the party went to bed with little delay, hoping to spend the next two or three days in an investigation of the mountains that walled in the narrow river valley on both sides. when jack awoke next morning he saw that it was daylight,--gray dawn, as he thought,--and he turned over and settled himself for another nap, to await charlie's announcement that breakfast was nearly ready. a little later some movement awakened him, and when he opened his eyes he saw fannin standing by the fire already dressed. jack asked: "is it time to turn out, mr. fannin?" but mr. fannin, with an expression of much disgust on his usually cheerful countenance, answered briefly: "you can sleep all day, if you want to." "what do you mean?" said jack, in some astonishment. "mean?" replied fannin; "why, it's raining, and you can't see across the river." jack hardly understood what this meant, but as he got up to dress he heard the heavy patter of rain on the building, and when he looked out of doors he saw that the valley was full of a white fog, almost thick enough to be cut with a knife. nothing could be seen of the surrounding mountains, the mist hid everything except a few yards of muddy water by the house, and the lower branches of the forest behind it. it was useless to venture out of doors, because nothing could be seen. it would have been folly to attempt to climb the mountains in such a fog. the rain continued all day long, and the white men sat around the fire and smoked and talked and grumbled. the indians had a better time. immediately after breakfast they returned to their blankets and went to sleep. after lunch they slept again until dinner was ready, and after dinner they went to bed for the night. every little while one of the white men would go to the door in the hope that he might see some sign of fair weather, but none greeted him. the second day at the indian village was like the first; it rained all day long, and this was followed by a third day of downpour. there seemed no prospect that the rain would ever stop. fresh provisions had given out, and the party was once more reduced to bread and bacon. the fourth morning it was still raining, and, after consultation, it was determined that the bow of the canoe should be turned down the inlet and that they should seek fairer weather on the more open water of the gulf. to all hands it was a disappointment to go away without seeing something of the mountains they had so much admired at a distance. but the flight of time and the scarcity of provisions made it seem necessary to proceed on their way. accordingly, on the morning of the fourth day the canoe was loaded and the travellers clad in oil skins and rubber coats, headed down the homalko river. the rain still fell with the steady persistent pour of the last few days, the mountain sides were veiled with a thick mist, and the party had only the memories of the wonderful beauties of the sail up the inlet to console them, as they swung their paddles on the return journey. the mountain climbing, the exploration of the glaciers, the views of the towering snow-clad heights, and the hunting of the sure-footed goats--these pleasures must all be abandoned. so they paddled down the inlet through the fog, with nothing to see and with nothing to do but to paddle. during the next two days the weather continued bad, with wind and rain. the party camped at clipper point on bute inlet and at deceit bay on redonda island. on the third day, near white island, a heavy gale sprang up, blowing from the quarter toward which the canoe was headed, and the paddlers not only were unable to paddle against it, but could not even hold their own. it was therefore necessary to land, unload the canoe, and take it up on the beach out of reach of the waves, and to wait until the wind went down. fresh meat was still needed, and hugh, jack, and fannin started out to see whether they could get anything. the country was a pleasant one to hunt in, and consisted of open ridges with bushy ravines between, and a little scattering timber on the ridges. deer and bear signs were plentiful, and jack was much interested in noticing the great size of the stones turned over by the bears in their search for worms, bugs, and ant eggs. one large piece of granite, lately turned out of its bed by a bear, was not less than two feet in any direction, and so heavy that jack could not stir it. jack was walking quietly along a ridge, watching on either side of him, when a small buck that he had passed unseen, ran out of the brush and half way up the slope of the ravine, and stopped to look back. it was a fatal error, for a moment later jack's ball pierced his heart. like all the deer here, this one was small. jack remembered his struggle with a previous deer, and only attempted to carry half of it into camp. when he got there he sent one of the indians for the remainder. hugh had also killed a small deer, which he had brought into camp; and so, for the present, all anxiety about fresh meat was at an end. they had a good dinner that night. after it was over, they lounged in much comfort around the crackling blaze, for the rain had gone with the gales that had blown, and the night was fair and cool. "hugh," said jack, "you must have seen bears feeding often, and i wish you would tell me how they do it. of course i've seen places where they have torn logs to pieces, and turned over stones; and the other day i saw that black bear gathering berries up on the river at the head of the north arm, but that's the only bear that i've seen feeding. i wish you'd tell me how you've seen bears act when they were feeding." "well," said hugh, as he pushed down the fire in his pipe with the end of his forefinger, "that's asking me to tell you a good deal. i've happened to see bears feeding a number of times; but, of course, usually i was more interested in killing the bear than i was in seeing how it gathered its grub, and when the time came for a good shot, i fired." "yes," said jack, "that is natural and i suppose that is just what i would have done; but i can't help wondering how the bears, which are such big, strong fellows, living as everybody says, on berries, mice, beetles, and ants, ever get enough to eat to keep themselves alive; and yet, as i understand it, they always go into their holes fat, in the autumn." "so they do, so they do," assented hugh. "well," said jack, "tell me, then, how do they keep themselves alive?" "that's hard to tell," said hugh. "of course, on the plains, as long as there are buffalo, the bears get a plenty. there are always buffalo dying of old age, being mired in the quicksand, drowned in the rivers, blinded by fire, or killed by the wolves; and the bears, being great travellers, come across these carcases all the time, and feed on them. then, of course, they catch buffalo sometimes, by crawling on them through the brush; and at other times, by hiding near a buffalo trail and grabbing an animal that goes past. you've surely heard wolf eagle tell about the big fight that he saw once up in the piegan country, between a buffalo bull and a bear, and if you have, you will remember that the bull killed the bear." "yes," said jack, "i think i heard of that, but don't know that the story was ever told me in detail; what was it?" "why, the way wolf eagle tells it, he was cached down near a little creek waiting for a bunch of buffalo to come to the water, so that he might kill one. they came on, strung out one after another, and had got nearly down to the edge of the water when, as they were passing under a cut bank, a bear that was lying on the ledge of this bank jumped down on the leading heifer and caught her around the neck. of course, the buffalo all scattered, and the bear was trying to bite the heifer and kill her, and she was trying to get away. in a minute, however, a big bull came charging down the trail, and butted the bear, knocking him down and making him let go the heifer. then there was a big fight, and one which scared the indian a whole lot, so much that he did not dare to show himself, as he would have had to, to get away. the bull kept charging the bear, and every time he struck him fairly he knocked him down; and every time the bull charged, the bear struck at him and tried to catch him by the head and to hold him, but this he could not do. they fought there for quite a little time, both of them fierce, and both of them quick as lightning. after a while, the bear had had all the fight that he wanted, and tried to get away, but the bull wouldn't have it. he kept knocking him down and goring him, until at last he had killed him. even after the bear was dead, the bull would charge the carcase, and stick his horns in it and lift it off the ground. the indian said that the bull was a sight: that he didn't have any skin on his head and shoulders, but that he was mad clear through, and seemed to be looking around for something else to fight. wolf eagle was almighty glad when at last the bull went off and joined the band." "that's a mighty good story, hugh," said jack. "i guess in those old days, bears killed a good deal of game, didn't they?" "i expect likely they did," said hugh. "i know that whenever you hear any story about anything a bear has done, the indians speak of his killing something. you remember old white calf robe? you must have seen him in the camp. he was there two years ago at the medicine lodge. i remember him there, distinctly." "no," said jack, "i don't think i do remember him." "well," said hugh, "he tells a story about being carried home by a bear, one time, many years ago, after he had been wounded in war. i don't doubt but that the old man believes that he is telling the plain truth, just as it happened; but in that story, he travelled along with a bear and a wolf, and i know that he says that the bear killed an elk for him to eat, and i think the wolf killed something for him, too, but i can't be sure. "but of course," hugh went on, "bears don't get very much meat. certainly they don't live on meat, by any means. when they first come out in the spring, they generally travel pretty high up on the bare ridges, and live largely on the fresh green grass that starts early on the hillsides. they are always on the watch for mice and ground squirrels, and they dig out a good many wood-chucks, but i fancy their main food is grass. then, a little later, roots start up which they like to gather,--pomme-blanche, camas, and a whole slew of other plants,--and that carries them along pretty well until the berry time. in the early summer i have seen them in little mountain parks, digging out mice or ground squirrels. a bear will see where a mouse or ground squirrel has a run close to the surface of the ground, and if his nose or any other sense tells him that it is inhabited, he will quickly run his paw along the tunnel, digging it up, and if the animal happens to be there, throwing it out on the surface of the earth. then it is fun to see a big bear that will weigh three or four hundred pounds, and maybe twice as much, dancing around and striking the ground with his paws to try to kill the little animal that is dodging about, trying to get away. you'd never think how mighty active a bear can be under those circumstances. "when berry time comes the bears spend a great deal of time around the sarvis berry patches, the plum thickets, and the choke-cherry groves; and every now and then a number of indian women gathering berries, will run across one, and the women will get scared half to death, and light out for camp. once in a long time an indian gathering berries will suddenly come on a bear, and the bear will kill him; or, perhaps, sometimes an old bear that is mean will lay for an indian, and kill him just for fun. "the indians say that when the sarvis berries are ripe, bears will ride down the taller bushes, pressing the stems down under their breasts, and walking along them with their forelegs on either side of the stem. i never saw them do it, but i've seen plenty of places where the bushes have been ridden down in this way, and had bear hair stuck to them. i once saw a mother and some cubs picking huckleberries high up in the mountains during fall. they walked about from one bush to another, and seemed to be picking the berries one by one, though i was so far away that i couldn't tell much about it. "it's fun to see them turn over stones, and they're mighty cute about it, too. now, if you or i have occasion to turn over a stone, the chances are we'll stoop over it, take hold of it by its farther edge, and pull it over toward us, and of course, unless we straddle it or watch it pretty close, we're likely to drop it on our toes; but a bear always turns a stone over not toward himself, but to one side. he gets his hind feet well under him, braces one fore foot, and then with the other fore foot turns over the stone, swinging it out from him to one side, and after he has finished the motion, he drops his head into the bed where the stone lay and gobbles up whatever insects are there. sometimes he makes a claw or two with one foot into the bed, perhaps to turn up the ground to see whether there are some insects below the surface, or to see if there may be the hole of some little animal passing close beneath the stone." "that's mighty interesting, hugh," said jack, "and i am greatly obliged to you for telling us about it. now, mr. fannin, have you seen much of the way bears of this country feed?" "no," said fannin, "i have not. you see in this country we don't have a chance to see very far. it's all covered with timber, and it's only once in a while, in such a situation as we got to the other day when we were goat hunting, that we have an opportunity to see any considerable distance. so, really, all that i know about the feeding of bears is what i have discovered from cutting them open and seeing the contents of their stomachs. i told you the other day about how the bears sometimes came in and carried off hogs for us." "yes," said jack, "i remember that, of course. hugh," he went on, "where are bears most plenty back in our country?" "well," said hugh, "there are a good many bears along the missouri river, and in the low outlying ranges like the moccasin, judith, snowy, and belt mountains, but i think the places where they are the plentiest is along the foot of the big horn range. you take it in the early summer, there's a terrible lot of bears to be found there." "and which are the most plentiful, the black or the grizzly?" asked jack. "why," said hugh, "there's no comparison. the grizzlies outnumber the blacks about three to one, i should say. black bears in that country are mighty scarce." "and in this country," said fannin, "you can say the same of the grizzly." chapter xv the work that glaciers do the next morning the sea was as calm and placid as if its surface had never been ruffled by a gale, and the canoe pushed along at a good rate of speed. during the early part of the afternoon jack saw on a long, low rock, close to which the canoe would pass, a number of shore birds, running here and there, busily feeding at the edge of the water, but did not recognize them, and asked fannin what they were. after a close look, fannin replied: "those here are turnstones; those others seem to be black oyster catchers." "oh!" said jack, "try and kill some of them please. i have never seen either bird. i know the oyster catcher of the atlantic coast, for i have seen several that were killed on long island. i should like to have some of these birds in my hand." fannin got his gun ready and presently fired both barrels at the birds, and in a few moments jack was admiring them, and comparing each sort with its corresponding species of the atlantic coast. before the gun was fired, he had noticed that the oyster catchers acted very much like those he had seen on long island. they had the same sharp whistle and ran along the shore in the same way; but these in his hand were entirely black, while those that he had seen in the east were brownish with much white, and only a little black. during the day they saw many old squaw ducks, which jack knew in the east only as winter birds. about the middle of the afternoon the wind rose again, and began to blow so violently that it was necessary to go ashore and camp. at the point where they landed, deer seemed to be plenty, and the beach was dotted in many places with their tracks, made during the day. the recent rains, however, had made the underbrush quite wet, and as there was plenty of fresh meat in camp, there seemed no special reason for hunting. during the night a deer passed along the beach near the tent, and when he had come close to the place where charlie had made his bed, the animal saw the tent or smelt its occupants, stopped and stood for a while, and then jumped over charlie, running off with long bounds, into the forest. the next morning the wind still blew hard, and it was uncertain whether the party could get away or not. the two indians therefore asked permission to hunt, and fannin loaned his rifle to jimmie. an hour or two later hamset returned without anything; but a little later jimmie came in with a broad grin on his face, his clothes in tatters. he was soaked to the skin, but in a high state of delight, for he had killed a deer--his first. he was quite exhausted, for he had carried the animal quite a long way through the woods down to the beach, where he had left it, unable to bring it farther. fannin and charlie at once went off to get it; and while they were gone, the boy, in a mixture of chinook, english, and signs, told hugh and jack the story of his hunt. he had gone a long way through the forest, but at last had seen a deer feeding, and crept up close to it. it had looked at him. he had fired twice at it, the last time striking it in the throat and breaking its neck, and it had fallen dead. he ended his account with a loud shout of laughter and the words: "_hai-asmowitch_ (big deer), me kill." later in the day he confided to fannin the information that "the hearts of his friends were very good toward him because he had killed a deer that was big and fat." as they coasted along the shore that day they saw a blue grouse sitting on a rock, on a small island, and landing found about a dozen full-grown birds. the shot-gun accounted for four or five of them, and jack and hugh shot the heads off several more that took refuge in the branches of the trees. food, therefore, was now plenty. as they were passing near the mouth of the hotham sound, and close to the shores of hardy and nelson islands, the remarkable twin falls, just within the entrance of the sound, came into view. they seemed so attractive that it was decided to visit them on their return trip. on rounding a point on the shore of hardy island, two moving objects, on a low seaweed-covered point half a mile ahead, were seen. for a time they puzzled indians and white men alike. they were not deer, for they were too low; nor bears, for the color was not right; nor seals, for they had neither the shape nor the movements of those animals. so there was much guessing at random as to what they were. but at last, when the canoe had come close enough for the creatures to be seen distinctly, white men and indians made them out to be eagles. they were young birds, so young and inexperienced, in fact, that they permitted the canoe to approach within fifty feet of them without moving from their places, and when at last they did consent to disturb themselves the canoe was within thirty or forty feet of them. then one flew to a pine, a few yards distant, while the other hopped on a log six feet from where he had been sitting, and surveyed the canoe with the utmost indifference. though full-grown they had probably never seen white men before. they had been feeding on a dog-fish, which lay there among the seaweed, still breathing and writhing, although the birds had torn a great hole in its side. that night camp was made on nelson island. it rained very hard, and everything became wet. there was a fine chance for grumbling at the weather if they wanted to, but these were old travellers, and accustomed to meet with philosophy whatever fortune sent them in the way of weather and discomfort. besides this, they were getting used to rain, for some had fallen every day since they had reached the head of bute inlet. the next day they would enter jervis inlet, of whose beauties they had heard so much that they thought it would be almost as wonderful as bute. a study of the admiralty charts, with which fannin had provided himself before leaving victoria, and which were carried in a tin case in the provision chest, seemed to confirm all that they had heard of jervis; and it was with anxious hearts and earnest hopes for good weather that the party went to bed that night. they were not disappointed. the day dawned fair, an early start was made, and they paddled toward the mouth of the inlet. for some miles a long point ahead of them cut off the view of the inlet, and when they passed this point, its beauties were revealed as a real surprise to them. directly before them, but on the farther side of the inlet, rose a superb snow cone, five thousand feet in height; and beyond that could be seen a broad bay leading up to a narrow dark green forest, closely shut in between two ranges of mountains, far down whose sides extended the white mantle which in this region crowns every considerable height. a little farther on the travellers found themselves directly in front of marlborough heights, mountains which, even in this land of grand scenery are unequalled for majesty. two of them rise almost sheer from the water's edge to a height of over sixty-one hundred feet, and the third, standing a little farther back from the water, lifts its great head between the two, as if looking over its brothers' shoulders. the summits of these do not run up into peaks and needles of rock, but appear rather like blunt cones of solid granite. there is a little timber on the slopes, but except for this nothing is to be seen but the black rocks. scarcely a patch of snow was visible, for the unceasing winds, which blow on these lofty peaks, sweep the snow into the valleys and lower lands before it can lay hold on the smooth bare granite. some of these peaks rise in unbroken cliffs. other heights come down to the water's edge in a long series of steps, many of them showing the rounded, smoothing action of the great glacier which passed over them as it cut out this cañon. down near the water, tall grass and underbrush grow among these dark, rounded, naked rocks, which look like the backs of so many great elephants sleeping in a jungle, whose growth is not tall enough to hide them. though for the most part narrow,--not more than a mile in width,--the inlet often broadens out and has a lake-like appearance, especially where side valleys come down into it, showing the course of tributary streams of the old glacier. at deserted bay, a little river enters the inlet, and at its mouth is a wide stretch of meadow land. long before they reached this point something white could be seen on the shore. hugh and jack were curious to know what it could be, and appealed to fannin and the indians for information. no one could tell, and the glasses only made the white objects appear a little larger. gradually, however, as the canoe approached them, it was seen that here was an indian village and a burial place, and that the white objects were the white cloth coverings of the crosses and the houses of the dead. there seemed to be no one at the village, and the canoe did not stop, but kept on until sunset, reaching a level, grassy piece of land at the mouth of a mountain torrent, where the party put ashore and camped. evidently this was a favorite camping-ground, for there were found here the remains of fires, a rude shanty put up for protection against the weather, many old poles, and a scaffold erected for the purpose of drying fish. down the side of the mountains came thundering the large stream which had formed the little flat where they camped, and which was more than a brook and rather less than a river. after camp had been made, hugh, fannin, and jack climbed the mountain for a few hundred feet along the stream's course, and they were greatly impressed by the tumultuous rush with which it tumbled from pool to pool in tempestuous descent. the hillside was so steep that climbing was done by pulling one's self up by the trees, underbrush, and rocks. the ever rising spray of the torrent had moistened the earth, grass, and moss, making the ground so slippery that it was often difficult to keep one's footing. the stream made leaps of twenty, forty, and fifty feet at a time, falling with a dull sullen roar into the deep rocky basins which it had dug out for itself, making the milk-white foam which they contained surge and whirl over and over in unceasing motion. the constant moisture of the stream nourished a rank growth of vegetation. rocks and fallen tree trunks were covered by a thick growth of long, pale green moss, into which the feet sank ankle deep, and from which water could be wrung as from a well-soaked sponge. in the crevices of the rocks grew bunches of tall grasses, sparkling with drops of water, as though there had been a rain storm. everywhere there were tall flower stalks, brilliant with blossoms of yellow or blue. back from the bed of the stream grew a thick tangle of undergrowth and young trees, which it would have been very hard to penetrate. many questions suggested themselves to jack during the climb. but the noise of the fall was so great that it was impossible to hear conversation, and it was not until they had reached camp that he was able to try to inform himself in regard to any of the matters about which he had wished to ask. that night as they sat around the fire after dinner, he said to fannin and hugh: "i want to know how these big arms of the sea came to be formed. why is it that every little way here we find an immense cañon running away back into the mountains, and the sea ebbing and flowing in it? of course there's some reason for it. i don't understand what it is, but somebody must know." hugh smoked in silence for a few moments, and then, taking his pipe from his mouth and clearing his throat, said: "yes, somebody must know, of course, and i expect to them that does know, it's mighty simple. i expect likely your uncle, mr. sturgis, knows about all these things, but i don't. i've got an idea from what i've heard him say, and from what i've seen up in the northern countries, that these big cañons were cut out by glaciers,--these big masses of ice, very heavy, and moving along all the time. it's easy for any one who has ever been around a glacier to see something of the terrible power that such a mass of ice has, and to see how it cuts and grinds away the surface of the earth and rock that it passes over. you've heard, and i've heard your uncle talk about these here cañons on the coast of norway, that, from his tell, seem about just like these that we are travelling up and down, except that maybe these are bigger. we can all understand that if a very big glacier got running in a certain course, and kept running for thousands and thousands of years, it would cut out in the surface of the mountains a deep, narrow groove that might be like these cañons; but as i say, i don't know anything about them. i'm just guessing from what i've heard say." "well," said fannin, "i don't know much about them either, but judging from what i've read, you're about on the right track. the books i've read say that there was a time, a good way back, when the whole of the northern part of north america was covered with a big sheet of ice, thousands of feet thick. that is what was called the glacial period, or ice age. this ice, if i understand it, was thicker towards the north--where it was piling up all the time, and getting still thicker--than it was toward the south, where the climate was milder, and where it was melting all the time. now, although ice seems to us, who perhaps don't know much about it, about as firm and solid as anything can be, yet really it is not so. learned men have made lots of experiments, which show that ice will change its form; and we all know that these glaciers that we see here are moving all the time, and, what's more, that they are moving faster in the middle than they are at the sides, where they rub against the mountains; in other words, where there is friction. that shows that ice is plastic, somewhat we'll say like molasses in january. it will flow, but it flows very slowly, and to make it flow at all the pressure on it may have to be very great. in other words, there's got to be a great force behind it, pushing it. now the books say, that in the time of the ice age the sheet of ice that covered the country, being thick toward the north and thin toward the south, was constantly moving slowly from north to south; and i think the men that have studied them have seen in the scratches that the ice sheet made on the rocks and in the gravel and boulders and so on, that it carried along with it from one place to another strong evidence of this motion. then, after a while, as i understand it, the weather got warmer, the ice sheet kept melting faster and faster from the south toward the north, and gradually the land got bare of ice. of course it melted first on the lower lands, and last on the hills and mountains and peaks. it melted very slowly, and as it melted it left behind it on the mountains and in sheltered places where it was coldest, masses of ice which continued to flow along as ice streams, long after the general ice sheet had disappeared. these masses that were left did not move from north to south, because they were no longer being pushed in that direction. they just flowed down hill. "if i understand it, there is only one place now in the world, in the north at least, that is covered by an ice sheet, and that's greenland. but in the northern mountains there are still a lot of remnants of the old ice sheet, and it is these remnants, i think, only thousands of times more powerful than they are now, that cut out these inlets that we are travelling over. "we think that these are mighty deep, and so they are; but maybe you don't recognize how much depth there is below the water. sometimes these inlets are sixty or eighty fathoms deep. there's from three hundred and fifty to five hundred feet from the surface of the water to the bottom of the inlet, and nobody knows how deep the mud may be there before you could reach the bed-rock below it." "i am very glad to know this," said jack. "most of it i have heard before; it sounds pretty familiar, but i never before heard it in such a connected way, and i never understood just what it meant. it seems to me pretty clear now, all except one point that i want to ask about. we all know how easily ice slips down over any surface, and there doesn't seem to be much friction. now i can't understand just how the ice should cut out such a groove in the earth in any length of time, however long it might be. how is that? can you explain it to me?" for a little while fannin sat thoughtfully staring into the fire, and then he replied: "well, i think i understand it myself, and i think i can make you understand it as i do, but of course i do not guarantee that i am right about it. i only give you my idea. "suppose you take a piece of pine board and tilt it up and brace it to represent the side of your mountain. then suppose you take a strip of paper, two inches wide, and we'll say of an indefinite length, because you've got to draw that paper down over that board, for say a thousand years, and never let it stop; for the glacier never stops, it is always being renewed at its head, and keeps on pushing down the mountain sides, just as a brook does that starts from a spring on a hilltop. now, you might draw that paper down over that board for a thousand years, if you lived so long, and you would never wear much of a groove in the board. if you did wear one, it would be awful slow work. but now suppose, in the place of that strip of paper, you have a strip of sandpaper, just as wide, and just as long, and keep drawing that down for a thousand years, you can see that long before your thousand years were over you would have cut a big groove in the board, and in time, of course, you'd cut through the board. that, according to my understanding, is the way that the glacier acts. it isn't the ice by itself that cuts out the groove, but the ice is constantly picking up and rolling along under it fragments of rock and pebbles, and sand, and grinding these hard substances against the hard rock that makes up the faces of the mountains. so it is sawing down into the mountains all the time. "did you ever go into a marble yard and see the people cutting the stone into blocks there? they have metal saws that go backward and forward, sawing on the marble, but if they had nothing but the metal to saw with, they would wear out their saws before they would saw the marble, so they put fine sand between the saw and the marble; and that sand, moving backward and forward, cuts through the marble pretty nearly as a knife cuts through cheese. we have seen here, and you have very likely seen in other places, how the water that comes out from under a glacier is white or gray. that is, it is full of something held in suspension in the water, and that something is the fine powder which is ground off the pebbles and rocks that are being pushed along under the glacier, and ground off the face of the mountains too. it's what you might call flour of rock. that's my idea of how the glaciers cut these deep grooves. we've seen, as we did just below here, lots of great, rounded rocks, on the shore, and we've seen in a number of places, big scratches in the rocks; and these scratches, i suppose, were made by some big chunk of rock, pushed along under the mass of the ice and scratching against the face of the mountains, gouging out quite a furrow in the rock. i don't know that i can explain it any plainer than that. of course, it's a big subject." "well," said jack, "i don't see how anything could be plainer than that; and it seems to me that i understand just exactly how the thing is done. i suppose sometime, when i go to college, i will get a chance to find out all about these things; and when i do, it will be a mighty good help to me to have seen these things here and to have had your explanation. i couldn't think how the ice, by itself, could cut out these grooves, and yet i believe i have had it all explained to me before; but never, i think, by such clear examples. that explanation of the sandpaper makes it mighty clear." "well," said fannin, "we saw at the head of bute inlet a lot of these glaciers. of course they were high up on the mountains, and mighty small compared with the ice that must have cut out these inlets; still, i believe if we could get up close to them we would see pretty clearly how they work, and you'd understand the whole thing a great deal better than you do now. if i were you, i'd be on the watch for things that have a bearing on this work of the ice, and if you keep the thing in your mind, it will be likely to work itself out very clearly." "well," said hugh, "i think i begin to savvy this glacier business, a little, myself. fannin has, sure, given us a pretty good explanation." for a number of days, jack, hugh, and fannin had been studying the charts with much interest, speculating about princess louise inlet, a tiny branch, only four or five miles long, which puts off from the head of jervis inlet. on the chart, its entrance appeared a mere thread, but within it widened and seemed to be several miles in length, though not very wide, while at its head were one or two quite high mountains. this inlet they reached the next day. it was yet early morning when, coasting along close to the shore, they saw a narrow break in the precipice under which they were passing. as they advanced, they saw that it stretched some distance inland. this, they believed, must be the entrance to princess louise inlet, but no one knew. it was almost low water and a current of considerable force was drawing out of the narrow channel. the men landed, and fannin and hamset walked a little way up the beach to see whether the passage was practicable or not. they were soon turned back, by coming up against the vertical walls of the precipice, but the indians declared that if they started now they could go through. re-embarking, the canoe was pushed up into the narrow channel, where now the water seemed to be almost still, and a few strokes of the paddle sent the vessel in between high walls, which could almost be touched by an outstretched paddle from either side of the boat. out in the main inlet the sun had been warm and bright, but here the water, shadowed by the tall rocks which rose on either side, was overhung by a thick, cold mist. although passing along close under the walls of the inlet on either side, they could only occasionally see them, and they groped along aimlessly, not knowing where they were going. the sun does not penetrate this narrow gorge until it has risen high in the heavens, and in the darkness and utter silence of their surroundings, the place seemed very solemn. the strangeness of the situation awed them all, and hardly a word was spoken, or if one ventured a remark he spoke in a low tone. hamset in the bow was keenly on the lookout for rocks or obstructions of any kind, but the chart had said "deep water," for the inlet, and they paddled on with confidence. as they advanced the mist grew thicker and the canoe's bow could not be seen from the stern. no sound was heard save the regular dip of the paddles, and each one of the crew was wrought into a high state of expectancy, not knowing what the next moment might bring forth. an hour after their entrance into this twilight, the mist before them grew a little lighter, and in a few moments, without any warning, the dark curtain was lifted from the water and rolled away up the mountain sides. the mist rose slowly, and there appeared, first the trees on the beach, then, immediately back of them, the piled-up rocks which had fallen from the precipice; and lastly, as the clouds and vapor rose higher and higher, the black vertical cliffs and snow-clad peaks of the mountains. in a few moments not a cloud or a trace of mist was to be seen, except in one long, narrow ravine where it still remained, shut in by high walls of granite. the indians continued the regular movements of their paddles, but those of the white men were idle, and for some little time not a word was spoken. before them was a basin, which they were now entering, less than a quarter of a mile in width. all about them was an unbroken line of snow--here close at hand, there miles away--patched toward its lower border with occasional masses of green or gray. beneath the edge of the snow line was the sombre gray of the mountain side, dark and forbidding. still farther down the slope scanty and ill-nourished timber grew in scattering clumps or single trees, down to the verge of the precipices that overhung the water's edge. to the south and east the hills rose sharply and continuously, forming an unbroken wall until the snow level was reached; but toward the northeast this wall did not exist, and a wide but steep valley, the ancient bed of a tremendous glacier, stretched away for miles toward the snowy heights of the interior. the water before them seemed like a beautiful lake lying among the mountain peaks. in its unruffled surface each detail of the walls of rock that shut it in on every hand was mirrored with faithful accuracy. down the great valley which opened to the northeast, among, over, and under enormous masses of rock, whose harsh and rugged outlines were softened by no appearance of verdure, a large river, the course of which could be traced far back toward the heights, poured, in a series of white falls. they could watch it until it became no more than a delicate white thread, and at last it could not be distinguished from the snowdrifts that lay in the ravine near its source. beyond this valley, to the north, the rocks again became steep with overhanging precipices rising from the water's edge. about them great snow fields stretched away toward mount albert, showing here and there, by their broken white or sky-blue color some ice river that ploughed its way down the slope. it took the white men some time to take in all the inlet's details, and to become accustomed to their tremendous surroundings. at last hugh turned to jack, and said: "son, did you ever imagine a place like this?" "no," said jack, "i never had a notion that in all the world there was anything like this,--so grand and so beautiful. it makes one feel as if he dare not speak aloud. it comes pretty near like being in church." "right you are," said hugh. "i don't believe i ever felt so solemn in my whole life. did you ever see such rocks, or such snow, or such a river as that one over there? did you ever see anything that seemed to you as big as this does? i thought i had been in sightly places, and seen high mountains, but this beats them all." "it's a wonderful sight," said fannin, from the bow. "i've lived twenty years in british columbia, but this beats anything i've ever seen." "yes," said hugh. "it's something that you can't talk about much, in fact. a man is poor for words here." "and just think," said jack, "how cold and dark it was when we started in, and then how suddenly the light and beauty of everything came to us." "yes," said fannin, "but that's not so surprising. you see this inlet is so narrow and shut in on every side by high mountains, that the air here does not feel the sun until near midday. the temperature of this place must be a good deal lower than that of its surroundings; but just as soon as the air is warmed up it rises and carries the mist away with it." "oh, hugh," said jack, "look at these rocks here, where the sun strikes them. don't they look as if they were painted? see that patch of yellow there--just about the color of a canary bird. part of that is reflection from the water, i guess; and i suppose it must be some moss growing on the rock that gives that rich color. then there is a red brown, that looks like iron rust, sometimes it is red, and sometimes it is yellow, and sometimes it is brown, and again it is red. and then, see the flowers and plants up there! there's a fern growing from a crack in the rock, and there are some mosses, some of them brown, some goldcolor, and some bright green. there's a red flower! look at that cluster of hare-bells! what a contrast all that brilliant light and color is to the white and the gray of those outstanding mountains!" "well," said fannin, "i suppose we ought to be moving, for we should paddle up to the head and get back to the inlet in time to go out with the ebb. the indians say that at half tide the water runs so swiftly in that narrow channel that it is dangerous." "come on, then," said hugh. "i hate to think of anything but this show that is before us; and i'd like mighty well to camp here for one night, but i suppose we haven't got the time." "yes," said jack, "we've got to think of what is coming to-morrow, of course; but i do hate to leave this place." they dipped their paddles into the water, and the canoe moved swiftly over its glassy surface. as they paddled on, jack suddenly called: "there's a seal, the first living thing i've seen in here!" from time to time the seal showed his smooth round head above the water, not far from the canoe. a few moments later hugh called out: "there's a brood of ducks in there, near the shore!" "where are they?" asked jack; "i don't see them." "there," said hugh, "close into the shore you can see them or their shadows, though they are a good deal blurred and made indistinct by the reflection of the trees above them." "yes," said jack, "there seems to be mighty little life visible here. down toward the mouth of the inlet i have once or twice seen a gull, but beyond these things and the starfish, clinging to the rocks, there's mighty little that speaks of life." near the head of the inlet fannin got out the longest fishing lines that they had, and, tying a few rifle cartridges to it, let it down over the side of the canoe, trying to find the bottom, but he was unable to reach it. on the way back toward the mouth of the inlet they paddled along close to the shore, in many places under the cliffs which overhung the water. here it was possible to examine them closely and to study their details, and jack was astonished to see how much vegetation they supported and how varied was the life that they exhibited. everywhere near the water the granite was patched with lichens of different kinds and different colors, giving a brilliant effect to the rocks. near the mouth of the inlet they landed on a low point of shore that ran out, and stood there for a little while, taking a farewell look at the narrow fiord. it was an impressive sight, and with full hearts the white men turned their backs on the wonders they had seen and took their way back out into the broad channel of jervis inlet. chapter xvi a mother's courage as they turned north again and paddled on up the inlet the talk was naturally of the wonders that they had just left. "surely," said jack, "this is the most wonderful place that i have ever seen." "yes, indeed," said hugh, "it beats all the countries that my eyes have ever rested on, and i never expect to see anything so wonderful again." "it was beautiful," said fannin, "and how cold and gloomy it was one moment and how bright and beautiful the next." "yes," said jack, "and yet when it was brightest and most beautiful it seemed cold all the time. it reminded me of what i've read about the arctic regions. there was not a thing but snow and ice and just a few straggling stunted trees. i remember reading somewhere about a point down at the other end of south america where there is nothing to be seen but rocks and a little timber and snow and icebergs. that is the way princess louise seemed to me, but i do wish that we had had time to land and follow up that big river toward those heights." "that would have been a nice trip," said fannin; "but i guess it would have been an awful hard one. it looked to me as if those rocks were big and hard to climb among. we'd have had to carry our beds and our grub on our backs, and it might have taken us a long time to get up even to the foot of that big peak that stood up so high." "yet, i suppose there must be lots of life up there," said jack; "birds and animals, and of course if there are birds and animals there must be vegetation to support them." "sure," said fannin. "i don't doubt but that there are goats and deer and ptarmigan, probably bears, and possibly other animals. of course the sheep don't get down so close to the salt water, at least i have never seen them there. i don't doubt, though, but there's plenty of life up there." "anyhow," said jack, "it looks as if the country had not changed a bit since the glacier came pouring down through those valleys and was working its way toward the salt water." "i don't believe it has," said fannin, "except that trees have grown; perhaps some little soil has been made here and there; but except for that i suppose the country is unchanged." for a while they paddled on in silence, and then, as they rounded a point, came a call from fannin: "hello! there's an indian village." three or four houses stood on the bank but a short distance back from the water's edge, and near them were a few people busy at different tasks. when they saw the canoe they all stopped and began to stare at it. down on the beach, just above the water's edge was an old man working over a canoe. fannin said: "let's push in there and see if we can buy some potatoes or other food." they pushed up to the beach, and when close to it saluted the old man with the usual phrase, "_kla-haw-ya tillicum?_" (how are you, friend?) the man gave an answering shout, and hamset turned to them and said: "i guess he can't talk with us"; which was fannin's translation into english. [illustration: when they saw the canoe they all stopped and began to stare at it--_page _] they landed and found that the man was mending some cracks in his canoe by fastening over them strips of tin, seemingly cut from an old tin can, by means of tacks and a primitive stone hammer--a cylinder of stone with enlarged flat ends. hamset began to talk with him in chinook, but the man apparently did not understand, and replied by a speech in some language which hamset could not comprehend. there was a long talk, in which each of the two indians made a speech, which was not understood by the other. fannin tried the old man in canadian french, and hugh made signs to him, but there seemed to be no common ground of communication. after each remark by the old man, hamset would hopelessly reply after hearing him through: "_wake nika kumtux-mika wahwah_" (i don't understand your talk). within a rude fence near one of the houses was what looked like a garden, in which were growing plants that resembled potatoes. presently a bright thought came to jack, and he walked down to the canoe, took from the provision box a potato and handed it to the old man. it was amusing to them all to see the expression of perplexity clear away from the old indian's face and understanding and satisfaction appear. he laughed delightedly and shouted to the women at the house, and a little later two of them came down carrying a large basket of potatoes--and very good ones too. these were put into the canoe, and paid for by "four bits." then at hugh's suggestion jack gave the old man a piece of tobacco. they wandered up to the houses, looked into them, and presently returned to the neighborhood of the canoe. leaning against one of the houses was a two-pronged salmon spear, which jack wanted and which the old man sold him for half a dollar. jack thought that the implement might be useful a little later, as the salmon were now beginning to run into the fresh water streams in considerable numbers. hamset said that these indians were called hanéhtsin. he declared that most of the people must be away fishing, and said that there must be many of them who could speak chinook, although this man could not. next morning as they were eating breakfast a canoe came in sight from the direction of the village, and when it landed the paddlers proved to be their friends of the night before, who brought them some more potatoes and several salmon just from the water. these having been duly paid for at the rate of twenty-five cents each--for a twenty pound salmon--they brought forth from the canoe a large basket of berries which a small boy who was with them, and who had some knowledge of the chinook jargon, announced was a "potlatch," or gift--very likely in return for the bit of tobacco that jack had given to the old man the night before. a little later, the canoe being loaded, the party pushed off from the shore, and, leaving the indians sitting idly in their canoes, paddled back down the inlet. "what i can't understand, mr. fannin," said jack, "is how it is that these indians don't understand one another. of course, i don't suppose that all the different tribes on this coast speak the same language, any more than our indians out on the plains, but i should suppose that there would be some common way of talking to each other, just as the plains indians all understand the sign language." "well," said fannin, "you'd think so, of course, but that's one of the queer things about this country. while often you'll find a great many villages that speak the same language, and while you'll find in most of the villages a number of people that can talk chinook, it's nevertheless the fact that stowed away in bays and inlets all along this coast are little tribes that speak a language that is not understood by any other tribe. i have talked with a few people out here who were regular indian 'sharps,' and who had been among indians over most of the country, and they say that there are a number of indian languages spoken here that are absolutely different from each other and different from any other languages in north america. this is a mighty queer thing, and i can't understand it at all. i've always supposed that it was this fact that obliged the indians to get up this chinook jargon, which is a kind of a trade talk, used all up and down the coast and a good way inland, too, to enable these people to talk among themselves. i have never seen any of these indians here using the sign language, and you can see for yourself that this old chap did not understand what it was that hugh was trying to say to him with his hands. they do say that this chinook jargon was gotten up before the white men came here to this country, and you can see how necessary it would be to people coming in contact with others who spoke a language different from their own. now, i suppose that in the old times there used to be considerable travel along this coast, north and south, and considerable intercourse between the different tribes of indians. and while we know that the northern indians could not talk with the southern ones, yet they visited and traded, and made war and made peace again. it must have been necessary for them to understand each other in some way, and that's the way this jargon came to be invented. of course, it's changed a lot, i fancy, and especially since the white people got in here." "but about this indian here," said hugh, "it seems to me that he ought to be able to understand our indians. their villages cannot be more than a hundred miles from one another, and to an indian a hundred miles is nothing. these ucletah must sometimes come up to the head of this inlet, and these people who live up here, hanéhtsin,--don't you call them,--must go down the inlet and go up and down the shore. it would seem as if they must have met sometimes, and as if they would have some common speech." "yes," said fannin. "they ought to, but i don't believe they have. of course i know no more about them than you do, but you saw the experiments that were tried upon that old chap that we've just left." "yes," said hugh, "there's no going back on that. he didn't understand, no matter how much he ought to have understood." "hugh," said jack, "did you count the number of people at the village?" "yes," said hugh, "i did: three women, three children, and the old man." "well," said jack, "did you count the dogs?" "no," said hugh; "i reckon i forgot to count the dogs. there were a lot of them, i know." "nineteen," said jack. "i counted them. three or four times i had them all counted, and then a lot more would show up. there were a lot lying down sunning themselves when i got there, and after they had got up and come round to threaten us, a lot more came out of the house. this nineteen that i counted didn't include the pups. i looked into a little pen built of sticks, near one of the houses, and there were nine puppies in there, just able to waddle, and i saw some others not much older wandering about." "ah," said charlie, "call it 'dogtown'; we haven't any better name for it." "all right," laughed jack. "i'll put it down." "mr. fannin," said jack, after a pause, "i was thinking last night of the hammer that that old siwash was using to mend his canoe. that was a regular primitive implement, wasn't it?" "yes," said fannin; "you often see the indians still using these hammers. i suppose to an indian they are just as good, and maybe lots better, than a white man's hammer." "yes," said jack, "i don't see why they shouldn't be; but while the hammer was old-fashioned and primitive, the strip of tin which he was nailing over the cracks in the bottom of the canoe and the tacks were modern. where do you suppose he got them?" "why, from a trading schooner, of course," said fannin. "there are three or four small schooners that sail up and down the coast here, trading with the indians for oil and fish, and a little fur, and the chances are that the tin came from some old tin can thrown overboard by such a schooner, and that the tacks were bought from it. of course it may be that these people have been to comux or even to nanaimo." "that salmon spear is interesting, too," said jack, "and i hope we'll have a chance to get some food with it." "these spears," replied fannin, "are very useful to these people. this one, as you see, is about sixteen feet long, the main shaft being about twelve feet and the two prongs about four. it is a well finished tool and rather attractive to the eye, wrapped as it is with the neat strips of bark about the ends of the shaft. that flat handle with the deep notches at the upper end, for two of the fingers of the man who is to throw it, give a good hold. then the two prongs at the other end bound firmly to the shaft, and tapering to a point below, and slightly diverging, make a good implement for throwing into a school of fish; but the interesting part of the thing is the way the spear heads are fastened on to make it effective. you see the line looped about the shaft close above the point where the diverging prongs leave it, that each end of the line is long enough to reach clear to the end of the prongs, and that to each extremity of this line is attached a spear point. the socket which slips on the sharpened end of the prong is made of the horn of the deer, or of the mountain goat, or even of bone; and the piercing point is either a sharpened nail or some other sharp bit of iron lashed to the socket with a fishing line or a strand of kelp. when the spear is to be used, the heads are slipped on to the points of the prongs, and are held in position by the tension of the cord, which is so short that some little effort is needed to slip the socket on to the point. when a salmon has been deeply pierced by the iron point, his struggles slip the socket off the prong and the fish struggles about for a few moments at the end of the cord until he is so exhausted that he can be brought to the surface of the water and lifted into the canoe. if the point were firmly attached to the prongs the attempt to haul a vigorous fish to the surface might very well result in the pulling out of the spear point and the loss of the fish." all the day long the canoe moved slowly down the inlet, stemming the flood tide which at times made them all work at their paddles with an energy that no one of the crew greatly enjoyed. before them the snowy tops of the mountains and the blue glaciers looked cool and inviting, but no breath of air ruffled the smooth surface of the inlet, and the fierce rays of the sun, both direct and reflected from the water, scorched them all day long. about the middle of the afternoon, as they were passing a point opposite moorsam bluffs, a level spot was found, covered with forest. a pleasant brook ran down here, and the spot looked like an attractive camping place. when they landed they found evidences that it was one favored by the indians of the inlet, for there were here relics of many a camp. piles of stone blackened by fire, white heaps of the bones of the deer and mountain goat, decayed vegetation and fragments of discarded clothing and skins, worn-out implements, a tiny baby basket or indian cradle, and many other articles left by former occupants were scattered about over the ground, and showed that the indians often stopped there and sometimes remained for a considerable time. in fact there were so many evidences of human occupancy that it was agreed that some other spot which had not been quite so much frequented by indians would be a better location for their camp; and moving a few hundred yards further down the inlet they found such a place at the mouth of the boisterous brook which here tumbled into the salt water. here jack and hugh and fannin, finding a good beach, took a plunge in the salt water, and while thus engaged found that the little bay was alive with salmon. on shouting this to the others the indians put off in the canoe, and for half an hour hamset perseveringly threw the salmon spear into the school of fish that were breaking everywhere about the canoe. for a few minutes jack and hugh watched him; but as he failed to secure anything, they soon grew tired, and at length went ashore into the camp. half an hour later the canoe returned to the shore, and the indians had three good-sized fish to show for their efforts. "well," said hugh, "from the number of fish that seemed to be out there in that little piece of water, i should think these fellows might have loaded the canoe with them in this time." "yes," said fannin, "that's true; but it's wonderful how much room there is in the water around a salmon, and then you have got to hit the fish just right or else you will not drive the spear into him. if you are not used to seeing salmon you will think there's an awful lot of fish out there; but you just ought to see them in some of the rivers in the province here. why, sometimes they are so thick that you literally can't see the bottom for their backs. a good many people, who have never been on a stream during the salmon run, think that the stories about their abundance must be lies; but they are not. you can't exaggerate their numbers. i have seen people go down to the stream with a pitchfork, and throw out the fish they wanted onto the bank, just as you would lift a load of turnips on a fork if you thrust it into a pile of them. when the fish are running, of course, the bears and eagles have no trouble at all in catching all they want. even the hogs go down to the stream and take out the fish. in fact, during the salmon run, and for some months after it, settlers who expect to kill their hogs keep them shut up; because, if they are allowed to feed on the salmon the flesh becomes flavored with fish to a point where people can't eat it. that sounds like a pretty good story too, but it's true. later in the season, when the dead fish are in the streams,--and there are always many of them,--the hens of the settlers eat them, and often eat so many that their eggs can't be used on account of the fishy taste. that's another good one, but it's true." "well," said hugh, "those stories sound pretty hard to believe, but i guess they are true. of course we've always heard about buffaloes, and how many there used to be, and i expect i've told stories to people who had never seen them, about the numbers of these animals that sounded just as hard to believe as your stories do to me. it don't trouble me a little bit to believe what you told me about the taste of the flesh of these animals. everybody knows, i reckon, that the food that an animal eats gives its flesh good flavor or bad flavor." "yes," said jack, "that's so, of course. i have heard my uncle tell a great many times about some kinds of ducks living up on long island and eating little clams and other shell-fish, and being strong and fishy to the taste, while the same ducks, when they go down south and live in water that is fresh or nearly so, eating nothing but grass and roots, are as delicate and fine flavored as can be." "that's gospel truth, son," said hugh, "and you see the same thing out on the plains and in the mountains. take it early in the season, before the grass begins to grow, and the first green thing that grows out of the earth is a wild onion. if you kill, up at the edge of the mountains, a buffalo or a mountain sheep, just after these onions have sprung up, you can hardly eat the meat." "yes," remarked jack, "and i have heard, too, that the milk of the cows is often flavored with these onions." "i know that's so," assented fannin. "but what gets me," said hugh, "is the multitude of these salmon that there must be. of course we haven't seen many of them; but from what you say, fannin, they just crowd every river that comes into the salt water, and there are an awful lot of rivers along this coast." the camp had a great dinner that night. the indians transfixed a large fat salmon with a stick, which was thrust into the ground so that it overhung the fire at an angle. there the salmon roasted until it was done, and then its bones were picked as clean as any bear could have picked them. a smaller salmon, slim and red fleshed, was cut into steaks and fried, and there was unlimited deer meat. it was all very delicious; and after the meal was over the party sat around the fire for a little while, too lazy to talk, and then went to bed. the next morning, before the canoe was loaded, jack spent an hour or two leaning over its side, and watching the movements of the different marine animals at work in the shallow water near the shore. there were hundreds of little crabs, the largest about the size of a silver half-dollar, clambering over the stones like so many goats, and apparently feeding on the vegetable matter that grew on them. they walked slowly here and there, plucking the food with their curiously swollen white claws, using the right and left claw alternately, so that while one was holding the food to the mouth the other was gathering a fresh supply. they seemed wholly absorbed in what they were doing. their jaws moved continuously, and they had a most businesslike and methodical aspect. the larger crabs were of a deep purple color, while the smaller ones were mostly dull, grayish green, a protective color which corresponded very closely with that of the stones on which they fed. they seemed to get along peaceably; though once in a while, if a small crab came too near a large one, the latter would make a threatening dash at the little fellow, which would at once retreat with many defensive demonstrations of its claws. fixed to the sides of many of the stones were the curved white tubes of marine worms; some of them deserted and empty; while from the mouths of others there protruded a cluster of deep crimson tentacles, the whole looking like some beautiful white-stemmed flower. if the red cluster was cautiously approached and touched it instantly withdrew into the tube which then appeared empty. but five minutes later a small spot of red began slowly to appear, far down in the tube; and gradually drawing nearer the aperture, the arms would be gently thrust out, and the animal would resume its flower-like appearance. on certain stones and rocks were great numbers of barnacles, which were not the least interesting of the living creatures jack saw. at those stages of the tide when the water did not reach them their shells remained closed, and showed no signs of life; but as soon as they were fairly covered by the water, each little pair of valves opened, and the tiny arms were extended and waved through the air with a regular motion which ceased only when they had grasped some morsel of food that was floating by. when this took place the arms were quickly drawn into the shell, and the valves closed; and for some little time the animal remained quiet. on the beach and in the water were many sea urchins and starfish, some of which moved about over the bottom. both progressed slowly; the sea urchins by a continuous motion of the long spines, with which their shells are covered; and though the animal's rate of advance could hardly be noticed if one kept looking at it, jack found that they did move, and seemed to be capable of quite long journeys. jack took up one of these sea urchins to look at its under side, and found that it had a continuous movement of the mouth and soft parts, as though striving to obtain air. when he put it into the water again he placed it on its back, on a flat stone, and was interested in seeing it turn over and right itself by the same quiet, but continuous, movement of the spines. the starfish moved much more rapidly than the sea urchins. they seemed to drag themselves along by some slight up and down motion of their arms, and also by hooking the ends of these arms around the angles of the rocks, thus pulling themselves forward for a short distance. starfish were very common along this coast, and were of all sizes and colors. jack had noticed them brown, black, yellow, orange, red, and purple. they ranged in size from the diameter of a five-cent piece up to ten inches across the arms. they seemed most abundant on the shore just about low water mark, but were by no means confined to this situation. often they were seen clinging to the rocks where they had been left bare by the tide; and sometimes a great cluster of the large red or purple ones were collected in an angle of the rock, showing against a background of shining black mussels and brown seaweed with very striking effect. a light breeze blowing down the inlet made it possible to set the sail, and the canoe slipped rapidly along over the water. the tide was ebbing, and their progress was good; but at length a turn in the fiord shut off the breeze, the paddles were called for, and they had several hours of hard paddling. the canoe was passing so close to the shore that the mountains on that side were hidden from view, while on the other shore the hills were low and not especially picturesque. jack kept looking at one point after another, hoping that each would be the last, and that when the one ahead was rounded he would see the broad waters of the beautiful bay into which they had looked some days before toward the twin falls. after several disappointments he said to hugh: "hugh, this reminds me of riding over the plains. i have been watching these points, hoping that each would be the last, just as when riding over the prairies i always looked at the hill ahead of me and thought that from that hill i should be able to see some distance; but there was always another one just beyond." "yes," said hugh, "i know just what the feeling is, and i guess everybody does who has ever travelled the prairies. why, even the indians tell about some man who prophesied to them long ago, when dogs were their only animals, about a time when they would get horses. he said that when they got horses they would always be on the move, and that they would ride up on a hill and see another hill beyond; and then they would want to get to that one to see what was beyond it; and so would keep going all the time, and never be quiet." it was the middle of the afternoon when the last point was rounded and they came in sight of the twin falls. even then an hour or two was needed to bring the canoe to what looked like a good camping place, near the falls. when they reached the shore they were disappointed, for the timber was so thick and high, and the cliff over which the water fell was so nearly straight up and down, that it was impossible to obtain any view of the cataract from the land. but by pushing out a few hundred yards from the shore its whole majesty was seen. two wide streams of water flow on either side of an island in the river, plunging over the cliffs, and falling quite five hundred feet before they meet with any check; then from here are two more leaps of three hundred feet each, and then other lesser ones of two hundred or one hundred and fifty feet. the stream falls between dark green walls of douglas firs on either side; and the rocky face of the mountains is entirely hidden. before the water strikes the rocks it has become spray, and from each little bench thin clouds of white mist rise to the treetops and float off with the wind. the dull roar of the falls is almost deafening. sometimes it sinks to the muttering of distant thunder, and then rises louder than before, sounding like the boom of heavy guns in the distance. close over the tops of the trees they saw, as they first approached the spot, a splendid white-headed eagle, swinging about on motionless wing. now and then, as he turned, the bright sunlight flashed upon his head and tail, and caused them to shine like silver, while his dark body looked black against the sky. unmoved by the tumult below him, and unshaken by the blasts that were now causing the mighty trees to bend their heads, he floated to and fro in his broad eyrie, the only living thing seen in all the wide landscape. on landing, it took some time to fix the tent and cut the fir and hemlock boughs which were needed to make comfortable the uneven ground where the beds were to be spread. but after this had been done jack took his rifle and declared that he was going up the hill to see what he could see. hugh said that he would go too, and the two set off. from the spot where the camp had been pitched a broad, well-beaten trail led up to the mountains. but this soon grew very steep. great boulders had to be climbed over or gone around. great green leaves and a slippery moss hid the ground and made it difficult to know just where they were stepping. more than once jack, who was in the lead, narrowly escaped an ugly fall. presently the trail gave out or was lost, and then the easiest mode of progress was to walk along the fallen tree trunks, which in many places lay piled high on one another, as a lot of jackstraws would look if thrown down at random. even such a road presented some difficulty; for sometimes a span of the bridge would be missing, and it would be necessary to descend to the ground and clamber up among the rocks. at last the first leap of the falls was reached, but from here very little could be seen, for the foliage and mist entirely obscured the view. further up, for a hundred yards on either side of the stream, the ground and the foliage were damp and dripping from the heavy spray, and the wet moss which covered everything made climbing difficult and even dangerous. the forest along the stream was open, and jack and hugh pursued their way, sometimes being obliged to climb up walls that were almost vertical. still higher up the forest began to give way to little open parks, and before very long the appearance of the sky above them showed that the timber was either much lower or entirely absent. they were not greatly surprised, then, when after a little time they came out of the forest into an open country, in the midst of which was a high, naked, rocky hill. at different points on the hill they saw a number of white objects which they recognized as goats. they did not feel that they needed any goats, but these animals were still sufficiently new to hugh and jack to make them wish to see them again at closer range. a little manoeuvring took them out of the sight of the goats, and they began to climb the hill. after they had ascended some distance they crept out onto a rocky point and could see, above, below, and on each side of them, small groups of these animals feeding on the ledges and steep slopes. quite close to them was an old goat, about which was playing a little kid, not a beautiful or graceful object, but one very curious in its clumsiness and its high spirits. it ran about its mother before and behind, sometimes climbing a little way up on a steep bank, and then throwing itself down on its side, rolling over and over until a level place was reached, when it would rise, and after a rest climb up the slope and repeat the performance. the mother paid little attention to her young one, but fed slowly along, constantly approaching closer and closer to jack and hugh, who commented on the goats' odd appearance and their no less extraordinary actions. [illustration: drove her short horns deep into his side--_page _] suddenly hugh stretched out his hand and caught jack's arm and whispered to him: "look at that lion!" jack looked, but could see nothing, and before he could ask the question "where?" a great yellow animal flashed out from the top of a bank close to the old goat, flew through the air, and fell upon the back of the kid, which sank to the ground with a low, whining cry. instantly the mother whirled on her hind legs, and with a swiftness hardly to be believed of such a clumsy-looking animal, plunged at the panther crouching on the ground over the kid and drove her short horns deep into his side back of the shoulder. the force of the blow knocked the animal to the ground, but he turned, bent the fore part of his body round and grasped the goat by the back and side with both paws, and seized her body with his teeth back of the fore shoulder. the goat seemed to draw back a few inches, and then made another plunge forward, driving her horns into her enemy again. the panther loosened his hold on the goat, struggled to his feet, and staggered a half dozen steps away, and then fell over on his side. the mother goat made no effort to pursue him, but nosed at the dying kid, as if trying to induce it to get on its feet again. on her side were a few drops of blood, where the panther's claws had scratched her, but on neither side of the ridge of the back where he had clawed her with the other foot and had bitten her was there to be seen any evidence of an injury. this had all happened so quickly that the watchers had no time to comment on it nor to shoot. when it was over they sat up and looked at each other, no longer thinking to hide from the goat. "that's a wonderful thing to have seen, isn't it?" said jack. "yes," said hugh. "i confess it beats me. it reminds me a little bit of that story i was telling you the other night about the buffalo bull that killed the bear. who'd have thought that that goat could have killed that panther. i've always heard that these mountain goats were great hands to fight, and that they didn't know enough to be afraid of anything; but i never expected to see it myself as we have seen it." "but where did that lion come from?" said jack. "i didn't see him until he jumped." "he was lying right on that ledge over there when i first saw him, crouched flat all except his head, which was lifted high enough to just see over the bank. as soon as i saw him i grabbed you, and a minute after he jumped," explained hugh. "well," said jack, "we want to take his hide back with us to camp. i expect he's dead, all right." "yes," said hugh, "i guess he's dead, but what about the old goat? she's going to stay with that kid of hers, and i surely don't want to walk up any too close to her. she's likely to treat us the way she did the panther." "yes, i guess so," said jack; "and, of course, we don't want to kill her, though, to be sure, her head would go mighty well with that panther skin." "i'll tell you," said hugh, "let's go round a little bit and get above her and roll some rocks down, and perhaps she will walk off." this suggestion was carried out, and the old goat at length was induced to leave her kid and slowly go off, finally disappearing over a ledge at some distance. jack and hugh went down to look at the panther. they found in his side, just back of the shoulder, four round perforations, and discovered that four of his ribs had been broken where the goat's head had struck him. after they had skinned him they found that the beast's lungs had been pierced three times by the goat's horns and the heart once. it was no wonder that the cat had died. "i suppose," said hugh, "that we might as well take that kid along with us. it's eatable, and the indians probably will like it just as well as deer meat." "all right," said jack. "if you will take the skin, i will take the kid." "come on, then," said hugh. "we had better hurry, it's getting on toward dark; and the road down this hill is a rough one." by the time that they reached the trail below it was quite dark, but they met with no accident. when they reached camp again they had an interesting story for fannin. the indians, too, gathered around and asked the meaning of the holes in the panther's skin, remarking that they did not look like bullet holes, and there were no places where the balls had come out. fannin explained to them what had taken place. the indians nodded sagely, and hamset said to fannin: "once before i've heard of a thing like this. i have also heard of a goat fighting a bear that had killed her kid, and driving it away. these white sheep are great fighters. i have seen them killed with many marks on their skins, showing where they had been cut by the horns of others they had been fighting with; and i have seen two which had in their hams the horns of other goats that had been broken off in the flesh. they fight a good deal. one of my relations once told me that he had crept up close to a goat, and rose up to shoot the animal. when it saw him, it put all its hair forward and rushed at him, but he killed it before it reached him." jack, hugh, and fannin spent some time that night over the panther skin, cleaned it and laced it over a frame where it might dry. whether it would dry or spoil would, of course, depend upon the weather of the next few days. bright, dry weather with some wind would surely cure the skin; but continued damp weather, which would keep it moist, would as surely spoil it. the camp ground that they occupied to-night had been used by indians as a stopping place, and lying on the beach were a number of bones. one of the most oddly shaped ones was picked up by fannin, who asked jimmie what animal it belonged to. the boy did not hesitate, but answered in chinook, "_tuicecolecou_" (porpoise neck). jack and hugh were mightily astonished at this identification, but fannin pointed out to them that this bone, which is made up of all of the vertebræ of the neck grown together so as to form a single bone, is most characteristic, and could scarcely have escaped the observation of the indians, who kill great numbers of these marine mammals. chapter xvii jack meets a seal pirate from the camp at twin falls the course was southeast, and passing between captain and nelson islands the canoe entered agamemnon channel. early in the afternoon they came out on malaspina straits. a fresh breeze carried the canoe along at a good rate of speed, and in the evening camp was made on the mainland, a little beyond merry island. the following day, as they were approaching an indian village, situated near the point where the trail from the head of seechelt inlet came down to the shore of the gulf, they saw a trading schooner anchored off it. provisions were growing low, and it was determined to visit the vessel and see whether food could be purchased. as they paddled toward it, a dog which was running up and down the deck barked loudly at them in seeming salutation, and they saw the figure of a man watching them from the stern. presently they were near enough to hail him, and he invited them to come aboard, which they did. the indians remained in the canoe, and kept it from rubbing against the schooner's side. the man was a splendid, big, hearty young fellow, but a cripple, having lost his leg just below the knee. he talked with them about where they had been, what they had done and seen, and spoke of the vessel's owner, who had gone inland with a back load of trade goods, to try to secure some furs that were said to be at an indian camp some miles inland. "i ought to have gone with him," he said, "but you see i can't get around very easily with only one leg. in this country there is so much moisture and so many rocks, that it's pretty hard for a man to get around at all. he needs two legs, and good ones at that. i can't walk far or long, and this confounded pin of mine sometimes gets stuck in the soft ground or wedged between rocks, and keeps me anchored until i can pull it out. so, really, i am no good except to keep shop and help to work the ship. it seems mighty good to see the white folks again; we have been out all summer, and i've not seen anybody except the indians, and i don't care much for them. "now, you two," he said, as he pointed to jack and hugh, "you come from my country. this man," he said, pointing to fannin, "belongs here. he is a canuck." "you are an american, sir?" asked jack. "yes," said the man, "i am an american; just about as much american as anybody can be. i come from the state of maine, and that's about as far east as the united states goes." "that's so," said jack. "the old pine tree state is a great state." "right you are, young fellow," said the man. "she's a great state, and she has sent out some good men; it's a pity i wasn't one of them--but i wasn't. my name is crocker, and i was born right near the shore, and have been a fisherman and a sailor all my life. the worst luck ever happened to me was when i drifted along this coast and kept on sailoring here. this is the way that i lost my leg." "well," said hugh, "that was sure a piece of bad luck. i should think on one of these boats a man would need two good legs, just as much as he does on a horse. i have seen some one-legged men who could ride all right, but they were never so sure in the saddle as if they had two legs." "no, i expect not," said crocker. "i would have had two good legs right now if i hadn't come round on this coast and took to sealing." "why," exclaimed jack, "how did sealing make you lose your leg?" "well," said crocker, "it was in this way: i made two or three voyages, as mate of a sealing schooner,--first with indians, and then with japs. the last voyage we made with the indians we didn't get any skins, and the captain proposed to me that we cross over to japan, and get a crew of japs and then go north to the commander islands, and make a raid on them, and steal seals from the russians. of course i said it was a go, and just before the next season began we went over and got a crew of ten japs and sailed. "when we came in sight of the islands we found that there was a russian gun-boat anchored near them, and so we stood out to sea for two or three days, and then, going back to the islands, we found the gun-boat had gone. now we thought we had a sure thing on a load of seal skins. we sailed in pretty close to the shore, and then i took a boat and six japs and we started in for the beach, the schooner standing off, just outside the rocks. as we rowed in towards the beach we could see that the rookery was a big one and that seals were plenty. it seemed as if things were going our way. we pulled in hard toward the rookery, and just as the boat was going to ground and the bowman got ready to hold her off a lot of russian soldiers raised their heads up over the bluff and fired at us. "it was about the first bunch of soldiers i ever saw that could hit anything; but they certainly hit us. four of the japs were killed at the first firing. one more was shot through the lungs and another through the thigh, breaking the bone. i got a shot through this leg, below the knee. i tried mighty hard to push off so as to get away, but the soldiers ran down to the beach and into the water, caught the boat and hauled it ashore. they threw the japs overboard, for both of the wounded ones died pretty soon, and they carried me up onto the bluff and over to the little houses where the sealers lived. "you see these russian soldiers didn't care anything about the japs, but they treated me pretty well. they gave me a good bed and tried to set my leg, but both bones were badly smashed, and i made up my mind that without a doctor there if they tried to set the leg they would make a botch of it, and the leg would go bad and i would croak. so after a day or two i picked out one of the nerviest of the chaps and had him take my leg off. he didn't know what to do, but i sat up and helped him, saw that the arteries were taken up right and tied, and that the bone was squarely sawed off, with good flaps left that were sewed up. three or four days after the leg was gone the gun-boat came back and her surgeon came ashore. he looked at the leg, dressed it, and said that it was a good job, and that he wondered that any of those soldiers had known how to take a leg off like that. you see, he could talk a little english and good french, and i could talk a little french and good english, so we got on pretty well. he seemed to take a kind of a shine to me, too, and after i got a little strength he had me brought on board the ship, and after a little while we sailed for petropaulovski. before we got there i learned from something that he said that the soldiers had told him about my sitting up and telling them how to take off the leg. he seemed to think that was a great thing. "when we got to town they carried me ashore and up to the jail and took me in. but before they had fairly got me locked up, the doctor, who had left the ship before i did, came in and showed the governor of the jail an order, and then i was taken to a mighty comfortable house, and stopped there for quite some time. the doctor used to come in two or three times a day and talk to me. finally i got able to get up and be around, and by that time the doctor had had a carpenter make me a wooden leg; so i pegged around with that leg and a cane, and got to having a pretty good time; but, of course, i didn't know what they were going to do with me. "there was a prince in town, a russian prince. he was the head, so they said, of the russian fur company. once or twice he sent for me and questioned me about the seal stealing, and i told him all i knew, for there wasn't any use of making any secret of it. he seemed to be a pretty good sort of a fellow, and at length one day, after i had been there some months--it was winter, and mighty cold at that, you bet--he said to me: 'i ought to send you to the mines, but i don't believe you would be very useful there, with that one leg of yours, and i think the best thing to do with you in spring, when the weather opens, is to send you to yokohama on some vessel.' of course i didn't have any ambition to go to the mines, and i was mighty glad to be let off as easy as that. so when spring came, they found a little schooner that was going to sail to japan, and they put me on board of it, and off i went. and what do you think that prince did? just as i was going to step into the boat to be carried out to the schooner he suddenly appeared, shook hands with me, and wished me good luck and handed me a little canvas bag, which was pretty heavy, and said: 'take good care of that, and make it go as far as you can'; and, by jove! when i opened that bag and counted what was in it there was six hundred dollars. "that doctor and that prince," he said slowly, as he rubbed his chin, "were mighty good to me. they treated me white. i wish though that the doctor had got around to the island four or five days before he did, and maybe i would have two legs now." they had listened with much interest to the sealstealing story, and jack was anxious to ask crocker many questions about the strange animals that he must have seen during his voyage in the north pacific, when he followed the seal herds after they left the islands, and about the great journey that the seals make south and west and east and north again, back to their starting point. but fannin was anxious to get on, and after he had purchased from crocker the provisions they needed, with a hearty handshake and with many good wishes the canoe travellers stepped over the side and pushed off. the next morning was notable for the passage of the canoe through multitudes of black sea ducks, which jack said were coots. the flock, or succession of flocks, were as numerous as those observed some weeks before off comox spit. there must have been many thousands of these birds scattered over several miles of water, and continually rising as the canoe disturbed them, either flying back over it or off to one side. late in the afternoon the travellers, as usual, began to look for a camping place along the shore, and for some time without success. the rocky shores rose straight up from the water and seemed very inhospitable; but at length a little bay, the most encouraging place in sight, invited the tired travellers to investigate it, and it was found that, although the little beach was almost everywhere piled high with driftwood, there was a narrow pebbly place where, by squeezing up close together, there would be room enough for the white men to sleep. a tiny trickle of water through a streak of wet moss ran down each side toward the bay, and it seemed that camp might be made here. the canoe was unloaded and its cargo carried up over the raft of floating drift logs to the beach. a little hole was scraped in the sand to catch the water that fell, drop by drop, from crevices in the rock. the largest stones were removed from the spot where the beds were to be spread, and a fire was kindled. long ago there had fallen from the shelf of the cliff, many feet above the beach, a giant fir tree, whose roots still rested where they had always been, and whose top was supported by the bottom of the bay. the spot where the beds were to be spread was directly beneath this leaning stick of timber, which, as it was six or eight feet through, would even offer a little shelter in case it should rain that night. charlie, however, suggested that this was not a safe place for the white man to sleep, as during the night the tree might fall and crush them. but the other men laughed at him, and pointed out to him that as the stick had never changed its position for forty or fifty years, the chances were that it would not break or slip on this particular night. charlie said that this might be true and went about his cooking. his spirits, however, were not high, for, even with what had just been bought from crocker, the provision box was still very light. the fresh meat had been nearly all eaten, the baking powder had all been used, there was left nothing but a little bacon, a few cans of tomatoes, some flour, coffee, and raisins. to relieve the impending famine, jack and fannin went up on the hills to look for game, and, although they had found no deer, they started three or four grouse, of which two were secured and brought to the camp for the next morning's breakfast. as the party turned into their blankets that night charlie looked at the great stick of timber which overhung them and said: "well, i hope we'll be alive in the morning." "oh," said hugh, "you go to bed, charlie; you're like a cow-puncher i once knew. he called himself a fatalist, and said that he believed 'whatever was to be would be, whether it happened so or not.'" fannin said: "the only thing i am afraid of for to-night is that maybe this tide will rise so high that it will drown us out, and we will be floated off among this drift." when they turned in, the fire, by which dinner had been cooked, was still glowing brightly under the old drift log against which charlie had built it; and the only sound heard in camp was the lapping of the water against the beach. that night jack had a curious dream. he thought that he was asleep in his room at his home in thirty-eighth street, when suddenly he was awakened by a bright light, and, rushing to the window, saw that the house across the street was blazing and that a number of policemen clad in white were dancing in front of the fire. as he watched them, and wondered anxiously about the fire, the smoke from the house seemed to turn and move in a thick cloud straight into his window, causing him to choke and cough. at this jack awoke, and sitting up in his blanket he saw the great drift log, against which the fire had been built, glowing like a furnace. charlie, clad only in his shirt and drawers, was darting about with a bucket of water in his hands, dashing it on the flames. the fire was soon put out; and next morning, on reckoning up their losses, it was found that they were not very serious. a few cooking utensils, a towel or two, and a coat were the only things seriously damaged. if the fire had burned a little longer and communicated itself to the rest of the drift stuff, the members of the party might have been very uncomfortable, and their loss might have been serious. when they started the next morning, the surface of the water was smooth and unbroken. there was no breath of air, and great clouds obscured the sky. before them was seen the white lighthouse of port atkinson, and on either side of the channel they were following rose a low, rock-bound, fir-fringed coast. here, for almost the first time since the trip had been begun, no striking mountain ridges or snow-capped peaks were seen. the tide was running straight against them, and they had to work hard to advance at all. after they had passed the port atkinson lighthouse the inlet broadened and spread out over wide flats. the canoe kept close to the shore, to avoid the ebbing tide, and startled from the grassy shore a number of blue herons which were resting or fishing at the water's edge. sometimes, as they rounded a little point, a group of hogs were encountered, eagerly rooting in the bare flats for shell-fish. the first one of these groups that he saw astonished jack, because the hogs were accompanied by a number of crows. about each hog, on the ground or resting on its back, or flying about it with tumultuous cries, were three or four black-winged attendants, which wrangled bitterly over the fragments of fish that the pig unearthed and failed to secure. sometimes a crow would pounce on a clam or other edible morsel actually under the nose of the hog, and would snatch it away before the hog realized what was happening. "fannin," said hugh, as they were passing along, "does this sort of thing happen regularly? do these crows follow the hogs around all the time?" "no," said fannin, "crows know too much for that. they only get together and follow them when they come down to the flats looking for clams. they have learned that the hogs turn up a great deal of stuff that they themselves like; and they have become regular attendants on them. you know it isn't so very long since they didn't have any loose hogs in this country. it is only within the last few years that they have turned them out to look out for themselves." "well," said hugh, "of course there's lots of difference in size, but these crows flapping about these hogs remind me more than anything of the way the buffalo birds act out on the prairie. they are just as familiar and at home with the buffalo and cattle and horses as these crows are with the hogs here." "it's comical," said fannin, "how familiar any set of birds will get with animals and people or anything else, just as soon as they find that they don't hurt them." they were now at the mouth of burrard inlet and had only a few miles more to go before reaching hastings where fannin lived, and where their canoe voyage would end. they had been about a month afloat. the sand flats, over whose shoal waters the canoe was passing, seemed to be the home of a multitude of flat fish or flounders. they lay on the bottom, and so closely resembled it in color that it was impossible at the distance of a few feet to distinguish them from the sand. the fish remained absolutely motionless until the bow of the canoe was within two or three feet of them; and then they swam quickly away with a flapping motion that did not seem to carry them off very rapidly as compared with the arrow-like darting motions of most fish; but they stirred up a cloud of sand and mud that effectually concealed them. "these flat fish are mighty queer animals, mr. fannin," remarked jack. "they don't look to me like anything i have ever seen before in the world." "no," said fannin, "i guess they are not. they are mighty queer kind of fish; and, if i understand it right, they are all skewed around." "how do you mean?" asked jack. "why," said fannin, "i understand when they are hatched they are right side up like other fish; but soon after that they have to lie on their side. that covers one of their eyes, and that eye works its way up through the head onto the top; so that, as a matter of fact, the two eyes on a flat fish which you see when you are looking down on him are both of them looking out of the same side of the head. what looks to you and me like the back, is really his side, and what looks to you and me like his white belly is really his other side. i don't understand about it very clearly, but there's a man back east who has worked that whole thing out. somebody sent me a copy of his paper one time, and i guess i have got it somewhere in the shop now." before night had come the canoe had gone up the inlet to fannin's shop. here they went ashore, and that night, for the first time in weeks, sat down at a table and slept in beds. it was learned at hastings that the indians were catching a good many salmon at the head of the north arm; and it was proposed that instead of ending the trip here, the canoe should keep on up the arm and see the fishing. the next morning, therefore, they went on up the inlet. on the way they met three canoe loads of returning indians, and each canoe was piled high with beautiful silvery salmon, weighing eight or ten pounds each, which the indians had caught with spears and gaffs in the salmon river. fannin, who spoke with the indians, told the others that this was the fishing party, and that now there were no indians at the head of the north arm. it was, nevertheless, decided to go up there. when they reached the mouth of the river they found the tide lower than it had been when they had been there some weeks ago; but soon it commenced to rise, and as the water deepened they began to pole the canoe up the stream, though frequently all hands were obliged to jump overboard and push and lift the canoe over the shoals and into the deeper water. as the tide continued to rise this became necessary less frequently, and before long the water was so good that they could push along with but little effort. during the passage up the shallow stream many salmon were seen in the clear water--fine, handsome fish, dark blue above; sometimes showing, as they darted away from the approaching canoe, the gleaming silver of their shapely sides. the sight of these beautiful fish greatly excited jack, and several times he struck at them with his paddle, but always miscalculated the distance, and could never feel even that he had touched a fish. at length he called out: "mr. fannin, can't we stop here and try to catch some of these fish? they are so big and splendid that i want to get hold of one." "oh," said fannin, with a laugh, "wait a bit. you are going to a place where you'll see a hundred for one that you see now." "well," said jack, rather grumblingly, half to himself and half to hugh, "i suppose he is right, but it seems as if we might stop right here and catch some of them. the sight of these fish is enough to make any man a fisherman right off." again he called out: "do you think we will be able to catch any fish to-night?" "yes," said fannin; "i think that with the spear or the gaff we ought to get all we want." "but just think," said jack, "what fun it would be to catch one of these with a rod. it looks to me as if they would break any tackle that we have." "no," said fannin, "you can't catch them on a hook when they get into the fresh water. i thought i had told you that before. the salmon in fresh water will not take a hook. they will take one in the salt water, but as soon as they enter the river, no. i'll tell you about that to-night when we get into camp." after several hours' work the canoe reached a point in the river where there was a high jam of drift logs, which it was impossible to pass. the sticks of the jam were too large to be chopped through, and the canoe was far too large to be carried about the jam to a point farther up the river; besides, it was well on toward sundown. camp was made therefore on a smooth sandbar just below the jam, and in a short while the spot had assumed a comfortable, home-like appearance. on the shore of the river was a rather neatly built shed, which had evidently been recently occupied by indian fishermen. this served as a storehouse for provisions and the mess kit, and a sleeping place for charlie and the indians. a little farther up the stream was placed the white tent fly, closed at the back with an old sail and in front with a mosquito netting. near the storehouse a cheery fire crackled against an old cedar log, and on the beach, farther down, drawn out of the water, was the canoe. after dinner was over, and when they were sitting about the fire, jack, whose mind was still full of the salmon he had seen, addressed fannin. "now, mr. fannin, what more can you tell me about the salmon not taking bait in the fresh water? i believe you spoke to me about it when we saw our first salmon, but i have forgotten what you said." "well," said fannin, "i can't tell you why they do not feed in fresh water, but all fishermen say that they do not, and it is certain that none of them are caught on a hook after they begin to run up a stream. down in california, where the rivers are all muddy, people explain their refusal to feed by saying that in those waters the fish cannot see the fly or bait, and so do not take it; but such an explanation will not answer for a clear-water stream such as the one we are on. you must have noticed that the water here to-day was as pure and clear as in any trout stream you ever fished." "yes," said jack, "i don't see how anything could be clearer than this water; and i am sure the fish could see the bait or a fly." "yes," said fannin, "they certainly could; and if they wanted a fly they would rise to it. there's a man down here at moody's mills who is a great fisherman, and he has fished in these streams for trout and salmon for fourteen years. he says that in all that time he has hooked a salmon only twice, and he believes in each of these cases the fish accidentally fouled the hook. no; when the fish get into the fresh water, they seem to forget everything except their desire to get up to the head of the water and spawn." "well," said jack, "eastern salmon come into the stream to spawn just as these fish do. they also try to get to the heads of the rivers for this one purpose; yet we all know that the fishermen go salmon fishing, and expect to catch salmon on the atlantic coast just at the time that the fish are running up the river, and we know that they do catch them, big ones, running, i believe, up to thirty-five or forty pounds." "well," said fannin, "i know that is true, and i don't know just why there should be such a difference in the fish of the two coasts; but i believe that it exists. some day, very likely, we will be able to explain it; but i can't do it now, and i don't believe i know anybody who can." the next morning jack and hugh were up long before breakfast, and were talking about the difference between the surroundings of this camp and those to which they had been accustomed for the last few weeks. ever since their departure from nanaimo they had spent practically all their time on the water or on the seashore; and, except in a few cases, had hardly been a hundred yards from the beach. the present camp, therefore, had about it something that was new. they could not hear the soft ripple of the beach or the roar of the great waves pounding unceasingly against the unyielding cliff. the water which hurried by the camp was sweet and fresh. all about them were green forests, whose pale gray tree trunks shone like spectres among the dark leaves. the birds of the woods moved here and there among the branches or came down to the water's edge to drink or bathe. except for the canoe, and but for the character of the rocks, they might have imagined themselves on some mountain stream, a thousand miles from the seacoast. said jack to his companion: "we have had lots of surprises on this trip, hugh, and this camp is one of the greatest of them." "yes," said hugh, "i know just what you mean. it seems mighty pleasant here to be in the timber with that creek running by; and yet i don't know but i like the open sea better, where a man has a chance to look about and see what is near him." "well," said jack, "we certainly have seen lots of different country on this trip, and i wish we were just starting out instead of just getting in." "well," said hugh, "i believe i feel a little that way myself; though, to tell the truth, i shan't be sorry to get back to a country where there are horses, and where a man can look a long way around and see things." "oh, hugh!" said jack, interrupting the talk, "look at those little dippers there! let's go and watch them." they strolled to the edge of the beach and there saw a number of the queer little birds. they were, as usual, bowing, nodding, and working their wings, or tumbling into the water, disappearing there to come to the surface again some distance away, when they would rise on the wing and fly to the beach or to some almost submerged boulder in the current. some of them were walking along the shore, from time to time stopping and nodding as if to their shadows in the water; or again taking their flight from point to point near the little stretch of beach that, upon examination, appeared barren of food. sometimes one of the birds would bring up out of the water some little insect or worm, which it would beat against the stones and then devour. jack and hugh watched them for some time, but presently the coming of others to the border of the stream disturbed the dippers, and they flew away up or down the stream. they did not particularly mind being looked at by two men, but they thought that five were too many, and they all disappeared. at breakfast it was suggested that they should take a short trip on foot up the stream to see what the river would offer. they were crossing the jam when hugh's keen eye detected a movement in the water beneath them. kneeling down on the floating logs they were astonished to see that the deep pool beneath the jam was full of salmon. they all stretched out at full length on the logs and stared down into the clear water beneath them. through the openings between the logs every movement of the shoal of great fish, slowly moving about but a few feet from their faces, could be seen. the water was beautifully transparent, and it was easy to distinguish the color and form of each fish. the humped back and hooked jaw of the most fully developed males could be readily distinguished, and were in strong contrast with the slim and graceful forms of the female fish. there were probably between four and five hundred salmon in the pool, which was not a very large one. the fish crowded together so thickly that it was only occasionally possible to see the pebbly bottom. it was not long before jack remembered the salmon spear in the canoe, and soon after he had thought of it, he and one of the indians started back to get it. the salmon were so close together in the pool and seemed so near to the surface of the water that he thought that the spear could not be thrust down into the slow moving mass without transfixing one or two of them. when the spear was finally brought to the log jam each one of the company secretly wished to be the first to catch a salmon, yet each was too polite to say what he wished, and they passed the implement from hand to hand, asking each other to make the first attempt. fannin and hugh seemed to want jack to make the first attempt, but he declined flatly and said: "you ought to do it, mr. fannin, because you are more skilful than either of us, but if you don't want to do it let hugh try his hand; he is the oldest person present." hugh also declined with great promptness and positiveness, but was at length prevailed to take the spear. he lay down on the logs with his face close to an opening, into which he introduced the points of the spear, lowering it through the pellucid water until the end of the shaft was in his hands and he had fitted his fingers into the notches cut there. then he watched until he saw a fish precisely under him, and made a forcible thrust, driving the spear deep down into the water and causing a little flurry among the salmon, which moved their tails a little and then darted away. then hugh arose with a mortified look and said: "well, i thought i had one that time, but it seems not. you fellows will have to try your hands now." fannin was the next to make a thrust, and made half a dozen without effect. the fish did not even dodge the strokes, but each time the spear went down toward them there was a general quivering of the whole school, as if each fish had started a little. the thrower of the implement looked at them with a somewhat perplexed expression, and said: "it certainly seemed to me as if that spear went through the whole school." when he had recovered the spear he passed to jack and told him to try his hand, but jack's luck was no better than that of his companions. to him, as he lay on his face looking down into the pool, shadowed by the log jam, the depth of the water seemed to be about five or six feet, yet as he thrust his spear into it and it passed down toward the fish, the handle being in his hand, he could see that the points were still quite a long distance above the backs of the fish, and no matter how hard he threw the spear, it created but little disturbance. hugh, jack, and fannin were now stretched out at different points on the log jam, gazing at the fish beneath them. for some time they did not realize where the difficulty lay, and now and then one of them would say: "oh, please let me have the spear for just a minute; they are so thick here that i know i can't help catching one if i only thrust it at them." but all thrusts were futile. at last, going ashore, and cutting a slender pole more than twenty feet in length, the depth of the water was measured, and it appeared that the spear was far too short to reach the fish. the excitement was too great to leave things in this condition and return to camp, so hugh and fannin soon added six or eight feet to the length of the salmon spear and besides made a long gaff. with these two implements they returned to the pool, and found no difficulty in catching salmon enough to supply the table. all along the river, which they followed up for several miles, they found great numbers of salmon, and with the salmon were a great many trout, some of them of very large size. fannin explained that these fish followed up the salmon to feed on the spawn as it was deposited. he declared that while the salmon were running the trout would pay no attention to a fly. certain it was that all jack's efforts to get a trout to rise to the fly were unsuccessful. the evening after the day they had reached this camp they discussed the question as to whether they should climb the mountains and have another goat hunt. after a little discussion it was decided to do so; but the next morning when they got up they found that it was raining heavily. it rained continuously during the day until noon, when they regretfully broke camp, and paddled down the inlet to hastings, where they paid off and dismissed the indians and their canoe. the unemotional savages shook hands calmly with their companions of the last month. they arranged in the canoe their blankets and provisions and the few cooking utensils which had been given them, and then paddled off down the inlet and were soon out of sight, bound for nanaimo. a day or two later the travellers started for new westminster, to return to victoria. jack and hugh were loath to part with fannin, and they persuaded him to go with them on the stage as far as the town and to see the last of them when they took the steamer back to the island. the next morning all three boarded the stage, and, after a delightful ride through the great forest of the peninsula, they found themselves once more in new westminster and shaking hands with mr. james. chapter xviii millions of salmon mr. james gave to jack a number of letters which had come to victoria for him and then been forwarded to new westminster. they were the usual home letters which he read with great delight, and, besides these, one from his uncle, mr. sturgis, which told him that he had been detained at the mine and would not be able to meet jack at tacoma for at least two weeks. mr. sturgis advised his nephew to spend the time in british columbia and to allow himself two or three days to get from victoria to tacoma, where they would meet. hugh also had received a letter from mr. sturgis, the purport of which was the same, and the two began to discuss the question as to how the next ten days were to be spent. when they had reached new westminster mr. james had urged them to take two or three days' trip with him up the fraser river on the steamboat, partly to see the scenery, but chiefly to get to the end of the canadian pacific railroad which was then being built east and west. the western end started at the town of yale. the distance by steamer was not great, though the swift current of the fraser is so strong that progress up the stream is not very rapid. this invitation hugh and jack now determined to accept, but as the salmon fishing was just at its height, they wished to spend a day investigating that. in those days it used to be said that every fourth year the run of salmon was very great. the next year the number of fish taken would be smaller, the next still smaller; then the number would increase again until the fourth year, when there would be a great run. as it happened, the year of jack's visit was one of the years of plenty. a great run was looked for, but up to the middle of july no fish had been taken, though for a week previous the boats had been drifting for them. the fishermen, however, were not discouraged, for at the mouth of the river were constantly seen great numbers of small black-headed gulls, oolichan gulls, so called, which jack recognized as bonaparte gulls. long before they returned to new westminster salmon had begun to be taken in considerable numbers, the first catch being made about the last of july. the run kept increasing slowly until before their return to new westminster it had become impossible for the canneries to use all the fish caught, and a portion of the boats were taken off. early in august the catch was from seventy-five thousand to eighty thousand fish per day, though only one half of the boats were employed. the canneries were all running at their fullest capacity and the enormous catch was the talk of the town. the next morning soon after breakfast mr. james called for his friends, and a little later they started out to visit one of the canneries in order to get some idea of the method by which one of the chief sources of wealth of the province was handled. on their way down to the wharf, mr. james talked interestingly on the subject. "the fish," he explained, "are all caught in ordinary drift gill nets which are cast off from the boats in the usual manner, and are allowed to drift down the stream with the current, meeting the advancing salmon which are swarming up the river. the other day i got from ewing's cannery the record of the catch of a few of the boats, on one or two average days. for example, on august ninth five boats took nine hundred and seventy fish; the same day six boats took one thousand six hundred and sixty-seven fish. on august tenth, six boats took one thousand four hundred and ninety-two fish, and on august eleventh six boats took one thousand five hundred and thirty-eight fish." "now, these fish," mr. james went on, "are chiefly sock-eyes, and average from eight to ten pounds in weight, but among them are a good many 'spring salmon' which the books call quinnat, and these run from fifty up to seventy and eighty and even a hundred pounds. these records i have just given you give an average of about two hundred and forty-four fish to the boat, or rather more than two thousand pounds. now, of course, the boats cannot take up their nets and make long journeys to the wharves to unload their fish. that would be an unnecessary waste of time, and would not pay, so that at all hours of the day and night steamers patrol the river, collecting from the row boats that do the drifting the fish they have netted. when a steamer gets a load she comes and ties up at the wharf and there unloads her fish. you will see them presently now, for here is where we turn in." leaving the main street they turned down an alley and entered a loosely put up wooden building, from which came a strong odor of fish which showed it to be a cannery. mr. james pushed through the building without stopping until they reached the wharf where they saw a tug tied up. great piles of shapely glittering fish were lying on her deck, and working over them were men with poles, in the end of each of which was a spike. each man on the deck pierced a fish with the spike on his pole and threw it up on the wharf where lay a great pile of its fellows. they threw out the fish just as a farmer would throw hay out of a wagon with a pitchfork. hugh and jack had never seen so many fish before, and for a little while were almost stunned by their mass. no one paid any attention to them, but each person went on with his or her work. at one end of the pile stood a couple of indians who were taking fish from the wharf, and throwing them one by one into a large tub of clear water. immediately next to this tub stood a row of tables at which were people armed with long knives. a woman next to the tub reached down, got a fish from it, placed it on the table before her and removed the head, sliding the fish along to a man next to her, who, by a single motion of his knife removed the entrails and cut off the fins and tail. the fish, thrust again along the table, fell into a tub of clean water and was washed by an attendant. thrown on an adjacent cutting table, it was passed along to a cam, armed with knives about four inches apart, which was constantly revolving, thus cutting the fish into lengths. the pieces were then placed in the tin cans which were filled up even-full. jack and hugh stared at these different processes which went on without a pause. it seemed as if each operator might be a machine. each one performed a certain task and only that, and beyond that did nothing but shove each fish along, then reach back and take another. the knives, it seemed, always fell in the same place, and cut off the same parts with the same precision. it was a rising and falling of arms and knives, in the preparation of a food which was soon to be distributed all over the globe. at length they reached the cutting table. "here," said mr. james, "you can see how systematically the thing is done. it isn't enough that the fish should be cut into pieces, but it must be cut into sizes that are just about long enough to fill the can so that as few motions as possible need be gone through with to get the can level full." "there! do you see!" he went on, pointing to a chinaman, who with two or three motions of his right hand filled a can, just even-full; and then slid it along the table to a man next to him, who slipped on it the circular cover of tin and passed this on to the next man, who was handling a soldering iron and a bit of solder. in but a second, as it seemed to jack, the soldering of the can was finished, and then with a push the can went on to join those which were being bunched up by the chinamen, and placed in a shallow tray made of strap iron. when this tray was full a hook on the end of a chain running down from a traveller near the ceiling was hooked into a ring attached to chains running to the four corners of the tray, the tray was lifted, and run along the traveller a short distance until it stood over a vat of boiling water. it was then dropped into this, hung there for a few moments; and then, rising again, moved a little farther along the traveller, and descended on a table. by this table stood a chinaman, holding a small wooden mallet with which he tapped each can. "you see," said mr. james, "the expansion of the contents of the can under heat makes the cover bulge, and when the chinaman taps it with the mallet he can tell at once by the sound, whether the solder is perfectly tight or not. if, when the mallet strikes it, the cover yields much, he knows that there is an escape for the air and the can is thrown out. there, see him throw that one out? when the chinaman taps the cans it seems as if he were paying little attention to the work, but when a defective can comes along he detects it at once and casts it aside, just as he did that one." this happened to be the only one rejected of this lot, and the operator at once reversed his mallet and began to tap them over again. "what is he doing now, mr. james?" asked jack. "is he going over them again?" "no," said mr. james; "look closely at the mallet and you will see that he has reversed it; and in this end of the mallet there is a little tack. each time he strikes a can he punctures it, allowing, as you see, air, water, and steam to escape. as soon as this is done, the other workmen, with their soldering irons seal up these little bits of holes, and the work is done. now the only thing to do is to label the cans, box them, and ship them to the markets." "how many fish do they put up here in a day, mr. james?" asked jack. "about five hundred cases," said mr. james. "it's a lot, isn't it?" "i should say so," said jack, "it makes my head swim to think of it, and that is being done all along the river, isn't it?" "yes," said mr. james. "it is, and it keeps up for weeks and sometimes for months. the run of sockeye salmon usually lasts from four to six weeks, and during that time the factories run from four in the morning to seven or eight at night; and the work goes on constantly, sundays as well as week days." "well," said hugh; "i don't see how there are any salmon left in the river. i should think you would catch them all. there must be a lot of factories just like this all along the river; what becomes of the people living farther up the stream?" "i can't answer that very well, myself," said mr. james, "except that i know that there are plenty of them. here comes a man, though, who can tell you. he is an old fisherman, and has been in the canning business for years. oh, mcintyre!" he called out to a raw-boned, weather-beaten man who passed not far from them. mr. mcintyre looked at him, came over, and was introduced to hugh and jack as the proprietor of the cannery. he was glad to see them, and readily talked about salmon and salmon canning. "mr. johnson, here," said mr. james, "was wondering that there were any salmon left in the river for the people who live above here. he thinks you are catching them all." mr. mcintyre laughed loudly as he replied: "oh, not all of them; there are a few that get up. you see, this year we have not been able to use all the fish we caught, and we have taken off one half the boats. i don't believe that one fish is caught out of ten thousand that enter the river. everybody between here and the head of the river captures all the fish he wants, and in the autumn you will see fish that have spawned and died, floating down the river by the million. of course, i don't know how many are taken here, but i fancy more than two million or two and a half million fish. the indians all the way up the river have no trouble whatever in catching all they want. if you should go up the river you would see their camps along the shore, and you would see, too, that they were catching many fish." "how do they catch them, mr. mcintyre?" asked jack. "they catch them chiefly in purse nets; scooping them up out of the water, just as fast as the net can be swept." "you ought to take them up the river, charlie," he added, turning to mr. james, "and let them see what goes on between here and yale." "that's just what i am trying to do," said mr. james. "i want to get them to go up with me and i hope perhaps we can start to-morrow." much time was spent at the cannery, for jack and hugh did not seem to tire of watching the swift, certain, and never-ending movements that went on here for hours until the whistle blew for noon. then, indeed, they reluctantly left the factory and returned to the hotel. [illustration: an indian salmon weir--_page _] it must be remembered that all this occurred some twenty-five years ago, and that since that time wonderful changes have taken place in the methods and operations of salmon canning. this is merely an account of what jack saw when he visited new westminster. chapter xix fishing with a siwash the next morning, with mr. james, jack and hugh boarded the comfortable steamer which was to take them up the fraser to the town of yale, the head of navigation of the lower river. mr. james was anxious to have them see the end of the canadian pacific railroad, of which all the residents of the province were immensely proud at that time, for it was the first railroad that had been built in british columbia. incidentally they would view the scenery of the fraser, and would see many other interesting things. near its mouth the fraser is very muddy, and hugh and jack spoke of its resemblance in this respect to the missouri, with which they were so familiar. as the steamer ploughed its way up the river the water became less and less turbid, until, when yale was reached, though by no means colorless, it had lost its muddy appearance and was beautifully green. the current is everywhere rapid, and at certain points where the channel is narrow the water rushes between the steep banks with such violence that at times it seemed doubtful whether the vessel could overcome its force. at such points jack and hugh were always interested in watching the struggle, and noting by points on the bank the slow but steady passage which the vessel made in overcoming the force of the water. for some distance above new westminster the river is broad and flows through a wide alluvial bottom covered with a superb growth of cotton-wood trees; but farther up the channel is narrow; and mountains rise on either side, not very high but very steeply, and on them they saw frequent evidences of landslips which had laid bare long stretches of dark red rock, which contrasted beautifully with the green of the forests. as they passed along, mr. james pointed out one mountain after another, and told of the silver mines and the silver prospects that had been found on each. in many places along the river were seen extensive stretches of barren land covered with cobblestones and boulders which to jack seemed out of place in a region where vegetation was so universal. "why is it, mr. james," he asked, "that nothing seems to grow on these great piles of pebbles and cobblestones?" "why," said mr. james, "that is old mining ground. many of these gravel bars have been worked over by placer miners; and these piles of stones were left after the soil and fine sand had been washed for the gold which it contained. many of these bars have been worked over a number of times, and all of them, twice. along this river it has been just as it has been back in the states. after gold was discovered, the white man first went over the ground and washed the gravel, getting most of the gold; and then, after he got through, the chinaman, slow, patient, persistent, and able to subsist on little or nothing, went over the ground again and found in the abandoned claims money enough to pay what seemed to him good wages; in other words sufficient to give him a living, and enable him to save up money enough to take him back to his own country, where he lived comfortably for the rest of his life. "i am no miner," mr. james continued, "but you must talk with hunter. he is a civil engineer with a lot of experience, and i saw him on the boat this morning. i understand that he has a mining scheme which is big, though, of course, it is only a speculation as yet." mr. james stopped talking and looked about the deck, and then walked over to a tall, thin man who was standing near the rail, smoking. after speaking to him, the two came to where jack and hugh were sitting. introductions followed, and after a little time mr. hunter explained what it was that he proposed to do. "quesnelle lake," he said, "lies away north of yale and east of the river, in a country where some good prospects have been found. from the lake, quesnelle river flows into the fraser. the bed of quesnelle river is supposed to be very rich in gold. it is said that it is so rich that the chinamen anchor their boats in the river and dredge the dirt from the bottom, take it ashore and wash it, and in this way make good wages. i have received a dominion grant to mine this river, or so much of it as i can. of course, as yet, this is a mere prospect, but i am going up there now to find something definite about it. i shall have to do some dredging to find out what there is in the bottom of the river. if i find that the dirt there is rich enough, i shall build, across the river near quesnelle lake, a dam strong enough to hold back for three or six months of the year--during the dry season, in other words--the water of the lake, so that the volume which passes through the river channel will be greatly diminished. this will leave bare a great portion of the river channel, which can then be mined by ordinary hydraulic processes. as i say, there is as yet nothing certain about the matter, but there seems sufficient prospect of profit in it to make it worth while to attempt it." "that seems a reasonable scheme," said hugh, "though, of course, as yet there are a number of 'ifs' to it." "there are a good many," said mr. hunter; "but i believe that in the course of the next three months i shall know much more about it than i do now." "i believe, mr. hunter," said jack, "that you have travelled a great deal over the province, have you not?" "yes," said mr. hunter, "a good deal. i have been over the whole length of it and over much of its width, but i know little about its northwest corner. there i never happened to be; but from the fraser and kootenay rivers, down to the boundary line and all along the western part of the province, i have been." "is there any place near here," said jack, "where one could go into the mountains for say a week or ten days, with a prospect of getting a little hunting? i don't mean for deer and goats, because i suppose these are found almost everywhere, but with some prospect of finding sheep, and perhaps elk? i believe that bears exist everywhere, and of course the meeting with them is a matter of luck." mr. hunter considered for a moment or two, and then said: "do you want to make a little hunting trip of this kind, and now?" "yes," said jack, "mr. johnson, here, and i were thinking of doing that." "well," said mr. hunter; "i believe i know just the place for you. it's only a short distance from hope, a town just below yale, on the river, and if you can get started at once, four or five days ought to take you into a good sheep country, where there are also a few deer and goats. you could have three or four days hunting there, and could get back to take the steamer down the river and get to westminster inside of two weeks." "that's a little bit more time than we have to give to the trip," said jack, "but perhaps we could do that, and perhaps we could gain a day or two in the travelling." "perhaps you might," said mr. hunter, "those things depend largely upon the outfit you have and chiefly on the energy of the man who runs your outfit. if you get somebody who is a rustler, who will get you up every morning before day and have the train on the march before the sun is up, and travel all day, you can get along pretty rapidly." "well," said hugh, "it seems to be a matter that depends largely upon ourselves. son and i are fair packers, and if we can get horses and a man to wrangle them and somebody that knows the road, we ought to be able to keep them moving." "i'll tell you what i will do," said mr. hunter. "when we get to yale i will telegraph to an acquaintance of mine in hope, and find out what the prospect is of getting the outfit that you want." hugh and jack both thanked mr. hunter, and after some inquiry about the character of the country to be traversed, the talk turned to other subjects. it was but a little later when the boat began to pass groups of indians camping along the shore; and near each camp were seen the drying stages on which they were curing the fish that they took. horizontal poles were raised five or six feet above the ground and these were thickly hung with the red flesh, making a band of bright color which stood out in bold relief against the green of the trees and the cold gray of the rocks. jack and hugh looked at these camps with much interest. "it looks some like a little camp on the plains when there has been a killing and the meat is just hung up to dry, doesn't it, son?" remarked hugh. "a little," said jack, "but i cannot separate the camp from its surroundings of mountains and timber and big water." "no," said hugh, "that is hard to do, but of course these people are gathering their meat and drying it just as our indians gather their meat and dry it." in front of the tents and shelters in which the indians lived down on the bank of the river, were scaffolds made of long poles thrust into the rocks and resting on other rocks, projecting out well over the water. on each one of these stood one or more indians engaged in fishing with a hand net which he swept through the water, just as had been described the day before by mr. mcintyre. to see it actually done made the operation so much easier to understand than when it had been simply described. the indians swept their nets through the water from up stream downward, and at almost every sweep the net brought up a fish, which the man took from it with his left hand and threw to a woman standing on the bank above the stream. they could be seen to perform some operation on it, and sometimes a woman with an armful of fish went up and hung them on the drying scaffold. mr. hunter was standing by them, also observing the fishing, and jack said to him: "mr. hunter, i can't see clearly enough to understand just what these nets are and how they are worked. can you explain it to me?" "yes," said mr. hunter. "it's very simple, and when you go ashore at yale, you will be able to see the indians catch fish in just this way, and you can see for yourself just how it is done. you know what an ordinary landing net is, don't you--a net such as we use for trout?" "yes, of course i do," said jack, "it's pretty nearly what we call a scap net along the salt water, except that it is not so large or so coarse." "yes," said mr. hunter. "you know that a landing net has a handle, a hoop, to which the net is attached, and a large net hanging down below the hoop. now if you imagine a landing net four or five times as big as any you ever saw, you will have an idea of the general appearance of one of these purse nets when spread. the hoop of the purse net is oval and made of a round stick, the branch of a tree bent so that the hoop is about four feet long by three feet broad. this hoop is attached to a long handle. running on the stick, which forms the hoop, are a number of wooden rings, large enough to run freely. the net is attached to these small wooden rings, and if the handle is held vertically the weight of the net and rings will bring all the rings together at the bottom of the hoop, so that the net is a closed bag. now from the end of the handle of the purse net a string runs to the hoop and is attached to the wooden rings that run on it in such a way that if you pull on the string the little wooden rings spread themselves out at equal distances all around the hoop, and the net becomes open, just as an ordinary landing net is when open. as the indian is about to sweep the net to try to catch a fish, he pulls the string which spreads the net, and the net is then swept through the water with a slow motion. the string which holds it open passes around the little finger of one hand; and if the fisherman feels anything strike against the net, the string is loosened, the rings run together, and the net becomes a closed bag which securely holds the object within it. the salmon, swimming against the current, pass along close to the steep bank where the force of the water is least, and the eddies help them. the indians know where the salmon pass, and sweep their nets along there to meet them; and, as you see, catch lots of fish." "that makes it just as clear as anything," said jack, "and i am very much obliged to you for telling me about it. i want to understand these things that i see, and sometimes it is pretty hard to do so without an explanation. now, if you will let me, there is another question i would like to ask you. what do the women do in preparing the salmon for drying? i can see that they are using knives. do they just cut off the head, or do they take out the backbone?" "i am glad you asked me this question," said mr. hunter, "because there's a difference in the way the indians save the fish. the coast indians just cut off the head and remove the entrails, but these indians up here are more dainty; i suppose, as a matter of fact, they are more primitive, and do not understand the importance of collecting all the food they can, although they ought to understand that, for they have certainly starved many times when the salmon run has been a poor one. up here, the indians only save the belly of the fish. by a single slash of her knife, the woman cuts away the whole belly from the throat back to a point behind the anal fins, and extending up on the sides to where the solid flesh begins. this portion is retained and hung up to dry. the whole shoulders, back and tail are thrown into the water again. there is another thing that i believe will interest you. you see these stages from which they are fishing? well, you might think that anybody might come along and build a stage and go to fishing, or that whoever came first in the summer to one of these stages might occupy it, and use it during the season, but that isn't the fact. these stages are private property, or rather family property, and the right to occupy and use each point descends from the father to the oldest son of the family." "well," said jack, "that's new to me. i never heard of anything like it. did you, hugh?" "no," said hugh, "it's one ahead of me." "well," said mr. hunter, "you will find quite a lot of customs of that kind along this coast. certain tribes and certain families have the right to hunt or fish in certain localities and it's a right that is universally respected among the indians. a man would no more think of interfering with another family's fishing stage or trespassing on his hunting ground than he would think of disturbing a cache of food that did not belong to him." "that's another thing i had not heard of, mr. hunter," said jack; "the fact that the indians have separate special places where they have the right to hunt and where other people have not that right." "yes," said hugh, "that's new to me, and would seem quite queer to anybody in our country." "what is your country, if i may ask?" said mr. hunter, courteously. "why," said hugh, "son and i have been for the last three or four years on the plains and in the mountains back in the states." "oh, in the rocky mountains?" said mr. hunter. "yes," said hugh. "there, of course, your game is chiefly buffalo, i suppose, and they wander a good deal, do they not?" "yes," said hugh, "they wander some, but not so much as most people think. a great many people say that in summer the buffalo all go north and in winter they all go down south, but that's not so. there are movements of the herds with the seasons, but they are not very extensive." "mr. hunter," said jack, taking advantage of a moment's pause, "i have heard something about the caches that the indians make of their food, but i have never seen one in this country. will you tell me how they arrange them?" "certainly," said mr. hunter. "these indians, here, after their fish have dried, pack them together; and in a tree, far above the reach of animals or insects, they build something that you might call a little house or a big box, in which they store the food and leave it there against a time of need. the house or box, whichever you choose to call it, is built of shakes, that is, of thin planks split from the cedar, is fairly well jointed, and has a tight and slightly sloping roof so that the moisture cannot get into it. usually they are seen along the streams or near favorite camping grounds, and i should not be at all surprised if we saw one before reaching yale. they are quite commonly seen." "and you say," said jack, "that they are never disturbed?" "absolutely never," said mr. hunter. "indians would suffer great privations before taking food belonging to other people, because they know to take away this food might mean starvation to the owners. of course if an absolutely starving outfit of indians found a cache they might take from it a little food, perhaps enough to carry them on for a day or two along their road; but if they did, they would leave some sign at the cache to say who had taken the food, and they would feel bound, at some later day, whenever it were possible, to return what they had taken with good interest." by this time the day was well advanced, and a little later mr. hunter pointed to a few dilapidated buildings standing near the river and said: "there is all that's left of the town of hope. the situation is a beautiful one, in a wide bottom; but there is no life in the settlement. it is from this point on the river that the trail starts for kootenay about five hundred miles distant, and all the mail and express matters used to leave from here. the town was founded in the early days of the mining excitement, when it was thought that the diggings of the fraser were inexhaustible. people used to think that this would be a great town, and there was an active speculation in building lots, but as the washing on the lower river ceased to pay, the tide of emigration passed on. hope was left behind, and the owners of town lots will have to wait a long time for their money. at the same time, when the railroad is finished it will of course pass through hope or near it, and there may be a future for the place; but that will depend upon agriculture and not on mining." a little later in the day the steamer tied up to the bank at yale. it was quite a large town, spread out at the foot of a great mountain, and it seemed to have the characteristics of all western railroad towns. it was from here that the canadian pacific railroad was being built eastward, and yale was thus the supply point and the locality where all the laborers employed on the road congregated during holidays. to jack the place seemed as cosmopolitan almost as san francisco. he recognized english, scotch, and french; and noticed some germans, swedes, and some americans; indians and chinese were numerous, and negroes jostled mexican packers and muleteers; while there were many mixed bloods whose parentage could hardly be determined from their countenances. jack learned that a stage ran from yale to lytton, where the river is again practicable for steamers, and that this was the route taken by persons going to the mines at cariboo. mr. hunter, knowing jack's interest in birds, took him to see a taxidermist who had a considerable collection of bird skins brought together from the immediate neighborhood. here he saw many eastern and western birds, the most interesting of which were the evening grosbeak, the pine grosbeak, and a species of gray crowned finch. by the time the birds had been inspected the sun had set and they returned to their quarters at the hotel. immediately after breakfast next morning, jack, hugh, and mr. james walked along the railroad two or three miles up the river and into the cañon. the scenery was very beautiful. the walls of the cañon were nearly vertical, the stream tearing along between them at a high rate of speed. just at the entrance of the cañon stands a high rock or island, which divides the current into two streams of nearly equal size. on a flat rock they all sat down, and while the two older men filled their pipes and smoked mr. james told jack the story of this rock. "of course you understand," he said, "that the salmon has always been the most important food of the year to the fraser river indians. it supplies them with their winter food, and indeed with provisions for almost the entire year. to them, as to almost all the indians along this coast, the salmon is the staple food, just as back on the plains the buffalo is what the indians there depend upon. just as back in that country the buffalo is somewhat a sacred animal, so here the salmon are in a degree sacred; and just as back there the indians perform certain ceremonies when they are going out to make a big hunt, so here the capture of the first salmon is celebrated with religious ceremony." hugh nodded and said, "i guess indians are alike the whole continent over." "well," said mr. james, "each summer the first fish that came up the river and was taken, was regarded not as belonging to the person who took it but to the good spirit; i suppose that means the chief god. as soon as caught, therefore, it was to be taken to the chief of the tribe, and delivered into his keeping. a young girl was then chosen and after having been purified, she was stripped naked and all over her body were marked crossed lines in red paint, which represented the meshes of the net. she was then taken to the water's edge and with solemn ceremonies the net marks were washed off. this was supposed to make the people's nets fortunate. prayers were made to the good spirit and the salmon was then cut up into small pieces, a portion was sacrificed, and the remainder was divided into still smaller pieces, one of which was given to each individual of those present. this, squawitch tells me, was the regular annual custom. now, about this rock. one season the people had eaten all their food and had gathered here at the river for the fishing, but as yet no fish had been caught, and they were starving. it happened that the first salmon caught was taken by a woman, and she being very hungry, said nothing about its capture but at once devoured it. this was a crime and for it she was changed by the good spirit into this rock, which was thrown into the river where we see it now, to remain there forever as a memorial of her offence, and a warning to others." "my, that's a good story, mr. james," said jack. "yes," said hugh, "that's a sure enough indian story." the pipes being knocked out they started on up the river. just above the first tunnel jack saw on a stage down near the water's edge, an old indian fishing with a purse net, and as it seemed, catching a salmon at every sweep he made. this was too much for jack to resist, so he clambered down the rocks to the indian's stage. after watching him for a little while, and noticing closely how he handled the net, jack took from his pocket a quarter and held it out to the indian, at the same time reaching out his hand for the net. the indian gave it to him readily enough, and began to dress the fish he had already caught, while jack stepping out on the stage over the water, began to sweep the net through the current just as the indian had done. at the first sweep he felt something strike the net and loosened the string. he raised the net and--with some difficulty, for it was big--brought up to the stage a great ten pound salmon. he reached the net back to the indian to take the fish from it; and, then spreading it again, he repeated the operation. in ten minutes he had caught nearly as many salmon, all of which were about the same size. no doubt the indian would have been willing to have him fish all day for him, but his two companions, on the railroad track above, were getting impatient and called to him. jack gave back the net to the indian, climbed up the bank and overtook his companions, all three then going on up the track. it was an interesting experience, and one that not many people have enjoyed. on their return to town hugh asked mr. james if there was any one in the town, so far as he knew, that had ever crossed the mountains to the head of the peace river, and followed that stream down to the eastward. mr. james thought for a moment or two, and then said: "why, of course. i know just the man, and i can take you to him. it's old man mcclellan. he used to be an old hudson bay man, and has travelled all over the country. i am very sure that i have heard him tell about making that trip across the mountains." a little inquiry brought them to mr. mcclellan's store. they found him a hardy old scotchman who seemed glad to give them such information as he could. he told them about the streams that they must go up to reach the head of the peace river, and that there was a two days' portage between the two waters, those flowing east into the hudson bay, and those west into the pacific. "the distance is not so great," he said, "but it's a rough country and ye'll have to go slowly, but it is a fine country to travel through; lots of game, moose, caribou, and mountain goats, and plenty of fish. ye'll never have to starve there." "well," said hugh, "i don't know as we'll ever be able to make that trip, but i've often thought about it and wanted to. one time, a good many years ago, i got hold of the travels of alexander mckenzie, the man who found the frozen ocean, and he crossed the mountains from hudson bay to the pacific ocean, and i have always thought that i would like to make that trip myself, but i am getting old now for trips. i can't get around as easy as i could twenty years ago." "pshaw, man," said the old hudson bay voyager, "never talk like that! you're good for many years of travel yet. faith, i'd like to take that trip with you, if you don't put it off too long. it's a fine country, and i'd like to go through it again." that evening at the hotel they saw mr. hunter, who told them that he had communicated with the people at hope, and had found that it would be easy for them to get a packer and an indian guide and horses to go off on the hunting trip if they wished to. the outfit could be ready to start to-morrow morning if they felt like it. jack and hugh thought this would be a good thing to do, and got from mr. hunter the name of the man at hope who could give them the desired information and assistance. they asked mr. james if he would not join them on the hunt, but his business required him to return to new westminster at once. it was determined, then, that all should start on the boat at three o'clock the next morning, jack and hugh getting off at hope and trying to make a start for the sheep country that same morning. chapter xx off for a hunt in the mountains it was still dark when the boat started, and except jack, hugh, and mr. james, all the passengers promptly disposed themselves to sleep for a time. the captain had promised to stop at hope and let the two hunters off, and their bags and blankets were all piled near the gangplank to be rushed off at a moment's notice. in little more than an hour the boat whistled, slowed down, and drew up close to the bank; the wheel was reversed until the boat lay up close to the wharf, the gangplank was run out, hugh and jack shook hands with mr. james and ran ashore, each carrying his bag and gun, while two of the deck-hands followed with their rolls of blankets, tossed them to them on the ground, and then rushed back. the gangplank was drawn in, the boat whistled and started up, soon disappearing around a bend. meanwhile, two white men and two indians had approached them and accosted hugh. the older of the two white men introduced himself as john ryder, with whom mr. hunter had communicated the day before. "your animals are all ready, mr. johnson," he said; "and all we have to do is to buy provisions and pack the loads and start." "well," said hugh, "that's just exactly what we want; and the sooner we get off the better it will please mr. danvers, here, and me. where are your animals, and where can we get something to eat, and what time will the stores be open?" "if you will come with me," said ryder, "i will show you the hotel and the animals; and as soon as you have had your breakfast we can buy our supplies and start. these indians here will carry up your things." "very good," said hugh, "they may as well take the blankets to the corral, wherever that is; and we'll take the bags and guns with us." ryder conducted them to the hotel where, as yet, no one was awake; and then, followed by hugh and jack went to the corral where there were a dozen horses. the outfit seemed a good one; the animals strong and fat. ryder proposed to take six pack animals, three with saw bucks, and three with aparejos. hugh and jack looked over the riggings, which seemed in good order; and then they all returned to the hotel. after a talk with ryder it was arranged that they should take ryder, a boy to wrangle the horses, and an indian who professed to know the hunting country. these with the six packs would make eleven animals. "it's more than i counted on taking," said hugh, "but perhaps it's better to take a horse or two extra rather than sit around for two or three days and fuss over it. we won't save in money and we'll lose quite a little time." by ten o'clock the provisions had been purchased and made up into convenient packs. ryder was to furnish a tent and cook-outfit, and got the things together at the corral. then hugh, jack, and ryder and his assistant in a very short time packed all the horses except those which were to carry the provisions. these were taken down to the store and left there, and before noon the packed train, with ryder in the lead, went out of hope and struck up across the divide between nicolume and the head of the skagit river. for some distance they followed the old wagon road which leads up between high steep mountains, through beautiful scenery. the cedars and firs were grand, the mountains towered high and were streaked with white dykes, and the gulches and ravines where deciduous trees grew, were bright with the red of the mountain maples. toward night they reached a place called lake house, a cabin on the edge of a wide meadow--marshy with some standing water and surrounded by willows and alders. here jack set up his rod and caught a few fairly good trout weighing nearly half a pound apiece, and many little ones which he threw back. hugh came up to see how he was getting along; and soon they went back to the camp together. in the morning everything was wet, for there had been a very heavy dew. they got off in good season and after stopping once or twice to tighten, as the ropes grew dry, they went on and made good time. during the morning they passed two or three pack trains, the animals of which were loaded with long boxes whose contents neither hugh nor jack could guess; but at the first opportunity they asked ryder, who explained to them what these boxes contained. "you see," he said, "it seems that every chinaman, when he dies wants to go back and be buried in his own country; and they make arrangements before they die that they shall be taken back. i believe one chinaman here has the contract of sending back all british columbian chinese, and he sublets the job, it being understood that the various subcontractors will deliver the bodies at certain specified places. sometimes a chinese is shipped soon after he dies, sometimes not for three or four years. they seal them up in zinc cases about six feet long and two feet wide and put these cases in crates of wood. these they pack lengthwise of the horse, making for them a sort of platform which rests on an aparejo. the long cases project forward from the horse's neck and back over his hips, and are pretty hard on their backs; but they ride well enough after the ropes have been thrown over them." not long after leaving the lake house the wagon road came to an end, and then for a while the trail followed down the skagit river. all day the way led through the mountains, and all day the trail kept climbing higher, so that when they camped that night ryder said that the altitude was about five thousand feet. all day long every one was busy hurrying the horses along, and no time was taken for hunting. that night there was a heavy frost, and when they awoke the next morning, it was very cold. five of the horses were lost, and it took some time to recover four of them, and then they moved on, leaving one behind, which, however, turned up later and was brought along. this also was a day of climbing, for they passed over a mountain about seven thousand feet high. several times jack and hugh heard the familiar call of the little chief, or rock hare, so familiar an inhabitant of the slide rock of all the mountains of the main divide. that night they camped on a creek called whipsaw, and as there was no grass at the camp for the horses, they were turned out to the mountain side to feed. after they had got into camp, ryder told jack that on the creek, a couple of miles below the trail, there was a deer lick; and suggested that they should go down and try to kill a deer, as fresh meat was needed. they went down and found a spot where animals had evidently been at work gnawing and licking the saline clay; but, though there were abundant signs all about, no deer were seen. the next day after passing through a beautiful open country dotted with great pines, whose cinnamon-colored trunks rose fifty to sixty feet from the ground without a branch, they reached alison's on the smilkameen. here they stopped for a little while. mrs. alison, a very intelligent and kindly woman, took great pride in showing jack and hugh the children's pets--a great horned owl, a sparrow hawk just from the nest, some attractive green-winged teal and mallards caught young, and a tame magpie which talked remarkably well and spoke the names of two of the children--"alfreda" and "caroline"--very plainly. keeping on down the river, they camped below alison's. the way down the river was beautiful, for on either hand rose high, steep, slide rock mountains, marked with sheep and goat trails, criss-crossing in every direction. here and there along the stream stood an indian cabin. "i tell you, son," said hugh, "we're in a game country now, or what has been a game country. in times past there have been a heap of sheep on these mountain sides here. you see their trails running everywhere. of course, when a sheep trail is once made in the slide rock it lasts just about forever, unless there is some slip of rock on a mountain side and the rocks roll down and cover it up." that night the indian, baptiste, confirmed what hugh had said. ryder interpreted for him, saying that sheep and goats were plenty near here and that to-morrow they would hunt. "in spring," baptiste said, "when ploughing the land, i often see goats far down on the cliffs close to the river, but as summer advances and it grows warm and the flies become troublesome, the goats gradually work up to the tops of the mountains. there they paw holes in the earth, in which they stand and stamp; and sometimes wallow and roll to get rid of the flies." "all right," said hugh, "we will see what baptiste can show us to-morrow." "the way that indian talks," he added, "sounds to me just like kutenai. i have heard a lot of kutenais talk in the blackfeet camps, and elsewhere, and i would like to know if this baptiste is a kutenai." "i guess not," said ryder; "he's a smilkameen." "ask him," said hugh, "if the smilkameens and kutenais are relations." the answer, given through ryder, was "no." "ask him," said hugh, "if their languages are alike." baptiste replied: "yes, the two languages are not quite the same, but they sound alike." he added: "in the same way the tongue spoken by the okanagan indians is much like my language." hugh shook his head and said: "that may be so, but i don't feel a bit sure about it. often it's very hard to make an indian understand what you're trying to get at, even if you can speak his own language; but after it has to go through two or three interpreters there's a big chance of a misunderstanding somewhere." "well, hugh," said jack, "what shall we do to-morrow? go on farther or stop here and hunt? i understand that baptiste says that there are plenty of goats hereabouts, and if we want some we can easily get them." "well," said hugh, "we need some meat and we might just as well stop here for a day if you think best and see whether we can kill a kid or two, or a dry nanny. you know i don't think much of goat meat; and yet, of course, it's meat, and good for a change from bacon. i'll ask baptiste what the prospects are." calling up ryder, hugh had begun to question baptiste, when, out of the darkness, another indian stepped up to the fire and saluted the white men in pretty fair english. a little talk with him developed that he was tom, a brother of baptiste. after a few questions baptiste and tom both agreed that there was every opportunity to kill goats here. tom said that in the early summer he often saw them from the trail, as he was travelling back and forth. it was finally decided that they should stop here for one day and make a hunt and then proceed to the sheep country. the next morning baptiste, tom, hugh, and jack started on foot up a small creek which came out of the hills near baptiste's house. the way was steep and narrow and they had followed the stream up two or three miles before any pause was made. two or three times the glass revealed white objects, which close observations showed to be weather-beaten logs. suddenly tom stopped and declared that he saw a goat. the white men all looked through their glasses and declared that it was a stump, but after going a little further and looking at it again it appeared that the white men had been looking at the wrong object, and that tom's goat was lying on the ledge in plain sight. after going a little farther along another goat was discovered high on the hillside, a little below the first and quite close to it. they were six or seven hundred yards away and close to the creek. to approach them it would be necessary to go up the stream to a point well above them, and then to climb the mountains on which they were, get above them, and then come down behind a point which would apparently be within shooting distance of them. before they reached the point where the creek must be crossed, hugh said to jack: "now, son, you go with tom and try to get these goats, and i will take baptiste and go farther up the stream and climb that high hill you see. i may get a shot there, and you have a good chance here." jack crossed the stream with tom and they tugged up the side of the mountain, which was very steep and much obstructed by fallen timber. two or three times jack had to sit down and puff for breath, for it was nearly a year now since he had done much in the way of climbing stiff mountains, but tom seemed tireless. at last tom declared that they had climbed high enough above the goats to make it safe to work along the mountain side to the point above them. the hillside was more or less broken with ravines and all of these were rough with slide rock and fallen timber. they had just reached the edge of one of these gulches and had stopped for a moment's rest when the highest of the goats, which they could now see below them, came running up out of the timber from below to where the other goat was lying. this one got up, and it was then seen that there were four goats, two old ones and two kids; and all began to move up the mountain side. evidently something had frightened them. they had not seen jack or tom, nor smelt them, but were looking down into the valley. they moved off along the mountain side going up diagonally, and jack and tom watched them until they disappeared behind some ledges. then the two set off after them as hard as they could go. it was pretty wild travelling across the gulches, but when they came out onto the ledges where the goats had gone, the footing was easier and the going better. they followed the ledges for some little distance, keeping to a goat trail. in this trail were seen now and then tracks where something had just passed along, but there were no hoof marks. the trail was too hard for that, but every now and then a place would be seen where some animal had stepped on a stone and partly turned it over, or where the moss was knocked from a stone where a hoof had struck it but a very short time before. they kept along the trail, passing through some low timber and presently came out again onto the ledges, and there--hardly forty feet away from them stood three goats. one of them was clambering up a little ravine and just about to disappear behind the rocks, the other two, a mother and her kid, stood on a rock, looking up the mountain side. "shoot!" said tom, "shoot!" jack fired two shots at the nearest goat and kid, and both of them fell off the rock they had been standing on and began to roll down the hillside. tom gave a wild whoop of joy and shouted, "good shoot! good shoot!" and then asked jack if he wanted to kill the other, but jack said "no," these two were enough, and they started down the hill to get the game. the animals had rolled a long way, but at length they found them, took off the skins, and took what meat they needed. tom went down the stream, and cutting some long shoots of a tough shrub, he worked them back and forth, partly splintering them, and made from them two rather stiff ropes which he tied together with a knot. with these he made up a pack of the skins and meat, put the load on his back, and they started for the camp. when they reached the trail down the valley they sat down for some time and waited for hugh and baptiste; but, as they did not come, after some hours' waiting, tom took his pack on his back and they went on to the camp. while they were waiting, jack inquired of tom as to the names of the sheep and goats, and tom said, as nearly as jack could make out, that in the smilkameen tongue, the male mountain sheep was called "_shwillops_," while the ewe was called "_yehhahlahkin_." the goat in smilkameen was called "_shogkhlit_," while the port hope indians called goat "_p'kalakal_." tom said that farther on, in the country to which they were going, there were many sheep. an hour after jack and tom had reached camp, hugh and baptiste returned, bearing the skin of a two-year-old male goat, which had been killed on the other side of the mountain they had climbed. it had been a hard tramp and a long stalk. that night as they talked about game and hunting, baptiste said that at the head of the okanagan lake caribou were very plenty. the distance from where they were would be about eighty or ninety miles. the next morning while jack was preparing the goat skins for packing up, he was much surprised to find the ears of the goats full of wood ticks. in one of the ears he counted no less than twenty ticks, and some of them were so deep down in the ear that when he was skinning the head he saw the ticks as he cut off the ears. he wondered whether this might not account in some part at least for the apparent inattention of goats to sounds. he asked baptiste about this, but got no particularly satisfactory answer to his question; and he thought perhaps the indian did not understand him, but baptiste did say distinctly that sometimes ticks got into ears of human beings and made them deaf. while jack was attending to his goat skins, hugh and tom went off to another mountain to look for sheep. a little bunch of seven were found lying down in an excellent position. there was no wind and a careful stalk was made; but just as the two got up to within shooting distance a light breeze began to blow from them to the sheep, and at the very instant that hugh was pulling his trigger at a ram that was lying down, the bunch smelt them and sprang to their feet. it was too late for hugh to hold his fire, and instead of killing the ram he cut a little tuft of hair from the brisket. in an instant the whole bunch of sheep were out of sight. hugh came into camp much depressed and related his adventure to jack. "i expect, son," he said, "that that indian thinks you can shoot all around me. all the way coming home, after i missed that sheep, he kept telling me what a good and careful shot you were. he said he had taken out many white men to hunt, but he never saw anybody that shot as straight and as carefully as you." jack laughed and said: "he little knows the difference between you and me, hugh, in matters of shooting. anybody could have hit those goats, for they gave me all the time there was, and they weren't more than forty yards away. it was like shooting at the side of a barn." "well," said hugh, "of course if i had known that those sheep were going to jump up, i could easily have fired quicker but i thought i had all the time there was and i intended to shoot so that that ram would never get up; but i never could explain it to that indian, you bet." "oh," said jack, "he will have plenty of time to see you shoot later on, i expect." the next morning the train was packed early and they started on. baptiste led the way, jack followed him, and hugh and tom came behind. ryder brought up the rear and watched the animals. an hour or two after, two blue grouse were startled from the trail and flew up into the tall trees where they stood on the great limbs with outstretched necks. "hugh," said jack, "give tom an idea of your shooting." "why, what's the use," said hugh, "wasting two cartridges on those birds. this kid meat is good enough." "no," said jack, "i want to have tom see you cut those birds' heads off." "well," said hugh, "all right, if you wish me to." drawing his horse a little out of the trail, but not dismounting, he fired two shots which brought down the two grouse. tom was sent for them, brought them in, and found that in each case the bullet had cut off the bird's neck. the indian looked at the birds rather solemnly and then at hugh, and then shook his head as if he could not understand how the man who could miss the sheep the day before should have been able to make these two shots. jack laughed at him and said: "good shot, eh, tom?" tom declared that the shot was good. one day's journey brought the party to the ashnola country, a region of high rounded hills, over which farther back from the river rose still higher peaks and precipices of rocks. it is a country of beautiful scenery and abounded in game. a large lick, where animals had been licking and gnawing the earth until great hollows had been dug in it, was seen; and farther along as they travelled up the trail on the south side of the creek they saw a number of sheep working down on to a cut bank, which was evidently a lick. before the sheep were noticed they had seen the party and there was then no opportunity to hunt them. the animals were only three or four hundred yards away and were not alarmed. later in the day, on another cut bank, another band of fifteen sheep was seen at a lick and might have been easily approached but the party did not stop. all these sheep were ewes and lambs. that night the train climbed pretty well up a mountain and came on a little bench seven or eight hundred feet above the main stream, where they camped. the country seemed to be full of sheep, for jack, going out to look for water, came across a band on a grassy hillside, but too far off to be shot at. the camp was a pleasant one in a little group of pines with water not far off, and the hillsides covered with admirable grazing for the animals. after supper, baptiste and tom told them that three or four miles back in the hills were high rocky peaks where many sheep were to be found, and it was determined that the next day they should visit these hills. the indians said that it was possible to get up there with horses, but that the trail was steep and hard. jack and hugh, after talking the matter over and counting up the days and realizing that two days later it would be necessary for them to start back to the coast, determined that instead of taking their animals they would carry their blankets on their backs and would visit these hills, camp there, and have a look at the country, and then would return to camp and thence to hope. the next morning they were off early, accompanied by the two indians, while ryder was left to look after the animals. chapter xxi last days in british columbia as the indians had said the trail was very steep, but after a time they reached an open timber plateau country, beautiful to travel through but without apparent game. after a little while, however, the timber grew less, and they could see before them gently rolling hills from which at some distance rose a bald, snowy mountain. they walked swiftly along, and the great mountain grew nearer. "i tell you, hugh," said jack, "that looks like a good sheep country!" "yes," said hugh, "it does, and from what we have seen i expect there are plenty of them there." "this is the sort of place where we ought to find big rams," said jack, with a laugh. "right," replied hugh; "but you've hunted enough to know that big rams are not always found where they ought to be." "no," said jack, "that's an old story; the big rams are always 'farther back.'" "yes," said hugh, "they are always 'farther back,' but what that means, i guess nobody knows. i expect that as a matter of fact, the big rams, keeping together as they do, for all the season except in rutting time, and being few in numbers compared with the ewes and young ones, are harder to find, just because they are few in number." the afternoon was far advanced when they reached the foot of the mountain. here, snow lay on the ground two or three inches deep. by a little spring they found a white man's camp that had been made early in the season. in the fresh snow hugh pointed out to jack the tracks of a wolverine which had been about the camp recently, nosing around to see what it could find. a few moments later one of the indians came up, and hugh said: "tom, do you know whose camp this is?" "yes," said tom, "three young men who were here the moon before last. they hunt a great deal. they fire a good many shots. not kill many animals." the fireplace, the picket pins, and a shelter built of spruce boughs, showed that the people had been here for some time. "well," said hugh, "let's camp right here. there is a good shelter for us in case it rains, as it looks likely to do now. now, tom, you and baptiste get supper, will you, and son and i will take a little walk from the camp, and see what we can see." the two started off, not toward the mountain but rather toward a large ravine which ran down from it. they had gone but a few hundred yards, when, as they were nearing the crest of a little ridge at the foot of an old moraine which ran down from the mountain, hugh put out his hand and sank slowly down to the ground. jack crouched beside him, and hugh said: "there's a sheep just over the ridge; crawl up and kill it." jack cautiously approached the ridge and looking over, saw not more than seventy-five yards away a sheep walking away toward the next ridge. the wind was right, and it was evident from the animal's actions that it had neither seen nor smelt the men. her hips were toward him, and he did not wish to fire at her in that position for fear of spoiling the meat, so he waited. a moment later she walked over the ridge and out of sight, and hugh and jack followed. when they looked over the next ridge, they saw the sheep, broad-side toward them. the sun was low and glittered on jack's front sight and troubled him a little; and he took aim two or three times without pulling the trigger. as it was, he shot a little too high, but the animal fell, and they hurried up to it. it was moderately fat, and jack and hugh carried the meat into the camp on their backs. the next morning they were early afoot and climbed the mountain. they had gone hardly a mile from the camp when they found seven sheep feeding on a perfectly bare hillside where there was no cover whatever. it was useless to try to approach them, and as they were in the direction in which the two wanted to go, hugh and jack disregarded them, and presently the sheep ran off. constantly climbing, they came nearer and nearer the top of the mountain. the grass began to give way to pebbles and stones, and the snow got deeper and deeper. presently they reached the top of the mountain; and, crossing its narrow crest, looked down into a beautiful little glacial basin which contained a charming lake and meadow. feeding in this meadow were twelve sheep, far, far below them, and quite out of reach. the wind was blowing fiercely across the mountain top and they crept down into a shelter behind some rocks and for some time sat there and watched the sheep. soon after they were first seen, the animals went down to the border of the lake and drank, and then came up on to the meadow again and lay down. after a little while, some movement, or perhaps the glitter of some piece of metal about the men, startled the sheep. they rose and looked at them, and then walked off, and after a little while began to feed again. later, when jack and hugh got up and climbed to the top of the mountain, the sheep, not much alarmed, moved slowly off and climbed up the mountain side into a deep icy gorge in which was a great mass of snow. jack and hugh went on for some distance, looking down into one big cañon after another, but seeing nothing more, turned back to go to the camp. on the way back they came upon a flock of white-tailed ptarmigan of which there were about twenty-five. jack had never killed one of these birds, and was anxious to have a full grown one in his hands. "is there any reason, hugh," he asked, "why i should not kill one of these birds?" "none at all, so far as i see," said hugh. "the wind is blowing so hard that nothing ahead of us will be able to hear the firing. if you want to kill one, do so." the wind was blowing a perfect gale and when jack approached the pretty birds, they rose at some little distance, flew a few yards, and then alighted on a snow bank in which they at once scratched out shallow hollows where they crouched, more or less protected from the wind. the gale made it difficult for jack to hold his gun steady and the first shot that he fired was a miss, for he overshot the bird. at the crack of the gun they all rose and flew a little farther away, and his next shot killed one. it was in almost full winter plumage, though there were others in the flock that had only partly changed from the black and tawny of summer to the white winter coat. jack wanted to skin the bird, but the ball from his rifle had raked its back and torn off a great many feathers. nevertheless he put it in his pocket so that at night he would have an opportunity to study it by the light of the fire. on the way home the two men had a beautiful view from the top of the mountain, looking down into a most picturesque basin walled in on all sides by superb mountains and containing a beautiful lake. between the tops of the mountains and the valley there were three benches or steps. the lake lay in the valley. the next morning hugh loaded the indians up with most of the camp equipment and some of the meat, and sent them back to camp, he and jack retaining only their guns and blankets. they made a long round of the lower slopes of the mountains, seeing a number of sheep, and at length came to a place where deer were more numerous than they had ever seen them before. it would have been easy to kill a great number, but as they had no means of transporting the meat to the camp they did not fire at all. toward midday they came out into a little park where a number of deer were lying down, and walking quietly up to them, got within fifteen or twenty steps of the animals before they seemed to take the alarm. it was now time to turn back and return to camp. there hugh and jack made packs of their blankets and set out for the lower ground. for some time the tracks of the indians were plainly visible,--but at length it began to snow, and the tracks were soon covered. moreover, their landmark, the mountain which lay behind them, was no longer visible, and the only guide they had was the wind, which blew from the right or southeast. "well," said hugh, "we've got to look out now, or we are liable to get lost." "yes," said jack, "it's quite likely that we won't be able to strike a trail leading down the mountain, but of course we will be able to find the camp." "oh, yes," said hugh; "no trouble about that, only i would rather go into camp by the same trail i left it by, if i can. however, if we don't hit the trail the only thing we'll have to do is to follow down the ridge to the river and there we'll find the trail of the packtrain, and that will take us straight to the camp." "it would be rather a good joke on you, hugh," said jack, "if we were to get lost." "so it would," said hugh; "so it would, son. perhaps we would have been smarter if we hadn't sent those indians off. of course this is their country and they know it, and you and i have never been here before. we're all right, however, if the wind doesn't shift. if that should change we might easily enough get twisted. however, we've got the river sure to take us to camp." an hour or two later, some time after they had got into the timber, hugh stopped and said: "son, i think we're off the track. i believe we've kept over too far to the left and have missed the trail. i don't see anything that i recognize as having seen before." "well," said jack, "you can't prove anything by me. i don't see anything that i've seen before and this snow and these gray tree trunks all look alike to me. i have been watching for the past half hour to see where we were, but i haven't any idea of it." "well," said hugh, "it's cold and snowy and likely to be wet; let's push down to the river and get to camp that way, if we can't any other." an hour and a half later they were going down a steep hill clothed with lodge-pole pines, and before long had come to the level land, and in a few moments were out of the timber. on the lower ground the snow had changed to rain and the trees and bushes were wet. there, before them, ran the river; and there close to the river was the deep trail worn by the feet of the horses. turning up the river they followed the trail, climbed the hills, and just at dark were once more in camp. ryder was a little disposed to laugh because they had come into camp from the side opposite to that from which they had left it; but hugh said, and jack agreed with him, that on a night like that it was good to get to camp in any way they could. the next day the train was packed early, and three days of long, fast travel took them back to hope. there they learned that the next morning there would be a steamer down the river, and they prepared to take it. long before daylight, hugh and jack, with bags and blankets, were waiting in the canoe for the appearance of the steamer and as soon as it was seen coming they fired four shots to attract the pilot's attention. presently the boat shut off steam and began to back, and the canoe was soon alongside. the baggage was tossed out; a handshake and a good-by to ryder and baptiste, and after a moment more the wheels were turning and the steamer sped down the river carrying hugh and jack toward new westminster. the night was spent here, a pleasant call made on mr. james, and the following morning they embarked for victoria, and the next night were at tacoma, where they found mr. sturgis. it was a pleasant meeting. mr. sturgis told them much about his mine, and what he had seen on his journey to and from it, while jack was full of the beauties of the british columbian coast. but he said, that as far as he saw, it was not a good hunting country. "of course, there are lots of deer and goats and some bears, but they are too easily killed to make hunting very good sport." "but then," said mr. sturgis, "you really didn't hunt, did you? you just followed the beach." "that's true," said hugh, "and it isn't fair, of course, to judge a country that you have only just touched. now, take it on that little trip that we made from hope. i don't know as i ever saw sheep and goats so plenty, and there were plenty of deer in the only place we had time to look for them. but of course we just put in a few days to use up the time until we had to get here to see you." "well," said jack, "i suppose that anybody who has been used to hunting on the plains and on the foot-hills of the mountains where buffalo and elk are plenty is likely to have a wrong idea of the game in a country where the animals don't gather together in great big bunches." "yes," said mr. sturgis, "that's true enough, i guess." after dinner that night mr. sturgis said: "well, it is time for us all to get back to our different jobs. you and i have got to go back to the ranch, hugh, and see how the beef round-up is getting on; and you, jack, have got to get east as fast as you can, and get to school. i think as good a way as any for us to return is to go back over the railroad that is just being built from portland, and in that way we will see a new country. the country will be new, even to you, hugh, won't it, as far east as idaho?" "yes," said hugh, "my range has never been out west of lake pend d'oreille and flathead lake and all this oregon and washington country is new to me." "well," said mr. sturgis, "let's get down to portland and then go up the columbia river till we strike the railroad. i know general sharpe, one of the officials of the road, and i think he will help us across the break between the end of the track in washington territory and the settlements in montana. what do you say?" "i say 'bully!'" exclaimed jack. "it suits me," said hugh, "but where will this bring us out?" "well," said mr. sturgis, "it ought to bring us out about deer lodge, and there is a little narrow-gauge road being built over from corinne in utah on the union pacific, which by this time must be somewhere near these montana towns. of course, when we get on a railroad that connects with the union pacific we are just about home." the next morning the railroad carried them to kalama, where they took the steamer to portland. the sail between the two points was beautiful. at one time they could see from the steamer's deck no less than six different snow-covered peaks, which ranged from nine to fourteen thousand feet in height. these were mt. ranier, st. helens, adams, hood, jefferson, and the three sisters. from portland the steamer took them up the columbia river through a beautiful country to the cascades. for the first few miles of the sail the bottom was wide and the hills were distant, but after a time they reached a stretch where the river flowed between walls of rock. a great sheet of lava covers the whole face of the country. from the hills, which stretch back from the river and are covered with long yellow grass, rose numberless walls and piles of lava rock which cast black shadows. the country was open, and the park-like slopes were dotted with dark spruces and pines. along the river water and wind had worn the rocks into curious shapes, sometimes like columns or obelisks, or again like great ovals set on end. along the bank of the river at several points thousands of blue-bloused, broad-hatted chinamen were busily at work, evidently on a railroad embankment. "this," mr. sturgis said, "is a railroad being built by the o. r. & n. company between portland and the dalles." "well," said hugh, "it seems to be the same story everywhere; railroads being built, and then people following the railroads; farms and big towns growing up; the game all going, and when the game goes of course the indian goes too." "yes," said mr. sturgis, "this is material prosperity for the united states. you and i have seen the beginning of it, but i don't believe that either of us have any notion at all of where it is going to end. but there is one thing that we can be sure of, that no consideration of game or indian or other natural thing is going to be allowed to interfere with the material growth of the country. we people who know how things used to be, and who like them as they were, may grumble and think the change is for the worse; but nobody will pay any attention to our grumbling and the changes will go on." at the cascades they changed to a train which took them seven miles around the rapids, and, then boarding another steamer, proceeded, until, just at dusk, they reached the dalles. "do you know, jack," said mr. sturgis, when their journey was just about over, "that this country that we have been passing through is historic ground?" "no," said jack, "i didn't know that." "well," said mr. sturgis, "you have heard of the old fur trade, haven't you, and astoria, and how john jacob astor sent people out to found a trading station at the mouth of the columbia river?" "no," said jack, "i don't believe i have." "i have, though," said hugh; "and i have known two or three men in my time that worked in that outfit. one man especially who went across the country with a man named hunt." "yes," said mr. sturgis, "that's it. mr. astor sent ships around the horn with supplies to found this station, and he also sent an expedition across the country. the cross country party had trouble with the indians and starved, and generally had a hard time, and, after the post was established, while they got lots of furs they had considerable trouble with the indians all the time. the british claimed the country, and the hudson's bay people said that astoria was in their territory. then came the war of , and the fort at astoria was surrendered to the hudson's bay people; and that was the end of that trading post, so far as the americans were concerned. but all up and down this river that we have been travelling up, the northwesters and the hudson's bay men used to go backward and forward portaging around these rapids that we have just been over, and working as hard as the old fur traders always worked. the story of these travels has been written by a good many of the people who took part in them, and some day it will be worth your while to hunt up these old books and read that story. it is a fascinating one." "yes," said hugh, "it's sure an interesting story; though i have never seen the books, i have heard a good deal of it told. it used to be talked about a whole lot in early days." "well," said mr. sturgis, "a lot of those old astorians, as astor's employees at astoria were called, wrote books giving their experiences, and it would be well worth your while to read them. i remember the names of some of them--alexander ross, ross cox, franchere--and besides them some of the hudson's bay people, into whose hands the place passed later, wrote exceptionally interesting accounts of life at the fort, of their journeys up and down the river, and of their travels over the mountains. "sometime, when we get back, jack, ask me about these books and i will make a list of them for you. most of them are out of print now, and can only be had at the libraries; but they are books that will repay reading, and the same thing can be said of a great number of volumes dealing with the exploration of the western country. it is astonishing that we americans know so little about matters which should be of so much interest to us. do you realize how little is known about the work of these early explorers, traders, and trappers? some few of us are familiar with it, but most of the people back east know nothing whatever about these men. pretty nearly all of this work has been done within the past seventy-five years, some of it within fifty years, and none of it goes back a century." "here is hugh," he went on; "he has knowledge of the western country back almost to the time of that early exploration, and he certainly has known many men who were of the early generation of the trappers. isn't that so, hugh?" "yes," said hugh, "that's sure enough true, mr. sturgis. i knew well uncle jack robinson, the bakers, bridger, beckwourth, and a whole lot of men that came into the country in the thirties or before. i have met old bill williams and perkins, and know old man culbertson well. i guess likely he's alive now." "why, even you, jack," said mr. sturgis, "know old man monroe, and he, according to all accounts, came into the country in ." "that's so, uncle george," said jack; "that goes back a long way, doesn't it?" "well now, do you realize that probably before any of us die this whole western country will be crowded full of people; that there will be railroads running in all directions, and that the centre of population of the country will be probably moved from pittsburg, where it is now, to somewhere in the mississippi valley, and perhaps not far from the big river itself?" said mr. sturgis. "i haven't been out here so many years," he continued, "but i have seen changes take place in this country that have astonished me, and i can see that these changes are going to keep taking place, and that almost before we know it sections of country through which now we can travel for weeks at a time without seeing any people will be full of ranches and farms and towns. we think of the united states as being a big country now, but i believe it hasn't made a beginning yet." "well, mr. sturgis," said hugh, "i guess likely what you say is right. but what's going to happen to all the old things that used to be in the country? what's going to happen to the game, to the buffalo, to the indians?" "why," said mr. sturgis, "the game, and buffalo, and indians are natural things, and they cannot stand up in the face of civilized things. the game will be killed off except in little spots like yellowstone park; the indians will be crowded onto their reservations and kept there, and will either be turned into farmers or cow men, or else will starve to death. the people of this country are going to see, i believe, that all this waste region, for that is what they call it, shall be made to produce something. cattle will take the place of buffalo, sheep will take the place of deer and antelope. after a while farmers will come in, and then the big cattle and sheep men will be crowded out in turn. the farmers will raise crops from the ground instead of sheep and cattle. people will have farms and a few head of cattle, but the days of the 'cattle kings' will pass away. it's a process of evolution, my boy," he said to jack, "and you and i will see it work itself out." chapter xxii the homeward road at the dalles the travellers had changed from steamer to train, and, journeying all night on the cars, reached walla walla early next morning. here they found a beautiful town of about five thousand inhabitants, situated in a section possessing a fertile soil and a delightful climate. gardens were growing and fruit ripening, and all things were bright and green. twelve miles from walla walla was the almost deserted town of wallula. here a branch line of the northern pacific railroad took the party on to south ainsworth on snake river. nothing could have presented a greater contrast than the two towns which were seen on the same day, walla walla and ainsworth. the first was from every point of view attractive, the second a sand waste on the banks of the snake river, a hopeless straggling little town of a dozen or twenty houses set down in the midst of a dreary desert of sage brush, utterly monotonous and uninteresting. here the travellers were obliged to pass one day, and all through that day and all through the night the wind blew with steady, persistent force, carrying with it the sands of the plain, which it piled up here and there in great dunes and then lifted again and carried on to some other point. the sandhills were constantly shifting and being tossed backward and forward, as restless and inconstant as the waves of the ocean. often the sand is piled high upon the sparse vegetation, and again it is carried away so that the roots of that vegetation are uncovered. after one day here they boarded a train and left for spokane falls, which was just about at the end of the track which was being built eastward. as they jogged slowly along in the caboose of the freight train, which moved unsteadily over the newly laid track, they had an opportunity to see much of the country. at first there was little to it that was attractive, but after leaving snake river the quality of the land seemed to improve, and hugh frequently called attention to the good grass, and declared that he believed that some day this country would be full of cattle. jack, who had been thinking of what his uncle had said two or three days before, said to mr. sturgis: "you don't think, uncle george, that any part of this country like ainsworth will ever be good for anything, do you?" "yes, my boy, i do," said mr. sturgis; "of course we cannot see now how this country will ever be made use of, but fifty years ago who would have thought that the salt lake valley was capable of cultivation, or thirty or forty years ago that walla walla would ever be a town. i believe that this country will fill up with cattle and for a little time will be a grazing country, and then i think that it will come to be a farming country. the winters here are mild, the soil is good, and there is plenty of water. there are going to be people here, and towns, but i don't know when." a little distance after leaving a station called summit they passed big lake, and here entered a territory where there were already farms. they could see frequently houses with good barns, and the fields were dotted with haystacks. there were also herds of cattle and horses, all fat and in good condition. it was nearly night when they reached spokane. as court was in session the town was thronged with people, and they had great difficulty in securing rooms. at last, however, a loft was found where they spread their blankets and passed a good night. before dark, however, they took time to walk along the spokane river to see the falls, a series of beautiful cascades which were well worth looking at. mr. sturgis had provided himself with letters from the officials of the northern pacific railroad to the employees along the road, and the next morning they left for lake pend d'oreille. thirty-five miles travelling took them to westwood, the end of the track, and there they took a stage for the lake. the three were the only passengers, and the ride was long and dusty, yet possessed many features of interest. the road ran for the most part along the railroad's right of way, and they could see all the various operations of the building of this great transatlantic highway. after they had passed the end of the track they came to one of the enormous railroad camps which always precede the iron of a new road. here was a real canvas city, and its inhabitants were white men, chinese, horses, mules, and dogs. everything was on a large scale. the eating tents covered an area equal to that of a good-sized town. there were hundreds of sleeping-tents. there were great forges at which many blacksmiths worked, and huge water troughs at which twenty-five horses could drink at a time. the bread-pan in the cook tent was large enough to serve a full-grown man as a bath tub. hugh and jack could only stare and wonder and point out to each other one astonishing thing after another; and even mr. sturgis, whose experience had been much wider than that of either of his companions, was much impressed. as the stage approached the lake, the road became constantly rougher. they passed from the railroad camp and saw first the bridge workers, next the graders, and then the "right of way" men, whose business it was to chop their way through the forest and clear off all the timber along the line of the track for a width of fifty feet. after the timber was felled it was left to dry and was then set on fire. "that's bad business," said mr. sturgis; "these men think of nothing but the convenience of the moment. all these fires that they are kindling and that they are leaving to burn here may set the hills on fire, and large tracts of country may be burned and much valuable standing timber destroyed." "yes," said hugh, "these men think of nothing but the quickest way of getting rid of anything that they don't use." "it's the fault of the contractors," said mr. sturgis, "and some means should be found to stop such a destruction of timber." a little later, as the stage approached the lake, they could see the woods on fire everywhere. the stage-driver told them that this had gone on for some time, and that on two or three occasions recently the fires had been so extensive that the stage had been unable to get through to the lake, and had been forced to turn around and return. on this day the driver went carefully and succeeded in picking out places where he could get through, though more than once the stage drove between piles of blazing logs which made it uncomfortably warm for the passengers. the timber was largely pine and hackmatack, but there was also some white and some yellow birch. not long after the fire had been left behind they came into an open country, from which, ahead of them, they could see a large sheet of water; and presently from a hill they looked down upon beautiful lake pend d'oreille, surrounded on all sides by towering, timbered hills. at the end of the stage line there was an engineer's camp; and here, to mr. sturgis' great surprise, he met among the engineers two friends whom he had not seen for years and whom he little expected to meet in this far off spot. the surprise was a mutually delightful one. his friends seized him, and jack, and hugh, and insisted on their sharing the hospitality of their camp, and a very delightful evening was spent there. some distance down pend d'oreille river, or as it is often called, clark's fork of the columbia, and so some miles from the engineer's camp, was a place known as siniaqueateen, which in the flathead language means "the place where we cross." here was the supply depot for the engineer department of the northern pacific railroad, and here were the headquarters of mr. galbraith, the commissary, who had charge of the advance transportation of the railroad. to him mr. sturgis had a letter from the railroad officials; and to siniaqueateen the travellers went the next morning. it was a small settlement, consisting of a trader's store and house, and two or three other stores and houses, and the office buildings belonging to the railroad. here is the ford across the river which gives the place its name; and here is where the trail between the flathead lake and the kootenay district of british columbia, distant over two hundred miles, crosses the stream. from time immemorial this has been a crossing place for the indians, travelling north and south through the country. now on the bank of the river there was a camp of kutenai indians. about the ferry were lounging many indians, who, to jack's eye seemed quite different from the coast indians, and much more like the people of the plains to whom he was accustomed. he asked mr. galbraith about these people, and mr. galbraith, who knew a number of the individuals of the two tribes, told him something about them. "these flatheads that you see here belong in the country as do also some kutenais, but not those that have just come in, and are in camp here. they are from the north and are bringing down their furs to trade." "why do they call them flatheads, mr. galbraith?" asked jack. "they don't seem to have their heads flattened as the coast indians have. the heads of these people are shaped like those of any one." "well," said mr. galbraith, "i don't know why they are called flatheads, but that is the name for them in this country. they do not call themselves by that name. they call themselves kallispelms. they are pretty good indians, hunt all through this region, farm a little, and have plenty of horses. in july or august they always come down to the lake shore, because then, when the water is low, and the big meadows on the edge of the lake are exposed, the camas grows up, and they dig the roots which form a considerable portion of their vegetable food." "i have heard of camas," said jack, "but i don't think i ever saw it grow to know it. what is it like?" "why," said mr. galbraith, "i don't know what the books call it; but it is a root that grows in damp places, has two long leaves like a lily, and a slender stalk that bears a blue flower. the root is shaped somewhat like an onion or a tulip. the women gather them in great quantities. then, after they are gathered, they are cooked and then dried for use in the winter. after they have been dried the roots are about as big as the end of your finger; and just after cooking they are sweet, something like a chestnut. the indians make a very good bread by squeezing a lot of the newly cooked bulbs together." "how do they cook them?" asked jack. "oh, in the usual way," said galbraith. "they dig a big hole in the ground; build a fire in it in which they heat stones and then spread grass over the hot stones. they then pile in a great quantity of the roots, covering them with grass, and next with hot stones. then the whole thing is covered with earth, and the pit is left alone for three or four days. the women know when to open it, and when they do so and take off the stones and the grass the heat of the stones has cooked the roots which have turned dark brown in color and are ready to use. it's fun to see the children cluster around when the pit is opened, and to see them struggle to get the grass which has covered the roots. this grass is covered with a sweet syrup and the children delight to suck it. i suppose there are a lot of roots and berries which the indians know of and use, of which we know nothing at all." "yes," said jack, "i know that is so in my country. there is hardly any time in the summer but there is some vegetable food ripening that the indians know of and use." "there's another root called kaus, that the kutenais know of," said mr. galbraith. "they dry and pound up these roots and then mix them with water and bake them in cakes, and they make a good bread. these roots are sweet and aromatic. of berries, the sarvis berry is perhaps the most important, and it grows abundantly all through the mountains, but there are a number of other berries, fruits, and roots." that night mr. sturgis had a talk with mr. galbraith, who said that he could very easily take them across the lake in the company's sailboat, and then would give them saddle and pack horses to take them up the pend d'oreille river, to the jocko or any other point that they might wish to go to. at the jocko, they could hire some indian or half-breed to drive them on to deer lodge, and from deer lodge they could take the stage to missoula or silver bow, which he understood was then the end of the track of the narrow-gauge road running up from the south. to all hands this seemed the best way to get home; and as they were now on the very borders of montana it seemed that they had but a short distance to go before they would once more be in their own country. the next morning early, accompanied by mr. galbraith and with a crew of three or four voyageurs, they started out from siniaqueateen for the lake. the river gradually became more and more wide and the scenery was very beautiful. the stream valley was broad, and smooth grassy meadows dotted here and there with willows and other small trees sloped gently up to the higher land from the water's edge. before they had reached the lake, a number of indians were seen paddling close along the shore in their canoes, which were of a type entirely new to mr. sturgis as well as to jack and hugh. these structures were sharply pointed at both ends, and as much as anything resembling cylinders of bark. "these canoes are different from anything i ever saw before," said hugh. "i know the birch canoes of the north, and i have just come back from a voyage in the wooden canoes of british columbia, but i never saw anything like this. what are they made of, and how are they made?" "they are made of pine bark," said mr. galbraith, "and they are queer canoes. i never saw them anywhere except in the country west of the rocky mountains and about two or three hundred miles north and south. the indians take the bark from the white pine in very large sheets and make rolls of it, which they stow away dry until they need it. then they soak the bark in water until it becomes soft and pliable and easy to handle. then they make a frame of small cedar poles lashed together with strips of cedar bark, and this frame is then covered with sheets of this pine bark, which are sewed together with tamarack roots, and patched with resin from the fir tree. the outside of the bark is on the inside of the canoe, and the indians paddle on both sides. these canoes are mighty cranky, and upset very easily. of course sails are never used in them, but the indians keep close to the shore, and do not dare to cross over from point to point." the next morning there was a good breeze. they started to cross the lake and soon after noon reached the northern pacific's camp at the mouth of clark's fork. the company's surveyors were laying out the line up this river; and their supplies and mail were ferried across the lake and carried east along the line of the road which led up toward the coeur d'alene mountains. here mr. galbraith, with great energy got together an outfit of pack and saddle animals, and the next morning a little train of seven animals filed out of the camp and took the trail for missoula. the journey up clark's fork was a delightful one and took about seven days. the party travelled fast, stopping neither to hunt nor fish. deer and bear signs were plenty, and in a few cases white-tailed deer were seen, but none were killed. the daylight hours were spent in riding through the beautiful river valley and among the great cinnamon-colored trunks of giant pines that formed the chief timber of the country, and at night the party was always ready for supper and bed. hugh and mr. sturgis were enthusiastic about the prospects of this region, where there was much fine land and unlimited grazing. at the jocko, the wagon road began; and here the pack train was dismissed and the travellers' guns and blankets were transferred to a wagon driven by one of the large tribe of mcdonalds, descendants of some old hudson's bay trader who had married a flathead woman. they were then taken to missoula, and from there to deer lodge, _le logis de chevreuils_, as their driver called it. from deer lodge it was a matter of a little staging to melrose, which was then the terminus of the utah and northern railroad. here mr. sturgis, jack, and hugh found themselves back again in bustling, hurrying america, and oppressed by the feeling that they must at once get back to their work. they were soon once more on the cars, flying at high speed toward their destinations. three days later on the union pacific railroad mr. sturgis and hugh shook hands with jack and left him alone, and three days later he was once more in new york. * * * * * * transcriber's note: every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible. some minor corrections of punctuation have been made. a number of minor spelling errors have been corrected without note. winter adventures of three boys by egerton r. young ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ winter adventures of three boys by egerton r. young chapter one. sagasta-weekee--a happy home in the great lone land--three boys there welcomed--the sudden coming of winter--various sports discussed--hurrah for the dogs--useful animals--dog-whips--kinesasis, the dog-keeper. while a wintry storm was raging outside, in the month of november, three happy, excited boys were gathered around the breakfast table in a cozy home in a far north land. to those who have not read of the previous doings of these young lads we would say that our heroes were three noble boys from across the sea. they had come out the previous summer from great britain by the hudson bay company's ship and had had several months of most delightful and exciting adventures in the wild north land. they were the guests of mr ross, a retired official in the hudson bay company, who, when his long term of active service in the fur trade had ended, had preferred remaining in the country rather than returning to any other land. during the many years he had traded with the indians he had ever been on the most friendly terms with them. he had observed so many noble traits and characteristics in them that he and his family preferred spending the greater portion of each year surrounded by them. then the quiet charm of such a life had more attraction and a greater fascination for them than the rush and worry and demands of our so-called highest civilisation. mrs ross was a native indian woman, but, like many other wives of hudson bay officials, was a highly educated woman. the years spent in foreign lands at the best of schools had not spoiled her. she was beloved and honoured by all who knew her, and she was indeed a benediction and a blessing among the poor of her own people. the musical and expressive indian names of minnehaha and wenonah had been given to the two bright, winsome little girls in the household, while the wee brother was called by the old scottish name of roderick. cordially had mrs ross, with her husband, welcomed the three boys, who at their special request had come out to be their guests, or rather, more correctly, to be loved members of their own household, for at least twelve months in that land. sagasta-weekee, the house full of sunshine, was the beautiful indian name given to the cozy, comfortable house which mr ross had built for himself and household. it was a delightful home, well furnished with everything essential to the enjoyment and comfort of all its inmates. we need not here repeat all that has been previously mentioned about the three heroes of our story. suffice it to say that frank, the eldest, was the son of an english banker; alec was a genuine scottish lad, while sam was a jolly irish boy. they had a splendid trip across the ocean, and had met with varied adventures while on the long journey up the rivers and across the portages between york factory, on the hudson bay, where they had landed, and norway house, where they had been welcomed by mr ross. the summer and autumn months had been full of wonderful and exciting trips and adventures. their last excursion, which had so recently ended, had been one of great pleasure and intense excitement. it had been made in canoes to a distant part of the country where reindeer and other large game abounded. the boys would have been delighted to have there remained longer, but the experienced guide and canoemen had been quick to notice the significant actions of the wild beasts, as well as the frightened cries and incessant flights of the wild geese and ducks to the south land. spurred on by the signs of coming winter, they had pushed on toward home with unremitting toil and but little rest, and had fortunately managed to land the boys safely at sagasta-weekee the day before the wintry gale broke upon them. great indeed was the amazement of our three boys at the transformation wrought by this sudden incoming of winter. people living in more southern latitudes, where the transition from one season to another is so slow and almost imperceptible, can hardly realise the suddenness with which the frost king can set up his throne and begin his despotic reign. there are no long premonitions of his coming. no noisy heralds for weeks warn of his approach. the birds and beasts seem to have some mysterious intimations that he draweth near, and act accordingly. but man knoweth not of his approach; he heareth not his stealthy steps. yesterday may have been balmy and reposeful, with only a few breezes from the summer south land. to-day the wild north winds may howl and shriek, while full of frost and pinching cold is the icy, biting air. yesterday the waves may have been merrily rippling in the sunshine on the beautiful lakes. to-day, after a night of storm and boreal tempest, the ice is rapidly forming, and is binding down in strongest fetters the highest billows. mr and mrs ross were much pleased and amused at the genuine excitement of the lads as they realised the wondrous transformation wrought by this first wintry storm, and the possibilities it opened up to them for other kinds of sport, than those in which, for some time past, they had been so deeply interested. eager and excited as they were, they had as yet no definite plan of action for their winter amusement. so sudden had been the transition, there had been no time to think. however, with boyish candour and joyous anticipation, they were all ready with their suggestions. "skates!" shouted alec, as he caught a glimpse of an icy expanse that glittered in the distance as a ray of sunshine shot out through the parting clouds and for a moment rested upon it. "toboggans!" cried sam, as he saw a steep hillside one mass of beautiful snow. "let us make an ice boat," said frank. although he had never seen one, yet he had eagerly read much about them, and at the sight of the frozen lake was wild to set about the manufacture of one of these dainty craft, that he might enjoy the exhilarating sport he had so long anticipated. "capital suggestions are all of these," said mr ross. "still, as the ice is not yet twenty-four hours old, and therefore not very safe for skating, and the snow has not yet fallen in sufficient quantity upon the hills to make them smooth enough for tobogganing, and the carpenter will require some time to make an ice boat, and we will have six good months of winter in which to enjoy these and other sports, my suggestion is that we get ready to-day to start, as soon as the ice will be safe, for the island fisheries and bring home the dogs." "the dogs! the dogs! yes, hurrah for the dogs!" cried all the boys in unison. so everything was for the moment forgotten, or postponed, in their eager anticipation to become intimately acquainted with the dogs, about which they had heard so much. during the summer months the dogs were away to a distant island, where they were cared for by kinesasis, a careful old indian, who with a few nets easily caught all the fish they required for food. this island was quite out of the route of travel, and so our young friends had seen but little of mr ross's dogs, about which many interesting stories had been told them. now at the prospect of soon seeing them they were greatly delighted. although so much can be done with dogs in winter in those high latitudes, there is practically no use for them in summer. it is true that some enterprising missionaries had used them for ploughing up their little potato fields and gardens, and yet it was slow work and not long continued. but through the long winter the dog is practically the only draft animal that can be utilised by the inhabitants of those regions. from the far-off forest the wood for fuel is dragged home by the dogs. the frozen fish, which are caught and piled up on stages beyond the reach of wolves or other wild beasts, are drawn home to the villages from the distant fisheries by the well-trained dogs. when a christian decides to exchange his old wigwam for a house, all the squared timber and logs required in its construction are dragged, if not floated by water in the summer time, it may be several miles, by the dogs. christian hunters use them to drag home the moose and reindeer or other heavy game they may shoot. formerly their wives and mothers had to do this heavy work, but now christianity has relegated this and many other heavy duties to the dogs. however, the greatest and most arduous work to which the dogs are put is that of drawing the canoles and dog-sleds of travellers and tourists or fur traders for long distances through various parts of that great northern land. without the dogs, travelling in that country would be practically impossible in the winter months. so full of lakes and rivers is the country that it is possible to go almost anywhere in a birch canoe in summer by making occasional portages. but when the severe cold freezes up those water stretches and the snow lies thick, and there is not the least vestige of a road or trail, then the value and sagacity of the dogs are seen and the power and endurance of the guides and drivers are put to the severest test. mr ross still prided himself on his splendid dogs. in his younger days he had the reputation of being one of the most active and energetic of the young officers in the service of the hudson bay company. his father, who was for many years one of the chief factors in the company's service, was proud of his son's endurance and skill, as well as of his tact and ability in managing strange indians and thus opening up new trading posts among them. so constantly employed had he been in thus advancing the interests of this fur-trading corporation that some winters he travelled thousands of miles with his own dog-train and guides. in his wanderings he had met with some strange adventures, and had passed through some trying ordeals. later on we may hear from his own lips the recital of some of these stirring events. now, however, that he had retired from active service he had left these long and dangerous journeys to be taken by younger men. still, the love for the dogs was so ingrained within him, and he had so much work for them to do, that he was the possessor of some very valuable trains, which every winter did his work and gave him as much pleasure as ever a man derived from the possession of a fine carriage and a splendid span of horses. knowing well the habits of the old indian who had charge of his dogs, mr ross said to the boys: "it is very likely that kinesasis will come in to-day with some of the dogs. if he does we will harness them up to-morrow, and if the ice is strong enough to be safe we will return with them for the others. i understand he has a number of fine young dogs; doubtless there will be enough to make a good train for each of you, after they are broken in. so there will be plenty of work for all to-day, to get ready for the first day's outing with dog-trains." soon everybody was at work. indian women, under mrs ross's direction, were busily employed in making large mooseskin moccasins and mittens. beautiful white blanket overcoats, with warm capotes or hoods, had already been made for each of the boys. they were to be worn over the deerskin suits when they stopped to rest in the heavy trail, and also while the boys were riding over the long stretches of icy roads where it was possible for the dogs to easily draw them. while the indian women were thus busily engaged in fitting out the warm apparel necessary for travelling in such a cold land the boys were making themselves useful, under mr ross's guidance, in overhauling carioles, dog-sleds, harness, robes, snowshoes, and other things essential for the trip on the morrow. while almost everything was novel and strange to them, they were most interested in the heavy dog-whips, and, boylike, must try their hands in wielding them. these whips differed very much from anything they had ever seen in civilisation. while the handles were only eighteen inches in length, the lashes, which were loaded with shot, were over fifteen feet long. to skilfully handle one requires much care and practice. an inexperienced person is apt to get into trouble when he first attempts to use one. sam was the first of the boys to attempt to display his skill, but he soon found that a heavily loaded dog-whip was a different weapon from an irish shillalah. he had admired the skill and dexterity with which mr ross, at the boy's request, had used one, and, foolishly thinking that he could successfully imitate him, had with any amount of assurance made the attempt. to his surprise and chagrin the cracker of the whip, instead of exploding with a pistol-shot-like report at a spot about fifteen feet away, as it had done for mr ross, had by some remarkable movement, entirely unexpected, squarely landed with stinging effect upon his nose! alec was the next to try his skill. he was a little more successful than sam, in that he escaped inflicting any injury upon himself, but he succeeded in striking frank upon his ear, although he stood fully six feet away from the spot at which alec had aimed. frank, with his ear hot and stinging from the effects of the blow so unexpected and so unintentionally given, wisely decided that he would postpone his first attempt with a weapon that seemed to be as uncertain as a boomerang. to the great delight of the boys, as mr ross had predicted, toward evening in came kinesasis with about a dozen dogs at his heels. the splendid animals were delighted to get home again after their long summer's outing, and joyously they greeted mr ross and the other inmates of the household. to our three boys, who had arrived since their departure, they were somewhat distant and unsociable. it is a well-known fact that the native dogs are much more hostile to white people than to the natives. this offishness and even hostility on the part of the dogs did not much disturb the boys. they, boylike, had all confidence in themselves that by tact and kindness they would soon become warm friends, and in this they were not disappointed. after kinesasis had seen the dogs well fed and put into their kennels he was taken into the kitchen and given a hearty meal. a pipe of tobacco was then put in his hands, and shortly after he had begun to smoke he made his report of his summer's doings to mr ross. to the great delight of frank, alec, and sam, mr ross was able to inform them that the number of young dogs of the right age to break into work was so large that he would be able to furnish each of them with a capital train, which they should have charge of and call their own as long as they remained in the country. the few short hours of sunshine of that november day sped away all too soon for the completion of the work to be done, and so by lamplight willing hands toiled on until everything was ready for the journey. so rapidly did the temperature fall, and so intense became the cold, that mr ross decided that with careful, experienced kinesasis as their guide the ice would be quite strong enough to bear them on the morrow, and so if the storm was not too severe they would be off as soon as there was sufficient light, as it was too risky to travel in the dark over such thin ice. cozy were the beds and warm were the blankets into which three happy, excited boys tumbled that night, and if in their pleasant dreams there were sounds of cracking whips and jingling, musical dog-bells--well, we will not envy them, still we wish we were there. chapter two. bringing home the dogs--the thin ice--method of crossing dangerous places--the dogs' summer home--the return trip--the unexpected goose hunt--the saucy fox--kinesasis's question, "why do the geese go to the south land?" long before daylight the next morning the lamps were brightly burning in sagasta-weekee. as it was fully twenty miles to the island where kinesasis had kept the dogs, and mr ross was anxious that they should return home that night, it was absolutely necessary that every hour of the daylight should be utilised. thus it was that all were stirring long before daybreak. a good warm breakfast was eaten and all final preparations made. as kinesasis had brought back with him twelve dogs, they were thus able to rig out three trains for the trip. extra sleds and harness were taken along, as well as food and blankets, in case any serious accident or delay should happen to them. in such a land it is always best to be prepared for any emergency. the boys were very proud and happy in their new mooseskin costumes and snow-white blankets, only relieved by the black stripes on the sleeves and skirts. kinesasis, who had been on the lookout, at length reported the morning star, just visible as the harbinger of dawn. this was good news, and so the start was soon made. mr ross up to a late hour the previous evening had not thought of going, but now, at the sight of the dogs and the preparations for the journey, he seemed to catch the enthusiasm of the boys, as well as the fire of earlier days, and resolved to accompany them. three indian dog- drivers had been secured, while kinesasis, old as he was, was proud to act the part of guide for the whole party. sam shared a large cariole with mr ross, while frank and alec occupied another. to each cariole was assigned a careful driver. the third indian made up his load of several dog-sleds piled on each other. all were well-loaded with supplies. kinesasis armed himself with a stout pole about ten feet long, which he carried as an alpine climber would his alpenstock, although it weighed as much as a dozen of them. the boys were surprised at seeing him thus encumber himself with a pole so heavy. they were also perplexed, when it grew lighter, to see a similar one tied on to the sled of the third driver. however, before the journey was finished they saw the wisdom of his forethought. at first some of the dogs seemed to resent the restraint of the harness, and acted as though they would still have preferred the liberty which had been theirs all through the summer months. others, however, seemed to be delighted to hear the music of the little open bells, with which the collars of their harness were decorated, and joyously barked and jumped about as though, in glad sport, they were dancing to the music they themselves were making. the trail selected at once led them out along jack river, and then southwest into playgreen lake. kinesasis's alert eye was on the ice continually. now he was glancing at the long stretches before him, and then quickly deciding the best route to follow. when this was selected he seemed to critically examine every yard of the ice, over which, on his moccasined feet, he so lightly and yet so rapidly glided. his constant alertness was absolutely necessary; for while the ice was apparently strong enough to be safe, yet when ice freezes up thus rapidly air holes frequently abound, which may be so thinly coated over that none but an experienced eye can detect them. they are very treacherous, as the ice, which to any ordinary observer may appear safe, may not be a quarter of an inch in thickness, and so the unfortunate person stepping on one may suddenly drop out of sight. the rate at which kinesasis led the party was about five miles an hour. to do this he kept up a swinging jog trot, and was ever on the alert for danger. mr ross, whose cariole immediately followed the guide, well knowing that there was a certain spice of danger associated with a trip like this so soon after the ice had formed, also kept constantly on the alert, as his long years in such kind of travelling made him almost equal to an indian in this respect. after travelling for ten miles they reached a spot where one of the great currents of the mighty nelson river, from lake winnipeg, had kept the ice from forming as solidly as where the water was not so rapid in motion. by its ominous bending and cracking under him kinesasis saw the danger and suddenly brought the whole party to a halt. as the weakness in the ice apparently extended a long way in each direction, it was evident that the party must get across in some way or else return home. the latter idea was not for a moment to be entertained, and so arrangements were at once made for crossing the dangerous place. this novel plan was witnessed by the boys with a great deal of interest. at first they wished to jump from the warm fur robes in their carioles, but this mr ross would not hear of. they could be of no service and would only get thoroughly chilled. the crossing over the dangerous place was accomplished in the following manner: kinesasis first untied the other heavy pole from the dog-sled, and then, advancing to the place where the weak ice began, he carefully laid one of the poles on the poor ice, and using the other as a ropewalker would his balancing pole, he carefully walked out on the one on the ice. then carefully placing the one in his hand down on the ice, in a straight line before him, he stepped on it, and cautiously lifted up the one over which he had just walked. using this as he had handled the other one, as a balancing pole, he thus went on and on, using his poles alternately, until he reached the strong ice on the other side. then he returned in the same way and reported to mr ross his opinion, which was that by doubling the under surface of the carioles they could pass over in safety. this was quickly done by taking the sleds, which the third indian driver had in charge, and securely lashing them to the sides of the carioles, in such a way that the area of surface on the ice would be doubled, and thus the pressure would be only half. as an extra precaution a long rope was tied to the rear of each cariole. then kinesasis once more crossed over with his poles to the firm ice. the dogs were put to the gallop, and being urged by those behind, as well as by kinesasis's well- known voice in front, the dangerous place was passed in safety. "now i see," said alec, "the solution of what was bothering me. i wondered how kinesasis was able to get along over the weak places in the ice yesterday, but with those poles to help him it is now plain enough." "it must require a great deal of practice to do it safely," said frank. and so in after days he found it out when he made the attempt himself, and in trying to transfer himself from one to the other ignominiously fell off, with such force that he broke through the thin ice. fortunately he had presence of mind enough to seize hold of one of the poles, which was in such a position that each end rested on the unbroken ice. his frightened shouts soon brought help, and he was quickly rescued. nothing else occurred to cause delay on the route, and so before noon the dogs, excited by the near approach to the spot where they had spent their happy summer, sprang into a gallop and fairly flew over the good ice that was found for the last few miles. kinesasis and the indian drivers had all they could do to keep up with them. with great delight did the boys spring out of their carioles, and then and there declared that dog travelling was the most exhilarating of sports and the very poetry of motion. some time later they changed their views. immediately on their landing they were surrounded by a crowd of dogs of all ages, and doglike they acted. the old fellows that had done good work in other years and were now only kept for drawing wood for the fires, or hay from the distant beaver meadows for the cattle, were dignified and sedate, and yet manifested the greatest affection for their old master, who was kind and gentle to all the animals in his possession. this kindness was well repaid by the intelligent obedience they all gave him. eagerly the boys scanned the young dogs, for from among them were to be selected the promised trains which they were to call their own. while the boys were discussing the dogs and indicating their preferences, old kinesasis had rekindled the fire in the large wigwam, in which he had passed the summer, and, aided by the other indians of the party, busied himself in preparing the dinner out of the supplies which had been brought along. never did a dinner seem to taste better than did that one in that leather tent to those boys, who had so enjoyed the exhilarating twenty-mile trip. after mr ross, frank, sam, and alec had dined. kinesasis and the indian dog-drivers soon had a hearty dinner, and then, after the inevitable pipes, the work of preparation for the return trip speedily began. it was the desire of all to reach home before dark. to accomplish this would be no easy matter, as there were so many untrained dogs. at first it was decided to harness up a number of these, as harness had been brought for the purpose, but after some consultation with kinesasis about the thin ice mr ross decided against it, thus leaving the young dogs to follow. only the old dogs were harnessed. this added a couple more trains to the party. the sleds of these were loaded down with the tent, nets, and other things which had made up kinesasis's outfit during the summer. at length everything was loaded up, and the return trip began. there was some trouble in getting a number of the younger dogs to take to the ice and keep up with the trains; numbers would persist in turning round and hurrying back. "we cannot blame them," sam said afterward, and his irish oratory burst forth as he described what had been their happy condition. "just think," he said, "on that beautiful island in the pleasant springtime they were born. there they have had a happy, careless puppyhood life. there they have spent the pleasant summer time with plenty to eat and nothing to do. on the sandy beaches and over the smooth rocks they have gamboled together, and in the warm, rippling waters they have splashed and battled. now the cold weather has suddenly come and the snow has covered their favourite romping grounds, and even their great bathing places are hard with slippery ice." there was, however, but little sentiment in the minds of mr ross and the indians. on the contrary, they were very much annoyed at the delay the refractory young dogs were causing, and so had to adopt prompt measures, or they well knew that the night would be upon them ere home was reached. the younger puppies were packed in the carioles around our travellers, and some of the more obstinate older ones were led by ropes fastened to their collars and tied to the sleds, while the great majority, coaxed by little pieces of meat occasionally dropped on the ice, kept well up to the trains. thus on they pushed until they reached the rapid current in the lake where the thin ice had given them so much trouble in the morning. fortunately the additional hours of bitter cold had so strengthened it that no serious difficulty was anticipated in crossing over, even if the loads were much heavier. but another event occurred, quite unexpected, indeed, and which, while it did much to impede their progress, created a good deal of excitement and interest. the first intimation of its coming was the sudden cry of wild geese not very far away. their "honk! honk!" was very distinct, and not only excited the boys, but also the dogs. the loose dogs, in spite of all the calls of the indians, at once dashed off in the direction from which the loud calls were coming, while the sleigh dogs were almost unmanageable. prompt and quick were the men to act. the excited dog-trains were bunched and tied together and left in charge of a couple of indians, while mr ross and the boys and a couple of indians went forward to investigate. to the right, a couple of hundred yards away, was a rocky island, on one side of which was a reedy marsh. from among the reeds and rushes the loud calls of the geese were coming. into these plunged the dogs, while the men and boys climbed up on the rocks where they could overlook the whole spot, which was only of a few acres in extent. the experienced eyes of the indians took in the whole situation at a glance. the young geese had not been strong enough to fly away to the sunny south land when the call to go had come, and so the old geese had left them behind to perish. and so now here they were, over twenty of them. a novel goose hunt was organised, and, while the boys looked on, the indians, with the dogs' help, soon secured quite a number. some of them were easily killed, as they were securely frozen to the icy reeds. others rushed about in a vain attempt to escape, but they were so chilled by the cold that they were easily captured. the sleds were piled up with this additional load of geese, and the journey was resumed. later on in the evening the boys heard from kinesasis more about those young geese and why they were there. they also learned some truths from nature that abode with them for many a day. without much difficulty the dangerous places in playgreen lake were passed, and the return run down jack river was begun. the loose young dogs were pretty well wearied by the long trip and required some coaxing, and even the occasional crack of the whip was necessary to urge them to keep up. it is amazing what a latent amount of strength and speed there is in a tired dog. here was a striking example of it. while the trains were jogging along, and the young dogs with tongues out and tails down were wearily following after and looking as though they were deeply bemoaning their lot, suddenly a splendid cross-fox sprang out from the dense forest on one side of the river and deliberately dashed across before the dogs on the frozen ice toward the other shore. all evidence of weariness at once disappeared. with a hue and cry that would have done credit to a first-class pack of hounds they were all off, sleigh dogs as well as loose ones. the ice was so slippery that it required quite an effort on the part of the drivers of the carioles to control their dogs and get them in line. if the truth must be told, the boys richly enjoyed the short burst of speed and the exciting chase, which ended almost as soon as it began, for reynard was too much for the young dogs and soon reached the shelter of the wooded shore. the beautiful evening stars were shining in the western sky ere the welcome lights in the windows of sagasta-weekee were seen. a hearty welcome was given to the returning party by mrs ross and the children. all were anxious to hear about the first day's winter outing, and each boy had to give his own version of the day's excitements and pleasures. the commodious kennels were soon taken possession of by the tired dogs. indian servants had abundance of fish ready for them, and a watchful oversight was kept upon them that the stronger ones should not rob the weaker or younger ones, a trick, we are sorry to say, of which some dogs are guilty. after the hearty supper and prayers were over in the dining room, and the younger children had retired to rest, mr and mrs ross and the boys went out into the capacious kitchen to hear old kinesasis give his version of the goose hunt. to please the old man, mr ross filled a beautiful calumet and presented it to him as a gift in addition to his wages, for his thoughtful care of the dogs while under his charge at the island. for some minutes he smoked his new pipe in silence. indians are the least demonstrative people in the world, and kinesasis was one of them. he was never known to say "thank you" in his life, and yet none could be more grateful or pleased than he to have his faithful services thus recognised. mr ross thoroughly understood him, and the grateful look in his expressive eyes as he received the pipe from mr ross's hand was all that was expected or that would be received. without one word of reference to the pipe, kinesasis began about the wild geese. here is his story, which was a sort of monologue. he said: "i have been much thinking about it, and i feel that it is my fault that the young geese could not go south with the old ones when the call came in the voice of the north wind that it was time to go. i well remember that last spring, when in the big boat i carried the dogs out to the island, we saw some geese flying around that island where we caught the young ones to-day. we could not get a shot at the old geese then, they were so wary, but we pulled ashore, and there among the rushes we found some nests full of eggs. of course, we took the eggs and ate them. no doubt those old geese when they returned, after we had gone, were very angry at our taking the eggs, but they were not discouraged, and so they went to work and filled up their nests with another setting of eggs and hatched them out. but they had lost a full month of time, and there was not enough warm weather left for these broods of young geese to grow strong to rise up in the air when the call came to fly away to the south land." for a few minutes he puffed away vigorously at his calumet, and then continuing his story said: "wild geese are strange things. i have hid myself from them and watched them years ago, when they were more plentiful and hatched their young at many places around our lakes and rivers here. then we had only bows and arrows, and so did not kill as many as we do now. their greatest enemies were the foxes, but no fox would dare attack a goose on her nest or a brood of young ones if the old gander were around. one blow of his powerful wing would kill any fox. i have found dead foxes that have thus been killed." then, looking up, the old indian said, in a voice that showed he was deeply impressed by what he was uttering: "there was always some strange mystery about their call to go south and their leaving. to-day they would be acting as though they would be intending to stay with us all the time. they were all very quiet and only busy in getting their food, while the old ones were alert against their enemies, and would even risk their lives to defend their young ones. then to-morrow would come, and there was such a change in them. they were all so excited and noisy; their cries filled the air. the old ones would stretch their wings and circle round and round in the air about their young ones and encourage them to follow. soon all of them would rise up and up, and, starting away for the south land, we would see them no more that year. and yet not all, for sometimes there were late broods, like the one we found to- day. they came too late to be strong enough to fly. they could not go, and here is the mystery to me. why was it that the parent geese, that yesterday would risk their lives in fighting against wild animals to save their young, would to-day, when the call came to go, leave their young broods behind them to perish? they all did it. never was an old goose known to stay behind when the call came. that voice was louder and stronger than was even the love for their offspring. can any of you tell old kinesasis why it is so?" chapter three. selecting their dogs--various methods of breaking them in--frank's success by kindness with monarch--sam's troubles with spitfire-- conquered at last--training and capturing dogs with dogs--alec's train of part staghounds. with this question of the old indian ringing in their ears the party in the kitchen broke up, and as the day had been a long one they all soon retired to rest. the boys were more than delighted with the day's experience, and were full of joyful anticipation for the morrow, for then it was that they were to select the dogs that were to constitute their own trains and at once to begin the work of breaking them in. so long and soundly did they sleep the next morning that the second breakfast bell was ringing when they awoke, and so they had but little time in which to dress ere breakfast was served. however, to their joy they found that others had also overslept themselves. even mr ross himself, who was one of these, declared that the capital outing of the previous day had done him a great deal of good, as he had not slept so well for a long time. the events of yesterday and the anticipations of the present day were discussed with great animation. the boys were questioned as to the style and disposition of the dogs they each desired, and the methods they intended to pursue in their training. frank wanted his to be strong and powerful, able to carry him over any difficult place and able to draw any reasonable load assigned him. alec's ambition was for a swift train, that he might have all the fun and excitement of rapid travelling. "all right," said sam, "but give me the darlings with any amount of mischief and tricks in them. those are the dogs for me." a hearty laugh from all greeted sam's queer wish. "i think, as regards the tricks, we can easily satisfy you," said mr ross. "and it will be amusing to see how a young irish gentleman can circumvent them; for you will find out, before you get through with them, that tricky dogs are not only very clever, but very provoking, in some of their deals." mr ross had been very careful for years in the selection and breeding of his dogs. there is as much difference between good and bad dogs as there is between high-spirited horses and miserably lazy ones. the hardy eskimo was still the prevailing element in his dogs. there were, however, many crosses with some of the finest breeds of civilisation, such as the english mastiff, the newfoundland, and the large scottish staghound. dogs are considered old enough to be broken to harness when they have reached their ninth month. they should not, however, be expected, no matter how willing, to draw very heavy loads until they are considerably older. they are much more easily trained when young, and are not so apt to be sullen and ugly as are dogs which are only broken in after they have reached the age of two or three years. soon after breakfast and prayers an early visit was made to the kennels. the boys were desirous of having the pleasure that morning of giving the dogs their breakfast. they were very much surprised, however, when informed that the dogs were only fed once a day, and that that one meal was given to them in the evening, when their day's work was done. this information at first aroused their sympathies for the dogs, but after some experience they found out that they could not only do much better work on one good meal a day, but were always in much better health. some dogs submit readily to the harness and never give any trouble; others are very obstinate, and will take any amount of whipping before they surrender. some that seem docile and affectionate before being harnessed, when they find themselves collared and strapped, develop the ferocity of wolves and make the most desperate efforts, not only to get loose, but to attack their own masters. mr ross had, after some discussion with the boys, promised them the privilege to do the breaking in of their own dogs, provided the animals did not develop too obstinate dispositions, which would require a good deal of punishment ere they would submit. generally this work was done by the indian servants, as many kind-hearted masters cannot bear to inflict the punishment themselves, which seems to be necessary for some dogs to receive ere their are conquered. several methods are used in breaking in young dogs. some trainers securely harness them up and fasten them to a sled, then vigorously, by voice and whip, keep at them until they yield and do what is demanded of them. they must at the first harnessing be so securely fastened that they cannot possibly in any way squeeze or pull themselves out from the harness. nearly all dogs at first make desperate efforts to escape. if they once succeed in doing so, during the process of training, they are never absolutely reliable afterward. they will occasionally try to repeat the experiment of squeezing themselves loose, and may do it at a critical place on a long journey, and thus cause annoyance and delay. one of mr ross's methods, which he now suggested to the boys, was to have an old train of four steady dogs harnessed up in tandem style and one of the young dogs, which was to be broken in, harnessed in between the third and fourth dog of the train. frank was given the first selection. he chose a large, powerful dog that seemed to be part mastiff and part newfoundland. he had a fine head and kindly eyes. frank, who was a great lover of dogs, and knowing much about them, had taken the precaution to make a visit to the kitchen, and now, with his outer pockets supplied with broken bits of meat and buns, he began the work of making friends with this big, burly young dog, which was his first choice. the fact that only in the evening were they supposed to be fed, was quietly ignored by frank just now. kinesasis called him ookemou. this frank translated into monarch, and by this name he was always called. frank began his approaches by a liberal use of the contents of his pockets, and who ever knew a young dog proof against such an argument? growing dogs are always hungry, and will take kindly to anyone who will stuff them. the indian servants speedily had a train of old dogs ready, with a vacant harness placed as we have described. into it monarch willingly allowed himself to be harnessed by frank. the whole train was then fastened to a dog-sled, and the word "marche!" was shouted by the driver. the well-trained dogs at once responded and started off, and as long as frank ran by the side of monarch the young dog did very well, but when he dropped behind and sprang on the sled with the indian driver, monarch also made an effort to do likewise. this, however, he found to be an impossible feat, as the three strong dogs before him kept him on the move, and so he was obliged to proceed, which he did very unwillingly. frank shouted to him to go on. this, however, was a great mistake, as the dog, at once recognising his voice, and not knowing as yet the meaning of "go on," would much rather have come back to the one who had so thoroughly won his friendship. seeing him beginning to act ugly and obstinate, the indian driver drew his heavy dog-whip and was about to strike him. this frank hotly resented, and so the indian quickly recoiled his whip and quietly waited to see what the young white master wanted to do. frank's quick intellect was at work. he was a wide-awake, kindly lad, with a love for as well as a knowledge of dogs, and so when he saw this young dog so resolutely pull back at the sound of his voice, thus showing that he would rather come toward him than run from him, he instantly made up his mind that he could be broken in by kindness and persuasion. quickly he resolved upon his own plan of action. ordering the indian driver to stop the train, frank speedily ran to mr ross with an urgent request for another train of old dogs. mr ross, who was at once interested by the intense earnestness of the lad, speedily granted him his request, although as yet he could not understand the reason why two trains were desired, where one was generally considered sufficient. very quickly did willing hands harness up a train of old dogs and attach them to a dog-sled. "now," said frank to the driver of them, "you drive on ahead of that other train and let me ride with you." orders having been given to the driver of the train, in which monarch was harnessed, to follow after, frank, who was now on ahead and in plain sight, began calling to his dog to follow. to this call he at once responded, and as the train in which he was harnessed was allowed to come alongside of the first, monarch was rewarded by receiving from his master's hands some dainty bits of meat. there was no trouble with him after this. no matter how fast the first train was now driven, with head and tail up, on came monarch, with as much vim and dash as the best of the old dogs, with which he was harnessed. when it was thought that he had had enough exercise for that day, and as they were about two miles from home, they rested for a few moments, during which frank spoke kindly to his dog and fed him with the remaining pieces of meat. before leaving he gave orders to the driver of the train, in which monarch was harnessed, to wait until he and the other train would have time to reach home. monarch, as he saw the other train leaving, became very much excited and was eager to follow. he was, however, restrained by the driver, as were the other dogs. all sleigh dogs of any spirit hate to be thus left behind, and so when the word "marche!" was uttered they sprang forward with a will, monarch being as eager as any of them. in the meantime, when frank with the one train of old dogs returned to sagasta-weekee, he was met with laughter and quizzing remarks from both alec and sam. coming as he did without his young dog, they could only imagine that he had met with complete failure, and had given up the business in disgust. mr ross, however, older and more experienced, after one searching glance in frank's triumphant, satisfied face, surmised something better, and so was prepared for the lad's triumph, which soon came. frank very good-naturedly took the guying of his comrades, but his eyes were along the trail made by the sled, from which he had just alighted. keen was his vision then, and alert his eye, and so when the coming train was still far away he knew by their rapid pace that he had triumphed. turning to mr ross, he triumphantly exclaimed:-- "there they come, and monarch as eager as any of them, and no whip has ever touched his back, or ever will." it did not take the rapidly advancing train long to reach the now interested group of spectators. frank's triumph was complete. none could have imagined that the finest- looking dog in that train, that bore himself so proudly, had that day for the first time ever had a collar on his neck. yet such was the case, and as frank petted and unharnessed him, warm and sincere were mr ross's congratulations. from that day forward monarch was a model sleigh dog, and never failed to respond to the voice of his new master, whose kindly tact had saved him from the lash. there was still time before lunch for another experiment or two, and so alec suggested that sam, who wanted dogs full of fun and tricks, should make the next choice. sam, nothing loath, selected a handsomely built dog with the queerest combination of colours. he had a bright, mischievous-looking eye, and it was evident that he had a good opinion of himself. his small, erect, pointed ears, his foxlike muzzle, and his curly, bushy tail told that there was a good deal of the eskimo in him, and therefore, until better acquainted with the paleface, he would not have much love for him. sam soon found this out. at mr ross's request kinesasis skillfully threw a lasso over him and brought him out of the kennels. this undignified procedure considerably ruffled his temper, and so when sam, in sweet simplicity, took up a harness and endeavoured to put it on him the dog viciously sprang at him and buried his teeth in the heavy mooseskin mitten of the hand which sam was fortunately able to quickly throw up, thus saving his face from injury. mr ross and others sprang forward to help the lad, but sam's irish was up, and as the lasso was still upon the dog's neck, and his teeth had only cut through the tough leather without injuring his hand, he cried:-- "please let me have the satisfaction of conquering him alone." suddenly throwing himself forward, sam seized hold of the lasso, and, tightening it about the dog's neck, he quickly tangled him up in the loose coils and managed to throw him on the snowy ground. seizing the harness, he dropped down upon the excited, half-choked animal, and, guarding his hands against his snappy teeth, he managed to get the collar over his head. but the work was not yet completed, and mr ross, seeing the danger the boy was in of being badly bitten by the now furious animal, ordered a couple of indian men to his assistance. he highly complimented sam, and said that in getting the collar on such a dog he had succeeded well. the indians cautiously, but quickly, muzzled the dog, and then, letting him get up, they finished sam's work of harnessing him. the next thing was to get him into the train with the other dogs, and this proved to be no easy matter. "give him a name," said alec. "spitfire!" shouted out sam, and by this name he was ever after known. he seemed to have an idea that his personal liberty was being interfered with, and so he resisted everything done by sam or the dog-drivers. when by main force he was placed in position and the traces were fastened he made most violent attempts to escape. he struggled first to one side and then to the other in his frantic efforts. then he tried to crawl under and then over the dog in front of him. failing in this, he suddenly sprang forward with such force that he managed to seize hold of the short, stumpy tail of the dog in front of him. this was an unfortunate move on his part, as the dogs that are accustomed to work together will readily fight for each other when one is in trouble. so, before sam or the indians could interfere, if they had been so disposed, the dogs ahead of spitfire, hearing the cry of pain from their comrade, quickly turned upon him and gave him a thorough shaking. when the indians thought he had had enough they interfered, and once more straightened out the dogs. spitfire was most decidedly a sadder, if not a wiser, dog as the result of his rashness. but, poor fellow, his troubles were not yet over, for the old sleigh dog behind him was also indignant at the attack upon the tail of his old comrade, and so he was also resolved to mete out some punishment to the rash young offender. this was just what the indians wanted, and so, telling sam to jump on the sled with them, they shouted, "marche!" to the head dogs, while the old fellow behind sprang at spitfire. at first the young fellow, seeing that he could not get away, had resolved to balk, but when the big dog with fierce growls made his desperate efforts to seize hold of him he was glad to spring as far away as his traces would permit. the result was that before he knew what he was about he was rapidly galloping in unison with the rest of the train. sam kept him at it until he was so tired that all the venom and fight were worked out of him. if for an instant he tried to act ugly or break loose, all sam had to do was to call on the sleigh dog to attack him. this was quite sufficient and spitfire surrendered to the inevitable, and in less than three hours had well learned his first lesson. to conquer the dog's repugnance to sam, and to make them fast friends, mr ross had him, when taken out of the harness, fastened up in a dark root cellar without any supper. the next day sam went in to bring him out, but was met only with savage growls. "all right," said mr ross, "it seems hard on you for the present, but it will be better for you in the end;" and so the heavy door was shut, and spitfire had another twenty-four hours in solitude and quiet to ponder over his ways. the next day, as directed by mr ross, in whom he had all confidence, sam suddenly threw open the door, and, while the dog was still blinking in the sudden sunshine that poured in, sam without any hesitancy or fear strode in and, unchaining him, led him out and up to an abundant supply of food and drink. spitfire was conquered, and from that day he and sam were the best of friends. a few more lessons in the harness, with a growling, cross sleigh dog behind him, made him one of the best and fleetest of the train. sam, who was quick to utilise a good thing when he observed it, saw in this dislike of this old sleigh dog to having fresh young dogs ahead of him just the assistance he needed; and so, although he selected three other dogs, that at first were about as ugly and intractable as spitfire had been, he was able in this way to subdue them all with firmness and patience, and he not only made them his affectionate friends, but he became the master of one of the most spirited trains in the country. they were obedient and quick to respond to sam's calls upon them, but woe to anyone else who tried to drive them when the spirit of mischief or contrariness which was in them showed itself. alec had stated that he wanted a swift train for the fun and excitement of fast travelling. it was fortunate for him that mr ross had some young dogs with a large strain of the scottish staghound in them. the pure staghounds are unable to stand the severe cold of the long winters, but the mixed breeds at sagasta-weekee, while retaining much of the speed of the staghound, had a rich, warm coating of fur-like hair. still, they enjoyed a warm blanket when the weather was very severe. the young untrained ones were very wild, and when kinesasis attempted to bring out from the kennels a beautiful one that he had lassoed, and which alec had fancied, the frightened, agile creature jerked the lasso out of his hands, scaled the walls, and dashed away over the snowy fields. to have followed him would have been absurd, as the frightened dog if pursued would have continued his flight until he had reached the distant island where he had spent the summer. kinesasis knew a better plan than that, and so he quickly let loose about a half dozen sagacious old dogs, trained by him for such work, and quietly told them to go out and bring that young wanderer back. the frightened dog, after running several hundred yards, when he saw that he was not being followed, slackened his pace and more leisurely continued his journey. he would, however, frequently stop and look about him, and especially back toward the place he had so abruptly left. soon he saw the dogs that kinesasis had sent out, and that were now gambolling and playing with each other. he was attracted by the sight, and stopped his flight to watch them. they were apparently not noticing him in their sporting with each other, but they were nevertheless drawing nearer to him. at first he was inclined to be suspicious of them, but this soon left him, and he seemed to become pleased to greet them, as doubtless he had already begun to feel lonesome, for the dog is indeed a social animal. when once he was thrown off his guard it was not long ere the trailing lasso was seized by the teeth of a couple of the most sagacious dogs, who immediately started on the return trip. the rest of the dogs followed growling in the rear of the runaway. when necessary they used their teeth upon him, and so they soon brought him, cowed and submissive, to the hands of kinesasis. tame elephants take great delight in helping to capture and subdue wild ones, but not greater is their satisfaction at their successful work than is that of old dogs who are trained to it when they have a share in the capturing or breaking in of obstinate, refractory dogs. the boys enthusiastically expressed their surprise as well as admiration at this wonderful cleverness on the part of these trained dogs in capturing the runaway. they were also amused at their evident delight at the success of their efforts. "yes," said mr ross, "and if that young dog had been able to elude them, either by keeping out of their reach, in the first place, or by slipping the lasso over his head and thus escaping from them, and they had had to return without him, they would have been thoroughly ashamed of themselves, and would have skulked off to their kennels." "i have read," said frank, "that that is the way the saint bernard dogs in the alps act if they are unsuccessful in bringing any belated or lost traveller back to the monastery, when they are sent out by the monks to search for any in distress. they are very proud if they succeed, but if they fail to find anyone they skulk back ashamed of themselves and sulk in their kennels for a couple of days, or even longer." alec, taking advantage of the methods adopted by both frank and sam, and other plans suggested by mr ross, at length succeeded in breaking in his four dogs. he had the misfortune to have one of them, on account of his small head, squeeze himself out of his harness and escape. great difficulty was experienced in capturing him, and then even when conquered he at times gave endless trouble by slipping his collar and skulking in the rear. another of his dogs, when being broken in, made the most desperate efforts to cut himself loose with his teeth. he ruined in this way some valuable harness, and several times cut the traces of the dogs in front of him. having exhausted the patience of alec, he received a first- class whipping ere he stopped trying these tricks. in about a month the dogs were thoroughly trained and seasoned to their work. frank clung to monarch as his favourite, while sam and spitfire were almost inseparable. alec, true to the romantic love of his country, made the runaway his favourite and called him bruce. his other three he named wallace, gelert, and lorne. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter four. numerous dogs--useful animals--food supply--frozen fish--bringing them home--vigorous work for boys and dogs--frank's tumble--sam's ducking-- skating parties--alec's thrilling adventure--the race for life--northern grey wolves--their cunning--their various stratagems--mr. ross's fears-- the search party--alec rescued--the wolves shot. it may seem strange to some of our readers that such numbers of dogs were kept by mr ross. it must be remembered that they were, in those regions, the only animals in those days that were of any use to man. so abundant were the fish that the dogs were kept with little expense. the lakes and rivers so swarmed with them that a few gill nets and an indian could easily take care of a large number of dogs during the summer months. for the winter supply an immense number of whitefish were caught just as the winter was setting in. these fish were hung up on high stagings beyond the reach of wolves and stray, prowling dogs. so intense and steady was the frost that the fish, which immediately froze solid after being hung up, remained in that condition until well on into the next april. such a thing as the temperature rising high enough to even soften the fish was almost unknown. the result was the fish were kept by this great preservative, the intense frost, in prime condition for both the people and the dogs. on account of their abundance, and the ease with which they could be obtained, they were for many years the principal article of food. the indians take but little care of their dogs in the summer time; they literally have to fish for themselves, and very clever are some of them at it. so abundant are the fish, and so clever are the dogs in capturing several varieties that haunt the marshes and shallows along the shores, that the dogs easily secure sufficient numbers to sustain life and even grow fat upon. on these fishing excursions the indian dogs often wander over a hundred miles away from the wigwams of their masters, and are gone for months together. while quantities of fish were being caught during every month of the year--for even in the coldest parts of the winter they could be caught through holes in the ice--yet the actual full fishery season only lasted a few weeks. on this fishery everybody depended for their principal winter supply. it generally began a short time before the ice set, and continued about as long after. the fish, which were principally whitefish, were all caught in gill nets. when brought ashore they were stabbed through the flesh near the tail. through this incision a sharp- pointed stick was inserted. ten were always thus hung up on each stick, with their heads hanging down. while still warm a single slash of a sharp knife was given to each fish between the gills. this caused what little blood there was in them to drip out, and thus materially added to the quality of the fish, and also helped in its preservation. the work of bringing these thousands of fish home was done by the dog- trains. it is heavy work, as each train of four dogs was expected to draw twenty sticks of fish at each load. however, the track was generally all ice, and so it was much easier than travelling in a forest trail in the deep snow. six hundred pounds are considered a good load for four dogs on ordinary trails. as mr ross's fishermen had hung up about fifty thousand fish, besides packing a large number of the finest ones in ice or snow, there was considerable work for the trains in dragging them home. the work is so steady that it is considered capital training for young dogs. of course, they are not at first given as heavy loads as are the old trains. the boys were allowed to go with their trains about three times a week. this was quite sufficient for them, for, although they rode on the empty sleds, wrapped in a buffalo skin, on the outward trip to the fishery camp, yet they felt in honour bound to imitate the indian drivers of the older trains, and walk, or rather trot, as much as they could on the return with their heavy loads. the kind-hearted indians, while admiring the pluck of the boys when, on the first trip, they urged for heavier loads, wisely and firmly insisted that they should take light ones to begin with. "this is only fun," said alec, "just running on the ice. i have walked all day in the highlands, and was all right the next day. i want a full load, for i intend to run the whole distance on the home stretch." "twenty miles on ice, with some slipping and falling and managing a lively dog-train, will seem a long journey ere it is ended," said mustagan, a grand old indian who that year had charge of the work of bringing home the fish. frank thought that with his strong dogs he could take more than sam or alec, but even to this mustagan objected. "yes," he said, "fine big dogs, but very young, bones still soft. big loads by and by, but not now." "i wish we had brought our skates," said sam, "and then we would have had no trouble in making the twenty miles." this, it was unanimously agreed, was a capital suggestion, and one that would be carried out on future trips. so in the meantime they decided to carry out mustagan's request and only take light loads. the wisdom of this was seen before they had gone many miles. the gait at which the old, experienced dogs struck out, and which was kept up by the drivers, as well as by the dog-trains of the boys, was altogether too rapid for them. very gamely they kept up the pace for four or five miles, when mustagan called a halt for the first pipe. his observant eyes had been on the boys, and while he was pleased with their pluck, he was too wise to allow them to injure themselves; so, taking the matter into his own hands, he so arranged the sticks of fish on their sleds that, with the aid of the buffalo skins, he made for each a comfortable seat. it is not surprising that the boys were willing to accept of the situation, and, while on the remainder of the trip they rode a good deal, they often sprang off and, by the vigorous exercises of keeping up with the indians on their famous jog trot, kept themselves warm, and also put in a good deal of training to fit them for longer journeys. on future trips to the fisheries, as long as the ice kept free of snow, they carried with them their skates, and not only on the home trip with loaded sleds, but even on the outward journey, did they have some capital sport. alec especially was a splendid skater. coming from scotland, where they had so much more ice than there was in england or ireland, he had had greater opportunities for becoming an adept in this exhilarating sport. he was very much amused at the temper and annoyance of his dogs when, on a fine stretch of smooth ice, he would dash away from them at a rate which it was impossible for them to keep up. they would make the most desperate efforts to travel as fast as he did. when they realised the impossibility of doing this, hampered as they were by their heavy load, they would at times set up a most dismal cry that was a cross between a bark and a howl. at other times some of the dogs would think that one of the train was shirking his work, and then they would unmercifully pile on him and give him a sound thrashing. well was it for alec that he had these splendid skating trips; unconsciously was he preparing for a race for his life. on one of these home trips frank, while sitting on his load, wrapped up in his buffalo robe, went to sleep. he was all right while the sled was going along in a straight trail, but at one place the road turned at a sharp angle, and here he had a sudden awakening. the ice was firm and the dogs were going at a good speed. when they reached the sharp turn the sled slid around at a great rate, and poor frank, who like the other boys had when awake securely hung on to the straps on other trips, was now so fast asleep that when the sled flew around he was sent in the air at a tangent, and then went sprawling on the ice quite a number of yards away. he was well shaken up and badly bruised. after that he took good care to take his naps on the sleds in less dangerous places. sam had a worse adventure than that. one day, while running behind and driving his train and cheerily talking to his dogs, he had the misfortune to step through the thin ice into an air hole. he fortunately had presence of mind enough to throw out his arms, and so, as the hole was a small one, he only went in up to his armpits. that, however, was quite enough, as the temperature was many degrees below zero. he was speedily pulled out and cared for by the indian drivers. they quickly threw all the fish from alec's sled, and, taking the three buffalo robes which the boys were accustomed to use on the outward trips, carefully wrapped sam in them, and securely tied him on it. then they said:-- "now, master alec, here is your chance to show the speed of your dogs. hang on securely yourself, and see how quickly you can make the ten-mile trip from here to sagasta-weekee." alec needed no other incentive than the desire to get his beloved sam home as quickly as possible. the boys all dearly loved each other, and a serious accident to one gave sorrow to the other two. the cold was intense, and it was necessary that sam should be taken home as speedily as possible. the weight of the two boys was but little to the active- spirited dogs, and so when the sharp cracks of the whip sounded around them, but not on them, and the urgent cries of "marche! marche!" with unusual emphasis kept ringing out from the lips of their master, they seemed at once to realise that something unusual was the matter; and as it was also on the home stretch, away they flew at a rate that soon left the heavily loaded sleds far behind. in less than an hour's time the distance was covered. sam was soon in the hands of loving, experienced friends who knew just what to do, and so in a day or two he was out again, none the worse for his adventure. the skating was simply perfect. just fancy miles and miles of ice, smooth as glass and stretching out over lake and river in every direction; no pent-up little pond or skating rink where in a few hours the ice is ruined by the crowd or melted by the rising temperature. here were great lakes and rivers of it that lasted for months. lakes full of beautiful islands, whose shores not long ago were lapped by the murmuring, laughing waves, are now gripped, as in fetters of steel, by the frost king. in and out among them glide the merry skaters. everybody in that land big enough skated, and skated well. jolly parties from the fur-trading posts and mission home joined with others in making merry groups, who for hours at a time engaged in this joyous and exhilarating sport. sometimes several young gentlemen in the service of the hudson bay company would come over from the fort and join them in their moonlight excursions. so glorious were the surroundings, and so exhilarating the sport, that the nights would be far spent ere they thought of returning home. there seemed a strange fascination in seeking out new places and exploring untried branches of the great rivers, which seemed like streams of molten silver in the bright moonlight as they stretched away into primitive forests, where the trees on the shores hung heavy with icicles, or were so bent under the weight of snow that, at times, they looked like ghostly visitants from dreamland. as the days passed on these skating excursions were much more extended, and as the skaters began to get familiar with the different routes the vigilance which was at first kept up, that none might go astray, was much relaxed. when there were any indications of a storm or blizzard it was well understood that no skater was to go out alone, and even then not beyond some well-defined landmarks. however, when the weather seemed settled, and the sun shone brightly by day and the moonlight was clear and beautiful at night, no positive restraint was upon anyone. thus, day after day, they merrily skated in little groups or in pairs as they desired. sometimes one would dash off alone, and for hours amidst the weird, picturesque surroundings, such as a skater alone can find in such a land, would, in the very intoxication of his bliss, push on and on, without any idea of the progress of time or of the distance he was travelling. to alec, the scottish lad, there came one beautiful moonlight night an experience which nearly had a tragic ending. the night was one of rarest beauty, but it was very cold, so cold that mr ross remarked that the moon looked more like burnished steel than silver. as the merry party started out he warned them to keep their furs well around them or severe frostbites would be theirs, in spite of the vigorous exercise of rapid skating. the company of half a dozen or so kept together for a time, and then, in joyous rivalry, shot out and in along the icy stretches between the granite, fir-clad islands that on that lake were so numerous. as further they advanced they became more and more separated, until alec found himself alone with a young clerk from the trading post, who prided himself on his skill and speed as a skater. he had been considered the champion the previous winter, and naturally wished to retain his laurels. finding himself alone with alec, whom he thought but a novice compared to himself, he endeavoured to show off his speed, but was very much annoyed and chagrined to find that, skate as rapidly as he would, the scottish lad kept alongside and merrily laughed and chatted as on they sped. ruffled and angry at being so easily matched by alec, the clerk abruptly turned around and skated back. alec was at first a little hurt by this discourteous action, but this feeling quickly wore off as on and on he skated, fairly entranced by the beauty of his surroundings and the excitement of his sport. after a time he noticed that the lake was abruptly ending. just as he was about to circle around and begin the return journey he saw the mouth of a beautiful little ice-covered river which ran up into the forest. the ice looked so smooth and was so transparent, as there it lay in the beautiful moonlight, and he was so fascinated by the sight, that he could not resist the impulse to dash in upon it. on and on he glided, on what seemed to him the most perfect ice that skater ever tried. he did not appear to observe that this glassy, winding river, on which he was so joyously skating, was gradually narrowing, until he observed the great branches of some high trees meeting together and cutting off the bright moonlight. skating under these great shadowy branches, with the glinting moonlight here and there in great patches of white upon the ice, alternating with the shadows, was a new experience, and very much did he revel in it, when-- what sound was that? it must have been only the falling of some drift of snow from an overloaded branch, or a broken branch itself, and so, although alec was startled at hearing any sound amidst these almost noiseless solitudes, he soon recovered his spirits and dashed on along the narrowing, crooked stream: but--there it is again! and now as alec quickly turns his head and looks he sees what blanches his face for an instant and shows him the peril of his position. four great northern grey wolves are skulking through the snow on the shore, and already their eyes are gleaming in triumph, and their mouths are watering for their prey. quick as a flash he turns, and so do they. well is it now that the sturdy lad, on his native lochs in scottish winters, had practiced every movement, and had become an adept in twisting and rapid turning on his skates. he will need it all to-night, as well as the hardened muscles of his vigorous sports since he came to this wild north land; for the wolves will not easily be balked in their efforts to capture and then devour. the very fact of there being four of them seemed at first in his favour, as the instant they turned they appeared to get in each other's way. in the brief delay thus caused alec was away and was increasing his speed every instant. but he is not to be let off so easily. looking behind, he sees that two are coming on in their long, galloping, speedy way. where are the other two? soon enough will he know. as we have stated, this little river was very crooked. the cunning wolves well knew this, and so a couple of them made a short cut through the woods, to intercept their prey at a spot ahead of him. as an inspiration, the quick-witted lad took in the situation. he had heard much already about the cunning of these grey wolves in hunting in relays the moose and other species of deer, and by having some of their numbers sent on ahead or stationed in narrow defiles to intercept their prey. so, suspecting the trap being laid for him, he made up his mind, if possible, to reach that danger point before those wolves. it was a long sweep around, like a horse shoe, and he had to make the whole distance round, while they had but to cross the tongue of land. he had to traverse at least twice the distance that the wolves had to go, but then he had the advantage in being on the ice, while they had to loup through the snow. still, there were no risks to be taken. for an instant the thoughts came, as he heard the faint thud, thud on the ice of the fleet wolves behind him. what if anything should happen to my skates? or if i should get in a crack in the ice? but he quickly banished these thoughts as unworthy. he had all confidence in the splendid skates on his feet, and saw with delight that he was emerging from the last place where the trees entirely hid the bright moonlight. every crack and dangerous place could now be easily seen and guarded against. on and on he fairly flew. the wolves, in spite of their desperate efforts to keep up, were being left further and further behind. at this alec rejoiced; but his heart fairly jumped, and fear for an instant again seized him, as there suddenly burst upon his ears the blood- curdling howlings of many wolves. it was begun by those in the rear. it was answered by others that seemed ahead of him. it was re-echoed back by others that appeared to be further off. looking back, he observed that the two that had been following him, when they had finished their howlings, suddenly disappeared in the forest, evidently bent upon some new plan of attack. no wonder that the plucky lad felt that this was a crisis in his life, and that if ever he had his wits about him they were needed now. as the result of his early teachings, and the memory of his godly mother, there sprang from his heart and lips a whispered prayer: "god of my mother, remember her boy to-night;" and he felt that he was not forgotten. like as with fresh soldiers on the battle field, so now that the first terror had come and gone, a strange spirit of exhilaration came to him, and seemed to nerve him for the race. he had no weapon with him, not even a stick in his hand. his wits, his skates, and his power of endurance must be his reliance in this unique encounter. as well as he could he endeavoured to recall the different windings in the river, and the places where he was likely to be attacked later on, if he escaped the spot where he felt sure the next effort would be made by his cunning foes. rapidly as he was skating, his quick eye caught sight of two of his foes. they were crouching together on a snow-covered rock that almost overhung the edge of the stream where it was narrowest. to endeavour to escape by such fierce brutes, now so aroused by having once missed him, would have been madness. to have retreated would have been certain death. quick as a flash came the ruse to alec. dashing up, with a shout that was a challenge, he made as though he were going to fly by, but the instant before he reached the spot where his quick eye saw they would spring upon him he whirled upon the heels of his skates. that instant they sprang upon the spot where their instinct told them he ought to have been. he was not there, however, but a few yards in the rear; so they missed him, and with the momentum of their spring went sprawling out on the smooth ice. another turn on the skates, as quick as the first, and alec was by them ere they could recover themselves. thoroughly baffled and furious, they were speedily in pursuit, and it required all of alec's effort to much increase the distance between them and himself. several times they cut across short necks of the little river, and once so near did they get that the snappings of their terrible teeth were distinctly heard. one long stretch more, then a double twist, like the letter s in the river, and he would reach the lake. alec was heated now; his clothes were wet with perspiration, in spite of the bitter cold. that some wolves were ahead of him he was certain. home was far away. the other skaters had long since returned from their outings. around the great blazing fireplace mr ross had more than once said: "i am sorry that alec has remained out so late." unknown to the rest of the family, some hunters had reported to him that already tracks of wolves had been seen in the hunting grounds not many miles away. these brutes are always very vicious in the beginning of winter. their summer supplies of food are cut off, and the deer have not yet begun to run and thus leave their tracks in the woods. when another hour had passed on mr ross could stand it no longer, and earnestly exclaimed: "who saw alec last?" the young clerk who had been last seen with him, and who had not as yet returned to his trading post, said:-- "i left him near the other side of the lake." mr ross was indignant, but there was now no time for anything but action. short and stern were his orders. alec must be sought after at once. hastily rousing up three trusty indian servants, he and they were soon out on the lake. all were on skates and armed with guns. a few dogs were allowed to accompany them, among them being alec's train. mr ross wisely judged that if they once struck his tracks, such was the love they had for him, they would soon find him, even if he had become bewildered and lost his bearings. so, while alec was still in danger, help was coming. fortunately for him, the river was wider now, and his eyes were so alert that he could detect his foes, even when quite a distance from them. he was thus able to see through the disguise of a couple of them that lay crouching out on the ice, trying to look like the little piles of snow that the eddying winds had gathered. still, although he saw them, and by another clever ruse flew by them, yet so close were they to him, when they sprang at him, that some of the froth from the mouth of one of them fell upon him. to his surprise, these two did not long follow him, but sprang into the gloom of the forest and disappeared. in the last half of the s-like river alec was now speeding. he felt confident that if he could once reach the lake he would be able by speed, and perhaps some quick dodging, to elude them; but this last portion of the crooked river troubled him, and made him doubly cautious. there is need for it all, for look! there are now not less than a dozen of them, and they are so arranged on the ice and on the shore that there is apparently no escape. those strange howlings, so blood-curdling and so weird, which the first pair of wolves uttered were understood by others, and here they are, ready and eager to join in the attack and to divide the prey. they seem so confident now, and so loudly do they howl that the great high rocks echo back the doleful music. to alec it was now the martial music that only sharpened his faculties and made him more cautious and more brave. boldly skating up to them, he suddenly turned, when almost in their clutches, and instantly started back up the river as rapidly as he could skate. on and on he fairly flew, until, owing to the bend in the river, he was completely out of their sight. then skating near to one of the shores he pushed on a couple of hundred yards or so. crossing over to the other side, he quickly turned to a spot where, sheltered by a large tree, he was securely hid in the deep shadow, which was in sharp contrast to the bright moonlight near him. in this retreat he had not long to wait ere he saw the wolves, evidently disconcerted, but coming on his trail. they were stretched out quite apart from each other, and covered such a distance that he saw that those in front would be doubling back on him ere all had passed. however, he was confident that so suddenly could he dash out that, by skillful dodging on the glassy ice, where the wolves would not have much of a foothold, he could elude them. it was a trying moment for the boy, as on the opposite side of the tree, which rose up directly out of the ice, he heard the measured steps and even the heavy breathings of the cruel monsters, not fifty yards away. fortunately, there was no wind to carry the scent from him to them, and so they did not detect his stratagem. when about half of them had passed, with a dash and a shout he was off. so completely taken by surprise were they that those nearest to him made no attempt to stop him. the two or three in the rear savagely tried to block his way and sprang at him, but signally failed to reach him, as alec skillfully skated round them and sped onward toward the lake. furious indeed were those that had passed him and felt themselves robbed of their victim. outwitted were they all, but not yet discouraged. wolves can run with great swiftness on the smoothest ice, and although, as we have seen, they cannot turn quickly, and can be dodged by a clever skater, yet for a straight go-ahead pace they are not to be despised by the swiftest runner. then their powers of endurance are very great, and so it was evident to alec that they were resolved, by grim endurance, to run him down. firmly convinced that there were none ahead of him, and that it was now to be a long race, he wisely resolved not to so force himself that he could not, if need be, keep up a good rate of speed all the way to the abode of mr ross. it did not take him long to again reach the river mouth, and as he flew past the spot where, a few minutes before, his enemies had waited for him he could not but see the sagacity with which they had selected the place. he was grateful for his deliverance thus far, but he knew that there was no time for investigation, for the yelps and howlings distinctly heard told him that his foes were hot on his trail and not far behind. out on the lake he dashed, and still on they came. alec is hot and excited now. the strain on him is beginning to tell, and he feels it. he knows that he could put on a desperate spurt and get far ahead, but would they not, with that long, steady louping of theirs, gradually creep up again, and, finding him almost exhausted, make a desperate spurt, and thus run him down? but he is resolved to succeed, and so he nerves himself and carefully speeds along, while perhaps not five hundred yards behind are those merciless pursuers that will not be shaken off. in this way about ten miles are passed since the mouth of the river was left. still on and on they come. the moon is now sinking low, and the shadows are weird and ghostly. auroras, phantom-like, flit in the northern sky, while some of them seem like frightened spirits flying before avenging enemies. the sight is depressing to alec, and so he turns his eyes from beholding them while still on he speeds. hark! what is that? it is like the bark of a dog that is instantly hushed. to alec it seemed a dream or an illusion; and yet he could not help putting on a spurt of speed and veering a little out of his course to see the rocky islands, surrounded by the smooth ice, from which the dog's bark seemed to come. as he swiftly dashed along how suddenly all things changed to him, and quick and swift was his deliverance. there was mr ross with his three indians and a number of dogs. alec was saved. he had fairly run into his deliverers. but no time was to be lost. fortunately, a high rocky island for a moment hid the wolves, that were now following wholly by the scent. with their double-barrelled guns, loaded with balls, the three indians rapidly scaled the rocky isle, on the opposite side of which they would be hid and yet within easy range of the wolves as they came along on alec's trail. mr ross and alec had all they could do to quiet the dogs and keep them still, as some of them were eager to follow the indians. only a few minutes elapsed, as alec's spurt had only put him a half a mile or so ahead of the wolves, when the guns rang out once, and then again as the second barrels were fired. let loose the dogs now, and let everyone shout for the rescue and the victory! five wolves were killed outright, and one was so badly wounded that the dogs soon ran him down and dispatched him. the other wolves turned and fled. mr ross would not, at that hour, allow any pursuit of them. the morning star was shining ere home was reached, and alec was the hero of the hour. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter five. the invitation to the indian school examination and sports--trapping experiences--the cunning cross-fox--frank seeking aid from memotas-- method of successful trap-setting--joyous trip to the mission--an abiding christian civilisation for the indians--sam's and a young indian's novel hunting methods--wild cats captured--the queer battle between a fox and a wild cat. when the boys returned home from a splendid outing on their skates they were greeted by mr hurlburt, the missionary from the indian mission, who cordially invited them all to the half-yearly examinations at the school, which were to be held the friday before christmas in the forenoon, and then would follow the usual games among the indian boys in the afternoon. the boys soon found that mr ross and the missionary had been long discussing the matter, but had as yet come to no decision as to the different games, in which the white boys might, if they so desired, compete with the indian lads. alec, of course, wanted to enter for the dog race and the skating. frank wanted to try his skill with the snowshoes, but sam gravely shook his head and said he feared he would be lonesome ere the race ended. "well, what will you enter for?" said frank, as he turned to sam after this sally, which had set everybody laughing. "indeed i don't know, unless it should be tobogganing," he replied. this also caused a good deal of amusement, as sam's efforts in this line thus far had not been much of a success. he had caused a good deal of fun, and some excitement, by the extraordinary way in which his toboggan had several times shot out of the regular route and gone off on some erratic lines, perfectly oblivious to the interests of life and limb. he had one strong characteristic: he would hang on no matter which way or to what place his toboggan, under his erratic steering, flew with him. once, in the middle of a hill, it shot off at a tangent and ran over an indian woman. so unexpected was the attack, so deep was the drift into which she was hurled, and so rapidly did the flying toboggan get out of sight, that the poor, superstitious old woman ever after declared that it could have been no other than the muche manetoo, the evil one, that struck her. as a couple of weeks would elapse ere the day for the examinations and sports would arrive, the matter was left in abeyance, as to the sports in which the boys should enter. a cordial acceptance of the invitation was of course intimated. in talking the matter over afterward it was decided that only in one race or sport should each of the white boys enter. the number was limited as the indian boys were numerous, and it might perhaps cause jealousies. so it was finally decided that alec should try with his dogs in the four-dog race, frank should be a competitor in the skating match, and sam, with spitfire, should contend in the one-dog race, or else enter in the skating backward contest. from knowing the skill of the indian boys in everything else, mr ross felt that in these selected were their only chances of success. of course, it was felt that alec should have been in the skating contest, but as it was essential that each owner should drive his own dogs, and alec had such confidence in his now splendid team and was so proud of them, he decided in favour of his dogs. mr ross's advice to them all was to keep themselves in good trim for any sudden emergency that might turn up, especially if it should happen that the young gentlemen in the hudson bay company's service should decide to compete, or should themselves challenge them. full of most exhilarating sport as had been the bright sunny days since winter had set in nearly two months before this, the incentive of the coming races gave a new zest to their sports and pastimes, and so there was snow-shoeing by day as well as rapid dog-travelling under aurora lights by night. among other things, it was arranged with memotas that, as his hunting grounds began not many miles away from the place where sagasta-weekee was built, the boys should have the privilege of hunting in all that section of the country under his guidance when necessary, and as much alone as they desired. mr ross secured for them about a dozen steel traps apiece, and either he or memotas instructed the lads in the methods of setting them for the different fur-bearing animals, such as mink, marten, otter, wild cat, and especially for the different varieties of foxes that were so abundant in those regions. in addition to this they were taught how to make the spring snares of fine twine for rabbits and partridges. thus they learned much of the habits and instincts of various animals, and were delighted and profited by these lessons learned out in the school of nature, amidst such favourable surroundings. when the boys saw the great number of tracks of the various wild animals that so speedily packed down the snow in runs in various directions through the forests, they were sanguine that great success would attend their hunting efforts. but as they drove in day after day with nothing more valuable than some rabbits or a few ptarmigan, or some other kind of partridges, they were half-discouraged, and told mr ross they were surprised at their poor success. frank was especially mortified at his ill success. he had for days set his trap for a beautiful cross-fox that he had once or twice seen. nearly every day he found his traps sprung and the bait gone. that it was the same fox frank discovered by the fact that he had lost part of one of his hind feet. this mr ross said doubtless happened long ago in the trap of some hunter. the fox had not been quick enough to spring away, and had thus been caught by part of his foot. if it were in the winter time when he was thus caught he doubtless ate the part of the foot that was held in the teeth of the trap without feeling any sensation of pain, as the cold would quickly freeze it solid. if he were caught in the summer time he would use the most desperate efforts to pull himself loose ere he would use his teeth, and then, of course, he would suffer much in the operation. hence in the winter time a fox, as a general thing, if only caught by one foot, cuts himself off in a few hours, but in summer time he has been known to remain in a couple of days. indians often talk of clever three-legged foxes in the woods. one pleasant day frank persuaded memotas to go out with him and help him set his traps for that old fox that had so long tantalised him by his tricks and was getting fat on his bait. this the old man did with pleasure, for he had become very much attached to frank. when they reached the place, to which they had come on frank's dog-sled, the indian very carefully examined the region around for quite a distance. he told frank where the fox's den was, and said that now that he had become so well acquainted with frank perhaps a stranger might get hold of him. he asked frank to show him how he had generally set his traps that had been so unceremoniously sprung and robbed of the bait. this frank proceeded to do, and, as he thought, very quickly and cleverly sprung back and baited them. memotas watched him go through all the process, and then rather coolly took him down by saying: "good trap, well set, plenty of bait; might perhaps catch a puppy or old crow, but never fox." this seemed rather rough on frank, and he was glad that sam was not there to improve the occasion with some further caustic remarks. when the indian saw that frank seemed so crestfallen at his comments he at once hastened to assure him that they all had to learn much about these animals, and now he said: "you and i will go to work and see if we cannot get that fox in a trap again, even if his half foot tells us he has been there before." the first thing they did was to decide where to set the traps. "not much hurry, though, about that," said memotas. "we must first have a fire to burn all of frank off the traps." this was a bit of a puzzle to frank at first, but when memotas told frank that every time he handled a trap or a bit of bait he left enough of himself on it for the fox to know all that he wanted to about him, it was more unintelligible than ever. at a spot about a couple of hundred yards away from where the traps were to be set a fire was built. when it was brightly burning memotas cut a long pole, and then, springing or setting the trap, had frank fasten a good-sized piece of meat as bait securely on with a fine wire. "now," said memotas, as he carefully lifted up the set trap on the end of his pole, "we will burn old injun and frank off that trap and bait." then he held the trap in the fire until the meat fairly sizzled and the steel trap was quite hot. "guess all injun and frank now have gone up in smoke, so, mr fox, you'll not find us when you come skulking round this trap, anyway." the old man chuckled, and frank now understood what he had meant. memotas walked very carefully to within some yards of the spot where he had decided to place the trap. again addressing frank, he said: "we must not even walk there, for if we did we should leave some more of ourselves through our moccasins, and mr fox would then be too sharp for us." giving frank the pole with the trap on it to hold for a few minutes, the old man quickly moved back to a spot where some tall, slender live balsams were growing. cutting one down, he trimmed off all the branches except a mere broom-like tuft at the top, taking care all the time not to touch any of those remaining with his hands. returning with this long, broom-like affair, he vigorously used it on a spot some yards away. then he took the long pole from the hands of frank, and there in that place thus brushed out, he carefully and skillfully laid the trap. then with the long brush he deftly swept back a thin layer of snow over the trap and bait. "now, frank," he said, "set the rest of your traps as you have been doing these past days, but do not go near that one we have just arranged." this operation was soon performed by frank in the different places suggested by memotas. in carefully investigating these spots the fox would be apt to get caught in the one that had in it, as the old fellow put it, "no frank or no injun." by a roundabout route they started for home. at nearly every place where frank had set his snares for rabbits or partridges he was successful in finding game. at a couple of places the snares themselves were gone and the snow was badly trampled down. here memotas's knowledge came into play, and he showed frank where a wild cat had seized a rabbit just as it had sprung into the snare, and then both had struggled and the spring pole had been dragged twenty feet or so before the strong twine had been broken. in another place the feathers strewn around showed where a fox had been too quick for frank and had taken the partridge which had been caught. thus they pushed on, and at length reached home. a good dinner awaited them, and then frank harnessed up his dogs again, and, hitching them to a beautifully painted cariole, took wenonah and roddy out for a splendid ride. the day was cold but brilliant. the little folks were well wrapped up in their beautiful furs, and so the drive over to the mission and back was much enjoyed. at the mission house they went in for a short call on the family, where they were always welcome. as they could not remain for dinner a five- o'clock tea was quickly prepared and much enjoyed. when about to begin a great jingling of bells was heard outside, and to the delight of all in came mr and mrs ross, who had been driven over by alec and sam. it seems the boys had both returned from their hunting routes shortly after frank had left with the two children. after a hasty lunch they had coaxed mr and mrs ross to let them drive them over, and so a couple of carioles were soon attached to their different trains. plenty of robes were put in, and now here they all were, and, as always, were most cordially welcomed. they spent a couple of hours with the members of this delightful family, who here as missionaries were doing such a blessed work, even if it were one of self-denial and at times sufferings. but mr and mrs hurlburt, their two young daughters, and miss adams, the lady teacher, were so proud of the indians, and of their genuine kindly ways, that they were happy and contented with their lot. during the brief two hours spent at the home this afternoon, as well as on many other occasions, the boys had opportunities to see evidences of their kindnesses and tangible love to the sick and hungry ones who looked so much to them. not only did they find in mr and mrs ross real friends to help them, but by their very substantial contributions they made the missionary and his family the almoners of many gifts much needed by the poor indians. genuine christians themselves, the owners of sagasta-weekee did much to help in the spiritual uplifting of the people from the degradation and superstitions of a cruel paganism into the blessedness and enjoyments of a genuine christianity and an abiding civilisation. the time quickly sped by. they had some earnest chat, a few delightful hymns and songs of the homeland, and then a brief but earnest prayer for heaven's blessing on loved ones far away, upon themselves in that land and their different work, and also upon the indians. then the dogs were roused, the carioles arranged, and the passengers were soon all aboard. the boys took their places firmly standing on the tailboards of the sleds that projected in the rear. grasping the tail- ropes, with which they held themselves on and guided their carioles, simultaneously they cried, "marche!" and with a spring they were all off together. they had three splendid trains and were not badly matched for a short spurt. so amidst shoutings and laughter in the beautiful gloaming of that lovely evening they fairly flew over the icy expanse of playgreen lake. but blood will tell, and it was soon evident that although alec had mr ross as his passenger, and therefore the heaviest load of the three, he was surely forging ahead. with those long, houndlike legs, these round-barrelled, small-headed, keen-eyed dogs need not take any second place in that crowd, and so it is that, catching the enthusiasm of the hour, and springing in unison with each other, they respond to alec's cheery call, and seem to pick themselves up and so fly over the rest of the route to sagasta-weekee that, in placing them, all that could be said was, "alec first, the rest nowhere." "well done, alec," said mr ross, as he sprang out of the cariole. "if you equal the speed of the last two or three miles in the race with the trains of the village and the fort, i think the blue ribbon of first place will be yours. but where is your cap?" happy alec! he had been so excited with the splendid speed of his dogs, and the perfect unison of their movements, that he did not seem to be conscious of the fact that the capote of his overcoat was hanging down his back and that his cap had left him a mile or two back on the ice. however, his abundant curly locks had been sufficient for him during the excitement of that blood-stirring race. he speedily pulled up the capote over his head, and sam, who had seen his cap fall and had hastily snatched it up as his cariole flew by, now came up and restored it to him. frank, with the children, was the last in. his heavy dogs, while the strongest, were not so adapted for rapid travelling as the others. "well, we had the longest ride," said roddy; "you folks went so fast you did not have such a nice long time as we did." this happy way of looking at it pleased everybody, and all voted roddy to be a philosopher. the indian servants had the dog-fish all ready, and so it was not long ere the twelve dogs were enjoying their well-earned supper. when they had all entered the house the boys, as usual, were anxious to know of each other's success during the day. not only had frank, as we have described, gone out to his traps, but sam and alec had also driven some miles to the places where they, apart from each other, were also trying their skill in trapping various kinds of fur-bearing animals. sam had gone out for several days past in company with a son of memotas. he was a bright young fellow, and he and sam had suddenly become very confidential. it was evident that they had some great scheme on between them. what it was nobody seemed quite able to make out, and so their curiosity was much excited, especially when sam had been seen in close converse with the cook, and had then, after a hasty visit to the cellar, hurried away with young memotas. to make matters worse, sam had dropped a couple of large onions ere he reached his sled. then one of the maids said she heard him asking the mistress if she had any oil of bergamot, and if there was any castoreum left in the house. they did not get much information from him that night, and, strange to say, he was the first one after dinner that proposed bed. before daylight a trusty servant called him, as sam had desired, and even then, early as it was when he came down, young memotas was there awaiting him. mrs ross insisted that both sam and young memotas should have a good, warm breakfast ere they started out. it is very dangerous indeed to start off in the morning without a good, warm, generous meal. while the two boys were eating their breakfast a trusty indian called out sam's dogs, and now there they stood, longing to be off. they did not return until the afternoon, and then they proudly brought in two prime wild cats which they had captured. sam that evening told how that he and young memotas had found the tracks of them some days before, and that they had been busy ever since making a dead fall, and the last day or so they had been decoying them to the place by the scent of onions. this would bring them into the vicinity of the trap; but he said that he remembered reading somewhere that some animals were attracted by bergamot, and so he begged a little from mrs ross, and sure enough there the two wild cats were securely caught. the weight of the logs had been increased by heavy stones, and so, he added, "the animals were quite dead when we reached them. as there were other tracks around we have been busy ever since making traps of the same kind." alec had not accomplished much beyond finding the frozen part of the hind foot of a marten in one of his steel traps. he noticed which way the animal had gone, and so, taking a couple of dogs out of his sled, he put them on the trail, and to his surprise and delight they quickly ran it down. he rescued it from them as speedily as possible. it was quite dead, but its beautiful fur was uninjured. frank was eager to be off again with old memotas to see the result of the new method, to him, of trap-setting for a cunning old fox. but memotas, who was and experienced himself, said: "wait one day more yet. that old fox not going to walk into that trap the first day, nor perhaps the second day. you have been well feeding him on plenty of bait, and he not a bit hungry. but when he get hungry perhaps he go prowling round to see if his friend hasn't come with any more bait for him. for foxes get to know traps that seem just set for them to live from." this was all rather hard on frank, but he had come to see that it was all true, and so he patiently waited until the old man came in and said he thought perhaps they might go and see if that fox was still playing any of his tricks. the train was soon harnessed, and away they flew over the icy lake, and then into the forest trail. on and on they went, until they came near the spot where the traps had all been set. every one that frank had set was sprung and empty, and the one that memotas had set with such care was missing! nowhere could frank see it or any trace of it. memotas quickly stepped out a hundred feet or so, and then began walking in a circle around the spot. he had not more than half completed the circle before he quickly called to frank, who at once hurried to his side. pointing to a peculiar spot in the snow that had been much disturbed, memotas said: "i think fox caught with both fore legs in the trap. he is now walking away on his hind legs and holding up the trap in his mouth. see, there he walk on two legs! see, there he rest!" and the old man began to hurry on, closely followed by frank, to whom he explained every movement the fox had made. "must be a fine big fox to get away so far with the trap on both fore feet," said memotas. "but listen!" a strange snarling-like sound fell on their ears, and with it something like the fierce yelping of a fiery young dog. memotas had quickly dropped flat on the ground in the snow, and frank crouched beside him. the old man whispered to frank to give him his long hunting knife. "some other animal, wild cat perhaps, meet fox, and they fighting. keep still, i must go back to the sled for the gun." without making the slightest noise the old man glided back, and was soon lost to sight. fortunately, there was a dense clump of evergreen balsam or spruce trees between the contending animals and frank. then they were so absorbed in their own quarrel that they were not very alert in watching for others. however, frank knew enough to keep perfectly still, although he confessed he clutched the knife several times more firmly as the blood- curdling snarls of the wild cat pierced the air so near. soon memotas was back again, and then the question was to get a successful shot at the wild cat, as it was evident the fox was sure enough. at first memotas crawled forward closer to the trees, the branches of which, laden down with snow, reached to the ground all around. carefully peering through the dense branches, he gazed intently for a time, and then he silently beckoned frank to come. noiselessly he crawled up beside memotas, and after his eyes had become accustomed to the work he was able to see the two animals not more than two hundred feet away. the two fore legs of the fox were securely fastened in the steel trap, which seemed to have closed on him about four inches up from his feet. the wild cat was a fierce old male, and was doing his best to get a good grip on the fox. this the fox was resolved not to let him have, and so he kept his face toward his foe, and whenever the latter would spring at him the fox would suddenly raise himself, and, throwing up the trap so securely fastened on his fore legs, would bang it down with a whack on the head of the wild cat. with a snarl the cat would suddenly back off and arch up his back and snarl worse than ever. it was the queerest battle that memotas had ever witnessed, and every time the trap rattled on the head or body of the wild cat the old man fairly quivered with excitement and delight. to frank the sight was also the oddest and queerest he had ever even heard of. at one skillful parry the fox, although so terribly handicapped, was able to give the cat a whack that sent him fairly sprawling in the snow. at the sight of this frank had to crowd his fur mitten into his mouth to prevent him from fairly shouting out: "well done, old fox!" why they remained so in this one open place, frank now saw, was because the fox was fearful that if he got in among the fallen logs or the rocks the wild cat would have the advantage, and thus succeed in springing upon his back, while he, so hampered, could make but little resistance. all at once frank saw the animals cease both the attack and their noises. memotas, quick and alert, suddenly brought his gun into position, and the next instant, as frank heard the jingling of distant bells, there also rang out the report of the gun, and the wild cat tumbled over dead. springing up, memotas called frank to follow, and together they quickly hurried after the fox, that was now again desperately striving to get away. memotas did not wish to injure the valuable skin by piercing it with a ball, and so, picking up a heavy clublike branch of a tree, he quickly killed the fox without breaking the skin. a few minutes after alec drove up along the trail. he had visited his traps and snares, and had decided to take this trail on his way home. his bells were the ones heard by the two fighters. well was it that memotas's quick ears also heard them, and that he was able to fire before the wild cat had fled into the forest. they were soon all on their way home again. the fox was a great beauty, and although it was a cross, yet it was so nearly black that a large sum was given for it. for many a day after frank talked and laughed about that oddest of all fights, the one between the trapped fox and the fierce old wild cat. chapter six. the winter birds of the great lone land--the whisky jack--the ptarmigan--their beds in the snow--mission visits--cupid's darts--the wood supply--primitive way of capturing partridges--great snowy owls-- methods of capture--sam's experience--the fearful grip of the owl's claw. "where are your singing birds?" said sam one morning as he came in from having taken wenonah and roderick out for a drive with the dogs. "we have travelled over a dozen miles and have not heard a single bird song." "only a whisky jack," said roderick. this reply of roderick's made everybody laugh; for the shrill, harsh cry of the indians' sacred bird, called by the very unpoetical name of whisky jack, is not very musical, but just the reverse. "our singing birds are all in the sunny south land during these cold months," said mr ross. "we have multitudes of them during our brief summer time. then, at the first breath of the frost king, they flit away and leave us so still and quiet." "what about this saucy bird, here called whisky jack, that we meet with on all of our wintry journeys?" asked alec. "well," replied mrs ross, "you see, in the first place, that he is not very handsome. his bluish-grey plumage is not very attractive, but he has an inner coating of black down, and if you could strip him of both of these jackets you would find him to be a very small bird after all. the indians used to call him their sacred bird. they never kill one, no matter how hungry they may be. they have some beautiful traditions associated with him. his voice, so harsh and loud, is, according to some legends, the cry of a fair maiden who, fleeing from a hateful suitor, was lost in a blizzard. in vain she called for her own sweetheart, until her once musical voice became so harsh and rough that it lost its beauty. to prevent her from falling into the hands of her hated suitor, just as he was about [to seize] her the magicians changed her, in answer to her prayer, into a bird, and this is the whisky jack." "our next most interesting winter bird," said mr ross, "is the ptarmigan, or white partridge. the colder the winter the more numerous they seem to be. they are easily snared, like the rabbits, as they have certain favourite runs, and do not seem to observe the twine or wire loops into which they so foolishly run their heads." "where do they sleep at nights?" asked little roderick. "faith, and i know," said sam; "for was i not fairly frightened out of my wits by a lot of them one night when travelling late to the camp to drive over a snowdrift into which they were burying themselves? i saw them fly up high in the air, and then, like a stone, they just shot themselves down and buried themselves out of sight of myself and those who were with me." "yes," said alec, "and i well remember how they startled me several times as they were getting up out of these queer beds in the deep snow away out from the dense woods. it always occurred very early in the morning, shortly after we had left our camps in the woods, where we had spent the night. i could hardly get used to the start they gave me, as sometimes they flew right up from under the feet of my dogs. they seemed like wee ghosts, they were so very white, and my dogs as well as myself were disturbed by their uncanny ways." "do they go back to the same snowdrifts night after night?" asked frank. "no," said mr ross; "they are birds that move around a good deal, and as far as the indians' observations go the same flock or covey never sleep twice in the same place. if they did the foxes and other animals that are very fond of feeding on them would soon discover their retreats, and would make short work of them." thus the days and weeks passed by. sometimes all the boys, with mr ross and a number of indians, would be away on some great excursion after the bears or beavers. at other times shorter trips would be arranged, when but one or two of the boys would go. then there were the home sports and frequent visits to the traps and snares. the dogs were kept busy, and the skates and snowshoes were not forgotten. the visits between sagasta-weekee and the mission were very frequent, and it began to appear as if cupid had donned a fur ermine coat, or a feather mantle, and had made a flying visit and fired a couple of his darts into the hearts of frank and alec, and on these darts were the names of the two lovely daughters of the missionary. whether this be true or not, or only a rumour brought by a relay of gulls, we cannot say, but mrs ross affirmed that never since their arrival at sagasta- weekee were these two young gentlemen so particular about their personal appearance, or so anxious to find some good and valid reason why they should be sent over to the home of the missionary. it was also remarked, by those who saw their two beautifully painted carioles made ready for the trip, that an extra soft fur robe or two were placed therein. their skates were sometimes also carried along with them. it was also further remarked that they generally preferred starting early in the day, and it was an actual fact that, although the whole round trip need not have taken more than three or four hours, they generally did not return until long after dark. rumours also reached sagasta- weekee that on several occasions two beautiful carioles, with lovely white young ladies cozily wrapped up in costly furs, and driven by handsome young gentlemen, had been met with, fairly flying over the great icy routes, while the air was full of happy laughter that sounded very much in unison with the music of the little silver bells that hung on the collars of the splendid dogs. and furthermore, it was well known that among the skating parties frank and alec were generally found skating with these same two young ladies. their explanations were that their skates seemed to glide more in unison with each other, and in fact that there was a sort of affinity between them. then their joy was complete when mrs ross invited the whole family from the mission to come early and spend the day with them at sagasta-weekee. it was remarked that these two young gentlemen generally had word that the devoted missionary had been using his dogs very much lately on his long trips among the distant bands of indians, and it would be a capital idea for some of them to drive over with their fresh trains and bring back some of the family. this happy suggestion was of course carried out, but it was observed that the carioles of the aforesaid young gentlemen, when they returned, only had in each of them a sweet-faced, beautiful young lady, and they said that the trip had been "perfectly lovely!" what happy days those were! to frank and alec had come their first young love-dreams, and they were pure and sweet and stimulating. cynics and crusty, disappointed old bachelors might make fun of these youthful lovers and make some sarcastic remarks; still, after all, where is the noble, healthy, splendid young man of fifteen or sixteen that has not safely passed through these same ordeals, and, as a general thing, survived? so let frank and alec have these daydreams and thus enjoy themselves. they will be none the worse, but rather the better, when the ordeal is over, as it is with those who safely get through with a lingering attack of the measles or scarlet fever. one day mr ross sent old mustagan out into the woods to select a place where the next year's supply of wood could be obtained. his instructions were to find a dense forest of tall, symmetrical trees from which a trail or road could be easily made to sagasta-weekee. then choppers would be sent in, and some acres of this forest would be cut down and there left to dry for twelve months. the result would be that at the end of the year's time the trees would be in splendid condition for firewood. the next operation was to have these trees all cut up in lengths that could be easily handed, and then dragged home by the dogs on their long sleds when there was abundance of snow on the ground. sam asked for the privilege of accompanying mustagan. as the walk was only a few miles, the old indian was pleased to have the bright young paleface go with him. as they were to go through the forest, where there was not as yet the first vestige of a trail, they at once strapped on their snowshoes. mustagan's only weapon was his axe, while sam carried a small rifle. very much sooner than they had anticipated they found a suitable grove, the limits of which mustagan at once proceeded to mark off with his axe. these few marks thus made on some of the trees were all that was necessary to secure the property. they had seen but little game, and so all that sam had fired at had been a passing rabbit or ptarmigan. while on the home trip a beautiful covey of partridges came flying by them and lit in a large balsam tree but a few hundred feet in front of them. "i wish i had brought a shotgun instead of this rifle," said sam. "i think we might have had more than one of those partridges." "suppose we try and get them all without any gun," said mustagan, in a tone that seemed to indicate perfect confidence in the experiment. "if we get two of them before they fly i will be delighted," said sam, as he raised his gun and tried to get a shot at two in a line. however, before he could fire mustagan quickly stopped him and said: "no, no, not that way. i will show you how. step back and keep still, and see how our fathers used to get them before the white man's gun came into the country." sam naturally thought of the bow and arrows, but as mustagan had [brought] none along he wondered if the old man was going to quickly try and make some. in the meantime mustagan had quietly slipped back into a grove of tall, slender young trees that grew up like great fish poles. here he quickly cut down one that could be easily handed by a strong man. this he rapidly trimmed of all its branches, and then quietly returned with it to the spot where sam was watching the birds. stooping down to one of his moccasined feet, mustagan untied the deerskin string with which the moccasin had been securely fastened around his ankle to keep out the snow. cutting off a piece about two feet long, he again fastened up his shoe, and then, with the string thus secured, began to make a snare out of it. he first tied one end of the string securely to the smaller end of the long pole; then in the other end of the string he made a running slip noose, which he arranged so that it would be about four inches in diameter. then began the strangest part of his proceedings, and one only possible in a land of such intense cold. taking his hand out of his mitten, mustagan wet his fingers with his saliva and then immediately rubbed it on the deerskin string. as fast as it was thus wet it froze as stiff as wire, and stood straight out from the stick. rapidly did the indian thus wet the whole string, the loop of the slip noose included, until the whole stood out as though made of steel wire. then, cautioning sam not to move, mustagan, carrying his long pole with this uniquely formed noose on its end, moved cautiously and quickly under the tree in which the partridges were still sitting. carefully he began raising up the pole until it was higher than the head of the partridge nearest the ground. then he deftly brought it so that the noose was directly over the head of the bird. with a quick jerk he pulled the pole down with the head of the bird in the noose of the string, which, of course, tightened with the sudden jerk. mustagan quickly killed the bird by crushing in the skull. then, loosing it from the string, he rapidly went through the whole process again of moistening the string with his saliva and arranging the noose as before. in this way he succeeded in securing the whole covey of those partridges. from his favourable position sam watched the whole operation, and was much delighted with the success of the old indian, who had in this way, without the loss of one charge of powder, or even an arrow, secured ten or a dozen fine, plump partridges. on their way home, in answer to sam's many questions as to his reasons for adopting this method of capturing the partridges, the indian stated that the secret of his success in getting them all was the fact that he began by catching in his noose the bird lowest down. "when you do that," he added, "the birds above think that as those below them go down they are just flying to the ground to see what they can find to eat. never take a bird that is higher up in the tree than any other. if you do you get no more. the rest will at once fly away." another bird that remains all winter in those cold north lands is the great snow-white owl. his wonderful covering of feathers, even down to the toes, enables him to defy the severest frost. he generally sleeps by day in some dense balsam tree, and then is ready, when the sun goes down, for his nightly raids upon the rabbits and partridges. he is also fond of mice, and as there are some varieties of these active little creatures that run around a good deal even in the winter, and at night, the owls are ever on the lookout for them, as well as are the foxes. sometimes these great white owls in their night huntings fly far away from their usual resting places. then they are in great trouble, especially if there are no trees with dense branches among which they can hide. if the bright sun happens to peep up over the horizon ere they are safely stowed away in some shadowy place, they are at the mercy of any foe. sometimes they alight on the icy or snowy surface of the lake. they are then easily captured. when a clever indian dog-driver sees one thus standing out on the ice he quickly stops his dog-train, and, running toward the bewildered owl, gets on the side on which the sun is shining. then he makes sufficient noise to keep the owl excited and looking toward him. in doing this the owl has to let the bright, brilliant rays of the sun shine right into his great, staring eyes. the man, with nothing but his long whip in his hand, keeps approaching, taking care, however, that his shadow does not fall on the bird. if he did, that instant the owl would be off. so the man keeps enough to one side to have the owl always in the brilliant light. the result is he does not see the approaching man. when near enough the man uses his whip in such a way that the long lash winds itself suddenly around the neck of the owl, and he is thus captured. when better food is scarce these large owls are eaten by the indians. some are so fond of them that they are ever on the lookout to capture them. they have several methods by which they catch them. one is to fasten an upright pole securely in the ice. on the top of this is nailed a little board, and on this is set a steel trap or snare. the owls get tired with their constant flying about, and, seeing this handy resting place, are then quickly caught as they alight upon it. another method was explained to sam by an old indian hunter, and with some help in securing the material they had a great deal of fun in trying it. the first thing they did was to make a great black rag mouse about as big as a beaver. to this was added a tail about five feet long. then to the nose of this great bogus mouse was attached one end of a large ball of twine. this was the whole outfit, except, of course, the guns. one evening an indian arrived with the news that at a certain place the great white owls had been seen in numbers, and perhaps it would be a good place to go and see what could be done in capturing some. as it was a very pleasant evening and the place mentioned was not very far away, sam had little roderick packed with him in his cariole, and with the mouse, ball of twine, and gun, and attended by one of the indian servants, they drove over to the spot. the big mouse was placed on the snow as far out from the shore as the string would allow. the dogs with the cariole were driven into the shadow of a large spruce tree that grew on the very edge of the lake. here the indian, with sam and roderick, although completely hidden in the shade, could see distinctly everything outside, for the moon was now up and shining with wondrous beauty. for a time they remained there under the tree in complete silence. then the clear vision of the indian enabled him to be the first to detect the presence of an owl. "hist!" he quietly uttered, and then as he pointed out the object they were able to see a great owl sailing round and round up in the air, perhaps fifty feet directly over the big black bogus mouse. suddenly he made a swift dive down for it. but at that instant the indian, who had hold of the end of the cord, gave it a sudden jerk and pulled the mouse in a dozen feet or so nearer to them. this apparent big jump of the mouse seemed to disconcert the owl, and so he quickly flew away. but it was only for a moment, and then back he came. round and round in circles he flew, getting nearer and nearer all the time, when once more he dashed down on the big mouse. but another sudden jerk had pulled the mouse out of his reach, and so the owl failed once more. "get your gun ready," said the indian to sam; "he will be mad now, and so we will soon have him near." it was just as the indian had predicted. the owl seemed angry at having been fooled the second time, and so when he rose up again and saw that great big mouse, which would, to judge by its size, make him such a famous supper, he dashed at it again most savagely. but once more it jumped away from him, as now the indian kept pulling it in like a mouse running away. seeing this the owl lost all caution, and was soon within range of sam's gun, which speedily rang out its sharp report, and the great ghostly bird fell suddenly on the ice not more than forty or fifty feet away. "look out for his claws," said the indian to sam, who had at once rushed out to secure his game. but the warning came too late. sam, seeing only the beautiful mass of white feathers and the great staring eyes, had reached out his naked hand, from which had dropped his mitten, to seize hold of the owl. but the savage bird lying there on its back was only wounded, and so when sam's hand was reached out to seize it the very opposite happened, for the owl, with one of its terrible talons, closed on sam's hand with such a grip that the poor boy fairly howled from the pain. the sharp claws had pierced him to the very bone, with a grip he could not break. the indian, however, quickly came to his rescue, and pulling out his keen hunting knife he skillfully encircled the owl's leg with its sharp edge. this severed every sinew and tendon, and caused the claws to be so powerless that they could be easily pulled out of sam's mangled hand. the owl was speedily killed, the wounded hand carefully wrapped up, and the return to sagasta-weekee was made as quickly as possible. for weeks sam suffered from his wounds ere they healed, and always after, although he shot a number of owls in this and other ways, he took good care never to let a naked hand come in contact with an owl's claws. poor little roderick, who had gone out that evening in great expectancy of a good time, had had his sympathies so aroused by sam's howlings that he began crying in sympathy, and kept it up until home was reached. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter seven. wounds from claws versus teeth discussed--mr. ross's story of the battle with the eagles--their mountain aerie--their hunting skill--their voracity--the eaglets--the conflict--the result--the painful wounds. the next day, as sam was having his hand dressed, quite a discussion arose in reference to which wounds were the more painful, those received from the teeth of wild animals or those from the claws. sam's present opinion, very decidedly expressed, was that those from the claws were the worse. this was the general testimony also of the indians when questioned on the subject, one of their reasons being that the teeth were smoother and did not make such a torn, jagged wound as did the claws. another was that the claws were very much dirtier than the teeth, and hence the wounds of the claws were much slower in healing than were those from the teeth. "but what about hydrophobia from the bites of the dogs and wild animals?" said frank. to this mr ross's reply was that that dreadful disease was about unknown among them, although there were said to have been some cases occurring from the bites of the fox. "did not a governor-general of canada die from the wounds received from the bites of a fox?" said alec. "yes," replied mr ross. "it was a tame fox, but it was supposed that it had gone mad." "perhaps it had been bitten by a mad dog, and then became mad itself," said sam. "that is in all probability the correct solution of the difficult problem, which for a long time troubled many medical men and others," said mr ross. "are there any other birds in this country with claws or talons equal to those of this great owl?" asked sam. "o yes," replied mr ross, "those of the great eagle, which is the first of all the migratory birds to reach us, are more terrible. it is generally seen during the march moon, and so the cree indians call that moon, or month, mikisewpesim, the eagle moon. the indians prize the feathers of the golden eagle very highly. the magnificent war bonnets of the great chiefs are made of them, and every warrior of any note is very ambitious to have his eagle plumes. they are hunted only for their feathers, beaks, and claws. their flesh is worthless. they are very wary birds, and it is indeed a skillful hunter who can get within range of one of them by ordinary stalking. they build their nests, or aeries, as they are called, away up on the most inaccessible cliffs, where it is dangerous for even the most experienced mountain climbers to follow. when not engaged in nesting they spend a great deal of time in circling around in the bright blue sky, at heights so great that the eye can scarce discern them, and where the arrow or bullet of the best-armed indian fails to reach them. indian cunning, however, sometimes enables them to capture the eagles in traps, and then their beautiful pinions, that had enabled them to soar away into the blue heavens above, become, next to the scalps of their enemies and the necklaces of the grizzly bears' claws, the proudest ornaments with which they can decorate themselves." "did you ever have one attack you?" said sam. "or did you ever try to get hold of a wounded one's talons with your naked hand?" said alec. this latter question caused some laughter at sam's expense, as at him it was evidently aimed, in view of his recent mishap with the owl. mr ross's answer was grateful to sam, as it stopped the laughter and showed that others might make the same mistake or meet with similar adventures. "yes, indeed," said mr ross, "for i can answer both questions that way. it was long ago when my father had charge of a hudson bay trading post away west of this, where the rocky mountain ranges were not very far distant from us. i was fond of sport, and went with the indians on all sorts of hunting adventures. sometimes we would be gone for days together, and have all kinds of strange experiences. we hunted every kind of wild animal that roamed in the prairies, in the foothills, or in the mountains themselves. very glorious was the scenery among these magnificent mountains. once when out with some assiniboines, or mountain stonies, as they are generally called by the whites, we saw a large eagle attack a mountain sheep with such fury that the sheep lost its footing and went whirling down the mountain side to certain destruction. the eagle, instead of swooping down on the quivering carcass, as we had expected it to do, dashed at what we now observed for the first time--a little timid lamb that its mother had vainly tried to defend. the fierce eagle, with an exultant scream, fastened its strong talons into the back of the frightened little creature, and then, flapping its great wings, began slowly rising from the rock. we watched it as it slowly flew away until it landed on a ledge of rocks away up on a mountain side near the top. as soon as it landed we observed that there was its aerie, for from a clump of sticks some little heads were outstretched for food. the eyes of my indian attendants gleamed with satisfaction, and they said:-- "`we will soon have your feathers, old mr eagle, and that will stop your destroying our mountain game.' "while the side of the mountain on which the eagles had built their nest was quite precipitous, the back part was easily scaled, so that hunters with level heads could climb, by being careful, up so high that they could really look down into the eagle's nest. the nearest point from the nest that we could reach was perhaps fifty feet away. we did not, however, at once go that near. we did, however, crawl near enough to see the fierce, savage way in which the old bird tore that young mountain lamb to pieces and fed the voracious young eaglets, that struggled and fought with each other in their mad greed. while they were thus being fed by the old male bird we saw the mother arrive with a rabbit in her talons. when she saw the feast that had been provided for the young brood she laid the rabbit on one side, and patiently waited until her mate had satisfied the voracious appetites of the brood. then she and the other eagle tore to pieces the rabbit, and devoured it, with what was left of the mountain lamb. "`big dinner all around, everybody full,' said my assiniboines; `big sleep next, then old ones go away for a big fly, and then we set our traps for them; but while they sleep we eat and sleep too.' "we drew back very cautiously into a ravine about a quarter of a mile down the mountain side, to a place where we had noticed some dry wood, for we were not quite above the timber limit. here we made a fire and had something to eat. it was difficult to make the tea, as the water, although boiling, had so little heat in it at that height on the mountain. we unstrapped our blankets and lay down near the fire and went to sleep, for we were very weary, having been up some nights before on the lookout for a mountain lion that had been lurking about. i woke up after a couple of hours' sleep and found that both of the eagles had been seen by the watchful indians to fly away from the nest. as the length of their absence was very uncertain, the indians quickly set to work to make the snares, in which they expected to entrap them. steel traps were unknown in those days, and so the indians had to make theirs out of their strong buffalo sinews and deerskin twine. "when we went back to the place where we could overlook the nest it was evident that there would be some difficulty in getting down onto the ledge where the young eaglets lay quietly sleeping. after various trials it was decided that the only way was for one of our party to be lowered over and let down by the rest. as i was much the lightest one, and as the supply of material that we had with us out of which to improvise a rope was very limited, i was the one selected to go down and put the snares in position. it was decided that we would not disturb the eaglets to-day, but would leave them alone for the present, for fear the old eagles would become alarmed and suspicious, and we would fail in capturing them. the rope, such as it was, held me all right, and landed near the nest. the young birds were so gorged with the flesh of the mountain lamb that they were very stupid, and hardly stirred. i set to work as speedily as possible to arrange the snares, so that the eagles would step into them. as they were all constructed on the running noose principle we knew that they would quickly tighten around the feet if once they were stepped into. my principal difficulty was in finding places where i could tie the other ends of the snares. eagles are very powerful, and can drag by the foot great weights. so i knew that all our work would be lost if i did not succeed in tying them so that their most desperate struggles to get loose would be in vain. however, i succeeded at length, and then i was hoisted up and we all returned back a mile or so and there camped for the night. "the next morning, before we reached the spot, we heard enough to convince us of the success of our scheme. eagles can make a big noise if they try, and two captured eagles, and some frightened young ones, were noisy enough as we drew near and investigated. both eagles were firmly caught in these snares of rolled and twisted sinews, which, although not much thicker than common wire, were sufficiently strong to hold them. the indians wished to shoot them at once, but i had long had an ambition to own a live, full-grown eagle, and therefore i would not let them fire. the rope of yesterday was soon brought into use again, and was lowered down once more to the rocky ledge, armed only with a stout club about four feet long. the noise was simply deafening that was made by these angry birds. the instant i landed they flew at me most viciously. well was it that the strong sinews held them firmly. as it was i had a rough time of it. i would watch my opportunity and try to strike one of them a heavy blow on the head with my club. to my surprise i received in return a heavy whack from a powerful wing. their wings were free, and the length of the string enabled them to attack me from all quarters. seeing my difficulties, i called to my indians to shoot the female bird, and thus leave me but one to tackle. this they did by shooting her through the head. this left me but the old male bird. i think i could have easily knocked him over the head, but my ambition was to capture him and to take him home as a trophy. i unfastened the noose of the dead eagle, and, tying it to the rope, had the indians hoist it up to the top. then i made the attempt to tie together the legs of the young eaglets to have them also drawn up to the summit. what fighters they were! the way they struck at me with their little beaks, and in every way possible resented my interference with their liberty, was wonderful. my hands were sore and bleeding ere i succeeded in sending up the last of the four to my comrades. i had them throw down the snares, and with them i made a kind of a lasso which i tried to throw over the head of the vicious bird. as i threw it he coolly reached up and cleverly caught it in his beak, and snapped it in two as quickly as could a pair of scissors. i tried it again, and once more he was too much for me. why he had not cut himself loose when in the snare was a mystery to me when i here saw how clever he was in cutting my lasso. it was looking rather discouraging, and began to fear that he would have to be shot. "my comrades had been amused spectators of my adventures, and now, seeing me uncertain as to what would be my best move, gave me some advice. it was this: `untie the other end of the long noose that holds him to the rock where you fastened it, and tie it to the rope, and we will pull him up and see what we can do with him here.' this plan struck me as a capital one, and so i immediately proceeded to carry it out. but i had decided on this plan without taking the eagle into my confidence, and so when i began handing the string he flew at me, and with beak and wings assailed me. i had foolishly dropped my heavy club, and so at first was about powerless. fortunately, i had my hunting knife at my side, and, quickly drawing it, i fought for my life. the eagle cleverly warded off my lunges at him by striking me with his wings. sometimes so heavily did his blows rain on me that it was a wonder i was not stunned. apparently gaining courage by his success, he seemed to redouble his attacks, and for a time kept me wholly on the defensive. making a sudden dash at him with the hope of plunging my knife into him, he so cleverly, with one of his wings, knocked aside my knife that in my stumble i found i had awkwardly cut the noose that bound him. as i knew that his talons were now free i presumed he would at once avail himself of his liberty and fly away. but he had now no such idea. his blood was up, and so with a scream of defiance, or triumph, he flew right at my face, with his great ugly talons extended, as though he would grip me up as he had done the lamb. when attacked we naturally will do anything to save the face, and so the instant he dashed at me i threw up my left hand to grasp hold of him somewhere. this fortunately arrested his dash at my face, and in the next instant i had plunged my knife under his outstretched wings into his very vitals, and he was a dead eagle. so terrible, however, was that death grip on my hand and wrist that it was not until i was hauled up with him to the top that the indians were able to set me free, and then it was only done by cutting the sinews or muscles of each great claw and taking them out of my flesh." "well," said sam, "that is a splendid story; but you must have suffered much more than i did, and so as regards my little experience with the owl, well, i think i'll _ould_ my tongue." and so he did. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter eight. sundays in the great lone land--services at the mission--by skiff or canoe in summer--by dog-train in winter--napoleon, the tame bear, and his load--services at sagasta-weekee--missionary journeys--native ministers--the queer sermon--happy christmas times--new year's, the great day--oo-che-me-ke-se-gou--the kissing day--varied experiences--the great feast--happy indians--thanksgiving. sundays in the north land! yes, there are such days, and they come once in seven in the wild north land as elsewhere, and right welcome they are; for they are days of gladness, not sadness--days in which loving homage is paid to the loving father who is also the god of nature; and as nature rejoices in his bounteous care and infinite wisdom, why should not those in his kingdom of grace also be happy in the sunshine of his love? "serve the lord with gladness," was the motto of mr ross's religious life, and everyone under his influence or care felt that he was a genuine man and a safe leader to follow. his religious life, while decided and settled, was unobtrusive and kindly. it embraced the two commands, love to god and love to his fellow-man. the mission some years before established among the indians had been very successful, and a capacious church was there built. every sunday a large portion of the family went from sagasta-weekee at least once a day, and there worshipped. the morning service was conducted in the english language. this was done for two reasons: one was for the instruction and profit of all who spoke that tongue; the other was that the indians who were learning the language might become the more speedily familiarised with it. the afternoon and evening services were conducted in the indian language. however, if a number understanding the english language only happened to be present, both languages were used with the help of an interpreter. the church was on the shore of a pretty lake, and it was a very pleasant sight to see the gathering of the congregation. it was one quite different from what is generally seen as crowds usually gather for worship at the sound of the church bell. here were no long streets, or even common roads or sidewalks. the homes of these indians, both houses and wigwams, had been built around the lake shore on the various picturesque points, not far from the water's edge. every family wanted easy access to the lake for water, and none of them wished to be far away from the landing places where they kept their canoes. the result was that it looked on sundays, when they came to the church in groups, as if there were a pathway from every dwelling place. then, as large numbers of the indians lived out on points and islands, away from the one on which the mission premises stood, the people, in the pleasant summer time, came from their various homes in their canoes to the house of god. very picturesque indeed was the sight, as for an hour or so before the time of service the lake seemed dotted with the well-filled canoes of the well-dressed crowds of indian men, women, and children. in winter the scene was completely changed. the frost had hid the sunlit, rippling waves under an icy pavement, as hard as granite. frost and snow and ice were everywhere. for the summer sunday trips to the church mr ross had several large sailing boats and safe skiffs that would hold all who wished to go to the morning service. in one, manned by four sturdy oarsmen, mr ross and his family generally went when the weather was at all favourable. in winter the dogs were all called into requisition, and the sight at the church, when on a bright day the crowds were assembling, was as pleasant and interesting as in the summer time, when on the bright waters were seen coming the many beautiful, well-loaded canoes. from the hudson bay trading post there were always a goodly number present both in summer and winter. the officials and clerks prided themselves on the quality of their dogs and the beauty and completeness of their carioles and harness. then some of the indians had very valuable trains, and it was interesting to notice the number of persons that would be crowded into or on these dog-sleds and the strength of the dogs in pulling them. very primitive were some of their sleds, and mongrel indeed were many of the dogs attached to them. yet it was surprising to see how rapidly even the rudest looking sledges got over the ground. the dogs seemed to know that it was the day of religious worship, and therefore their duty was to get their masters and mistresses to the church with as little delay as possible. then on the return trip, of course, there must be no delay in getting them back for dinner. for some winters a great tame black bear used to be attached every sunday to a long dog-sled. he was called napoleon, and alec and he became great friends. when ordered to start he would dash off in his rough galloping way and keep up the one steady pace until the church was reached. it seemed to make but little difference, such was his strength, whether two or ten persons were hanging on the sled. at the church he was tied to a post, and there quietly remained until the service was over, when he at the same rapid rate drew his load home again. toward spring napoleon disappeared and was not seen for months. it was understood that there was to be no racing on sunday, yet somehow everybody seemed to want to go just about as fast as possible. the terrible cold may have had something to do with this. alec was generally sent on first, or else requested to wait some time after the others had started, as his dogs had become possessed with the habit of catching up and going ahead of everything in sight. "supposing, alec," said mr morrison, a young clerk of the company's service, "that it were not sunday, i should like to run ahead of your dogs and show you what travelling is." "supposing it were not sunday, i should like to see you do it," was alec's reply. "supposing it were not sunday, here goes," was the saucy challenge of this young clerk, who thought he had the fleetest train in the whole district. "supposing it is sunday," shouted alec back to him, for they were both on the sagasta-weekee route. "i'll just go on and tell them you will be along after a while and dine with us." it was considerably later when the clerk arrived. that afternoon, in conversation with mr ross, he gravely stated that one of the temptations of that country was a disposition to travel rapidly, to and from church, on the lord's day. frank and sam, as well as mr ross, had been promptly informed by alec of the challenge and the race with this young gentleman, and so when alec heard the remark just mentioned he gravely replied: "well, mr morrison, you need not have any qualms of conscience about your speed to-day. we started about the same time from the church, and it was a long time after i reached home ere you arrived." this bit of sarcasm, so well put in, so tickled sam that he fairly exploded, and with his handkerchief in his mouth he rushed out of the room. soon after he was joined by frank, and together they laughed until they were sore. the hypocrisy of the young fellow was so evident that they were delighted with alec's comforting remarks. mr hurlburt, the missionary, generally came over and held an evening service at mr ross's house every second sabbath. the alternate sabbath evening was spent in holding a similar service at the fort. these services were very delightful. the boys often drove over to the mission services in the afternoon with their trains and brought back with them mr and mrs hurlburt, and when it could be arranged--which was frequently done--the two sweet young daughters. to frank, with his powerful train, was generally assigned the missionary, who was a large, portly man; to alec, with his beautiful fleet train, was assigned the pleasure of bringing mrs hurlburt, and at first sam had the exquisite delight of tucking the robes of rich beaver around the fair young daughters from the mission home, and carefully bringing them over to sagasta-weekee. this pleasure was, however, soon taken from him. it was indeed a happy group that assembled around the hospitable tea table those delightful evenings. the boys used to plead so hard to be allowed to drive back with the loads that they generally succeeded in having their way, although mr ross always took the precaution of sending an extra team of dogs under the guidance of an experienced indian. this was necessary, as not only did vicious, mad wolves sometimes cross that route, but blizzard storms might suddenly come up, and then it would have gone hard with the boys with their young dogs to have kept the trail. mr hurlburt generally rode home in the extra cariole driven by this indian. this enabled frank to take the elder of the young ladies, and we must confess that, although frank was very fond of the missionary, he had not the slightest objection in changing him for the daughter. frequently the missionary, with some faithful indians, used to make long journeys with the dog-trains to distant places where no one had ever gone before with the bible and its sweet story of god's love to man. during his absence his pulpit would be supplied by native ministers, who, though not as yet ordained, were eloquent in their way, and were a blessing to their fellow-countrymen. even the white people who understood the indian language used to listen with great pleasure to some of these gifted sons of the forest, as they preached from full hearts of the love of god as revealed in the gift of his son. in after years some of these younger indians were educated and ordained, and are now regularly settled as ministers among their own people. there were some of them, however, who aspired to be ministers who were not a success. some were too ambitious. some, not content with talking about what they knew themselves, must launch out into deep waters, and so speedily they came to grief. constantly did the missionary have them under his eye, and many were the lessons he was giving them. some would, in spite of his best efforts, get beyond him. for example, one ambitious would-be minister said in his address before quite a large audience: "brothers, the missionary says the world is round. i don't believe it. it is flat as the top of that stove." as he said this he pointed to the top of the great flat iron stove, in which a fire was burning, for it was in the depth of winter. of course the missionary was informed of this daring brother's unbelief, and a good lesson in geography had to be administered to him by means of the map of the two hemispheres hanging on the wall. he manfully acknowledged to the missionary his error, and promised to make it right with the audience the next time he stood up to address them. this he endeavoured to do in the following manner: "brothers, i made a mistake when i last addressed you, when i said i did not believe that the world was round. it is round. i have seen it. it is like two moons flattened against the wall." of course this would never do, and so the missionary had to take him in hand again and give him another lesson. this time he used his large ball-like globe, swung on its axis in its frame, which was supported on three feet. patiently the minister showed him how the world was like a great ball, round in every direction. attentively the indian listened, and carefully examined the globe and the frame in which it hung. "yes," he said to his teacher, "i was wrong. i have it now. i will explain it to the people." when the first opportunity offered he was as good as his word, and so he thus addressed them: "brothers, i seem to be hard to learn, but i have got it now. yes, the world is round every way. it is not flat even one way. it is round. yes, it is round, but then it stands upon three legs." so another and even more thorough lesson was needed to knock those three legs away. as a general rule the indians who were appointed to speak kept within their own depths, and very sensible and appropriate were their utterances. christmas day and new year's day were great times of feasting and gladness at the mission village among the christian indians. on christmas day all the men, women, and children, arrayed in their very best finery, called at the mission house, and were each treated to a large cup of strong, well-sweetened tea, and a big bun. then they went to the fur-trading post, and there received the gratuities of tobacco and other things. many called at sagasta-weekee, and were cordially received. the boys were very much interested in them, and took great pleasure in assisting mrs ross, as on this day it is expected that the white people only will, pass the tea and cakes, and with their own hands also give their christmas gifts to the poor and needy. in such a land there are many who require a great deal of just such help. after the matters of hospitality had been attended to there were many sports on the ice, and into these all who desired to enter were cordially welcomed. the boys were in their glory in these sports, and gallantly held their own against the lighter but more agile indians. in the evening all the trains that could be mustered were harnessed up, and everybody who could get away went over to the mission church for the christmas services, which, on account of the elaborate musical preparations, were held in the evening this year. the missionary, aided by his musical family, had been for weeks diligently employed in teaching the indians to sing christmas carols and other appropriate songs for this joyous occasion. the native choir acquitted themselves admirably, and everything passed off to the pleasure and delight of all. new year's day is, however, the big day to the indians, as it is on that day that the great annual feast is held in the church. this christian festival has taken the place of the once heathen dog feast and other pagan ceremonials that the indians held, with disgusting rites, before the missionaries came among them. new year's day is called by the indians oo-che-me-ke-se-gou, which literally means "the kissing day." on this day the men claim the right to kiss every woman they meet, and, strange to say, every woman expects to be kissed, and is quite offended if she is passed by without being saluted in this way, which is so much more ancient and historic than the meaningless modern one of shaking hands. this indian definition of new year's day vastly amused the boys, and when in the morning mrs ross and wenonah came in, they, of course, had to be saluted in the orthodox fashion. this was very agreeable, but when the indian cook came into the dining room, in answer to mrs ross's ringing, wenonah shouted out to the boys: "this is oo-che-me-ke-se-gou, and you must all kiss nahkoomah, the cook." nahkoomah was not at all handsome, but she knew what day it was and claimed her rights, and so when the boys made a rush to get out she blocked the way in that direction, while wenonah bravely cut off the retreat by the other door. seeing themselves thus captured, they gracefully accepted the inevitable. a resounding smack was given her first by sam, which was gingerly imitated by frank and alec. the boys afterward said that it paid grandly to give the cook the national kiss, as from that day forward she was ever pleased to prepare them the best dishes she could. "i say, frank and alec," mischievously exclaimed wenonah, "don't you know they keep oo-che-me-ke-se-gou over at the mission?" this sally very much amused all, and of course gave sam a chance to remark that it was an elegant day for a sleigh ride; that he thought frank and alec's dogs needed some exercise; that the road to the mission was in capital condition, and perhaps they had better be off, and the sooner the better, for fear the young ladies should wear the glass of the windows thin, looking for their coming. mrs ross here interposed, and stopped sam's voluble utterances by saying that they were all going over a little after noon, in response to a very cordial invitation from mr and mrs hurlburt, to witness the indian feast and dine with them in the church. this was great news to all, and as there were only a couple of hours for preparation there was hurrying in every direction. "put on your best bibs and tuckers, my hearties," said sam to frank and alec, "for this day is the event of your lives. rig yourselves up so gallantly and finely that the sweet, blushing lassies over beyond, will be so struck with your noble presences that they will, for the day at least, imagine themselves indian maidens enough to at least comply with the customs of the day." but ere sam had finished his long harangue, the blushing frank and alec were hunting up their best apparel and selecting the warmest robes for their dog-sleds. while all are getting ready at sagasta-weekee let us take a look at the feast, or rather first at the preparations necessary in such a land to feed ten or twelve hundred hungry indians. about two months before the time a great council is held. the missionary is invariably asked to be the chairman, and a clever writer of the indian syllabics is appointed secretary. then, as a matter of form, it is moved by the chief and seconded by some other indian of influence, "that we have the usual feast on oo-che-me-ke-se-gou day." this is, of course, carried amid indian applause. then the question next asked is: "how much will each supply to make it a grand success?" thus there is started a spirit of emulation that would astonish some white folks. big tom says: "i saw the tracks of a moose. i will give half of him, when i shoot him," he adds, while the quiet laugh goes round. mustagan says: "i saw the steam curl up from a bear's den. i will give the largest bear, when i get him." soquatum says: "i have just heard of the coming of the reindeer. i will give one." thus it goes on as rapidly as the secretary can write their names and promises. those hunters famous for killing the game that is good for food, promise, as these already referred to have done, all kinds of animals, from a moose to wild cats and beavers. those hunters whose skill is in killing the rich fur-bearing animals promise to exchange portions of the valuable products of their huntings for flour, tea, sugar, and raisins at the trading posts. everybody was expected to promise something, and then he was to do his best to get it. this method of getting up a feast was a unique one. the idea of subscribing bears that were in their dens a hundred miles away, or moose, or reindeer, or other wild animals that were roaming in the forests or on the barren plains many scores of miles distant, was, to say the least, very different from civilised methods. when the council breaks up, every man is interested in securing what he has promised, or something better. it often happens that the man who has promised a couple of wild cats succeeds in finding a good, full beaver house. a couple of these are worth more than the cats. the man who promised a reindeer may be lucky enough to kill a moose, and thus it is. however, they all try to do the very best they can. as these various supplies are brought in they are stowed away in the large fish house of the missionary, where they speedily freeze solid, and are thus kept sweet and good until required for use. about four days before the feast the wife of the missionary calls to her help a number of clever, industrious indian women, and from morning until night the cooking goes on. early in the morning of the feast day the seats are all removed from the church, and long tables are improvised that stretch from nearly end to end of the building. one long table is prepared at the upper end of the church for all the whites, who are specially invited by letter to attend. as they have all contributed largely to the feast, of course, they are welcomed. it is an interesting sight to see that happy, expectant throng. everybody, christian and pagan, is welcome. no questions are asked. see the piles of provisions. surely there is enough and to spare. well, they will need a great quantity, for indians have great appetites, and then there are many sick and feeble who could not come to-day, and they must be remembered. there are over a thousand out to-day, and while some scores are busy preparing the feast the others skate, play football, toboggan, and in other ways amuse themselves. of course the inmates of the mission house are busy. to the missionary and his wife the indians all look for direction and guidance. this is necessary, that everything may go off without friction. in addition, they have to be on hand to receive such white people as may come from the various trading posts and other places. see, here they come from sagasta-weekee! alec is at the head of the company. his fleet dogs are never happy now except when first in every crowd. cozily wrapped up in fur robes in his cariole are wenonah and roderick. sam has brought over mr ross, and to frank has been intrusted mrs ross. the boys are now skillful drivers, and so no mishap has occurred. cordially are they welcomed, and as it is oo-che- me-ke-se-gou the ladies are gallantly kissed by the gentlemen. with loving tenderness mrs hurlburt kissed the three boys, and said she would do so in place of their precious mothers, who would doubtless think of them on that glad day. then she turned them over to her young folks, while she hurried off to meet the later arrivals from the hudson bay company's fort. sam was first escorted in by wenonah, who, as she met the young ladies of the mission, exclaimed: "now this is oo-che-me-ke-se-gou, and we are all of that way to-day." bravely did the blushing sam pass through the ordeal, and then alec and frank, in a way that seemed to come quite natural to them, saluted in a good old-fashioned way the two fair ladies who had come into their young lives and were much in their minds. "sure," said sam, "that's not bad medicine to take, at all, at all." at this there was a great laugh, for sam had blushed and stammered and acted as though it were an ordeal of great solemnity. there was a lot of fun and pleasantry for the next hour or so among these happy young people, while the older ones were busy looking after matters pertaining to the feast. frank and alec entertained the young ladies' friends with the latest news that had come in by the christmas packet. sam, with wenonah and roderick, played all sorts of pranks all over the house. when later arrivals came in and gravely kissed, not only the elderly ladies of the party, but also the beautiful young maidens, alec and frank's faces were studies that very much amused sam. "indeed," he afterward said, "i thought it was going to be pistols and coffee for four, and may i be there to see the fun." as the tender passion had not yet struck him, he could thus afford to be amused at the ebullitions of jealousy that rolled so ominously into the young hearts of the chums. "black as thunderclouds were their faces," he said, "as they saw these sweet young ladies, whom they in their callow affections would already wholly monopolise, kissed by a dozen different gentlemen during the day." "how do you like `o-jimmy-catch-the-cow' day, or whatever you call it?" he said to frank, as he saw him glowering at a hudson bay officer who had just kissed his sweetheart. "i don't like it at all," frank replied, with gritted teeth. "you mean you don't like it for other folks," replied sam. "you took your medicine yourself very well, if i am a good judge, especially when you so lovingly displayed your osculatory skill on the sweet lips of peerless rachel, whom that young prig of a hudson bay company's clerk is now approaching." "i'll fight him," said frank, and his hot breath and clinched lists showed that he would have loved to pitch in just then. "no, you will not," said sam. "hot-headed englishman though you are, you are too much of a gentleman to make a row in this clergyman's house, and about his young daughter. but, frank, i will give you a bit of comfort. while the beautiful rachel gave you her sweet lips to kiss, she only turned her rosy cheek to all the other fellows, me included. so now no more of your english, `i'll punch your 'ead for you.'" here sam's advice, helpful and needed as it was, abruptly ended, as everybody was summoned into the church to the great feast. frank was happy once again, as he was selected to take in his sweet rachel, while alec had her younger sister, winnie, as his partner. much to his delight, sam came in with wenonah and roderick. indeed, they were almost one and inseparable on such occasions. of the great feast and how it was enjoyed by all we have written in other volumes. suffice to say that there was abundance for all. in addition, great bundles of food, with packages of tea and sugar, were sent to every sick or aged or feeble person, with loving good wishes of all. the feast was pronounced a great success. at the evening meeting, where, as in former years, the indians gathered, with the chief in the chair, and where many speeches were delivered by the eloquent ones of the village, it was observed that among the happy things said there were words of gratitude to their kind, loving missionary and his family, and to the other white friends, in every address. it was also noticed that many of the christian indians, rising higher in their thoughts, saw in all these blessings that had come to them the good hand of the great spirit, their heavenly father, and so to him their grateful prayers ascended, and the most frequent word uttered was "nanaskoomowin"--"thanksgiving." winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter nine. the indian school examinations--the prizes--noble indian boys--the skates to kepastick--the various sports--foot races--the skating race-- tricky clerk outwitted--frank and kepastick tie as winners--football-- hockey. the day for the examinations and sports at the mission school arrived in due time. fortunately, it was a very beautiful day, although it was many degrees below zero. but nobody now minded that. there were no fogs, or mists, or damps, and the dry, steady cold is always much more healthy and invigorating than changeable weather in any land. everybody invited was present, and so the day's full program was well carried out. mr mctavish, a chief factor in the hudson bay company's service and the chief officer at the norway house trading post, presided at the school examinations, which began promptly at nine o'clock. the schoolhouse was packed with the children and their friends, except the large platform at the upper end of the schoolroom, on which were seated the white visitors from sagasta-weekee and the trading posts and mission. the children were first examined in their reading lessons in both languages, cree and english. in their own language they used the syllabic characters, invented and perfected by the reverend james evans, the founder of this mission. these syllabics, as their name indicates, each represent a syllable. the result is there is no spelling, and just as soon as a pupil, young or old, has once mastered these characters he begins to read. three weeks or a month is considered quite sufficient time, in which to teach a person of ordinary intelligence to read fluently. mr evans was several years in perfecting this invention. he begged from the traders the sheet lead that is found around the tea in tea chests. then, making little bars of this lead, he carved out his first type. his first paper was made out of birch bark. his first press he made himself. his first ink was made out of soot mixed with sturgeon oil. many were his difficulties and discouragements, but he triumphed over them all, and now here were hundreds of indians reading in their own language the word of god. the whole bible, with some hundreds of hymns and a few volumes of good books, "_pilgrim's progress_," "_the path of life_," and others, have been translated and printed in these syllabic characters. the old indians prize them very much, but it is interesting to note that, just as soon as the younger indians understand english and get to be able to read in it, they prefer it to their own language and books. the examinations in arithmetic, grammar, and geography were rather limited. it could not have been otherwise in such a place. all were, however, delighted with the splendid examination each class passed through in bible history. the indians have wonderful memories, and here the children delighted all with their knowledge of events from the creation down, and the accuracy with which they could quote long portions of the sacred book. the writing also won a great many complimentary remarks from all, and it is safe to assert that very few schools among white people could have made a better showing. the recitations were good, considering that they were uttered in a foreign tongue. the singing was delightful. the children sang in the two languages, and the soft, sweet, liquid cree did not suffer in pathos and beauty in comparison with the more vigorous english. of course, a number of prizes were given. a beautiful incident occurred when the prizes for the best recitations of the fourteenth chapter of saint john's gospel were being distributed. among the competitors was a poor lad who, when a babe, had been so bitten in the hand and arm by a wolf that the arm had to be cut off near the body. competing with him were several other bright boys. the chief prize was a splendid pair of new skates, which frank had generously given for this competition. so even had been the boys, or rather so perfect were they in reciting, that the judges hesitated about selecting the winner of the first prize. when the boys who were well, and unmaimed, observed this there was a short, quiet consultation between them, and then one rose up and, respectfully addressing mr mctavish, said that the boys who had two hands, as well as two feet, had more ways of having sport and fun than kepastick, who had only one hand, and so they asked him to have the judges decide that kepastick should have the skates. noble fellows! but that is just like young christian indian boys. the white people present were much moved by this beautiful incident of quiet unselfishness, and soon arranged that those kind-hearted lads should not go unrewarded. by twelve o'clock the most successful examination of the school, up to that time, was over. the prizes were distributed, and while all the white people, as was customary, accepted the missionary's invitation and dined at the parsonage, the indians sped away home for a brief dinner, and were then soon all back again, to compete in or to witness the sports. the first races were run by some little girls. the distance was only a few hundred yards and back. these races caused a lot of fun and enjoyment. the prizes were little handkerchiefs, strings of beads, and other trifling things in which little indian girls rejoice, and of course every little competitor must have a prize. then there were races for little boys. it was great fun to see the sturdy little fellows so gallantly strive for victory. meanwhile arrangements were being made for the more important races of the day. the courses had been marked out previously with flags, and so every class knew its course and ran accordingly. the fleetness and endurance of some of even the small boys were wonderful, and great was the interest, and even intense at times the excitement, when several well-matched competitors gamely struggled on for victory. in the races open to all comers the larger indian boys were disappointed that none of the whites had entered, as they were anxious to test their own speed against them. there were races worth going across a continent to witness, and genuine and hearty was the applause that greeted the winners, who came in at such a rate that the white boys, while cheering as heartily as the others, saw how wise they had been in declining to put themselves against such runners as white antelope or spotted deer, the winners. when the skating matches were called, frank promptly entered the lists. his appearance was received with applause. even the quiet indian lads tried to make a noise to show their pleasure in greeting the handsome, manly fellow whose splendid gift had gone to kepastick, the one-armed lad. two or three young clerks or fur traders also entered for the race, one of them being the young man who had so abruptly left alec the night of his fearful race with the wolves. the route marked out for the skaters covered in all about ten or twelve miles. it, however, so twisted in and out among the islands on the frozen lake, that many of the competitors would be in sight nearly all of the time. that the intending skaters might thoroughly understand the route, it had been marked out a week or ten days before the race, and it had been thoroughly understood that any of the competitors were at perfect liberty to skate over the grounds and get familiar with the different turning places, marked by little red flags. frank, with alec as a companion and trainer, accompanied by one of mr ross's servants, who was also a splendid skater, had gone over the route two or three times, and so was quite familiar with it. a little before the race began he was quite surprised to have this indian skater call him aside and tell him to be careful and keep his eye on the correct route, and also to guard himself against that young white man who had deserted alec. he then added: "watch the indian with one arm; his heart is good toward you." then, putting his fingers to his lips as a sign of caution, the indian quickly slipped away among the crowd. this very much perplexed and bothered frank, especially when mr ross said to him: "keep your eyes on the lookout for the flags--the indian lads are so familiar with the route that they will not bother to notice them; and look out for tricks from those whose faces, like your own, are white." there were perhaps twenty competitors in the great race. as the distance was so long it was not very essential that they should get off at the same instant. there would doubtless be those who depended on rapid bursts of speed to carry them to the front, and so a second or two made but little difference at first. at the report of a gun away they flew. they had all sorts of skates and all kinds of styles. with ten or twelve miles' work before them, none, except some of the younger lads, tried to do their very best at first. frank naturally wished to skate in company with his white companions, but they sullenly refused the offered society. insulted and annoyed at this conduct, and remembering the warning words of mr ross, and also of his faithful servant, he just made up his mind to be on the alert, and if it were possible he would be in the first of the palefaces. on and on they sped, until a couple of miles at least were covered. then they had reached a spot where the route lay between two rocky islands not a hundred feet apart. the ice here was beautifully smooth, and being well-sheltered was as clear as glass. with a wild whoop the indians dashed on across it, and at the same time, rather to frank's surprise, one of the clerks, putting on a rapid burst of speed, dashed directly in front of him, in the centre of this narrow place. frank, with his suspicions all aroused, keenly watched him, and to his astonishment saw him deliberately but cautiously let slowly trickle from his hands fine streams of the white crystal quartz sand of that country. to have skated over it would have so dulled his keen-edged skates that anything like victory would have been impossible. there are times when the mind works rapidly, and so it did here with frank. the first thought was to shout out and expose the villainy. the next was to evade the trap and for the present say nothing about it, and see what trick would next he tried. so, quickly veering to the windward side sufficiently to make it sure that he would escape the sand, he rapidly sped along, humiliated and indignant that a white man would try a trick that an indian would scorn to do. on and on they flew. the route turned and twisted, and in several of the windings it brought them in fair view of the excited group on the mission hill who watched their progress, for now more than one half of the route was covered. they were now entering a kind of a maze among the islands, where persons not thoroughly acquainted with the route required to keep a vigilant eye on the different flags. in the front group was frank, and closely edging beside him, he noticed with pleasure, was kepastick, the one-armed lad, with his beautiful new skates, now serving him grandly and well. "chist!" said the indian lad quickly, and frank knew by the way that this word, which means "look," was uttered that there was something meant. letting the boy glide just ahead of him, frank caught the meaning of his words, though uttered in broken english: "some bad hearts change flags to bother frank. frank keep near kepastick. he knows the trail." these friendly words were uttered none too soon, for frank saw at once that even some of the indians, trusting to the flags, were perplexed and some had gone hopelessly astray. with a rush and a jeer of triumph a white clerk made an attempt to fly by, for once out of that labyrinth of crooked icy channels the home stretch was as straight as an arrow. frank was for responding to his spurt with an effort equally desperate, when kepastick checked him with: "one indian, good heart, meet clerk's bad heart; all right yet." frank, now completely bewildered, yielded himself implicitly to the guidance of kepastick, who moved on with all confidence and paid not the slightest attention to the flags. look! away beyond the islands, in the distance, shining in the sunlight, is the steeple of the mission church. just a few more windings in these tortuous channels, and then the two miles' dash for home. most of the indians--for their skates were poor--have fallen in the rear. the one white man whom frank despises is perhaps a hundred yards ahead, and not far behind him are his companions. with intense interest kepastick is watching them. "chist!" he cries again, and his dark eyes flashed with excitement; "the trail is ours!" it seems that there ran out from that place two channels that looked very much alike. the correct one had been flagged several days before, but the previous evening the clerk had skated over and had flagged the wrong channel. sharp eyes had been on him and had discovered his trick, and these misplaced flags had been replaced at their proper positions, while the others had been left as the villain had placed them. thus thrown off his guard, he blindly dashed into the wrong channel. the rocky shores were high and abrupt, and so kepastick and frank shot by the trap and into the correct channel, and were hundreds of yards out on the now open lake, with their faces toward home, ere the plotters discovered, to their dismay, how they had been completely foiled. as rapidly as possible they turned, but the distance could not be made up, and so to their chagrin they not only found that frank and kepastick had tied first, but that six or seven indians, some with home-made skates, had wholly beaten them. as the miserable trickster passed frank on the shore some time after, in the presence of the chief factor, mr ross, and several others, frank sternly looked at him and uttered the one word "sand". none but the two then knew what was meant, but the guilty rascal paled, and so trembled that it seemed as though he would fall to the ground. very soon was he out of that company. next day he asked to be transferred to another post, which request was cheerfully granted. it was a long time before frank told of his contemptible conduct. when mr ross at length heard of it he communicated at once with the head officers of the hudson bay company in reference to conduct so dishonourable, and the result was that the poor fellow, who had not improved over such actions in other places, was ignominiously expelled from the service. meanwhile the other sports were progressing finely. the football teams crowned themselves with many honours. the games were not fought on any strict rugby rules. the goals were set in the ice, about four or five times as distant from each other as is the case in civilisation. then two captains were named, and they selected their men and boys alternately, until all who wished to play were chosen. then each side was lined up at their own goal. the ball was placed away out in the centre between them. at the firing of a gun there was a wild rush, and the side that had the fleetest runners thus secured the first kick. the ball was not to be thrown or carried. it was to be kicked, and could be struck with the hand or head. the game was fast and furious while it lasted. it was always in ground, and there was no hold up until it went between the poles of one or the other side. the cries of "foul" were never heard, and umpires were only needed at the poles to shout out when a goal was won. it was a jolly, lively, easily understood game of football, enjoyed by all. generally five wins in nine plays was the rule. the hockey games were like those played by men and boys in civilised lands, only here everybody who wished to play was paired with somebody else, so as to keep the sides even. everybody not otherwise engaged enthusiastically took a hand in it, and the fun was very great. mr hurlburt, mr ross, hudson bay officers, as well as all down to the smallest indian lad who could handle a crooked stick, had a share in this game. the day was so cold, and the smooth ice expanse so great, that the vigorous exercise did everybody good. the tobogganing games were given over entirely to the girls to compete in, and skillfully and well did they acquit themselves. the other minor games also gave great satisfaction, and afforded any amount of amusement. we reserve for the next chapter the story of the great race of the rival dog-trains, which for long years after was talked about in many a wigwam and at many a camp fire. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter ten. the great race with the dog-trains--careful preparations by alec--the different breathing places--the treacherous half-breeds--their signal failure--alec's triumph. and now for the races with the dogs. these were looked forward to with the greatest interest. all sorts of rumours were afloat of some wonderful surprises in store. fortunately for all parties concerned, including the dogs, there had been a great abundance of fish during the last few years, and so every indian wigwam and house fairly swarmed with dogs, of all sizes and degree. in other years, when fish failed and the herd of reindeer came not, as a last resort against starvation the dogs went into the soup pot. but they had fared better lately, and so now they were all in the finest trim, and the trained ones were as eager here for the races as were their masters. there were about a dozen trains that contended for the victory in this next race. there were to be four prizes given. alec, with his splendid houndlike dogs, seemed a certain victor. however, as from different parts the dogs came into position and were eagerly scanned by those present, it was seen that there were many trains that would make a gallant race ere they or their magnificently developed drivers would even take a second place. alec and a young clerk were the only whites in the race. then there were three half-breed fur traders, and the rest of the competitors were pure indians. the indian carpenter at sagasta-weekee had made for alec a splendid birch toboggan-like sled for this race. it was very light, and so the maker had sewed and re-sewed it, and so stiffened it with the sinews of the reindeer that it was as strong as a piece of steel. he had fastened a seat in it so cleverly that, if the sled went over, the seat collapsed like a rubber ball, and as quickly resumed its position when the sled was righted. old memotas had especially manufactured the harnesses for this event. he made them out of the softest and lightest mooseskin that mr ross could buy for him. it took memotas a long time to get the right kind of traces to satisfy his experienced eye. after testing a good deal of leather he settled down on a set of very long ones, that would not at all interfere with the long, springy movements of these beautiful houndlike dogs. the start was to be from the foot of the mission hill on the ice. the route marked out, and along which indians had now been stationed, was first to be the trading post, a distance of two and a half miles. here each train would be detained exactly five minutes. at the expiration of the five minutes the next part of the race would begin. this was to sagasta-weekee, a distance of perhaps five miles. here there was to be a compulsory wait of ten minutes for each train, and then the dash back by the straight route to the mission, a distance, say, of six miles. some of the indians wanted the distance to be at least doubled, but this could not be allowed. these races and prizes were only designed to encourage the indians to be kind and careful with their dogs, as only by such treatment could they be brought to be of the highest use to them in that land where they are so much needed. amid a good deal of barking, and some growls from some of the more quarrelsome dogs, the cry of "marche!" was shouted, and they were off. some especially clever indian trains were the first to respond to the call and sprang to the front. some of the drivers were going to run; others, like alec, intended to ride, while perhaps the greater number would ride or run as they judged best in the excitement of the race. each driver, alec included, had a splendid dog-whip, but it was a long time since a dog of alec's was struck. indeed, the first one to receive a powerful blow was the leader dog of a train beside which alec was running. as bruce came alongside, and was slowly forging ahead, the vicious brute made a spring at him. quick as it was, it was observed by his indian master, who, although more than twelve feet from him in the rear, sent out so speedily and accurately that long, heavy, snake-like whiplash that it caught the brute on the nose with such force that, with a howl of pain, he turned to the front before any damage had been done. a few seconds later alec and this indian driver sped on right and left of a couple of trains mixed-up in terrible confusion, while their drivers, a white man and a half-breed, were in anything but a pleasant mood. on and on they fairly flew. alec had been warned to guard against running into some of the vicious dog-trains, as some of them had teeth like wolves, and one fierce attack might easily disable one of his lighter dogs. without mishap alec reached the fort, and found that five trains were there ahead of him. in a minute or two most of the others arrived. even those tangled up had speedily unloosened, and had not lost more than a couple of minutes by their collision. exactly as each train's five minutes expired, away they flew for a long run for sagasta-weekee. the ice was in fairly good condition for travelling, although there were long stretches where it was so absolutely smooth and glassy that some of the dogs would slip and slide in spite of their best efforts to the contrary. on this smooth ice the eskimos and the mongrels had the advantage, as they had such hard feet that they very seldom slipped. the feet of alec's dogs were perhaps the worse for these smooth icy places, and so he found that it was necessary, where the travelling was good, for him to urge his dogs more than he had intended, to make up for what he lost in the glassy places. thus on they sped, and when sagasta- weekee was reached alec found three trains ahead of him and a couple alongside of his own and others close behind him. ten minutes was the time allotted for the rest here. the instant alec had arrived memotas was at his side, and with him at once examined his dogs and compared his train with those that had thus far kept ahead. memotas was delighted with the inspection, for, while the other trains seemed about exhausted at the terrific rate their drivers had pushed them, alec's were as playful and lively as though the race had only begun. so, barring accident or foul play, there seemed to be no reason why alec should not win with flying colours. two of the half-breeds with very vicious trains now pushed on with four minutes of a start. an indian followed two minutes after, and then in four minutes more alec and those who had arrived at the same time as he did were again ready for the final run of the six-mile home stretch. just as alec was leaving faithful, alert memotas said to him, as he tucked him in: "be on your guard against those two half-breeds and their vicious dogs. try and not pass them in a narrow place. there is mischief in their hearts. be wise." "marche!" and he was off. for the first time now his blood began to tingle, and he entered into the wild, joyous enthusiasm of the race. he had become an expert in the use of his whip over the backs of his splendid dogs. skillfully he whirled it, and its pistol-like report rang out over them, but not once did it inflict a stinging blow. "ho! ho! my gallants! with scotland's best staghound's blood in your veins, and scotland's names, my bonny dogs, for scotland win the day!" he must needs hurry now, for fleet trains are around him and some ahead of him, with drivers just as keen and eager to win as he, and every one of them accustomed to dog-driving for years. victors are some of them in previous contests, and not one of them is disposed to see a white lad from across the sea come and wrest their honour from them. whips are flying now in earnest, and the dogs of other trains are waking up to realise that there is fire in their masters' eyes and strength in their arms and a burning sting at the end of the heavy lash. with terrific rushes they make their desperate efforts to forge to the front. alec, excited now to the highest pitch, calls as never before to his dogs: "marche! bruce, up! up, wallace! and you gelert, and my bonny lorne. ho! ho! away, away, my bonny dogs! away! away!" grandly did they respond. they too have caught the enthusiasm of the hour, and as in clock-like unison in those long, light traces they stretched themselves out and fairly flew over the icy surface, they seemed to lift the light sled and its driver as a thing of naught. steady, alec! keep well balanced now. you have shaken off every sled that started in this last dash with you, but there are stubborn competitors ahead, and there are rough places where an upset at such a speed means disaster as well as defeat. but he thinks naught of these things; his scottish caution has gone to the winds, and with dauntless courage he keeps up his cheering cries. rapidly does he gain on a powerful train ahead of him, and just as he begins to fly past it the vicious leader turns and springs at bruce. he fails in his attempt on account of the slippery ice, and falls directly in front of the oncoming train. "marche! bruce!" shouts alec, and with a mighty bound the gallant fellow responds and springs directly over his prostrate assailant. quickly follow wallace, gelert, and lorne. with a stunning blow alec's sled hits the still struggling brute. well now is it for alec that the cautious builder of that light sled had strengthened it with deerskin sinews till it was tough and strong. and so it stood that fierce shock, and, with its sturdy occupant unseated, over the great dog, with undiminished speed, it goes. before him now are the two great trains of the half-breeds. these are the men and trains about which memotas whispered his words of caution. and well is it for alec that he was put on his guard. before them for a mile or so is the narrowest part of the route. the good ice in places did not average more than from fifty to a hundred feet across. plenty of room, anyone might say, for three dog- trains to rush by [it] at the same time. yes, if all are fair and honourable, but not wide enough for the safety of the third if the other two are determined to stop him at all hazards. if there was one thing more than another in which alec had carefully trained his dogs it was for them to respond to his voice, and quickly move to the right or left, as he spoke to them. like some other drivers, he had them so well-trained that no horse responds to the pull on the reins more promptly than did his dogs to his voice. as alec rapidly gained on these trains he observed that they were running about parallel to each other, and that the width of the ice was about the same between them and each shore. this so equally divided the ice that it made it difficult to decide whether to try and pass between them, or on one side or the other. alec's first wish was to see if they were really working together against him, and so he shouted to his dogs as though he would clash in between them. at once they began to close up from each side to block his way. quickly checking his dogs before there was a collision, he then tried the call to the right hand, and here the same plan was again pursued. it was evident, seeing that they would both be beaten in a fair race, they were resolved, by sacrificing one train, that the other should win at any cost from this white lad. their dogs were large and fierce, and at one word from their master, if a collision occurred, would fasten on the lighter and younger dogs of alec, with disastrous results. so alec, who saw the plan, resolved that there should be no collision with his train if he could help it. all this time the speed was fairly kept up, and alert and watchful was each driver, although not a word was spoken among them. after a little more manoeuvring from side to side alec observed that his dogs were quicker to respond to his voice than were theirs, and so he resolved to try and confuse them and throw them off their guard. in this he at length succeeded. when, with a great show, it appeared that he was going to dash between them he suddenly checked his dogs just as the other two trains closed in to block his way. quickly they saw their danger, and tried to avert it, but they were too late. their own fierce, excited dogs sprang at each other as they met, and ere their masters could separate them alec had skillfully veered to the right and was by them. the coast was clear now, but fleet trains were close behind. the blocking of the way had necessarily somewhat lessened the speed, and swift trains had come up dangerously near. but what now cared alec? springing to his feet, he swings his whip and calls to his gallant dogs. the distance is now only a couple of miles, and direct is the route. how those beautiful dogs do go! in perfect unison they spring together, while alec's cheering voice rings out: "marche! bruce, my hero, my leader! and you, wallace, true to the end, and gelert the avenger, and lorne the fortunate! gallant scots ye are, and this is our bannockburn!" thus on he drives; and now before him in the distance is the expectant crowd, who, having finished all their other sports, have gathered on the sloping banks to watch the return of the dog-trains. the day is drawing to a close, but there is one of those marvellous gloamings of the great lone land, and so the whole scene is as visible as at noonday. the speed at which alec travels soon brings him near, and as the sharp eyes of many tell them that he is the victor, and far in advance of any other train, there is, for an indian crowd, a great deal of cheering, or rather a shouting of what sounds like "hi! hi! ho! ho!" from many a dusky indian's lungs. for alec is very popular among them, and they rejoice at his victory. the few whites are also very much interested, and add their full share to the noise and excitement that tell of alec's triumph. of course, frank and sam were wild with delight--so much so that they could not even shout. sam in describing their feelings afterward said: "we could only yell, but that we did in right good earnest." as alec dashed into the midst of the cheering crowd warm indeed was his welcome. stalwart arms seized him, and hoisted him up on the shoulders of a couple of gigantic indians, who at once began their march to the front of the mission house, where amid the cheering of the crowd a blue ribbon was pinned upon the breast of his coat by the trembling fingers of an equally happy maiden, and her name was winnie. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter eleven. pasche disappears--the search--big tom and mustagan--the whisky jacks-- pasche found in a hollow tree--chased by an angry moose bull--pasche rescued--his quaint account of his adventures. there was great excitement at sagasta-weekee one morning when word came in that the stableman who looked after the cows was missing. in fact, he had not been around for three days, and the boy who helped him in the stables was scolded for not having reported his absence. the name of the missing man was pasche. he was a french half-breed who had come up from the indian settlement near montreal, several years before, in one of the canoes of the famous iroquois brigades that annually made the trip up the ottawa and other rivers into lake superior to thunder bay, and from thence by lake of the woods and still other rivers until they reached lake winnipeg. poor pasche was ignominiously discharged by the despotic governor of the hudson bay company, as being unfit for the laborious work of a canoeman in one of those large canoes. the fact was that it was only the most vigorous and muscular men who could perform the tremendous task assigned them by that tyrannical man, who drove his men on and on with all the cruel, callous persistency of a slave-driver. no wonder poor, weak pasche gave out where many a stalwart man has also failed. he had been a sailor for some years on the st. lawrence, and had the agility of a monkey in climbing up to the top of the masts. the unfortunate fellow was left stranded in that wild country, and so, out of sympathy for the poor exile, mr ross had given him work and a home, until he could return to his own people. the kindness of his new master made him quite contented where he was, and so year after year he had remained, and to him had come the care of the cows both in the summer and winter. now he was missing, and had been for three days. the family was alarmed, as it was such an unusual thing for pasche ever to be away over a night. mr ross at once called into the kitchen all who had lately seen him or knew anything of his latest fads. of these the poor fellow had quite a number, and while some of them were sensible, others of them were generally laughed at by his friends. the latest one was that he imagined himself a great hunter, and had secured some traps and had set them in the woods in various places, most of them several miles away. the last time he was seen by the stable-boy was when he had finished the morning work at the stable. then he had taken his gun and axe and started off to visit some of his traps. when mr ross chided the boy, who had industriously attended to all the stable duties alone, he said that pasche had made him promise to say nothing about his huntings, for fear he would be laughed at. a heavy fall of snow had completely obliterated all tracks, and so there was no possibility of following him up in that way. a messenger was sent for old mustagan and big tom, both famous indian guides, and a consultation was held with them. they smoked their stone pipes and talked the matter over, and then went out. after closely questioning the stable-boy they returned to the indian village. here they secured a couple of sharp, bright little beaver dogs. with them they returned to the stables, and there, showing the dogs a coat that pasche was in the habit of wearing, and making them thoroughly smell it, they tried to get them on his trail. all, however, the dogs would do was to get back out of the deep snow as quickly as possible and into the shelter of the stables. the plan was not a success. these dogs were too small for the deep snow, and soon the old indians gave up this plan in disgust. then they strapped on their snowshoes and made a long circuit around the place, and thus tried to find out some clue or trace of the missing man. failing in this, they returned to the house, and after a hearty meal they equipped themselves to find that lost man. they had but little to work on, as pasche had never revealed to anyone the whereabouts of his traps. however, indian eyes are sharp, and so, unknown to him, keen hunters had observed his doings, and could tell the locality of every one of his traps and snares. those who had any knowledge in this direction were summoned, and then, with the information thus obtained, the two old men set off on their snowshoes. it was not long ere they reached his first trap, but the snow covered everything there. then on to his next resort, still no success; and thus it was throughout the whole round. the indians were puzzled and perplexed, and as they had now been on the go for hours they kindled a fire and awaited the arrival of some of the sleds with supplies that were to meet them here at this designated spot. the boys, who were equally grieved and excited with the rest at the loss of pasche, with whom they had had a lot of innocent fun, had harnessed up their dog-trains and joined the party who brought out the supplies. the meal was quickly prepared on the big, roaring fire, and vigorous appetites made heavy inroads on the abundant supplies which mrs ross had sent. they all noticed, while at the meal, the unusual number of whisky jacks, the indian's sacred bird, that were at once attracted by the fire. they were all very noisy, and seemed unusually excited. the indians are quick to notice the actions of even the most insignificant birds when on their hunting or warlike excursions. many a lurking warrior, securely hid from the keenest human eye, has been given away by a noisy blue jay or a suspicious cawing crow, and has thus failed in his attempt to surprise his enemy, and has been obliged to make a hasty retreat. in answer to frank's question, big tom told the boys how some of the wild animals are warned by the birds of the approach of the hunters, and are thus the more difficult to reach. so here the whisky jacks, noisy at any time, but unusually so now, attracted the curiosity of those alert, watchful old indians, as well as much amused the boys with their saucy ways. the birds, as usual, clamoured around the fire, and as long as a crumb or bit of anything could be obtained were very saucy and persistent in their begging. it was great fun for the boys to feed them, and to even catch some of them by their feet, so bold and venturesome were they. they were all, however, speedily liberated, as mustagan and big tom were anxious, if possible, to learn something from them. so the remains of the meal were speedily scattered, and while the boys wrapped robes around themselves and sat near the fire to keep warm, the indians, lighting their pipes, sat down on a log near the fire to watch the actions of the birds. for a time they fluttered around and scolded in their pert, boisterous manner. then, seeing there was nothing more forthcoming, they began flying about in the woods, but occasionally came back to see if the next meal was being prepared. seeing no signs of it, they flew further and further away, and now principally in one direction. after a while the quick ears of mustagan detected a series of unusual cries of the birds. he at once called big tom's attention to it, and they both decided that there was something unusual to cause them thus to act. not knowing but it might be a wolverine or a wild cat at which the birds seemed to be so angrily scolding, while the boys and the rest of the party remained near the fire they took their guns and carefully made their way through the woods to a spot where, without being seen themselves, they could observe the birds. to their keenest investigation nothing unusual was visible. the new, trackless snow was as yet unmarked by step of man or beast. still excitedly the birds acted, and incessantly scolded. soon the two men noticed that the centre of their whirlings was a large dead trunk of a tree that had been broken off between thirty and forty feet from the ground. around this stub of a tree the birds whirled and scolded, and occasionally some of them would light on the rough, jagged edge of the top, and seemed to be peeping down into the heart of the dead tree. the curiosity of the men was aroused, and they wondered what animal the birds had there discovered. immediately they started for it, keeping their guns in readiness to fire if it, whatever it was, should attempt to escape. when they reached the spot there was not a track visible of any animal. the birds whirled around if possible more noisily than ever, and so it was evident to the men that there was something in that tree. drawing his axe from his belt, big tom made ready to pound against the side while mustagan, with pointed gun, was on the alert to shoot any animal that the noise should disturb and cause to attempt to escape. with lusty vigour big tom pounded away at the old tree, while carefully mustagan watched the top. in an instant after there were two very much amazed indians. for from the interior of that old tree thus vigorously assailed there came the faint cry of a human being! what his first words were neither man was particular to inquire. it was enough for their quick wits to tell them that they had found the lost man for whom they were seeking, and that he was still alive! at once they lifted up their voices and shouted words of cheer and encouragement to the imprisoned pasche. then they called to the rest of the party who were at the fire to hasten to them. neither the boys nor the men required a second call. they were speedily at the side of the two old indians who, for such people, were very perceptibly excited. at first the boys could hardly take in the situation, but quickly it dawned on them that here was an imprisoned, half-starved man who must be helped out of his dangerous predicament. what had best be done was the question that mustagan, big tom, and the other indians were discussing. some suggested cutting down the big tree at once. this was discouraged by some, who said that the blows of the axe on the dead tree would dislodge so much dry, dusty, rotten wood that it would about smother the imprisoned man. so it was quickly decided that he must be pulled out of the top where, it was quite evident, he had fallen in. at once the tail-ropes of the sleds and the packing and tie lines, which are also made of leather, were fastened together, and an effort was made to get one end to the poor fellow inside. in the meantime, while these preparations were being made by the indians, the boys endeavoured to hold some kind of conversation with the imprisoned pasche. "arrah, my man," shouted sam, "and what are ye doing inside there?" "i fell in," faintly came back to the listeners. "were ye looking for the cows?" persisted the irrepressible sam, who was a great favourite with pasche, although he often unmercifully chaffed him. "no, but a moose bull was looking for me." this answer was the explanation that told the whole story; but, while the old indians were able to now understand at once the whole matter, they left it for pasche, when rescued, to tell his story. so in the meantime the question was how to liberate him as speedily as possible without injury. they first tried by fastening a stone to one end of their improvised leather rope to so throw it up that it would drop into the hollow tree, as into a chimney. but although they succeeded several times in getting the stone to fall in, yet so jagged was the edge of the broken wood that the rope would not slide down. this plan failing, the next one tried was to cut down as large a young tree as the whole party could handle, and then carry it, and lean it up against the hollow tree, in which was the imprisoned man. alec, who was a daring climber, at once volunteered to climb this, and thus carry up one end of the rope, which could then be easily lowered down to pasche. ere he started mustagan handed him a ball of deerskin twine, and told him to put that into his pocket, as he might need it before he came down again. taking off his overcoat, and tightly fastening his leather coat around him with his sash belt, alec gallantly began his difficult task. it was no easy work, as the tree was in some places quite icy and it was hard to grip with his hands, which soon began to feel the effects of the cold. but he gallantly persevered, and, cheered and encouraged by sam and frank, he at length succeeded in reaching the top. here for a time, after a cheery shout to pasche, he rested, while he warmed his nearly frozen hands in his warm mittens, which he had stuck in his sash belt. then, hauling up sufficient length of line, he carefully dropped it down to the poor fellow at the bottom. but now another difficulty presented itself to him. he alone could not haul out the imprisoned man, and the men below could be of little service, as the rope if pulled on would surely get caught in the ragged edge of the rotten tree. it was now that alec saw the value of mustagan's forethought in giving him that ball of deerskin twine. calling up to him mustagan said: "hold on to the end of that twine, and let the ball drop to me." this alec at once did. then mustagan fastened a good solid green birch stick about four feet long and five or six inches in diameter to the string, and then said to alec: "now draw it up and lay it across the top of the tree, where it will rest firm and strong." this was quickly done. then calling to pasche to tie the end let down to him about his waist, and then to hold on, he placed the rope over the strong, smooth green stick he had pulled up, and then gave the word to the men below to haul away. no second order was necessary, and soon pasche was pulled up to the top. he had no difficulty in slipping down the inclined tree, weak as he was. alec also safely reached the ground. poor pasche was quickly placed on a dog-sled, and they all hurried back to the fire, where some tea and food were hastily prepared for the hungry, half-frozen man. he was so weak and exhausted that it was thought best not to trouble him to tell his story until they had all returned to sagasta-weekee. the journey home was soon made, and there was great rejoicing at the recovery of the poor fellow. the following is his quaint story of his adventures: "well, you see, i was emulous. les garcons--the boys--they succeed. they capture le renard--the fox--the wild cat, and other animals. and still they not natives. so i think it over when i milk la vache, and sam he pushed open la porte and he show me fine cross-fox he caught, and that make me emulous. so i take my wage le maitre he give, and exchange for the traps. when my work is done, en avant, on i go to the great woods. aller a pied--i walk--i carry my traps, i set them with much bait. i get nothing. le chien--the dog--he follows, he gets in the traps. then i try again. i go far away this time. i set my traps, i await with tranquillity. it is far in the woods. i wait trois days. then i go to see if le renard, like sam's, is in my trap. aussitot que possible--as soon as possible--i reach my traps. there is no renard. so i return home. il fait nuit--it is night. then i say, a quoi bon?-- what good is it?--and stay with my cows. but sam he comes again and he say great things about la chasse--the hunting--and so i say, i try again; and this time i take the great wolf trap that hang in the stable, and start early, and go far in the woods, and set my traps, and put the big one, the wolf trap, set with a log made fast to the chain, and then i retourner--return--to my duties. three days pass, then i advance again in the woods. it is far. il fait de la neige--it is snowing-- when i draw near. i hear a great noise. i draw nearer still. i see the great moose bull, with his hind foot in the wolf trap. he also sees me. i raise a great shout. a quoi bon?--what good is it? he comes for me. voulez-vous?--i say. so i fire my fusil--gun--at him. still he comes, for now i remember i only had shot for partridge in that gun. j'ai chaud--i am hot. he makes me so, he looks so fierce. his great ears, his long face, all his hair point toward me. i turn, i run. so does he run, but it is toward me. still he comes. he has still the wolf trap on his foot. the log is fastened to the chain, so it troubles him. still on he comes. i can keep ahead, on account of the log, but the log slips off the chain. so now he comes faster. i run, i fly. i see him draw near. he looks diabolical. i despair. i see this tree like the mast broken off in the storm. i learn to climb well when i sail on the ship. i rush to the tree with the moose bull close behind me. i drop my mittens, i seize hold of the rough bark, i climb up just as that animal, like le diable--the devil--he rush up, and he strike his great horns against the tree where i was, but i not there, i just above, out of his reach. i dare not go back. so up and up i climb like the sailor as i was, and when i get to the top i find plenty of sticks there, where some time ago the crows they make the nest, and it seem strong, and as i could not hold on at the sides of the tree i pull myself up and try to stand on those sticks, and they break sudden and i drop, i fall, i sink down into the tree. i throw out my arms to catch hold, but the tree is rotten wood inside, so i lose my grip. the wood it come down with me. i sink into the depths, and there i was. the rotten wood made a great dust as down i slide. it nearly choke me. i cannot call out; my mouth, my eyes, my throat all full. there i stay. i could not climb out, the place too small. i could not work up my knees, so there i stay. my heart gets very sad soon. il fait nuit--it is night. i am lost. good-bye, i say, to all. i weep and then i sleep, i wake up with a start, then i sleep again. when i wake again, il fait clair--it is light--above and rejoice. the dust is all out of my eyes and mouth. i can move back my head enough to look up and see the blue sky. then i call aloud, but there is no response. i then remember i have some food in my pocket. it is difficile to get at it, but i succeed. i eat it, it is very good. then i find i have my knife in my pocket. i call again and again. i think i hear a reply; but it is only the birds, the whisky jacks. they fly across my vision at the top; they look at me, they scream, they mock me. never mind, i have my knife; so i will hope to cut my way out. it is easy cutting in the rotten wood. but the dust affects me, i cough much. i can work but little. i have to wait for the dust to settle. the air is bad. when i get to the hard outside wood i can do nothing, my strength is gone. it is hard to breathe when i keep still. it is worse when i try to work. so i give myself up to die. i call out at times, and try to think of my friends, and try to pray, and that comforts me best of all. thus passes this second day, and now i am very faint. i can just easily move round in my prison, but i cannot sit down or lie down. i am very tired. still i call, and more and more the whisky jacks come and mock me. they seem angry i have nothing for them, and so they scold, as they do at the camp fire when we feed them nothing. to-day for a time they left me, and then they came back and seemed to laugh at me, and then i heard mustagan and big tom call, and was rescued. "je suis fache--i am sorry--i went hunting. i will go no more. sam may continue." chapter twelve. kinesasis's wonderful story--how he wooed shakoona--their youthful days--miskoodell rescued from the bear--oosahmekoo with his gold-- kinesasis's successful hunt--his furs stolen--marries shakoona--conflict with the old warrior. the romantic and thoroughly characteristic indian way in which kinesasis had obtained his indian wife was one that had very much interested mr and mrs ross. they had known him for many years, and had ever been pleased with the kindly, helpful way in which he had always treated his wife, whom he called shakoona. "shakoona" means "the snow-white one," and those who knew her well, and studied her quiet, gentle manner, said she was well named. the terrible loss of her children had been such a shock that her once black, luxuriant tresses had become as white as the snow, making her name more impressive than ever before. the story of how he had obtained his wife kinesasis was induced to tell one evening at sagasta-weekee, when fierce winds were howling around the place and at times seemed to strike with such fury against the house that they appeared like wild beasts shrieking for their prey. as a general thing kinesasis was not very communicative on matters relating to himself, but as mrs ross, who had some knowledge of how he had obtained his wife--indeed, her mother had a little to do with its consummation--had asked him to tell it for the pleasure of the boys and some good friends who had come over for a day or two from the mission, he could not refuse. the great log fire roared in the large fireplace in the dining room, while round it gathered the expectant listeners. mrs ross had sent over to kinesasis's little home and had brought from thence shakoona, his wife. she was now, like kinesasis, getting up in years, yet she was the same shy, clever, modest, retiring woman she had ever been, and yet, as will be seen, there was that latent courage in her that mother's love can best bring out. the inevitable pipe had to be produced and gravely smoked by kinesasis, and those who would smoke with him, ere the talking could begin. when this ceremony was over kinesasis, looking kindly at shakoona, began: "we had been children together in the forest. our fathers' wigwams were not far apart. with other indian children we had played in the wild woods, among the rocks and on the shores of the great lakes. when large enough to help i had to go and try my skill in setting snares for the rabbits and partridges and other small game. the trail along which i used to travel each morning, as i visited my snares and traps, was the one in which i often found little shakoona getting sticks for the fire in her father's wigwam. he was a stern man and cruel, and very fond of gain. "the years rolled on, and i was now a hunter, and could use the bow and arrows of my forefathers, as well as the gun of the white man, which was now being brought into the country. shakoona was now grown up, and was no longer a child. we often met, and let it be known that we loved each other. shakoona's mother and the other members of her family were my friends, and they all had good reason to be my friends, for one summer, some years before, when miskoodell was a little child, i saved her from the paws of a bear. her mother had gone out to gather moss and dry it for the winter use. she had miskoodell strapped in her moss-bag cradle, with its board at the back. while the mother was at work she left her little baby girl in her cradle standing up against a tree. as the moss was not very good just around that spot the mother wandered off quite a distance to find where it was better. while she was thus hard at work a large black bear came along from the opposite direction. i happened to be out in the woods with my bow and arrows shooting partridges, and what other small game i could find, for i was then only a boy. "where this moss grows the ground is very damp, and it is easy to walk very still. i came along, not being far behind the bear, and there the first thing i saw was that big bear with that baby, cradle and all, in his forearms. he was standing up on his hind legs and holding it awkwardly, like a man does." this last remark created quite a laugh at kinesasis's expense; but mrs ross came to his rescue, and declared that the expression was correct. "for a man," she said, "always awkwardly holds a young baby--the first one, anyway," she added, as she saw her amused husband laughing at her. "go on, kinesasis. you said last that the bear was standing on his hind legs, and awkwardly holding the baby, as a man does," said mrs ross. thus encouraged by the lady whom he so greatly respected, he went on, and only modified his statement by saying: "indian men do, anyway. well, there i was, not very far behind and well hid behind the trees, and watched that bear, and think if i had been a white boy i would have laughed. strange to say, the baby did not cry, but seemed pleased to have some one lift it up in the cradle. the bear would put his big nose in the baby's face very gently, and it seemed to like to feel this cold nose. all at once i saw by the fine bead work in the cradle that it was the child of the mother of shakoona, whom i loved, the little miskoodell. then i thought the mother of the child must be near, and while the bear is kind to the child, as bears of that kind always are, it will surely attack the mother when she comes. so, boylike, i resolved, in my great love for shakoona, to try and kill that bear. it was well for me that i had some steel-pointed arrowheads, obtained at the traders' shop. these i had not been using, as they were too valuable to risk losing in shooting small game. however, here was game big enough. so i at once removed the flints from three of my best arrows, and quickly lashed on these long steel points with sinew. "all this time the bear was still fooling with that child. he would turn it round and round, and then sometimes he would set it down, as though he wanted it to walk off with him. at length, after failing in this, it seemed to me as if he were going to start off and carry the child with him. when i saw this i knew that i must now try and shoot him. so i crawled along on the mossy ground, and dodged from tree to tree until i was very near him. once or twice i was going to shoot, but i was afraid of hitting the child. all at once i saw him drop the cradle and straighten himself up and listen. he had heard something that startled him. it was the mother coming back. now in the distance i, too, could see her coming. she had a large bundle of moss on her head which she was supporting with both hands. she had neither gun nor knife. "i could wait no longer. i drew my arrow to the head of my bow and, as the bear was standing up with his side toward me, and his paws were well up, i aimed for his side, just under the leg, and sent the arrow with all the force i could. i was perhaps twelve years old, but i well knew, like indian boys, how to use the bow. my arrow struck just where i wanted it to. it entered his side near the heart. with a savage growl he jumped, but he had not seen or heard me. he only saw and felt the arrow, and so that was his only enemy, he thought. that is the advantage of hunting with the bow over the gun. if you can keep hidden, with bow and arrows the animals are not alarmed at your presence, but with a noisy gun the animal knows where you are and comes for you. so it was in this case; the bear only tried to get hold of the arrow that was sticking into his side. he twisted himself round and round and tried to pull it out with his paw on the opposite side, but i had sent it with such force that he could not succeed. the more he worked at it the more the blood poured out of the wound. he seemed to have forgotten now all about the child and the coming mother, so i was sure he was badly hurt. but he was far from dead, and very angry at the arrow, so i thought i would give him another one. this one i sent into the other side, as he was moving round and round. when this second one struck him he seemed to think that he was in the wrong place, and had better start for his den; and so off he hurried, coming right by where i was hid. i still had one steel-pointed arrow. with this one ready to shoot i sprang up before him. i was going to try and shoot him between the eyes, but at the sight of me he threw up his head, and so i shot the arrow into his throat. he gave one great spring at me, but it was his last, and there he lay quite dead. when we opened him we found that one of my arrows had entered into his heart, and when he made that last spring at me it did its work. the mother of shakoona picked up the cradle in which was miskoodell, and found her child uninjured. she was of our race, and therefore did not say much, but i knew that i had made a friend. "some years went by, and brought my presents and asked the father of shakoona for her to be my wife, but he was stern and cruel, and appeared to have forgotten that i had rescued miskoodell. indeed, when told the story he only said. `it was only a girl, anyway, that was rescued.' since we have become christians, thanks to the missionaries, we now think as much of the girls as of the boys. but wahbunoo, for that was his name, spurned my few gifts, for he was very selfish, and said that he that would receive shakoona must bring many gifts, and even the `keche shuneou,' the gold of the white man, ere he could have her. this was bad news, but i saw he was strong in his mind, and so i gathered up my gifts, which with all indian ceremony i had laid at his feet, and without a word i left his wigwam. that night shakoona and met for a short time, and we gave our promise to each other, and vowed to be true to each other, no matter what might happen. "as i saw it was a large price wahbunoo wanted, i plunged that fall into the forest with my traps and plenty of weapons. my object was to hunt very hard, and so be able in the springtime to bring in so many skins of the silver and black foxes, with beaver, mink, otter, marten, and other rich furs, that i could change them for rich presents, or even for gold, with the traders, and thus cause to look kindly on my gifts and grant me my wish. to carry out this purpose i went far away, where i was told by hunters that but few ever hunted and that the game i was after was very plentiful. the reason why it was so little visited by hunters was that it was reported that great windegoos, man-eaters, there haunted the deep forests, and that many hunters had mysteriously disappeared. they had gone there with great hopes of success, but had never returned. the man-eating windegoos, that were so great and high that they could brush the trees aside as they walked along, they said, had devoured them. so it was said and believed by many. so great was my love for shakoona that i cared for none of these stories, and was willing to run all risks for her sake; and so i made the many days' journey and reached those hunting grounds. all winter i worked hard, and met with good success. "but while i was far away things were going on at the spot where dwelt shakoona that were to my hurt. one day there walked into her father's tent a great chief having on his face and body the scars of many battles. but while he was surely a brave warrior he was a man of fierce temper, and some of the wives he already had showed the marks of his fierce anger. the top of the head of one of them was hard and dry, for oosahmekoo--that was his name--had in his anger, because she had not quickly prepared his dinner, rushed at her and, circling the spot with his knife, had torn away the scalp; and still she lived. this oosahmekoo was the man who came with his gifts to buy from wahbunoo the beautiful young shakoona. he had gone off with another tribe in the south, called the sioux and in one of their warlike excursions they had attacked a band of white people passing over the prairies. they had crawled up to them in the darkness of night, and as the watchers had gone to sleep they had killed them all. among the pillage and plunder was a bag of gold. the sioux then knew not of its worth, so they gave it to oosahmekoo, and as he had been much among the fur traders he knew it was valuable and carefully kept it. he had seen shakoona as she industriously did her work, and wanted her for another wife. when he entered the wigwam his manner was so proud and unceremonious that even wahbunoo's temper got the mastery over his love for gold, and he refused to let shakoona be the sixth wife of a man who had no more respect for the custom of the tribe, and would thus act before the father whose girl he wished to buy. so he had to pick up his bag of gold and leave the wigwam. his having to leave in this way gave great joy to the mother of shakoona, and to her brothers and sisters, especially miskoodell, who was now a bright young girl herself. "but old oosahmekoo, although repulsed this time, was not to be easily put off. he saw that he had broken the usages of his tribe in the way that he had acted, and so, pretending to hide his anger, he found times to meet the father of shakoona and offer his gold for her. without letting him know the reason of their so doing, his family all seemed very indignant that oosahmekoo should have so insulted the old father, and so they kept him in such a state that he refused the chief's offer, but not in such a way as to discourage him from persisting in his efforts. "the winter passed away, and i prepared to return with my heavy pack of rich furs. on the trail of many days i reached the hunting lodges of some of our people, who, being near, had frequently gone to the village. there they had learned about the efforts of oosahmekoo to buy my indian maiden, and of it they told me. when i heard it my heart got hot, and clutched my knife and said something, but my friends urged me to be wise and careful, for the old chief was cruel and powerful. some of them with lighter loads hurried on, and one who was my true friend went fast and quietly told shakoona that i was coming on the trail. and some one else had told oosahmekoo, and had also told him that i was the favourite hunter of shakoona, and that i was bringing home sufficient rich furs to more than equal his gold in value, to lay at the feet of wahbunoo. the news given to shakoona filled her heart with joy, while that given to the old chief made him furious and eager to destroy me. with the help of her mother, who remembered how i had killed the bear, and thus likely saved her life, shakoona was able to get away, and met me on the trail long before i entered the village. from her i heard all there was to know. she put her arms around my neck and kissed me, and said she would die before she would be the sixth wife of such a man. there we promised that we would rather die than be separated. we saw that we would have to be very wise and careful, as my friends had said. i was glad to learn that all my maiden's family were friendly to me. only a little while dare shakoona stay with me. if her stern father missed her there would be trouble, even if his love for her was only what she, by her sale, could bring to him. before she left me i told her that in due form to-morrow i would enter her father's wigwam and open my pack of rich furs before him, and by their value would win his consent. then she kissed me and quickly hurried back again. that night following was a bad night for me." for a time kinesasis paused in his narrative, and seemed, indian though he was, to be deeply moved, while his aged wife buried her head in her blanket and bowed to the floor. mr ross, who knew his story, respected the old man's feelings, and for a short time said and did nothing; then he filled the calumet and gave it to him. the tobacco and the rest quieted his perturbed spirits, and handing back the pipe he continued his most fascinating story: "yes, that night i entered the village was indeed a bad night for me. evil eyes had been on shakoona. cunning steps had followed her, and sharp ears had heard enough of our story to find out what i was going to do next day with my valuable furs that i had been eight long moons in hunting. as i entered the outskirts of the village i was met by a young indian with the word that the wigwam of my relatives was cold and empty, as they had not yet returned from their hunting grounds, which were in an opposite direction from the way in which i had come. very cordial seemed the invitation of that man for me to rest that night in his wigwam, which was a large one, being made of many dressed buffalo skins sewed together. "without any distrust i accepted his invitation, as was the manner of our people, and was glad to unstrap my heavy load of furs, as well as my gun and traps and blanket. with much more attention than is generally shown to one thus coming in, this indian helped me in various ways. with a good deal of show he hung up my gun and traps for me, and placed my pack of furs tightly back against the leather wall of the wigwam. in the meantime fish and venison were brought in, and a good supper was prepared and eaten. afterward we smoked and talked for some time, and then prepared to sleep. noticing that the wind outside was rising, he showed me a place where i could spread my blanket where there would be no draft, but it was away from my pack of furs. at first i thought i would bring my furs from the place where they had been put and place them at my head, but this i saw would give offence, and now as some young children were lying down to sleep near them, there was not enough room for me. still a little fearful, i made an excuse and stepped out of the wigwam for a minute. there i saw that the snow was well piled up against the leather wall all around. this quieted my fears, and so i returned into the wigwam, and being very weary was soon fast asleep. in the morning my furs were gone! a thief in the night had cut through the leather, making a hole so large that he could easily and noiselessly lift out my pack of furs. he had left the upper part uncut, so that as quickly as he had obtained the pack he could let the leather down again and thus cover up the hole. for fear the wind should get in and disturb the inmates, he had quietly laid a large deerskin over the whole place on the outside. i was in a sad state the next morning, but i kept my lips closed and said but little. the indian family were much excited and angry at the theft. the young indian who had invited me in made a greater ado than anyone. i suspected him at once of being the one who had robbed me, but i had then no evidence, and so carefully held my tongue. but i thought a great deal, and in time i found out that he was in the plot. "what to do i knew not. however, refusing to again eat under the wigwam where i had been so robbed, i took my gun, blanket, and traps and pushed on to the wigwam of my friends, and to my surprise found them in it, and there they had been for some days. then i knew that that young indian was an enemy. to my friends i told of my success, and of my loss. we set about the recovery of them at once. runners were sent to every trading post describing the contents of the packs and telling the traders the circumstances of the robbery. there was great indignation. such robberies are very rare. if the thieves are found out they are generally quickly poisoned by the conjurers of the tribe. that is one of the things they are expected to do. a robber of traps or furs is soon poisoned. then the traders themselves are down on these things. so the story of the theft was soon known, but the furs were not recovered until a long time after. "wahbunoo was very cold and repellent. he would not believe my story, and so refused to have me come to his wigwam. so shakoona and i had to meet when we could, and that was not often, for the father was cruel and oosahmekoo had many spies. still, we had many friends. miskoodell, the little sister, was sharp and shrewd, and helped us greatly by warning us of danger. so did her brother, netahwatee. he was a good hunter, and had friends who had seen the furs. he had been on the alert, and had found out that the young indian who had invited me into his wigwam had, during the winter, hung around the tent and had asked shakoona to be his wife. she had repelled him with scorn, and netahwatee had told him that she was fond of kinesasis, and that even now he was away in the forest hunting, to bring in sufficient rich furs to buy the consent of their father. at this news from netahwatee, he arose and left the tent, but he ground his teeth as he went out. after that he was often seen in earnest talk with oosahmekoo, the old chief, and it was the belief of many that they had been the ones who had planned the stealing of the furs. but they were cunning, and so covered up the tracks that a long time passed ere the truth came out. but, although some of the family were friendly toward me, the father of shakoona turned more and more against us. the gold of the old chief was offered again and again, and at length i heard that there was a likelihood that he would yield, although shakoona still declared that she would throw herself from the cliff into the lake rather than marry him. and this i think she would have done, for we loved each other, and do still." here the old man stooped over and, tenderly lifting up the head of his aged wife, kissed her on the forehead. "one day some little boys out hunting rabbits among the great rocks overheard some earnest talking. at first they were frightened, and were about running home when one of them, who was shakoona's youngest brother, proposed that they creep to the top of the rocks and try and see who the talkers were on the other side. noiselessly they crawled to the top, and then as they peeked over whom should they see but wahbunoo and oosahmekoo in earnest talk? they saw the chief with a fire bag that seemed heavy and saw him offer it to wahbunoo, who took it and held it. then the little boys slid down the rocks and returned to the tents. netahwatee's little brother told what he had seen, and the brother told his mother and miskoodell. they talked it over, and miskoodell was sent to warn us of what was being done. "so that very night we quietly left the and hurried to a place where netahwatee, who had gone on some hours before, met us with a white man, a missionary. he was pleased to hear from netahwatee that there was an indian couple who wanted to be married by the book, in the christian way, and not in the old pagan indian manner; but," said kinesasis, with a bit of a twinkle in his eye, "he did think it was a queer idea of ours that we wanted to be married out there in the forest by moonlight. however, as we had with us what he called witnesses, he married us. we did not then return to the village, but went off with some friendly relatives at a trading post where the indians were all christians. netahwatee and the others who had been with us went back at once and told how we had met the missionary and had been married with the book. strange to say, when wahbunoo heard this he said he did not care, and would not oppose us as we were married by the book. he was very superstitious, and was afraid that evil would come to him if he seemed to be angry with anyone who had had anything to do with the book. "it was very different, however, with oosahmekoo, the old chief. he was wild with anger. he made many threats. he was not as cunning as he generally was, and so he told his plans to get revenge. he was going to waylay me and kill me on the trail. some of my friends overheard his threats, and a swift runner put me on my guard. i felt that my youth was a match for his years, and then i had won my loved shakoona. so i had no fear. i left my wife among friends, and started on the return trail. we met in conflict, and i was not hurt. he was quietly buried the next day." here kinesasis ceased. he could say no more that night, the memory of the battle came up so vividly before him, although many years had passed away since it had occurred. since then he and his old wife had become christians. he paused for an instant, and then went over to the place where on the floor the heroine of his story, his true little wife, had sat during the long recital. then tucking her arm in his, as lovingly and as affectionately as any white man could have done, they quickly slipped out of the house and returned to their own little dwelling place. chapter thirteen. comments on kinesasis's wonderful story--the pack of furs recovered-- honesty of indians--their different hunting grounds--the golden rule-- the dishonest foreign indian--his sudden death. the next morning the wonderful story of kinesasis, which had produced such a deep impression on all, was thoroughly discussed. during its recital some one had quietly turned down the lamps, and thus the lights from the bright fireplace had full play upon him. this seemed to add to the effect of the scene, as frequently kinesasis, in his intense earnestness and few but strong movements, stood in the bright light or turned into a shadowy place. as the story was light and shadowy itself, so also seemed in appearance this dramatic old indian so eloquent with his theme. he had deeply stirred and excited the boys as he had moved along in his story; and not only this, but he had changed their ideas concerning him. this complete revulsion of feeling had come at the close, when the old indian, whom they had thought was so cold and destitute of sentiment, had stooped down and kissed his wife, as he had also done before during the recital of the story. it was done in a way that was so real and genuine that it completely broke them down. they declared that morning that they would not quickly judge anyone again. they had thought him phlegmatic and unlovable, and now here had come out from the heart of this indian, of such a rugged exterior, a story and an exhibition of love and devotion more genuine and beautiful than any that had ever been revealed to them in song or story. "and for very many years," said mrs ross, "he has been kind and true to that quiet, industrious little wife, who as a young maiden was so true to him and would undoubtedly have died rather than marry that chief." "what about his pack of furs?" said frank. "and did they find out the thief and put the conjurers after him?" "i am glad you have mentioned it," said mr ross. "i have heard kinesasis tell the story of their recovery, and will give you his version of it. as regards the actual transgressors, they must have been the old chief who was killed and the young indian whom shakoona had refused. when the old chief was killed the young fellow disappeared and was never heard of afterward. when the leather wigwam that had been cut into was carefully examined it was found that the knife had been used on the inside, and that the great pack of furs had been handed out, so there must have been at least two persons engaged in the robbery. weeks later some women out snaring rabbits in a dense swampy place found the pack cached up among the branches of a great spruce tree. it was so completely hidden in the close branches that it was a wonder that they ever discovered it. the only clue they had was that a great wolverine came tumbling out of the tree and hurried away into the dense forest. the women, like the men, knew what clever animals these wolverines are to find out where venison or other game has been hid away until needed. so, as their curiosity was excited, they carefully searched the tree, which was a very large one, and there in among the dense branches they found the pack of kinesasis. they were not able to reach it, but reported their discovery when they returned to the village. kinesasis and others were soon after it. it was well that they found it when they did, as the wolverine had cut through the outer coverings of deerskin, and had already ruined several valuable furs. in an hour more there would have been nothing worth taking away, so terribly destructive are these animals when they thus find anything of fur or game. "strange to say, old wahbunoo would not accept anything from kinesasis. the death of the old chief had very much disturbed him, and it also gave him such an idea of kinesasis's prowess that he had to respect him. the bag of gold also disappeared, and to this day none knows what became of it. kinesasis carried his furs to the hudson bay company's store, and received enough for them to make him and shakoona comfortable for many a day." "i have always heard that indians were so honest with each other about their furs and traps," said alec; "but this stealing of kinesasis's whole pack seems to knock that idea over. what are we to believe about it?" "what you have heard about the honesty of the indians is the truth," said mr ross. "this stealing of the furs of kinesasis was not an ordinary theft for gain. the object of it was to prevent him from having sufficient gifts to satisfy the father of the maiden of his choice. the fact that the furs were hid away as they were showed this. they could not bury them, as the ground was frozen like granite; they dare not burn them for fear of detection; and the ice was too thick on the rivers or lakes to be quickly cut through. it was very evident that they did not try to sell them." "but did not the thieves hide them there so that they could go and get them, and sell them when the excitement of their loss had passed over?" said alec, who was a boy who had a habit of seeing things from different sides and liked to have all the difficulties cleared up. mr ross admired this trait in alec's character, and always endeavoured to meet it in a way that was helpful to the lad. so to this last question his answer was: "no indian who wished to preserve anything of value for future use would think of putting it up in such a place. they all know the thievish, destructive habits of the wolverines, and other animals of that kind, that quickly detect and destroy everything destructible if placed in a tree, in the manner in which this was done. the wonder was that this was not found out much sooner and completely destroyed." "tell us, please," said sam, "how the hunters act toward each other in regard to their hunting grounds and furs. have they any titles to the different places where they hunt year after year?" "they have no written titles," said mr ross, "but for generations the same families have hunted in the same localities. then some indians, generation after generation, are noted as famous hunters of certain animals. for example, big tom is noted as a successful moose hunter, and so were his immediate ancestors. others made a speciality of the beavers, others of the otter, and thus it went. these indian families naturally had localities where these different animals abounded, although there were seasons when other varieties of fur-bearing animals swarmed through these regions, and for a time were really more numerous than the ones there generally hunted. as might have been expected, the hunters of the moose, reindeer, black bears, and other large animals that wander over immense districts had the right of following them in any direction. the hunters and trappers of the rich fur-bearing animals, however, generally kept in certain regions year after year. sometimes a hunter, in order to reach his own grounds, had to pass through, what we might call the preserves of three or four different families. i once accompanied a hunter to his grounds, and we saw no less than seventy traps of other indians on the trail as we passed along mile after mile. in one of them was a beautiful mink. my indian companion at once stopped, and, putting his pack off his back, opened it and cut off some of his bait. then he took the mink out of the trap and reset it, supplying it with his own bait. the mink he tied to the top of a young sapling, which he bent down for the purpose. when he let go of the young tree it sprang up so that the mink hung in the air, about fifteen feet from the ground. here it was safe from the prowling wolverines and other animals. then the indian made some peculiar marks upon the tree with his axe. his pack was then again shouldered, and we proceeded on our way. i was very much interested in his proceedings, and so when he had completed his work i asked him if that trap belonged to his brother or some relative. "`no,' he replied, `i do not yet know whose hunting ground this is, but my duty is to do as you have seen me act. perhaps when that hunter comes along to-morrow or next day he will find another mink in that trap. then with two instead of one he will be the more pleased.'" "well done, honest indian!" shouted the boys, when they heard this. "there is a lesson for many a white man." "and boys, too," added sam. continuing, mr ross said: "this was the understood custom. it might seem a little burdensome on the man who had the farthest to go, and quite a tax on his supply of bait. but then he had the advantage when he reached his hunting grounds, in that there were fewer human footsteps, and, in all probability, correspondingly more game." "were there no exceptions--none who would take a mink or otter if they had a chance from a neighbour's trap, if they thought they could escape detection?" asked alec. "i only remember of one case occurring in many years," said mr ross, "and there was soon a dead man at the end of it. it was the winter after the great flood in red river. a number of indians who lived near its mouth were driven out by the great flood. some of them came into this north country. the most of them were industrious and worked hard. by fishing, shooting, and hunting where no persons specially claimed the localities they did well, and got on as did the others. there were a few among them who apparently did nothing, but lounged about and lived on the industrious ones. no notice was taken of these. there was one man, however, who soon began to be talked about. he was not known to have any traps, nor was he ever seen to make any dead falls or other things to catch the fur-bearing animals. yet he often sauntered into the trading post and brought out from under his coat a fine mink or marten, and sometimes even a splendid otter. soon some of the hunters began to speak about strange tracks about their traps. one hunter told of how he had visited one of his otter traps and had found a quantity of hairs of an otter on the teeth, and yet the trap was set. he had also observed where somebody who chewed tobacco had been spitting on the snow near this same otter trap. now, while these northern indians are great smokers, they never chew tobacco, but this suspected man, who had in the red river country been much with the whites, was nearly always chewing and spitting. then there was the suspicious circumstance that a few days after, he was offering at the company's store a fine otter skin for sale. the indians then were nearly all pagans, and there was no law in the land but their own tribal one. a secret council was held, and it was decided to put a watch on this man. two or three of the cleverest indians were appointed to watch his steps. cunning though he was, they were too clever for him, and they so well followed him up that they saw him take a mink out of a trap. then, resetting the trap, he hid the mink under his coat, and rapidly disappeared in the forest. the detectives did not rush out and capture him. they did not even let him know of their presence. as quietly as they had followed him, so they did return. the secret council was again summoned. a message was sent to a noted conjurer of the tribe, famous for his deadly poisons. two days after a big indian lay dead in the birch wigwam of one of the red river indian families. the burial was very quick and quiet. not much was said. indians do not, on some subjects, talk much, but it was observed for long years after that no hunter ever complained of his traps being robbed." "i cannot see," said frank, "why any honest person could complain of any such laws as those. they were certain that he was guilty, and then they quickly punished him." "yes," said mr ross; "to some it may seem severe that he had to be killed, but the severity in this case crushed out the crime. none dare imitate him for fear of suffering his doom." winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter fourteen. home amusements and studies--happy days at sagasta-weekee--stories of the early hunters--methods of hunting before the introduction of firearms--wolves more dreaded then--story of two of kinesasis's children--killed by wolves--shakoona's sorrow--saved by the caresses of little children. sagasta-weekee was at all times a cozy, homelike place, but never did it seem more inviting and comfortable than when blizzard storms roared round it, or when fierce snowstorms seemed to make their mightiest efforts to see if they could not bury it in their enormous drifts of whitest snow. these terrific wintry gales sometimes made the house tremble on its foundations, and occasionally so shook the building that pictures hung on the wall would swing, and spoons in a tumbler on the mantelpiece would perceptibly jingle. but, in spite of the war of the elements outside, all was brightness and bliss within. there were endless resources of innocent amusement or work for all. a splendid, useful course of readings had been marked out for the boys, and mr ross saw that this, as well as the books prescribed by their teachers at home, were faithfully read and studied. then the rest of the time was devoted to recreation and work. a capital workshop, well supplied with tools, including a complete turning lathe, as well as fine saws for delicate fretwork, was always open to them, and in it many a pleasant and useful hour was spent. frank excelled as the mechanical genius of the trio, and so generally to him was assigned the work of making any difficult repairs needed on the dog-sleds or harness, for it was a point of honour among the boys to keep their own outfits in perfect condition themselves. sam excelled, as might have been expected from his nationality, as a reader and reciter, and during the long evenings added much to the profit and diversion of the household. alec had a sweet, well-cultivated voice for one so young, and particularly excelled in singing the sweet songs and ballads of old scotland. often amidst the hush of a still, quiet night, or even in the lulls between the roar of the blizzard or tempest, might have been heard the sweet notes of "auld lang syne," "annie laurie," "comin' through the rye," "john anderson, my jo," and many others that brought up happy memories of home, and touched for good all listening hearts. another source of interest to the boys was for mr ross to invite in some intelligent old indian, like memotas, big tom, mustagan, kinesasis, or paulette, to tell some remarkable incident of his life, either as a hunter or traveller. then, as there were living at the village not far away a number of indians who had gone out with great arctic adventurers or explorers, and had been gone for years, some of them had very remarkable stories to tell. as kinesasis had had charge of the dogs during the summer, and was still much employed by mr ross on various jobs about the place, the boys became very well acquainted with him. he was a thorough indian in his actions and modes of thought, and only saw things from his own stand- point. he was very observant, and had been quietly studying these three young "palefaces," whom his master, the ookemou, mr ross, had brought across the great sea. at first their active, demonstrative ways, so different from the quiet and taciturn manners of young indians, tried him considerably. yet he soon became accustomed to them. then their grit and courage and perseverance under difficulties soon won his admiration. they had their mishaps, and, of course, in their endless sports and adventures they had to take their share of knocks, but under them all they were so good-natured and resourceful, as well as resolute and fearless, that the old indian talked much about them among his own people, and said: "it was no wonder that the palefaces succeeded, if all their boys were like these three." but what completely made him their friend was alec's terrible adventure with the wolves, and his signal triumph over their instinct and cunning by his resourceful tact and splendid endurance. poor kinesasis had reason to rejoice over every victory obtained over these fierce northern wolves. some years before this they had during his absence broken into his wigwam and devoured two of his children. some time later mr ross told the story to the boys as he had heard it from kinesasis himself. it was as follows: "it was long ago, before the white traders had sold many guns to the indians. then the game was very much more plentiful than it is now in the forests. the wild animals were then also very much tamer. the bows and arrows of the hunters made but little noise in comparison with the loud report of the gunpowder. the result was that the animals were much more easily approached." "is it true, then," asked sam, "that the young animals now, that have not as yet heard the firing of a gun, are wilder than the young ones were before gunpowder came into use?" "certainly," replied mr ross. "it is well-known by those who have studied it that all wild animals, and even birds, very soon become wilder and more alert and watchful after the introduction of gunpowder, and, what is stranger, they seem to be able to impart to their progeny this same spirit of fear and caution." "i have often wondered," said frank, "how it was that the indians were able to kill sufficient game to keep themselves alive before they began to purchase gunpowder." "what i have said in reply to sam's question partly answers yours," answered mr ross. "when a boy i often talked with old hunters who for many years hunted ere they fired a gun. they killed partridges with clubs, or with a noose on the end of a pole, as some of them can do yet, as has already been seen. then they had no difficulty in crawling up to within a few feet of the deer or beavers." "what about the more savage animals, such as the bears and wolves?" asked alec. "as regards the bears, as the hides of the old fellows were hard to pierce with arrows sufficient to give a mortal wound, the indians depended mostly on the hand-to-hand conflict with the knife or tomahawk. with the wolves it was different. before the guns were introduced the indians dreaded the encounters with the wolves more than any other animals. it is true that they feared the fire as much then as now, but the indians suffered from many disadvantages. steel axes were but few, and very expensive. now, armed with guns, behind a good fire, hunters are comparatively safe. then, the wolves patiently waited until the limited wood supply was exhausted, and then closed in for the final struggle. it was then teeth against tomahawks, and the chances were more in favour of the wolves than now. solitary hunters or single families caught by a pack were frequently overpowered and devoured. climbing up into the trees afforded a temporary respite, as wolves cannot, like bears, there follow their victims. but the wolves were persistent besiegers, and woe to the unfortunate hunter who was thus treed by them unless help was near. for days they would keep watch, day and night, until the unfortunate one, chilled and benumbed by the bitter cold, fell into their midst and was speedily devoured. in those days the wolves were much more numerous than they are now, and more courageous in their attacks on the wigwams or even small settlements of the indians. when distempers cut off the rabbits, or the deer were scarce, the wolves were very audacious in their attacks. "it was one winter when the cold was terrible and the snow unusually deep that the sad tragedy came to the wigwam of kinesasis. the reindeer had not come down from the barren plains as usual that winter, and the other animals generally hunted by the wolves were few and far between. some of the indian hunters had had some very narrow escapes, and the result was that very seldom did anyone venture far alone into his hunting grounds. kinesasis was always a man of great courage and strength. he laughed at the caution of the others, and boldly pushed on to his distant hunting grounds whenever he saw a prospect of success. his wigwam, in which he left shakoona and the two little ones during his absence, was made as warm and comfortable as such a habitation can be. it was arranged with the best of birch bark, and around outside, up to within a few feet of the top, kinesasis piled the dry moss of that country, which grows there so plentifully. he cut abundance of wood, and left plenty of frozen meat and fish on the high staging outside. the only drawback was that the wigwam was situated on the outskirts of the village, close to the dark forest. once a day, when the ice would be cut by the men of the village, shakoona would take her buckets, made of the skin of the sturgeon, and go to the lake for her supply of water. it did not take her very long to make the trip, and she loitered not on the way, as she generally had to leave her two little ones alone. however, as the little girl was eight years of age and her brother only two years younger, the mother knew they were quite able to take care of themselves under ordinary circumstances during her brief absence from them. "one day, however, when she returned she was horrified beyond all expression to find that a couple of great wolves had noiselessly crawled in from the forest, and were greedily devouring her children. with a scream, but not with a faint, she threw one of the leather buckets of water on the smouldering fire which burned on the ground in the centre of the wigwam. then she instantly seized an axe, which fortunately was near the door by which she had entered. the clouds of steam which filled the wigwam quite disconcerted the wolves. when she had entered they had at once begun to growl more savagely, and seemed as though they would spring at her. the clouds of hot steam at once stopped their snarling, as well as their tearing at the bodies of the children, and, before they could do any further injury, shakoona with one blow cut through the backbone of one, severing the spinal cord, thus rendering him powerless to move. the other one sprang at her ere she could disengage the axe for another blow. the wolf's object had been to catch her by the throat, but she had quickly thrown up her arm as a guard, and into it the cruel brute sank his great yellow fangs. "shakoona was in a terrible position now but her presence of mind did not desert her, and so she quickly backed around the fire in such a way that before the wolf realised his position his hind feet were in the still red-hot embers of the fire. with a howl of pain he let go his grip on her arm and made for the door, which was of mooseskin, and which like a curtain had dropped back into place. "in the meantime shakoona's screams had been heard, and indians from other wigwams speedily rushed to her help. little did they realise, as they were coming, her sad bereavement. the first one to attempt to enter was an indian woman. just as she was entering the wolf with scorched feet was rushing out. the collision, as they met, knocked the woman over, and so delayed the wolf for a second or two that the next comer, who happened to be a stalwart hunter, was able to draw his tomahawk, and with one strong blow drove the keen edge of his weapon into the animal's brain. when these two indians, and others who had quickly joined them, had entered the wigwam they saw a terrible sight-- two children half devoured and a mother so overwhelmed with sorrow that not a tear would come from those great sad eyes. then there was the wolf with severed spine, but still alive and looking more fiendish than ever. very soon was the savage brute dispatched and his body thrown out of the wigwam. "loving hands quickly arranged and covered up what was left of the two children, and efforts were made to comfort the poor mother in her terrible sorrow. swift runners were sent away to kinesasis, to tell him of his great loss and to bring him home, as many feared if his wife did not soon begin to weep she would die. when kinesasis heard the news he too was nearly heart-broken, but when he reached his wigwam and beheld shakoona he crushed down his own sorrow to try and comfort her, who had, on account of the way the great bereavement had come to her, suffered much more than he. for days and days shakoona was as one in a dream. she was gentle as usual, but those great eyes, so sad and dry, seemed to haunt all who visited her. all said she soon would die unless she got relief. they tried many ways, but all in vain, until at length a kindly indian woman went out, and brought in the boys and girls, with whom her little ones used to play. at first shakoona seemed pained by their presence, but as they looked into those sad eyes they began weeping, and, childlike, they threw their arms around her and wept. passively at first she received these fondlings, but soon the children's caresses broke down the barriers, and the hot tears began to flow; and the woman was saved from death or insanity. but her hair turned white shortly afterward, and she has ever since been that sad little woman that you have seen her. kinesasis has never been cruel to her, as, alas! too many of the pagan indian husbands are to their wives." chapter fifteen. the beavers, and something about them--two hunters at sagasta-weekee--a general invitation to a beaver hunt accepted--the preparations--the trip--dog-travelling in the woods--saucy wild animals--the wolf's cove-- the boys' plunge in the snowdrift--the rescue. the beaver is a very interesting animal. in the previous summer the boys had been fortunate enough to see a colony of beavers at work during a beautiful moonlight night. they had also subsequently examined the wonderful dam these industrious, ingenious creatures had made, and were much amazed and surprised not only at its size, but also at the clever way in which every part of it was constructed to meet any emergency that might occur by flood or freshet. they also noticed that the indians did very little hunting of the beaver, or, indeed, of any of the rich fur-bearing animals during the summer months. now, however, that the winter had come they were all alert and active, and as soon as their fall fisheries were completed they began making preparations for the winter harvest of furs. on their success in a great measure depended the happiness and comfort of themselves and their families. they lived too far north to cultivate the land with any degree of success, and hence it was only by the sale of their furs that they were able to buy the essential necessaries for their simple lives. the fur is only considered prime in the winter months. that killed in summer is thin and poor, and for it the hunters receive but a low price. but when the cold weather sets in, the fur becomes thick and valuable. then the hunters leave their homes and go to the distant hunting grounds, often hundreds of miles away. many are their hardships and privations. they take but little food with them, and so have to depend on what they can hunt or shoot. in some regions where the fur-bearing animals are fairly numerous those that are good for food are very few. the result sometimes is that indians doing well in getting the rich furs of the black and silver foxes, otters, minks, and martens, and some other fur-bearing animals, are nearly starving most of the time. on the other hand, those who succeed in capturing abundance of beavers, wild cats, muskrats, and bears, live very well, as all of these animals are eaten by the natives, although their furs do not bring as high a price as the others. the discovery of a large beaver house is a great piece of good luck to an indian hunter. sometimes, when the house is a small one, a hunter will with his axe only put his mark of ownership on a tree near by, then leave it undisturbed. scores of hunters may happen to come along, but when they see that mark they never think of trying to get those beavers. it may be that the owner will mark it the second year, and again leave it for the beaver to multiply the third time. each year the beavers are undisturbed they take down and enlarge their house, until, if thus left for years, and the dam keeps good and the water supply sufficient, they will continue extending their habitation until it is as large as a good- sized haystack. there came one day to sagasta-weekee, on a visit, a couple of clever indian hunters who were great friends of mr ross. among other things they told him, was that two nights away they had a large beaver house which they had preserved for three years, and that they were soon going to take out the beavers. this was just the news mr ross wanted to hear, as he had often talked with the boys about these wonderful animals, and was anxious that they should see how the cleverness of the hunters outmatched all the skill and sagacity of the beavers. then, as it was about a hundred miles away, it would be a capital winter's trip and give them some idea of the indian hunter's life. they would have to camp out in the wintry forest, and would thus find the difference between sleeping in the summer, with the temperature up to eighty, and sleeping in the wintry cold, with the spirit thermometer perhaps indicating fifty below zero. when the boys heard of the promised trip they were wild with excitement. as much preparation had to be made, the day selected to start was about a week after the visit of the two indians. it was indeed a busy week. each of the three boys was to take his dog-train. they would be expected to take on their own sleds their beds, clothing, and part of the supplies. snowshoes were made for them, and every day they diligently practiced this new method of locomotion. they had many amusing tumbles. sometimes, where the snowdrifts were deep, when they attempted to pass over, they somehow or other would get the snowshoes so tangled up that over they would go on their heads. the more they struggled, the deeper they sank in the light, fleecy snow, until it seemed as though nothing was visible but a pair of snowshoes wildly wobbling about. then the experienced indian who always accompanied them would come to the rescue. gliding up gracefully on his own snowshoes to the struggling lad, he would reach down and, seizing him under the arms, would quickly lift him up and once more place him on his feet amidst the laughter of the others. thus they practiced and fell, tried again and again, until the knack was accomplished and they could get along very nicely. in the meantime diligent preparations were being made indoors for this excursion to the home of the beavers. abundance of fat food was cooked. dogshoes were manufactured, as well as large moccasins for the travellers. in due time the start was made. it was to the boys a most unique and novel affair. first ran the guide, a stalwart indian, who could easily keep ahead of the fastest train. it is the duty of the guide, by running on in front, to indicate the best route. he must never make a track where it is not safe for the dogs with the heavy sleds to follow. if he finds a great fallen tree in the way it is his duty, not to jump over the trunk and push on, but to circle around it where the party following can easily advance. in rocky places he must ever have in mind the loaded sleds following, and walk or run where there is an available trail. he must never go between two trees growing so closely together that there will be any difficulty for the widest sled following to pass between them. he is supposed to know the strength or weakness of the weakest train or runner, and so must decide on each resting as well as camping place. in his footsteps all are to implicitly follow, and so his position is one of great responsibility. as a natural result, he is supposed to receive much higher pay than the ordinary dog-driver, who has not much care beyond that of his own dog-train. this being the first trip made in this direction this season, there was not the least vestige of a road or trail. tornado blasts had swept through the forests which abounded most of the way. the result was that fallen trees were very numerous. some of them were so tangled together that it was at times easier to cut through than make the long detour to get around them. knowing this, the guide carried with him an axe instead of a gun. an old, experienced, powerful train of dogs went first. the sagacious leader never swerved from the tracks of the guide. no matter how winding or difficult the trail, he never wandered from it. sometimes he could see the guide straight ahead, while the path seemed to veer at right angles. while the sight of the guide ahead might stimulate him to greater effort and speed, still he knew his duty was to keep in the well-defined track. a straight cut to the guide might run him into a dangerous gully or over a steep precipice. so, knowing his duty, perhaps taught it by bitter experience--and dogs have long memories--he tried his best in his doglike way to do his duty. mr ross's train followed next. they were jet-black in colour, and were large, magnificent dogs. they were so trained that they as readily responded to his calls as a good horse does to the pulling of the reins. then following came the boys with their three trains. frank, having the largest dogs, had the lead. sam came next, and then alec with the lightest but by far the fleetest train in the whole party. behind was another sled of mr ross's with more supplies, and then, bringing up the rear, was a sled belonging to the two indians who owned the beaver house. while one of them drove the train, the other, on account of the many fallen trees in the way that had to be cut out, was on ahead with memotas, the guide. as they thus set off they made quite a display. the boys were simply wild with the excitement of the hour. they looked very picturesque in their handsome outfits. their deerskin suits, over the warmest of flannel underclothing, were very beautiful, as they were made under mrs ross's direction by the most clever indian women. they were beautifully adorned with bead and silkwork and trimmed with fur. their overcoats, as before stated, were made of the heavy white blankets of the hudson bay company. these blankets are very warm and firm, as they are especially made for that cold country. the caps and mittens were of the finest fur. their moccasins were extra large, to allow for the additional wrapping of duffel required over the warm woollen hose. they also had warm leggings of strouds, beautifully fringed and fastened with strong garters artistically worked with porcupine quills. a warm, well- lined hood or capote was attached to each overcoat. this the boys found of very great service and comfort, especially when their inexperienced sleigh dogs were unable to keep the heads of their sleds, at times, from striking against some snow-laden tree with such force that the snow in great quantities came tumbling about them. but for these capotes much of the snow would have found its way into their faces and down under the collars of their coats. to be like the rest of the party, the lads were each the possessor of a fine dog-whip. of course, they were not so long and heavy as those ordinarily used, but they could, when well handled, make a pistol-like crack, and for this purpose only were they used. the first few miles of the route were on the ice over places well-known to all, as in their frequent outings they had gone in this direction. it was well-known to alec, for it was along this very way that he had skated so rapidly after leaving the river, with the howling wolves behind him. on and on they pushed to the extreme end of the lake, for they wished to avail themselves of as much of the ice route as possible, as it is so much easier travelling on the ice than in the forest, where there is no trail. when the sleds reached the spot where they were to enter the forest they found that the guide and his indian comrade had cut down some dry trees and made up a splendid fire. no sooner had the trains arrived than some of the sleds were hastily untied, the deerskin wrappings which were on all were opened, and a couple of large kettles were speedily filled with the clear, light snow and placed on the roaring fire. so light and feathery is the snow that the kettles have to be filled and refilled a good many times ere sufficient is put in to make them full of water. then the provision bags were opened, and abundance of food was taken out for all. one of the indians, who was skillful at this kind of work, was detailed as special cook and general waiter for mr ross and the boys. very quickly he had ready the dinner of the good things mrs ross had prepared for them. the boys were surprised at the quantity of the fat food that was placed before them, and were almost ashamed of the vigour and capacity of their appetites. nature, true to her instincts, puts in the craving for the kind of food most essential for people in different parts of the world. about an hour was allowed for the dinner halt, and then the journey was resumed. there were the usual mishaps that necessarily belonged to this mode of travel. sleds were occasionally upset, and if at the time anyone happened to be riding, he was buried in the snow, from which he emerged none the worse for the plunge, but generally amidst the laughter of those more fortunate. several times a fox or some other animal ran across the trail, and then it required some effort and sternness to control the dogs and prevent them from starting off after these animals, which are their natural foes. the older dogs had learned somewhat by experience the folly of trying while thus harnessed to heavy sleds to capture wild foxes, and so merely confined their efforts to loud barkings and a little more vigorous tugging at their traces. the younger and less disciplined trains, however, with less discretion and more zeal, at once dashed away from the beaten trail made by the trains ahead of them, and recklessly plunged into the forest after the game. "who would imagine," said frank, "that dogs so heavily loaded could thus fairly fly over the snow-covered logs and rocks and among the trees at such a rate?" they learned then, and in many an experience afterward, of the latent strength there is in an apparently wearied dog. only give him the stimulus to develop it, and it is simply surprising to all who witness it. alec's fleet train was the most excited and intractable. bruce could not stand the sight of a saucy fox or a snarling wild cat passing across the trail, only a few hundred feet ahead of him, with any degree of equanimity. after him he must and would go, in spite of alec's hardest efforts to keep him in the trail. bruce, with the other three dogs, about as eager as himself, would often leave the track and with a spurt get off several hundred yards in the woods before he could be stopped. sometimes their stopping would be rather abrupt. generally the trees were so close together that it was not long ere the head of the sled came in violent collision with a great one. this, of course, stopped them most effectually. at other times, while bruce, the leader, decided to take one side of a small tree, the dog next to him took the other side. this divergency of views on the part of the dogs also quickly put an end to their advance. alec, in his determined efforts to arrest their progress at these times, did not always escape unscathed. when in a bad forest where the snow was deep, he often would stumble and fall, and, before he could regain his feet, had acted the part of a snowplough as he was rapidly dragged along. he received some painful bruises, but he pluckily kept to his work, and so had his dogs in fairly good submission before many such trips were made. a laughable but fortunately not dangerous adventure happened to the boys and their trains at a place called by the indians the wolf's cove, on account of the many wolves that formerly infested the place. there it was necessary to cross a very deep valley, or ravine. the hillsides were very steep and slippery under the heavy snowfall. as the dog-sleds have no brakes upon them, the only way of arresting their speedy motion when going down a steep hill is for the driver to hold back the sled by the strong rope which is always attached to the rear end and is called the tail rope. if the hill is steep or slippery, and the load heavy, this is a difficult operation and requires much care. owing to the way in which the dogs are attached to the sleds, the drivers are utterly powerless to render any assistance in arresting the progress of the sled. when the sleds reached the ravine there was a short halt ere the first descent was made. the old, experienced indian drivers were of the opinion that the boys were not strong or heavy enough on their moccasined feet to hold back their sleds, and suggested that, after they themselves had gone down with the loads, they return and take charge of the trains of the boys. this help, kindly offered, was rejected by the lads, who, having managed fairly well thus far, except where the passing game bothered them, were anxious to try this new experiment. mr ross at first was also a little dubious about it, but youthful enthusiasm and love of new adventures conquered. while the first sleds were descending the boys and the rest of the party not immediately occupied watched the operation with a good deal of interest. "faith," said sam, "it's as easy as sliding down the banisters." "the hill seems greased for the occasion," said frank, as he noticed the ease and rapidity with which the sleds slid down in spite of the grip and strong holdback of the heavy, experienced indian drivers. "plenty of snow to tumble into," said alec, who could not forget the way he had ploughed through it when his dogs ran away with him as they attempted to catch the wild cat. fortunately or unfortunately for the boys, there had been a good deal of wind in this part of the country since the last snowfall, and so now there was a large drift of perhaps twenty feet that had been blown into the bottom of the first steep hill. the guides, with some help, had, in the route through this deep snow, gone backward and forward a few times on their heavy snowshoes, and had packed down a trail sufficiently hard for the dogs and sleds. all the heavy sleds with their drivers went on ahead of the boys. thus they, coming last, had the advantage of the packing of the snow. sam, jolly and reckless, was the first of the boys to make the descent, while the others followed closely behind, frank being next to him, and alec bringing up the rear. for a time sam succeeded very well in imitating the experienced drivers. he kept his feet well and firmly planted on the snowy surface, and held back his sled in fine style. the other boys also succeeded in starting well on the trail. they had not gone very far, however, before a small grey wolf, that had been hidden in one of the den-like recesses in the rocks, now thoroughly alarmed by the dingling of so many bells and the sounds of so many voices, suddenly sprang from his retreat, which was in the cliffs on the other side beyond the guide. plunging into the deep snow, he made the most desperate efforts to escape by retreating up the distant hillside in front of the whole party. fierce fires had raged through these woods a year so so before, nearly destroying the whole of the timber. the result was that the country was now here quite open and objects as large as a wolf could be seen for a long distance. from their higher position the boys and their dogs could much more distinctly see the wolf on the opposite hillside than could the rest of the party, who, having safely made the descent, were now on the beginning of the rise on the other side, awaiting the coming of the boys. they did not have long to wait. the sight of that wolf, so clearly seen in the bright sunshine of that wintry day on the snowy hillside, was too much for their brief discipline. spitfire could not stand it. with a howl he was off, and well seconded were his efforts by the dogs he was leading. sam was instantly jerked off his feet, but he pluckily held on to the tail rope of his sled. well was it for him that his pants were made of mooseskin, for they had a good testing of their qualities now, as rapidly on them he was now tobogganing down that steep, slippery hillside. behind him came the other dog-trains. of them the boys had also lost control. such was the steepness of the hill that soon the momentum obtained by the sleds caused them to go faster than the dogs could run. here was the real danger. frank and alec saw how it was faring with sam, and were also quick to observe that with that wolf so plainly visible it would be utterly impossible for them on a downhill, slippery grade to control their now excited dogs, they, boylike, took the risks, and at once threw themselves upon their sleds, and hung on to the deerskin thongs, with which the loads were securely tied. "hurrah for somewhere!" shouted alec. "clear the track!" was frank's hurried shout to sam, whom he saw still in the trail, down which he was now furiously coming. the guide on his snowshoes, in tramping out the trail had near the bottom made a little turn to the left in order to escape the deepest snowdrift which the wind had there piled up. the foremost trains, with their powerful, experienced drivers, had been able to make this detour all right, and now had stopped only a little way ahead. by the time the trains of the boys had reached this part of the descent they were in a most thoroughly mixed-up condition. boys, dogs, and sleds were literally so tangled up that they were to the rest of the party an indistinguishable mass as down they came, and at the bend in the road, instead of being able to turn, they all flew into the heavy drift of snow which was straight before them, and almost disappeared. there was quick work for the onlookers now to do. at first they had been almost convulsed with laughter, as they saw the mixed-up assortment coming down in such a way. then, when the whole flew by and buried itself so thoroughly in the deep drift of light, fleecy snow, there was instantly a good deal of anxiety for the boys. as they began the work of rescue the sight before them was unique. there is a hand working desperately, and here is a foot waving in the air. there is a dog's head emerging as the animal makes a desperate struggle to get out, and there is the curly tail of another coming into view. only such a land could show such a sight. alec, the last to plunge in, was the first rescued, although he had been completely buried out of sight, as had been the others. frank was the next pulled out, feet foremost. sam was the last rescued. his tobogganing slide had been abruptly ended by his being entangled in the harness of frank's train coming on behind him. then it seemed to him as though the head of the oncoming sled, like the cowcatcher on an engine, had picked him and the dogs up, and in an instant more, he said, he was sent flying as from a catapult into the drift, the instant the sled left the track. so far ahead was he thus shot, that the sleds stopped before they reached him, and so, although he was deeply buried, he was not run over. not one of the boys had a scratch or a bruise. the only discomfort was that, in spite of big mittens and capotes, so much snow had found its way where it was, to say the least, not very welcome. but it was light and feathery, and was soon dusted off or shaken out, and then the work was to get out and disentangle the dogs. this was no easy matter. some of them, in the wild rush down the hill, when struck by the sleds had rolled over and over in such a way that their traces looked more like ropes than anything else. others of them were now in such uncomfortable positions that they were howling most piteously for help, while others that had happened to be thrown together, and perhaps each thinking that the others were to blame for this mix-up, were as vigorously fighting as their entanglement in their harnesses and sleds would allow. after the rescue of the lads the indians unfastened one of their most powerful dog-trains from one of the other sleds and hitched it to the rear of these buried ones, from which they had, with the snow shoes as shovels, so thrown the snow that they could be reached. with a good deal of effort and a great deal of fun they were pulled out one by one. the dogs of each train were naturally indignant at thus being unceremoniously dragged backward. as each sled and train were thus hauled out and straightened in the trail, and the harness untangled, the amount of damage could be ascertained. with the exception of a few loose articles that were buried somewhere in the drift there was no loss. it is true that some of the dogs seemed a little sore and stiff for a few days, but beyond that there was nothing serious. snow is a capital substance in which to tumble if there is plenty of it. this adventure, which was often talked about and caused many a hearty laugh, delayed the party about a couple of hours. as the hill up which they were now to go was about as steep as the one down which they had so quickly come, it was decided to fasten two trains of dogs to each sled. this, while making the work easier on the dogs, caused considerable delay. the result was that when the whole party had reached the top memotas decided that it would be best there to camp. chapter sixteen. still on the way to the beaver house--the winter camp in the woods--work for all--feeding the dogs--our boys guarding their own trains--the evening meal--bitter cold--milk in lumps of ice--evening prayers--the wintry camp bed--tucked in--mysterious sounds in the forest--smothering sensations--sam's nightmare--breakfast--tricky dogs--methods of capture--carioles and sleds reloaded--trains harnessed--journey resumed. a winter camp in the north land, and the temperature anywhere from thirty to sixty below zero! cold? yes, we think so, and so did frank, alec, and sam, as now they were passing through their first experience. as was stated in our last chapter, to the guide was always assigned the responsibility of selecting the camping place. the place here chosen by memotas was considered a very good one. first, because there was abundance of dead, dry trees to serve as fuel. these had been killed a year or so before by a great forest fire that had run through that region of country. second, there was a fine, dense balsam grove that had escaped the fire. in one part of it there was sufficient space for the camp. then, in addition, by cutting down some of the smaller of these evergreen trees, their branches, finely broken up, would help to make the bed more comfortable. these are the essentials for a good camp: plenty of fuel and a sheltered spot. it is not always easy to find good camping places, so the guide is generally on the lookout for such localities. the result is his quick eye and good memory generally enable him to select all the camps that will be required on a return journey. when all the sleds were at the spot selected, the first thing done was to unharness the dogs, the faithful animals that had so well done their work. it seemed at first strange to the boys that the dogs could be treated so differently from what horses would have been when the day's work was done. indeed, everything was novel and startling. a days journey was ended, and they were about to take a night's rest. but how different from travelling elsewhere. here was no pleasant hotel or country tavern in which they could find lodgings. here were no hospitable settlers to invite these strangers in to be their guests. they were preparing to stop out here in the woods all night, where there was neither hotel nor private dwelling place nearer than the home they had left now so many miles behind. no wonder sam said, as he pulled a piece of ice as big as a pepper caster off the fur edge of his cap, that had there formed from his breath: "this beats all the lodging houses i ever heard of. faith, and where is the landlord?" alec's practical reply was: "well, there will be no bill to pay in the morning, anyway." "pay or no pay," said sam, "i would like to know where we are going to sleep in such a place as this?" "and where are we going to eat?" said frank. "wait a little while," said mr ross, "and you will see a change that will astonish you. in the meantime each of you take an axe and see which of you can first cut down one of those trees. the exercise will do you good, and then remember," he said with a laugh, "we have no deadheads on this trip." eagerly the boys rushed off to the sleds for their axes, and, putting on their snowshoes--for the snow was too deep for comfortable work without them--they were soon busily engaged at what was gladstone's favourite exercise. in the meantime the men were hard at work in preparing the camp. the snow was between three and four feet deep at the place selected. using their snowshoes as shovels, they vigorously attacked the snow and threw it up on two sides and in the rear, making a snow wall about five feet high on three sides. the two opposite walls were about twelve feet apart, while the rear wall was perhaps ten feet back from the front space where the snow was cleared away. here a great log heap was soon piled up. dry splinters and chips were placed under, and an indian with his flint and steel soon had it ignited. in a little while a glorious fire was blazing, lighting up the whole surroundings. the sun had gone down in splendour and the stars one by one had quickly come out, and now the whole heavens were aglow with them. on the space between the snowbanks a heavy layer of the green balsam boughs were evenly spread. on these the robes and blankets from each sled were arranged by busy hands, while others attended to various other duties. some took large kettles and filled and refilled them up with snow, and kept them on the blazing fire until they were nearly full of water. meat was cooked in some, while tea was made in others. the dog-drivers looked after their own dogs. from the sleds sufficient fish were taken to give to each dog two good whitefish. these were the daily rations of the dogs. the invariable rule is when travelling to give them but one meal a day, and that is given at the evening camp. so severe is the frost that these fish are frozen as hard as rocks, and so the drivers have to knock them off the sticks where in tens they were strung when caught. then they are placed against a log that is rolled as near to the fire as it can be without burning. against this log the fish are stood up next to the fire, and well thawed out, ere they are given to the dogs. getting but one meal a day, they are naturally very eager for it, and so it is no wonder if some of them get up an occasional quarrel. neither is it surprising if some of the stronger and more greedy strive to steal some portion of the supper from those not so active or quick in eating as themselves. one of the best times to study dog nature is when they are being fed. the boys, having each cut down a good, large tree, hugely enjoyed the feeding of the thawed-out fish to their own dogs. they were greatly amused at the efforts of the greedy ones to rob others. they had their whips in hand, and while they each took good care not to strike his own dogs, they rather enjoyed giving a crack to some cunning old rascals from some of the older trains, that having in all probability imposed on the youngsters all summer imagined they could with impunity keep it up here. "you would, would you, you thieving beast!" said sam, as with hearty good will he brought his whip vigorously down on a powerful old dog that was making a cunning attempt to rob spitfire of about half a fish. with a howl of rage the baffled fellow quickly sprang back into the gloom. frank and alec also had to be equally alert, to see that their dogs were not robbed by others. mr ross and the indians were much amused and pleased, to see the zeal and promptness, with which the boys guarded the rights of their trains. they said that this was always the way with old dogs; that they would try most persistently for a few nights, in the beginning of winter, to rob the younger animals. a few good thrashings generally cured them of it; and sometimes, to the surprise of some of these old fellows, a youngster would develop such spirit and strength that he would turn on the would-be robber and give him a thrashing himself. then there would be no trouble from that old fellow afterward. "i wonder where the dogs will sleep," said frank. "wait a little while and you will see," was the reply from memotas, the guide. sure enough, it was evident that they knew how to look out for themselves. the older ones, after being certain that all the fish had been distributed, would lift up their heads and sniff the breeze. no matter how slight it was they could easily detect it. then they would travel about the camp in the snow until they found a sheltered spot, free from the wind. here they would turn round and round until they had made a hole in the snow, away down near the ground. then down in it they would curl themselves into as small a bundle as possible, with their tails over their noses, and there they would shiver or sleep through the night, as the cold would permit. the younger dogs seemed at first very uncertain as to their movements. some of them followed the actions of the old dogs, but others, that had but little of the eskimo blood in them, clung to the fire and the company of their masters. for these mr ross had a driver bring from one of the sleds two or three extra buffalo skins, which he thoughtfully had brought along. these were spread out near the fire, at a spot from which the snow was partially cleared. "now tell your dogs to sleep there," said mr ross. the boys quickly did so, and it was not long before those that had not gone off and dug nests in the snow for themselves, were closely cuddled together on the comfortable robes. in the meantime supper was being prepared by others. meat and fish in generous quantities were cooked in the kettles. bread and flat cakes, well supplied with grease or fat, were being thawed out, and a large quantity of good black tea was prepared. a large deerskin robe was carefully spread out before the fire, and over this a plain tablecloth was laid. then the dishes, which were all indestructible, were placed in position, and the fat meat, strong tea, and hot rolls or buns were vigorously attacked by mr ross and the boys. while they were thus enjoying their meal the rest of the party, not far off, were similarly engaged. there were several things about this camping out in the woods that much surprised the boys. one was that the numerous sparks from the fire had such long fiery tails. another was that the frost so quickly froze up the large pieces of meat, that often had to be thawed out two or three times at each meal. another was that the ice often formed on their cups of tea, which had been taken boiling hot out of the kettle only a few minutes before. then they were startled by sharp reports, like pistol or musket shots, that they kept hearing from places in the dark forest all around them, as though some lurking savages were taking snap shots at them. two especially were so near, and so real, that sam jumped up so suddenly that he spilled his tea over the tablecloth. "faith, indeed," he exclaimed, "i don't want to be potted out here by any wild huntsmen, or northern desperado, or red indian." the other boys were also much startled, but mr ross quieted their fears by telling them that these sounds were caused by the bursting in the trees, as the result of the freezing sap. water in freezing always expands, and as there is sufficient sap in some trees, when it freezes, it bursts them. it must expand, and tremendous is its power, as even the burst rocks show. "it is a good thing that the ice remains on the top of the water," said frank. "as it freezes it expands, and thus, being lighter than the water, it comes to the top." "what a mess we would be in," said sam, "if as the ice froze in chunks it sank to the bottom and kept at it all winter. sure then, before spring, in such a land as this, the lakes and rivers would all be one solid mass of ice, and then what would become of the fish and us?" "a sensible remark, sam, and characteristically put," said mr ross. "if the ice were heavier than the water, and continued sinking, the colder regions would continually be encroaching on the warmer, to such a degree that in time the earth's habitable portions would be very much diminished." "why is it," said alec, "that the milk which we are carrying in chunks, wrapped up in paper bags, when put into our cups of tea, does not melt as soon as do the lumps of white sugar of the same size?" "closely examine a lump of frozen milk, and also a lump of sugar, and you will easily see the reason," said mr ross. "when milk is firmly frozen it is very solid indeed--so solid that even hot water can only melt it on its surface. with a lump of sugar it is very different, as on account of its porousness the water at once forces its way through it, and thus is able to quickly dissolve it." thus in pleasant chat the hour passed away in spite of the bitter cold. they were all securely wrapped up, only portions of their faces being visible. they regretted that they could not handle their knives and forks with their heavy mittens on their hands, but were obliged to exchange them for well-lined gloves while they ate. after all had eaten their hearty supper, and were now gathered near the fire, one of the indians, who, like the rest of his country men in this party, was an earnest, devout christian, struck up in a strong, melodious voice the evening hymn, translated into his own language. quickly the others joined in, while mr ross and the boys sang in unison the english words. after the hymn was sung, and ended up with ken's beautiful doxology, "praise god from whom all blessings flow," another indian devoutly prayed in his own language, after which the service ended by all repeating together the lord's prayer in english. the boys were very much pleased and delighted with this evening service of praise and prayer. their weird surroundings added to its impressiveness. then the fact that they were out in the cold forest, with no roof above them but the starry heavens and no walls around them but snowbanks, and the temperature so many degrees below zero, made the petition in the beautiful hymn sung very appropriate: keep me, o keep me, king of kings, beneath thine own almighty wings! after prayers the men made a thorough examination of the sleds and harness, to see that everything was in good condition, as they intended, if all was well, to start on the journey long hours before daylight. then the beds were made. this operation very much interested the boys. the first thing the indians did was to put everybody out of the camp; then they scattered fresh green balsam boughs, finely broken up, over the whole spot, from which the snow had nearly all been cleared. then, on the side where mr ross and the boys were to sleep, the indian bedmakers first spread out a deerskin wrapper, which during the day was used to hold all the various articles constituting a sleigh load, the whole then being securely lashed on by deerskin straps. it was made by sewing several large, well-dressed deerskins together. this large wrapper being made smooth and even, there was next spread out on it a couple of splendid buffalo skins. then on the top of these the warm, thick blankets known as four-point hudson bay company's blankets were placed. while the bed was being thus prepared mr ross and the three boys were busily employed in preparing themselves to occupy it. it can be readily understood that there was no such thing as "undressing" for bed in such a cold bedroom. "unloose your collars and shirt bands," was all the directions given, as far as disrobing was concerned. the heavy travelling moccasins used during the day were exchanged either for long fur boots that came up to the hips, or for much larger and softer moccasins than those used during the day. it generally added to the comfort if a few of the tightest buttons on some of the inner garments were unloosed. then the heavy blanket coats, which had been well dried of all the perspiration absorbed during the day, and well warmed, were put on. the heavy fur caps, with the big fur ears, were well drawn down, while, over all, the warm capotes, as hoods, were pulled up on the head and down in front to the nose. great fur mittens made of beaver and otter fur were then drawn on the hands, and the night suit was complete. mr ross took the outside place. then sam, alec, and frank cuddled down in the order named. there they lay with their feet as near to the fire as it was safe, so as not to burn the blankets or robes. then the indians quickly threw some heavy blankets and fur robes over them and began at their feet to tuck them in. indians are very clever and handy at all such work, their movements are all so gentle and skillful. they would make the best nurses in the world. no woman is quieter, quicker, or more prompt just to do the right thing in the right way than an indian attendant with a little training. it seems to come to them more natural than to any other people. so here they so daintily, and yet so thoroughly, tucked in the "master," as they called mr ross, and his three young guests. the boys enjoyed the operation hugely until they reached their heads. then, as the indians began to tuck in both blankets and fur robes under their heads, completely covering them up, it was a new experience, and one not very pleasant to contemplate. mr ross, who was an old traveller in this land, and one who had slept out hundreds of nights in this way, was not at all discommoded by the tucking in. but it was too much for the boys. they stood it as long as they could, and then almost simultaneously they threw up their arms and pulled down the heavy coverings from their faces. "o dear!" said sam. "let me freeze to death, but for dear old ireland's sake don't smother me. if ye must send word to my mother that i have been frozen to death or eaten by bears she will believe you, and survive, but let it never be told that the irish lad perished in this country under fur robes and blankets." this pathetic lament of sam's brought forth roars of laughter from all who could understand it. "what have you to say, alec?" said mr ross. "well, the fact is," he replied, "i was feeling about as sam has expressed it, only i put it in a different way. my thoughts were: `it is queer that i should have escaped from the wolves to be suffocated in this land for the want of fresh air!'" "what say you, frank. we may as well hear from all." his answer was: "well, as i lay there on that contracted place, and the half-smothery sensation began to make life miserable, i remembered some of the lessons we were taught at school about requiring so many cubic feet of fresh air, and began to wonder if such laws were obsolete out here." with a little more freedom the boys were again tucked in, and it was not long before they were sound asleep. memotas, the guide, rolled himself up in a woven rabbit skin robe, which was made out of a hundred and twenty skins, sixty being the warp and sixty the woof. his place was next to frank. then the other indians, in their blankets, when they had finished their smoking, laid down wherever there was room. these hardy natives do not wear half of the clothing by day that white people do, neither do they require such warm beds at night. the only disturbance in the night was caused by sam. he set up a great howling, which caused the guide to spring up in a hurry to see what was the matter. in the morning, when sam was questioned as to his troubles in the night, he said he was dreaming that he was sliding down one of the rocky mountains with an elephant after him, and just as he reached the bottom the elephant tumbled on him, and there he lay yelling for help, until at length some one came and drove the elephant away. this was too much for even the sedate, clever memotas, and as mr ross noticed his hearty laugh, as a thing so unusual, he said: "come, memotas, you must surely know something about this." "yes," he answered, "i saw the elephant. it was spitfire, his dog. i heard alec moaning gently at first, and so i uncovered my head, for i wake very easily, and there was his dog. he was coming up from his feet, for the fire was burning low. he would take one or two steps and then stop and smell. i saw he was trying to find his master, so i did not disturb him. soon he came up so far that he could lie down on sam's chest, on the outside on the robes. then sam, he began howling, and so he had what you white people call the nightmare, but this time it was the night-dog." and memotas softly laughed again, and others joined with him at sam's expense. at mr ross's request a large quantity of fuel had been cut the previous evening, so that the fire was not allowed to go entirely out during the whole night. the trees most common for fuel in all the north country are the dry spruce and balsam. the guides, looking for the camp, love to find a group of them where they are from fifty to seventy-five feet high. all required are chopped down and then cut into lengths of from ten to fifteen feet. they are easily handed by the stalwart men, and make a bright fire. generally the fire is allowed to go out after all have retired to rest. however, if the wolves are howling around, the fire is well looked after all night, as these vicious brutes are very much afraid of a bright flame. the stars were shining brightly, and there was no sign of light in the eastern sky, when all were up and busy making preparations for the day's journey. what most perplexed the boys was that there was no preparation made for washing hands or faces. towels and soap were not considered essentials on such a journey. each had in his pocket a comb and a toothbrush, and with these and a cup of melted snow he had to be content. frank, young englishman that he was, dearly loved his tub, or bath, and so it seemed about the hardest deprivation thus far presented that he could neither wash his hands nor face. "too cold for that," said the guide. "a missionary once tried it, although we warned him against it. he was three months healing up his chapped and bleeding hands." then the guide added, as a little consolation, "if you like you can give yourself a dry rub with a piece of deerskin." the breakfast was similar to the supper of the previous evening. indeed, there was about the same bill of fare for every meal. it was strong, hearty food, and everyone was ready to do ample justice to it. after breakfast came prayers. a few verses from the good book were read by memotas, and then prayers were offered. twice every day do these godly indians thus worship god. they are the converts of self- sacrificing missionaries who, coming into these lands, amid the privations and hardships incident to such lonely, solitary places, here patiently toiled and laboured to win these natives from their degrading, superstitious, abominable old religion to a knowledge of the one living and true god. they have not toiled in vain, as the true, noble, consistent lives of hundreds of their converts now bear witness. the catching and harnessing of the dogs is a matter of pleasure or trouble, just as the dogs have been trained. dogs kindly treated, and taught to obey, give no trouble, but with many, where their training was defective, there is constant annoyance and worry. the boys had treated their dogs so kindly that the cheery call was all that was needed. so with all the trains of mr ross's except one. these were what might be called a scratch train. they had been bought singly from different parties. when in harness they were the equal of any, but the trouble was to get them into their harness. one was a white animal. at the first sound or movement in the camp, he would sometimes quickly sneak away from where he had nested all night, and then lie down quietly in the snow. so white and still was he that it was impossible for the keenest eye to detect him in the early morning starlight. no calling would bring him. he just lay there perfectly still, and buried enough to be even with the snow around him. when he had one of these skulking tricks on him the quickest way to find him was for several indians to begin tramping in ever-widening circles around the camp until they ran on him. he would never run away, but his cunning trick was really more provoking than if he did. he was at length broken of it by being thoroughly blackened. then, of course, he could be easily seen. this so grieved and humiliated him that he never tried the trick again, even after his beautiful white coat was cleaned for him, much to his great joy. some dogs, as soon as they hear the bells jingling in the morning as their drivers come for them, will skulk off into dark places in the forests. there it is often difficult to find them. then again some are so wild that a rope at least sixty feet in length is tied to their necks in the evening as they are unharnessed. by tramping around them in the morning the driver at length gets hold of the rope and draws in the culprit. a missionary who travelled some thousands of miles every winter with dogs, had about the most satisfactory way of summarily dealing with skulkers. he had in his own team a powerful st. bernard, so trained that all he had to do was to show him the collar of the missing dog and then send him after the truant. hamilton gave one smell at the collar and then was off. if that dog was anywhere within two miles he was driven into the camp in a hurry. if a stubborn, obstinate dog objected to march in before him, he gave him a shaking that never had to be repeated. dogs have good memories for various things. the loading the sleds was not as easy a matter as some might imagine. this the boys found out when they tried to attend to the work themselves. as stated somewhere else, the sleds are only sixteen inches wide and ten feet long. they are made of two oak boards lying on the flat and well fastened together by crossbars. the front end is planed thin and steamed, and is then curled up more or less gracefully, according to the taste and skill of the maker. they have no runners on them. they just glide along on the smooth flat under surface that by wear becomes like polished glass. along each side numerous loops are securely fastened. when the empty sled is to be loaded, the first thing is to spread out over it one of these large deerskin wrappers, the sled being under the exact middle. then the various articles constituting the load, blankets, robes, provisions, kettles, guns, dog-fish, and everything else, are carefully piled up, the heaviest at the bottom, to make the upsets as few as possible. then the great deerskin leather is carefully and tightly folded over from both sides, and the whole is securely lashed on by the strong deerskin ropes, which are passed from side to side through the strong loops on the sled. an experienced driver will so well tie on a great load of the most miscellaneous articles that it will not give an inch, or be in the slightest degree disarranged, no matter how many times it may upset, or roll over, or tumble down hillsides, either end first, or sideways. so the boys, after finding that their best handiwork in this line often came to grief in bad places, were glad to avail themselves of the assistance of a clever indian, and there was no more trouble. one careful look all around to see that nothing has been forgotten, and the cheery "marche!" is heard. away rushes the guide, and another day's journey is begun. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter seventeen. still on the way to the beavers--the blizzard in the camp--sleeping and eating under difficulties--vicious little beaver dogs--the beaver house--preparations for their capture--the beavers' kitchens--discovered by the little dogs--how destroyed--the method of capture--man's experience versus animal instinct--the rich harvest of beavers. still on the way for the beavers! we are surely a long time getting there, but every mile of the journey is interesting and full of novelty. we left the blazing camp fire at a little this side of the wolf's cove. the stars were shining brightly in the heavens. even the morning star, now so brilliant, had not as the harbinger of the great sun yet made its appearance. as a help to brighten up the trail for a short distance it is generally customary to pile on the fire, before starting, all of the wood remaining. this makes things look cheerful, and assists in the last investigation of the camp that nothing, not even a half-buried axe, is left behind. at first the progress is not very rapid. it is fearfully cold. the dogs seem a little stiff, and some of them act as though they would much prefer to remain near that cozy camp fire. but there is no time for regrets or delays. "marche! marche!" is the cry, and as the whips, wielded by dexterous hands, give out their emphatic cracks the coldness and stiffness soon wear off, and after the first mile or two the progress is very much improved as dogs and men warm up to their work. we need not dwell much longer on the journey. enough has been given to enable every bright boy and clever girl who reads these pages to see how it is that travellers get along in a land where only the canoe in summer and the dog-train in winter afford them any possibilities for locomotion. here are no locomotives, but lots of locomotion, and the most of it is done on foot, as often it is quite enough for the dogs to drag the heavy loads through the deep snow and in the long, tangled forests, without carrying an additional man or boy. so it is walk, or run, or more generally trot, as the case may be, as the dogs are able to get on or the trail will permit. another long day, with its glorious sunrise, and then, after the weary hours of travel and the several stops to eat, the sunset in cold splendour comes, and with it memotas calls for the halt. then another night in the woods, very similar to the one fully described, is passed, with the exception that during the hours of troubled slumber the fierce winds arose, and the light, dry snow in the three piled-up snowbanks of the camp was rudely seized hold of by rough old boreas and driven hither and thither in his own rough way. most of the snow seemed to find its way back to the place, from which the snowshoes some hours before had thrown it, and now well it is for our young lads that they are so completely covered up in their bed, for the snow is now upon them to the depth of a couple of feet. fortunately, the snow is like an extra blanket which dame nature has thrown upon them to add to their comfort. when the storm was beginning, and they began to move as some erratic snowflakes were so twisted around that they reached their faces, the guide, who well knew what a wretched night of discomfort would be theirs if they now, in the blinding storm, uncovered their heads, shouted to them with a good deal of sternness, "do not uncover your heads; lie still and sleep." this, after a little effort, they were able to do. the fun, or rather discomfort, came in the morning, when the cry to get up was heard. suddenly they sprang up, but in spite of all their quickness some of the snow went into their faces, and down their necks, and--well, it was far from agreeable. the outlook was dismal enough. the storm still continued raging. there was, in addition to the wind playing all sorts of pranks, with what had already fallen, now a heavy snowfall besides. it seemed to penetrate everywhere. it forced its way into their eyes and noses and pockets, and tried to get under their caps and capotes. the fire was completely extinguished. in fact, where the bright, blazing fire was so cheerily throwing out its heat and warmth when they were tucked in by the faithful indian, now a great snowdrift occupied the very spot. the experienced travellers in these lands, even under such conditions and worse, do not lose heart. quickly they went to work. strong axes soon felled more dry trees, and cut them into logs. others, with snowshoes as shovels, soon cleared away the snow drift from the fireplace. a skillful firemaker soon had the dry kindling and chips under the logs in ablaze, and now the wind only fanned the flames to a greater brightness. as the downfall of snow continues very heavy some tough poles are cut down and one end of them so fastened in the snow that they are firmly held. they are so slanted toward the fire, with the wind in the rear, that when roofed over with the big deerskin and a couple dropped each side it is astonishing how comfortably sheltered a few persons thus can be. the active indians shook the dry snow off from some robes, and placing them as a floor mr ross and the boys were soon under a storm- tight roof and gazing into the great fire just before them, that gave them both warmth and cheer. a hot breakfast was enjoyed as soon as the indians could cook it. some of the indians improvised a similar lean-to for themselves, while others stood out in the gale around the fire perfectly unconcerned. to them the heavy storm was as little heeded as the songs of the robins in springtime, or the summer zephyrs among the trees. owing to the delay of a half day on account of this disagreeable storm, the party did not reach the vicinity of the beaver house until toward evening. so it was resolved to find a good place for the camp, as the indian hunters who owned this house said they would not take the beavers until the third day in the afternoon, and then they would take all they decided to in a short time. this was, of course, all a mystery to the boys, and so they were obliged to have patience, and witness the contest between animal instinct and cunning, and man's reason, observation, and ingenuity. the spot selected for the camp was not far from the beaver house, which stood in its symmetrical proportions well covered with snow, and looked like a great haystack in some farmer's yard at home. the boys had observed on the sled of these indians who owned the beaver house a little wicker-like basket well-lined with rabbit skin. one day, when peering into it, two fierce little dogs snapped at them most viciously, and seemed very much annoyed at their intrusion. in the evening at the camp fire they asked mr ross about them, and were surprised to hear that they are what are called beaver dogs. he said they were valuable, for with their help the indians would get the beaver in a very novel which they would see commenced to-morrow. mr ross cautioned the boys not to put their naked hands near the vicious brutes, as they were very fierce, and especially disliked white people. the camp was a well-sheltered, comfortable one for such a place, and as the storm had completely passed away, the evening, although very cold, was a fairly enjoyable one. the routine at this camp was similar to the first. the only excitement the boys had, was when one of the indians came in from exploring the beaver house and dam, and told them that a large wolverine was seen walking on the dam the heavers had made, and then round and round the beaver house. "beaver plenty safe there," he added, in his broken english. "wall four feet thick. frost make all like stone. only one door, and that under the thick ice and water. wolverine no catch beaver in that house." then he added: "beaver there for injun to take. white boys see how him do it quick, two days more. plenty work first, then plenty beaver." this picturesque talk to the boys was very interesting, and so they were all eager to see, as sam said, "the curtain go up and the show begin." as nothing could be done the next day before daylight, there was no particular hurry in getting up. after giving orders to the men who were left in charge at the camp to see that the dogs there remained, and that everything was kept in the best of order, and dinner ready at a certain hour, mr ross and the boys, like the rest, strapped on their snowshoes and away they tramped. the indian hunters had the little dogs with them. these they carefully carried and kept covered up when not at work. the boys were first taken to the top of a hill, from which the whole pond, dam, and beaver house could be distinctly seen. then mr ross explained that, while the beaver generally dwelt in their house during the winter, they had in addition what the indians called kitchens. these were cunningly hid along the shore at the edge of the ice. all were now out of sight and under the snow. they were ingeniously made, in such a way that the beaver by frequently visiting them and breaking away the ice, as it formed on the inside, could thus keep them open. they were really breathing places for the beaver in case they should be attacked in their houses and driven out. inexperienced hunters often try to get the beaver by chopping, digging, or even blasting with gunpowder a hole into the beaver house. if the pond is well supplied with kitchens, or breathing places, the beavers need only laugh at such hunters, for just as soon as they become alarmed by these outside noises they plunge into the water, which is always open in the warm house, and dive out under the outer edge and away they go under the thick ice to the kitchens, which are so cunningly hid away. there they quietly remain and breathe the air, which is necessary as it comes through the light snow, and through the rushes and reeds, from which they keep the ice. when the noise is over and the beavers think that their enemies have gone, they go back to the house. if the invaders have much destroyed the house, the beavers desert it entirely and live in these kitchens until the spring freshets come and melt and carry away the ice. sometimes a large colony of beavers with a big house will have twenty kitchens. if one is discovered they swim to another. we must remember that the beaver, although an amphibious animal and able to remain quite a time under water, requires fresh air, and so must go where he can get it, or he will die. the length of time that a beaver can live under the ice without air is a matter of dispute, even among the experienced hunters themselves. they all, however, agree in saying that, when beavers find all of their retreats cut off, as a last resort they come up to the ice and breathe out the air in their lungs against the ice, and then, when it is good, they breathe it in again. but the trouble is that they lose some air bubbles each time, and so they soon become exhausted and die. in the meantime, while these interesting explanations were being made to the boys the indians had commenced their operations. they had cut down a couple of small green birch trees which were eight or ten inches in diameter. then they cut off lengths of about eight feet each. on these they vigorously set to work with their axes, and so cut or trimmed these down, except a foot or fifteen inches at one end, so that when finished they were like gigantic pounders. with these made and thrown over their shoulders they took their way to the pond, only carrying in addition the two little dogs. when the pond was reached the little dogs were set down in the snow near the edge. at first they only moaned and shivered and begged to be again taken up by their masters. these, however, had no intention of doing anything of the kind. "umisk! umisk!" they excitedly cried, and soon this indian word for "beaver" began to have its effect upon the dogs. pricking up their ears, they began running about, until at length, with a couple of yelps of triumph, they were off. they hurried away as fast as their little legs could carry them through the light snow to a spot near the shore. here they began making the snow fly as rapidly as was possible with their fore paws. one of the indians assisted them by utilising his snowshoe as a shovel, and, sure enough, there at the very edge of the ice they found a mass of rushes and grass most cunningly arranged, with a little space in the centre where it was open water. this was a beaver's kitchen that had been so cunningly discovered by the keen scent of the little dogs. as soon as it had been discovered the indians quickly picked up the little dogs and stowed the shivering creatures in warm bags on their backs. now the boys were able to see the use to which these great big pounders, hewn out of the young birch trees, were put. with both of them the men began vigorously pounding down the coarse grass and rushes, and left the place so exposed that in a few hours it would be so solidly frozen over that not a particle of air could enter. leaving this kitchen now completely destroyed, they began skirting the shore for a little distance up farther from the beaver house. once more they lifted the little dogs out of the warm bags and placed the shivering animals on the ice. then again the cry rang out, "umisk! umisk!" the result was as before. like as an electric shock these words acted upon these queer little dogs, and at once they seemed to forget all about the cold and most vigorously set to work, and in a very few minutes had discovered another kitchen. this one was destroyed in the same manner as was the first. thus on and on they cautiously prospected and worked. at one place where they had gone but a short distance from the last kitchen destroyed, suddenly one of the little dogs obstinately turned back and rushed to a spot where even the most experienced indian had not the slightest suspicion of anything being, until the keen instinct of the dog discovered it. following up the little fellow to the spot where he was now barking most furiously, the men had not dug long in the snow before they found the most cunningly hid away kitchen on the whole pond. so large was it, and so well arranged as the breathing place of a large number of beavers, that the hunters declared that if they had let that single one escape them they would have completely failed when they made their attack upon the beaver house. this sharpness on the part of the little dog made the men the more careful, and so it was noon ere the end of the pond was reached and about half of this work was completed. dinner was ready for all when they returned to the camp. the boys were hungry and the cold had helped to sharpen their appetites. "how is it?" said sam, "that i find myself picking out the fattest part of the meat and hardly caring to eat anything else?" "that is," said mr ross, "because you are in first-class health. and nature, true to her instincts, is giving you and the rest of us the craving for just the kind of food that is now best adapted to our requirements. fat food has more heat in it than any other kind, and so that which you here crave is that which is really the most suitable. living as we now are, day and night, out in the open air in this sharp cold weather, we require much more heat to keep us up to our normal temperature than if we were inside of the warm walls of sagasta-weekee." when dinner was ended the party returned to the pond, and the work of discovering and destroying the remaining beavers' kitchens went on all the afternoon. the following night the two indian hunters, upon whom so much depended, did not take any sleep, but with their heavy pounders kept on the alert against the efforts of the clever beavers. when they returned to the camp for a hasty breakfast in the morning they reported that they had had a very busy night, as the beavers seemed to have become possessed with the idea that an attack was soon to be made upon them in their house. the result was they were very active all night, and persistent in their efforts to break through the new ice as it formed, and thus, if possible, keep some of their kitchens available in case of need. some were so bold that if the indians had been so inclined they could easily have speared them, as they so bravely charged the new ice with their heads and broke it up. they said that at that largest kitchen, which they so nearly overlooked, the beavers made their most persistent attacks. at times as many as a half dozen would together strike bravely at the ice. however, they thought that they had now succeeded in getting every place frozen air-tight and they could safely begin the work of attack upon the house, so that they would be ready by to-morrow to begin the capture of the beaver. axes and ice chisels were the powerful tools required to-day. beginning at the shore on each side of the beaver house, the indians cut two channels in the ice about a foot wide, and so converging that they met about six feet in front of the house. then the ice was cut out about ten feet further into the pond directly in front of the house. the capital letter y will give a correct idea of the cuttings thus made. the upper two lines are the ones from the shore on each side of the beaver house; the lower and wider part of the letter represents the channel cut in front. this was perhaps ten feet long and about two feet in width. the next step was by careful measurement with a long pole to find the depth of the water in these channels thus free of ice. when this was done everybody able to handle an axe was soon busily at work cutting down small trees into poles not less than four inches in diameter, and so long that when well driven in the mud the tops would still be considerably above the ice. none but straight, strong ones were of any use. then, beginning close to the shore, the indians, using, of course, the shorter poles where the water was shallow, began driving them in the mud through the channels cut in the ice. they worked very carefully, for the beaver when aroused is a strong as well as a cunning animal, and the hunter who would not fail must be prepared for every emergency. the poles were driven in the two upper sides until the approaching columns of them came within about two feet of each other at the front. from this point the indians turned and began driving the poles in the mud in two lines, parallel to each other, running out into the pond. this left a channel, allowing for the diameter of the poles, of, say, from twelve to fifteen inches wide and ten feet long. carefully examining and testing over and over again the grip of each pole which had been driven into the mud at the bottom of the pond, the men were at length well satisfied with their work and said: "very good. injun have much fine beaver this time. we will have beavers' tails for supper to-morrow night." so anxious were those indian hunters that even during the second night they slept but little, and several times slipped away from the camp and walked around from kitchen to kitchen to see that in every place the ice was firm and unbroken. in the morning, when all were at breakfast, they reported that as the cold had become so intense they felt confident of success and anticipated the capture of a large number of beaver. for days they had been working up to this consummation. experienced men grimly and remorselessly had pitted their long years of experience against the instincts and cunning of a colony of beavers, and, as it always is, in the end, man must conquer. "what are you going to do next?" is the question of the boys. all the answer, however, they receive, is to be patient and they will soon see for themselves. their interest, however, is increased when to all is uttered the command, "get all the guns ready, and load them heavily with powder." with several extra charges they are all soon on their way to the beaver house. when there they find that the water in the channel cut in the front yesterday has ice on it fully six inches in thickness. this will give some idea of the severity of the cold, but nobody seems to notice it in the excitement of the hour. very quickly is this ice broken up and thrown out on the frozen surface of the pond. one of the indians has in his hand a long, stiff rod about the size of a bamboo fish pole. this will play an important part in the capture of the beaver, as we shall see later on. the next part of the program is of great interest to the boys. everybody now goes to the land side of the beaver house, and at once there begins the greatest din and racket it is possible for the whole party to make. the guns are all fired off, and loaded and fired again and again. the men with their great pounders most vigorously beat against the solid walls on the land side, as though they would burst in upon the now terrified inhabitants. this attack and noise continued until it is supposed that all of the frightened animals have fled away from the house, which they must have imagined was about being knocked to pieces about their ears. the result is the house is deserted, and the now frightened beaver are away out somewhere in the pond, swimming under the ice. as soon as the indians feel confident that all have forsaken the house they hurry out on the pond in the front. here in the open water, in the space between the poles which were so solidly driven, the long slender pole is pushed down firmly through the water into the mud at the bottom of the pond. one of the indians now quickly pulls off his shirt sleeve, as well as that of his coat, and throws himself down on the ice close to the open channel which has been described. his comrade quickly throws a warm blanket over him to at least partly protect him from the intense cold. then, arming himself with a heavy axe, this second indian quietly steps back a pace or two. "hush! everybody keep still or sit down on the ice, and do not utter a word. do not move your feet on the ice; do not even breathe heavily, for beavers have wonderful powers of hearing." promptly had everyone obeyed mr ross, who had uttered these commands. he had placed the boys where they could easily see the wonderful way, in which these experienced hunters would quickly gather up their beaver harvest, after all their effort and toil. but where are the beavers? they are in all probability out under the ice, swimming about from one kitchen to another, vainly trying to find one in which they can get their lungs full of fresh air. if the men and those saucy little dogs have been successful in closing up all of these resorts, vain are the beavers' efforts. for a long time these wonderful creatures are able to keep alive under water, but there is a limit to this ability, and then it becomes a matter of life or death to them. thus it now was with these beavers. they had been frightened from their home, and had hoped to be able to obtain fresh air at places carefully prepared for just such emergencies. but, alas! these have failed them, and now there is nothing else to do but to make the effort to get back to their home as soon as possible. this, they now find, is no easy matter. a strange barricade of stakes is in the way, and there is only one opening, and even that is a very narrow one. but they are now in such sad straits for fresh air that they must try that one place and get to their home or perish. meanwhile the boys, sitting so still and quiet on the ice, began to think that it was getting very monotonous, especially sam, who found it to be extremely difficult to have to hold his tongue so long. but look! the top of that long slender twig is being roughly shaken, and quick as a flash down goes the naked arm of the alert indian, and as rapidly does it come up again, and in the strong grasp of his hand is a fine, large beaver. with a sudden swinging movement he sends it sprawling out on the ice, where his comrade is waiting to dispatch it with his axe. now the boys see the important part played by that little stick. see, it moves again, and once more the long, naked arm is thrust down and another great beaver is thrown out on the ice. this one, like his predecessor, is quickly dispatched. for a time all is still again. the beavers crowding behind these two that have been so readily captured have been frightened by their sudden movements, so unnatural, and so they hesitated to follow. but others are closely following behind, and all are suffering acutely now for the want of fresh air, and thus it is only a minute or two before the moving stick tells the story that another beaver is making the attempt to reach a spot where he can get some fresh air. vain indeed are his efforts, for no sooner does he touch that fatal stick than down goes that strong, muscular hand and arm and he is thrown out on the ice, to be killed in the same manner as were his fellows. see what a splendid black beaver that is! but, o dear! he has lost him. yes, he has. that is too bad, and he brought him up far enough for his head to be out of the water, and so he once more filled up his lungs, and as he tumbled in he fell beyond the stick. so that one is lost for this year. but there is no time for mourning over the loss of one, even if he was a beauty. they crowd up quickly now, and the indians are busy. they keep cool and alert, for the harvest is increasing. the condition of the beavers is now so desperate that recklessly they are crowding on, and although the man is pulling them out as rapidly as possible it is evident that numbers, especially of the smaller ones, are slipping by, and thus are lost for that year. in order to secure a greater number the second indian gives his axe to mr ross and goes to the help of his comrade. no need of quiet now. the remaining beavers must get by that stick or perish, and as they make the attempt, while some are captured, many others escape. thus it goes on until the last one has either been secured by the indians or has eluded them. let us hope that he escaped to live another year. "count the spoils, boys," shouts mr ross. no second command is needed. they collect them together and find that there are forty-seven of them, and not a small one among them. in addition, there were plenty that escaped to restock the house, and in two years it will in all probability be as rich a beaver harvest field as it has been to-day. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter eighteen. wise economy of indian hunters--game never all killed--beavers' tails-- the boys interested in them--preparations for the return trip--loads packed--wolverines--their cunning theft of five beavers--dogs and men on their trail--surviving beavers already at work--the return of the hunters--captured wolverines--journey resumed--the camp--the cry of "wolves!" allowing a number of the beavers to escape was the almost universal custom of those northern indian hunters. they never killed all the game of any kind. thus where they alone hunted, the forests continued to yield their yearly supplies. but when the white trapper enters with his steel traps and poisons he kills all before him, if possible, even if he does not secure one half of it. the result is that great regions once rich in valuable fur-bearing animals are now as completely denuded of them as are the prairies of the once countless herds of buffalo. pathetic is the picture of the last of the buffalo! the call, loud and clear, was sent by the far-reaching voice of one of the hunters to the watchers at the camp, and speedily in answer came a couple of trains of dogs. these were attached to the two now well- filled sleds, and the whole party, flushed with triumph at their success, returned to the camp. they are all in good trim for their dinner, and speedily is it dispatched, for all these beavers must be skinned, if possible, before they freeze. the indian servants of mr ross aid the hunters, and so the work is rapidly done. as the flesh of the beaver is very much prized as an article of food, the carcasses were carefully prepared. the tails were left attached to the bodies, with the exception of a half dozen, which were left out for the evening meal. these tails very much interested and amused the boys, not only on account of their odd appearance, but because of the many queer tales they had heard about them. the tail of the beaver serves as a rudder to its owner when he is swimming. it aids him in various ways when he is building his cozy house and marvellously constructed dam. next to his powerful teeth it is his best weapon of defence, as with it he can strike a very heavy blow. thus it was no wonder that the boys were interested in these half dozen tails, on which they expected to dine that evening. the process of preparation was very simple. the tails were from twelve to fifteen inches long and from six to eight inches in width, and about an inch thick. they were oval-shaped, somewhat resembling in appearance a mason's trowel. they were covered with close-fitting, fishlike scales. the first thing necessary in preparing them for the table is to hold them so close to a hot fire that the scales will speedily blister off. the next thing is to boil them for a long time, especially if they are the tails of old beavers. then it is best to allow them to get thoroughly cold, as they taste very much better then, than when eaten hot. on carving them the correct method is to cut the meat in long strips from the powerful central bone. these are then to be served up and eaten with a little salt. beavers' tails thus prepared make a very dainty dish. indeed, it is one of the great delicacies of the country, prized alike by both indians and travellers. the other two great delicacies of the country are the moose's nose and the bear's paws. "that looks queer to me," said sam, "that the delicacies of a country should be the beaver's tail, the bear's paws, and the moose's nose. if such is the case, you see that when here eating even the delicacies of the land you are reduced to extremities!" "a very good one, sam," shouted the boys. "old ireland forever!" the beavers' tails, although never tasted before by the boys, were very much enjoyed by them. they racked their brains and memories to try and think of some article of food that had a taste somewhat similar, but had to give it up. so they had to agree with alec that if you wished to know just how beavers' tails tasted--well, you must eat one. as the evening promised to be a calm and beautiful one, mr ross said that they had better start not long after midnight. they could travel on the back trail until they reached the camp where the storm had struck them without much difficulty; after which in all probability they would have to make a fresh trail. a blizzard storm in that land quickly obliterates a trail, and thus the return journey is often made without a single evidence of any other trip ever having been made in that region of country. their great success in capturing so many beavers meant a large additional weight on their sleds. however, against that was the fact that their vigorous appetites had very considerably reduced the weight of their outfit, and in addition their dogs had, since they left home, devoured about a thousand-weight of fish. forty-seven beavers weigh a good deal when they have to be drawn many scores of miles on dog-sleds, and so, in spite of the lightened loads, it was no easy matter to arrange them on the sleds. that they might be ready to make the desired start in good time, it was thought best that mr ross and the boys should go to bed in their camp outfit as has been described, while the men should load up the sleds as far as possible, just leaving sufficient room in the deerskin wrappings for the packing away of the bedding and the other essentials required at the midnight meal. this meant that the indians would have at least two hours' less sleep than the whites. this would be no unusual occurrence. as a general thing the indians sleep very little when travelling, in summer or winter. this is especially the case when they are employed as canoemen or dog-drivers. they are so alert and watchful and anxious that everything should go right, that often white men have travelled for weeks together with several of these red men in their employ, without ever having once seen one of them asleep. they seldom think of lying down until long after their employers have gone to sleep, and then they are up long before them in the mornings. and yet how few there are who have given these most vigilant and faithful of comrades or servants their due meed of praise! to the music of the few quiet whispered words of the men, as they actively attended to the work of packing up the sleds, mr ross and the boys quickly fell into dreamless slumber. when the men had finished packing and fastening up the loads they dragged them out in line on the homeward trail, leaving sufficient space between the sleds for the dogs when they should be harnessed to them. the result was that the whole line of sleds, when thus stretched out, extended quite a distance from the camp. loud were the shoutings and many were the indignant utterances which quickly aroused mr ross and his young bedfellows from their slumbers. "what is the matter?" demanded mr ross. "wolverines!" was the quick response. great indeed was the excitement, and at first the boys could hardly realise how the mention of that one word could cause such commotion. even mr ross was about as much excited as anyone else. while guns were being loaded, and other preparations were being made for a speedy hunt, the cause of all the excitement was soon told. it was that, in spite of the presence of so many persons and dogs, the wolverines had crept up to the sleds, and had stolen away five of the best beavers, and in addition had so badly scented with their horrid odour more than a dozen others that they were absolutely worthless. "how was it possible that none of the dogs detected them?" asked mr ross. "they are generally sleeping in various places around the camp. i am sure i cannot understand how those brutes, cunning as they are, could play such a trick upon us." in response to this one of the men explained that after they had finished arranging their loads they went out and brought into the camp all of the dogs, so as to have no trouble in finding them when they would be required. they stated also that, during the brief time they tried to get a little sleep, some of the dogs were very restless, and they had to speak sternly to them to induce them to be quiet. then he added: "the dogs most uneasy were those of sam's train. several times they growled, and were very uneasy. spitfire was the worst, and acted like a dog ready for a fight." the stupid drivers, instead of calling the hunters, who were very sleepy from the fact that they had had hardly any sleep for several nights past, sternly threatened the dogs, and thus succeeded in quieting them down. after a time some disagreeably tainted air reached the sensitive nostrils of one of the indian hunters. he did not require a second sniff to tell him what it indicated. with a bound he was up. suddenly rousing his comrade, they rushed out into the gloom of the forest. unfortunately for them, the fire was about out, and so at first it was impossible to see how great had been their loss from these stealthy, cunning animals. it was when they had rushed back to the camp, and were rousing up the other men and rebuilding the fire, that the commotion was made which had so suddenly called up mr ross and the boys. a casual glance had enabled them to see, as we have mentioned, something of the nature of their loss. on a closer investigation it was found that the damage was even much greater. what was to be done? this was the question now discussed, and quickly was a decision arrived at. it was to organise a party, and have them get on the trail of the wolverines, and follow them up until they were reached. it was decided that those dogs which manifested any great eagerness to pick up and follow on the trail should be the ones encouraged to push on as rapidly as possible, while the hunters with their guns should follow as speedily as it could be done in the dense, gloomy forest. spitfire and the rest of sam's train were the first when taken to the place to immediately pick up the scent, and, as soon as they were encouraged by sam to do so, away they dashed in the gloom. bruce and his comrades were equally as eager, and as alec's cheery voice rang out his dogs quickly responded, and away they sped on the hot trail of the audacious, cunning thieves. the two hunters and a couple of mr ross's best men, with their guns well-loaded and with their snowshoes on their feet, as rapidly as was possible strode after them. mr ross and the boys waited until the last sounds of the dogs were lost in the distance, and then, by the light of the now brilliant camp fire, made a more careful inspection of the sleds, and so were able to see the full extent of the depredations made by these most cunning of all animals in those regions. there they not only saw the full extent of their destructiveness, but, under the guidance of the indian now keeping watch over the sleds, they were able, by following back on their tracks, to see how five wolverines had outwitted the whole of them, dogs included. when they returned to the warmth and cheer of the camp fire they found that old memotas and others had prepared for them a good warm breakfast. while it was being partaken of, frank turned to memotas and said: "how is it that you, who are so great a hunter, are not off in the woods with those other men?" with a grim, sarcastic smile he replied: "better some one stay in camp for fear wolverines come in on other side and steal what is left." this answer was at first quite a riddle to the boys. but the fact was, he was so thoroughly disgusted at the remissness of those whose duty had been to have watched that night, that he felt that a great disgrace had come to them all. the idea of allowing five wolverines to thus steal such a march upon them was too much for even the patient, kind-hearted memotas. "why," said he, "it will be the story at every camp fire this winter-- yes, and for long years to come. we all know that wolverines are cunning animals, but when the fact is known that there were so many of us in the camp at the time that five beavers were stolen from our sleds--why, great will be their ridicule and contempt for us." it was indeed a long time since memotas had made such a long speech of this kind, and so, when he stopped, there was an awkward silence. even mr ross had nothing to say. it was very evident, however, that he felt that there had been very great carelessness on the part of somebody, and perhaps he chided himself that he had not interested himself in the matter. however, he had his hopes that, in spite of the cunning of the wolverines, the men would succeed in killing some of them, and as one wolverine skin is worth four beaver skins, if they were successful there would at least be some satisfaction in that. as it was still a long time until daylight the boys were persuaded to lie down in their bed, and memotas carefully tucked them in. refreshing sleep speedily came to them again, and when they awoke it was to hear mr ross giving some final instructions to three dog-drivers who were just about to start on the trail made at midnight by the wolverines, barking dogs and angry, indignant hunters. wrapped securely upon their sleds was a liberal supply of food, with kettles, axes, and other things that might be required. as they started the eastern sky almost suddenly became illuminated with the brightness of the coming day. so beautiful was the morning that the boys longed to go with the departing trains. it was thought best, however, owing to the uncertainty and probable hardships that might have to be encountered, not to run the risk. to pleasantly and profitably pass the time it was suggested that some of them go out on a tour of investigation on the trail of the wolverines, and see in what direction they came and how it was that they had so well succeeded in their movements. dear old memotas, disconsolate as he was, was persuaded to go along and explain the various movements of these clever animals to the boys. this he could well do, as he had hunted them for many years and knew much about them, although he always declared that there were some of them that could outwit any indian. they all first went to the spot where stood the sleds, from which the beavers had been stolen. then, with memotas leading, they followed back on the tracks, and soon they found, as they went on, that the cautious animals had completely crept around the camp, ere they had begun their depredations. continuing on their trail, still going back, they found that the wolverines had come directly from the spot on the dam where the beavers had been captured, as has been described. while so near the beaver house memotas said to the boys that it might be interesting to try and find out if the surviving beavers had as yet gone to work again. that anything could be found out seemed impossible to the boys, but the experienced eye of the old indian saw evidences of their industry very close at hand. of course the intense cold had again frozen up the water where from it the ice had been cut and thrown out. this newly formed ice, of course, firmly held up the row of strong stakes which with so much trouble and care the men had driven so solidly in the ground. drawing his hunting axe from his belt, memotas struck the projecting ends of the stakes a few smart blows, just sufficient to loosen them from the new ice. then said memotas to the boys: "try and see which of you is strong enough to pull any of them up." eagerly they each seized hold of one, and, expecting that the other end was still securely stuck in the mud, they pulled with such vigour that the three of them nearly fell over on their backs. to their astonishment they found by the appearance of the short sticks in their hands that the beavers had cut them off just below the ice. after some further interesting investigation they returned to the camp, for very naturally they were all anxious to get some word from the hunters and the dogs. fortunately they had not long to wait, for very soon after their return the expected ones dashed into their midst. on their sleds they had three dead wolverines. the dogs had returned panting and tired. they were all in good shape, except bruce and another one of alec's train. these, in battle with the wolverines, had each received a couple of severe flesh wounds, but they seemed to think nothing of them, and in a short time they completely healed up. everybody was, of course, anxious to hear their story, and so one of the hunters was asked to be the spokesman for the whole, and here is about what he said: "you all know how we started. you boys set your dogs on the tracks, and away they went and we after, as fast as we could follow. the dogs could travel much faster than we could, and so it was not long before they were out of hearing. the wolverines must have got a good start, as it was a long time before we found any trace of them. but we pushed on as fast as it was possible for us to do in the darkness. sometimes the northern lights shone out, and then we made very much better time. by and by we came to a half-eaten beaver that had been dropped by one of the thieves. this told us that the dogs must be driving them very close, for a wolverine will make a big fight, before he will give up what he has secured. still on we hurried, and it was not long after this before we heard the dogs again. then we found another of the skinned beavers, and now the barkings of the dogs told us that the fight was on in good earnest. "we had been so much hindered by the dense woods, that was the reason we were so far behind, but now, as we came out from a bad piece of the forest, right there before us was a sight to please us for our anger at the loss of the beaver. the dogs had driven one wolverine up into the branches of a large tree, while others were barking furiously at two others which they had chased up among some steep rocks. it was at this time, just as we reached them, that some of the dogs got cut and wounded. they seemed to be so glad to see us coming to their help that they made a furious attack upon the two that were upon the rocks, and some of them were taught that wolverines have sharp teeth and know well how to use them. "we speedily shot these three animals, and then began at once to look for the tracks of the other two. after some time we found them, and in following them up we soon saw that they had reached the great cliffs, among which are their dens. we could not then hope for much more success. so we returned to the spot where we had left the three dead ones, and were just about beginning to skin them when the sleds arrived, and it was thought best, after we had had something to eat from the supplies mr ross was so good as to send us, for us all to return, and here we are." this was the story, and it showed quick, sharp, thorough work on the part of both men and dogs. this long delay had caused quite a break in their plans. mr ross, however, decided that just as soon as the wolverines could be skinned, and dinner prepared and eaten, the home journey must be resumed. some of the party would have preferred to have remained until the next day before starting, but memotas sarcastically remarked that they had better go on for fear some more wolverines might come and carry away the rest of the beavers! it is a remarkable fact, and one interesting to study, that the indians are much more bitter and sarcastic on each other for any act of carelessness in capturing or securing their game, than for any other defect or folly. the homeward journey was soon resumed, and after travelling about twenty miles the winter camp was prepared. fortunate was it for them that they were able to find a favourable place in the very midst of a large quantity of dry trees. so warm and invigorating was the work of cutting down these tall dry trees that not only did the boys, but several of the men, as they said, for the fun of it, slash away until an unusually large number had thus been made ready for the fire. the owners of the beavers were not to be caught napping again, and so they erected a kind of a staging near to the camp, on which the valuable loads of meat and furs were safely placed. memotas had to have another drive or two at them, and so he ironically congratulated them on their late precautions. sam said it looked like the old proverb of locking your stable after the horse was stolen. alec's more charitable remark was, "it is best to be made wise by the loss, and then strive to save the rest." yes, indeed, it was a wise precaution, for even now, while the men were thus hard at work and others were thus discussing their actions, far back on the trail hungry and cruel enemies have caught the rich scent of the beaver, and with long, louping strides are rapidly drawing near. supper and prayers were over, and the men had nicely tucked in the boys in their warm bed. before lying down themselves they had as usual lit their pipes and were having a quiet chat over the usual incidents of the day. with a sudden start they were all on their feet in an instant, for coming down on the wind, in the direction in which they had so recently travelled, they heard a sound so blood-curdling and so ominous that it has chilled the very heart and caused the cheeks to blanch of many a stout-hearted traveller, the howlings of a pack of wolves! winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter nineteen. the coming battle with the wolves--thorough preparations--the cry of the wolves for reinforcements--the first attack and repulse--wounded wolves devoured--memotas's comments--the second attack--the powder explosions-- final victory--dogs reluctant to attack wolves--explanations--mr. ross's story of the bears stealing his pigs--dogs more confident in attacking bears. the indians very quickly aroused mr ross, who at once realised the danger that menaced them. the indians, prompt to act in such emergencies, had already begun their preparations to meet the oncoming foes. they had seized their axes, and were already hard at work cutting down more trees, that there might be an additional supply of wood with which the fire could be kept brilliantly burning. some of the men were busily engaged in getting the guns and ammunition ready and in making other arrangements that would aid to success in the approaching battle. to mr ross the indians left the work of calling up the boys and informing them of the coming danger. this he speedily did, and great was their surprise when informed of the fact that in all probability they were in for a fierce battle with an unknown number of savage wolves. to judge by their howlings the wolves were still a long distance from the camp. the hearing of the indians is very acute, and when the temperature is down so low that the mercury is frozen, sounds are heard very much more distinctly, and from a greater distance, than under ordinary atmospheric conditions. thus there was fortunately a little time for preparation ere they would have to meet the fierce assault. the boys were each urged to quickly put the harness on their own dogs and bring them into the camp, which was rapidly being enlarged. the old dogs, that had a wholesome dread of wolves, were, it was thought, wise enough to look after themselves. before even mr ross and the boys had heard the wolves, the old dogs had detected falling on their ears the melancholy sound, and trembling with fear they came crowding into the camp, and to the feet of their different drivers. trees were fallen all around, under the vigorous blows of the choppers, and were being cut into lengths that could be carried in. three or four men would seize hold of these great dry logs and speedily bring them into the position which they well knew would be to the best advantage. the sleds were rearranged, and so placed that logs could be piled on them. the harnesses were all hung high, and everything made as secure as possible. wolves are afraid of fire, and so now it was that on this fire the indians were going mainly to depend. already the men had thrown a number of fresh logs on the fire, as well as extended it out in crescent shape to the right and left. behind the camp they cut down a number of the trees, so placing them that they made a natural barricade as they crashed into each other. it was not at all wolf-proof, but it would prevent a rush attack, and those bold enough to try to venture through could be easily seen and shot. about five hundred yards from the camp the trail made quite an ascent ere the camp was reached. up to the moment when the wolves reached the top of this ascent they had travelled altogether by the strong scent of the castoreum which is found in the body of the beaver, and which had most thoroughly perfumed the whole party, dogs, men, and outfit. as the brilliant fire now for the first moment was seen by them, their howlings suddenly ceased, and it was evident that they were very much perplexed. "bothered are you?" chuckled memotas, as he carefully examined his gun. "wanted beaver, did you, and prepared to take it raw, and now it looks as though, if you get it, you will have to take it hot? come on for it, if you dare." these sarcastic words were helpful to the boys, who had worked splendidly under mr ross's guidance. there was no doubt about it that the boys were excited. alec, whose fearful race against such monsters came visibly before him, was agitated, yet he bravely did everything desired of him, and felt that he was in for another triumph. it is no sign of cowardice to be conscious of the danger to be faced. the bravest of the brave are those who realise the greatness of the task before them, and then unflinchingly face it, to conquer or to die. unfortunately, on this trip the boys had not brought with them their guns. however, before starting mr ross had seen that one apiece for each of his men, including memotas, with abundance of ammunition, was placed upon the sleds. the hunters fortunately had an extra gun with them, and this was handed to mr ross. "i wonder what conspiracy they are hatching now," said memotas, as the wolves continued so strangely silent. "nothing that bodes any good to us," replied mr ross. he had been in critical positions like this before, and now as the scent of battle once more was on him he handed his gun with pleasure and rejoiced in the excitement of the hour. he would have been glad if the boys had been safe at sagasta-weekee, for as yet it was utterly impossible to form any estimate of their as yet unseen foes' numbers, or to judge of the fierceness of the attack which they would shortly make. for about half an hour this strange, unnatural stillness continued, and then there broke upon their ears a horrid din that seemed to come from every point in the compass around them. although the sound was some distance off, yet so blood-curdling was it that the boys were startled, and alec pulled his fur cap down over his ears in a vain endeavour to shut out the horrid sounds. the dogs seemed at first to try and answer this noisy challenge, but soon their courage sadly oozed out, and they tremblingly huddled together in the camp, or close to their masters' feet. to the boys' amazement, the indians unconcernedly put down their guns, and taking up their pipes began to smoke. turning to the boys, mr ross said: "you had all better lie down and sleep, for we are not going to be troubled with the wolves for a good while." "why, dare we do that," said frank, "when the wolves are now all around us?" "yes," said mr ross, "that last cry we heard was from different points around us, but it was not the challenge of immediate attack, but a call sent out for reinforcements. every wolf within ten miles of us heard that far-reaching cry, and is galloping in this direction." "that means," said sam, "that every wolf within four hundred miles of us is mustering for the fight?" "precisely," said alec, "if you square the circle." it was rather trying for the boys to be asked to lie down and go to sleep under such circumstances, yet they promptly obeyed the request of those they knew would only give them the best of advice. strange as it may appear to some, our brave boys were soon sound asleep, and when, about an hour after they were called up again, they found themselves refreshed and doubly nerved for the coming conflict. the subdued howlings of the wolves were again distinctly heard, and it was the opinion of the indians that they were holding a big council to decide on the plan of their attack. knowing so well their methods, it was the opinion of them all that the heaviest assault would be on the leeward side, as there the wind carried the strong scent from the castoreum and the meat. to impede them in their rush if they should try that method of attack, a couple of indians with their axes ventured out in that direction and cut down a number of trees, which they caused to fall in such a way that the wolves, when approaching, would be delayed by them, and thus render it easier for them to be shot. while these men were thus chopping, in that advanced position of danger, others with loaded guns stood not far behind as their defenders. however, they were not disturbed except by one skulking fellow, that was doubtless acting as a scout. when he saw that he was discovered, he quickly retreated back in the gloom of the forest. the increasing din and the more confident yelps told the men, who, living in the forest, had become familiar with the various sounds and calls of the wild beasts, that reinforcements were coming in, and that the attack would soon be made. the camp could muster ten guns. six of these were doubled-barrelled, but they were all muzzle-loaders. when the boys were aroused the second time they were each given small-sized axes as their weapons of defence, in case the battle should reach the camp, which, however, was not anticipated. in addition they were expected to keep the dogs together, and soothe and quiet them as much as possible. noticing some peculiar rolls of birch bark well back from the fire, on which memotas was keeping a careful eye, sam inquired what they were, and was interested to learn that they were a kind of improvised hand grenade, made by memotas, to be used if the wolves should strive to come too close. they each contained two or more pounds of powder, and if they did but little execution they would at least add to the noise and excitement. at the request of all the men mr ross was appointed as captain, whose word was to be obeyed by all. that he might be able to wisely direct the men to the points where the attack seemed to be most directed, a scaffold of logs was hurriedly erected on the windward side of the camp. so abundant was the supply of wood that the fire was kept burning so brightly that mr ross, from his elevated position, could see quite a distance into the forest in every direction. as was anticipated, the attack was made on the leeward side with a rush, and, with howlings that were blood-curdling, the savage beasts in a pack rushed forward, as though confident of success and an easy victory. the newly fallen trees bothered them but for a moment, as on they rushed. as they emerged from them the men began firing at them, from the point in front of the camp, to which they had advanced. as the first volley from the ten guns rang out a number of wolves fell dead, while others, badly wounded, with howls of pain quickly retreated. mr ross could see that they met with no sympathy, for, wounded as they were, they had to fight for their lives against some of their comrades that, having tasted the blood of their wounds, were anxious to devour them. in the meantime the men with the double-barrelled guns kept picking off the more venturesome of the wolves, while the men with the other guides rapidly loaded them. thus they kept loading and firing until the disheartened survivors drew back beyond the range of the light into the darkness of the forest. for a time all that was heard were the yelpings and snarlings of the wounded and their assailants. these discordant cries seemed to amuse memotas very much. "ha, ha!" said he, "you came for beaver, did you?--with perhaps a man or boy or two thrown in; and now you are content to eat your brother wolf's flesh! you are easily contented, anyway." "wait, memotas," said another indian; "those wolves are not through with us yet, and it is likely that we will have a bigger attack from them than what we already have had." quietly calling one of the indians, who was possessed of marvellous powers of vision, up on the scaffolding where he was, mr ross called his attention to the stealthy movements of the wolves. keen as were the powers of vision possessed by mr ross, those of this indian were much superior, and so he at once was able to detect the wolves skulking back to a point far in the rear of the camp. their object was to make an attack from that direction. to meet this new movement, mr ross withdrew most of the men from the front, and placed them where they would be able to render most effective service. about a hundred feet or more behind the camp stood a very tall, dead balsam tree. seizing a large axe, and calling another indian to do likewise, memotas rushed out with his comrade and speedily cut down that tree, causing it to fall directly from the camp. then taking his queer-looking rolls of gunpowder in his arms, and slipping his snowshoes on his feet, he hurried back to the place where the top of the tree now lay upon the ground. this was at the place along which the wolves would probably come when they again made their attack. here memotas carefully arranged his powder-loaded rolls of birch bark, and connected the fuses of each with a heavy sprinkling of gunpowder, which reached to the trunk of the tree. then pulling the cork out of a horn full of powder, which had been slung on his back, he laid a train on the trunk the whole length of the tree. coming into the camp, as he relit his pipe, he coolly said to the boys, "i think i will give them some singed wolf meat as a change after a while." as was anticipated, at this point a number of wolves gathered to make the attack. they cunningly kept themselves as much in the shadows of the trees as possible, and so were the more difficult to hit. however, they never got very near the camp until the firing for a time had to be nearly suspended owing to the guns becoming too hot from rapid use. this was memotas's opportunity. seeing a number of wolves, emboldened by the apparent ceasing of the firing, coming on with a rush toward the spot where he had placed his birch rolls of powder, he boldly seized a flaming brand from the fire and rushed out to the spot where he had stood when he had cut down the tree. as from his position he could not very well see the oncoming wolves, he waited for mr ross to give him notice when to fire his little train of gunpowder. the instant the word was given he touched the firebrand to the powder, and at once rushed back to join the other indians, who with their guns were again ready for their foes. some of the wolves, more eager than their comrades, had already passed by the mine laid for them, and so were a little startled by the spluttering little stream of fire that passed them as it made its way along the trunk of that tree. carefully and well had memotas done his work, for soon there was a series of explosions mingled with yelpings of pain and terror, and a number of frightened hairless and wounded wolves turned into the forest and were seen no more. a forward rush of the men, firing heavily as they advanced, completed the work, and that strange battle was over. there was but little rest or sleep for any of the party in the camp during the brief remainder of the night. the fires were kept brightly burning, and in turns the men with guns loaded kept vigilant watch against their treacherous foes. as an extra precaution a gun was occasionally fired, so that any skulking wolf remaining in the neighbourhood might know that the inhabitants of the camp were on their guard, and ready to renew the fight if it were necessary. as soon as it was broad daylight, escorted by some of the indians, fully armed, mr ross and the boys went out on a tour around what might be called the battle field. they were surprised at not finding more dead wolves than they did. they were, however, simply disgusted at the many evidences of the rank cannibalism of those that had escaped the bullets. they had without any pity or remorse most rapidly devoured the dead and wounded, with the exception of those that had been singed by memotas's improvised fireworks. so successful had been this explosion, and so accurate the aim of the men, that several wolves of different kinds were found within a radius of half a mile. some had been killed instantly, and so lay just where they fell. others, mortally wounded, had managed to crawl away quite a distance ere they died. but of all those that in any way had been singed or burnt by the fire not one had been torn or mangled by the survivors. however, such had been the effects of the fire upon them that their skins were valueless as fur, and so they were left undisturbed where they had fallen. a good breakfast was ready for them all when they returned to the camp. soon after it was over the sleds were again loaded, the dogs harnessed, and the journey once more resumed. it had been a memorable night for the boys. they had remained cool and collected, but alert and watchful. the conduct of the dogs rather humiliated and disappointed them. why some of them should act so cowardly, and so tremble at the howlings of the wolves, was to them a mystery and an annoyance. they, however, stoutly declared that their own young trains growled, and even barked back their defiance, when the howlings of the wolves were most severe. at the resting place where they stopped for dinner they had quite a discussion on the subject. sam confessed that he had been eager to let the dogs loose and then urge them on to the attack. at this candid confession mr ross was much amused, and said that when a boy, long ago, travelling with his father and some indians, one night in a camp where they were bothered by the howlings of some wolves he, against their advice, urged his own splendid train of young dogs to the attack. only three of them managed to get back to the camp, and they were in such a wounded, torn condition that they were worth but little for weeks. the fourth one had been devoured by the wolves. "as one result," added mr ross, "i had to walk or run on snowshoes the rest of the long journey home, and as it was over a hundred miles i often wished i had not been so eager to set my dogs on a number of great northern wolves." "what do you think would have happened," said alec, "if sam had set the three trains we boys are driving on to those wolves that attacked us last night?" "i think," said mr ross, with a bit of a twinkle in his eye, "that there would have been seen along here somewhere three tired, down- hearted boys trudging along on snowshoes and mourning the loss of twelve splendid dogs." "well," said frank, "i am glad we did not get up a wolf fight, for this is jollier than trudging along all day on snowshoes." with a laugh he threw himself on his dog-sled, and then with a cheer he was first off on the trail of the guide. quickly the rest followed, and the journey was resumed. when the journey was ended, and in after days as various incidents of this eventful trip were being discussed, the boys were loth to have to believe that it was running a big risk to allow sleigh dogs to attack wolves. "what about bears?" said sam. "there is not one quarter the risk run by dogs in attacking bears, that there is when they venture to assail wolves," said mr ross. "these big wolves of the north are generally in a half-starved condition. when attacked they seem to know that it is for their very life they are fighting, and so they use their long, sharp teeth and powerful jaws with the greatest ferocity imaginable. bears, on the contrary, fight in an entirely different way. when they are assailed by dogs they very seldom, if ever, fasten on them with their teeth as do the more vicious wolves. their one great effort in the conflict is to seize hold of the dogs. if they can once get them in the grip of their long, strong, muscular forearms--well, one hug is all the most powerful dog requires to use him up for that day. fortunate is he if he is not killed by the fearful squeezing he has received. dogs seem, by some sort of instinct, to very quickly find out where their danger is, and so, unless they are young and inexperienced, they will fight shy of getting within the reach of those strong forearms that can give such an unlovely hug." "how do the clever, experienced dogs attack bears?" asked alec. "i am in hopes," said mr ross, "that before many more months you will be able to see for yourselves, but as there is much uncertainty about all these things, i will try and describe a battle we had not a mile away from sagasta-weekee a couple of years ago. we had brought some young pigs out from the selkirk country, and had them well housed in a warm pen, around which was erected a high, strong stockade. we knew that bears were fond of pork, and were also aware of the fact that they were good climbers, but with all our experience of them we never imagined that they would attempt to scale that high stockade and try to steal our pigs. but they did, and with a certain measure of success. without alarming the dogs, or even any of the several indians about the place, they succeeded in climbing over that high stockade, and each bear--for there were three of them--grabbed a pig, each one weighing perhaps fifty pounds, and succeeded in getting back over the stockade, and off for the woods ere the loud squealings of the frightened young porkers gave them away. of course, we were instantly aroused by these unusual noises, and at once suspecting the cause, i gave instant orders that the dogs that were at home should be immediately let out of their kennels and put on to the trail of the bears. as soon as possible a number of us quickly followed. fortunately for us, the morning had so advanced that there was sufficient light for us to see our way. we had no trouble in reference to the direction in which to go, as the squeals of the pigs and the excited barkings of the dogs were quite sufficient to guide us. when we reached them we beheld a sight that made the most stoical of my indians laugh. here we found the three bears brought to bay. each one of them was bravely holding in one forearm, as a mother does a child, one of the stolen pigs, while with his other forepaw he was giving resounding whacks to every dog that was rash enough to come within range. my largest sleigh dogs were still out with kinesasis at their summer home, and so the bears were more able to repel the attacks of these much smaller ones. still there were some plucky ones among the dozen or so in this pack, and they knew how to fight bears when they had them on the run. but they were bothered to know what to do with these big fellows, sitting here with their backs against a tree and a noisy pig in one forearm while they used the other like a terrible boxer. "from a distance we watched for a time the peculiar conflict, and perhaps would have done so longer if it had not been that we saw one of my pet dogs, a very courageous little fellow, make a too venturesome rush and get within the sweep of that great arm. suddenly the bear dragged him in, and although the plucky fellow tried to use his teeth, it was of no use. the bear hugged him to himself with such a crushing grip that the poor dog's ribs were broken like clay pipe-stems. then suddenly the dog was flung quite a distance to one side. "we did not want to see any more valuable dogs thus treated, and so we at once pushed forward. when the alert bears saw us approaching they at once started for the distant woods. now the advantage was all with the dogs. it was very comical to see the desperate efforts made by those bears to hold on to those pigs, and also to fight the dogs and to keep up their retreat. experienced dogs know that the tenderest spot in a bear is the tendon of his hind leg, and so that is where they try to seize hold of him. two clever dogs are all that are necessary to delay, until the hunters come up, the largest black bears in our country. it does not depend very much on the size of the dogs. indeed, large dogs are rather at a disadvantage, as it is harder for them to get out of the range of the bear when he turns upon them. in this fight all my dogs did was to assail each bear in front and rear. while the dog in front kept up a vigorous barking as close to his nose as it was safe to venture, the dog in the rear, watching his opportunity, sprang in and gave him a severe nip in the tender spot in his hind leg. this, of course, could not be put up with, and so the bear, still holding on to his pig, quickly whirled around to repel this second assailant. the instant he did so the clever dog that had been in front, but was now in the rear, instantly sprang in and caught the bear in the same tender spot. this, of course, brought the bear back again to him, but he was too clever to hang on, and having done his work he quickly sprang out of the reach of those dreaded paws. seeing the bear once more turned from him, the other dog again dashed in and gave him another severe bite in the same place. thus it was that the dogs, while not daring to close with such large bears, were yet able to keep them from escaping until we came up and shot them." "what about the pigs?" said frank. "they were alive, and not much the worse for their queer adventure, although for some days they seemed dull and sore," was the reply. chapter twenty. a bear hunt in winter--mustagan a famous indian guide--bears' den--how discovered--boys' perplexity--the journey to the den--a cold morning-- the telltale column of steam--the attempt to dig down to the bears-- total failure--successful tunnelling operations--exciting fight in the icy cavern--the battles between the men and dogs and the escaping bears. a bear hunt in winter! no wonder the boys were excited when they heard of it. yes, that was what it was, and a very interesting one at that. mustagan was a famous hunter, as we have already seen. in addition to that, he was a wonderful guide, and had also been a great traveller. he had gone several times on great expeditions to the arctic ocean. he was with sir john richardson on his memorable search for sir john franklin. he had also gone with dr rae and others on similar arctic exploring trips. then this mustagan was the old cree indian who found the silver spoons and other remains of sir john franklin among the eskimos. their recovery gave the final definite knowledge of the tragic ending of that memorable expedition. these relics of that sad expedition, in which about a hundred and forty of the bravest of men perished, some of whom might have been saved if paulette had been true, are now in the greenwich museum. but although mustagan had been long years thus employed he was yet in the full vigour of life, and as a hunter was unexcelled. he was, like big tom, particularly noted for his skill as a moose hunter, and it was when out on the tracks of a moose that he made the singular discovery that led to this bear hunt in winter. when he came over to sagasta- weekee with the news that he had some rare sport for the boys they were, of course, full of curiosity to get all the information. during the previous summer they had all had their peculiar experiences in bear fights, but this finding of bears in winter was a revelation, as they were always taught that the bears, especially in cold countries, hibernate during the winter; that is, that they den up in some quiet retreat in the rocks, if possible, and there remain in a semi- unconscious condition for months together. they generally go in very fat, and on this fat they keep alive all winter. "is it true," said sam to mustagan, "that a bear sucks his paws like a baby does his thumb?" "that is what is believed by the indians," said the old man. "but," he added, with a bit of a twinkle in his eye, "i don't remember any one of us ever having sat up to watch one doing it." "how in the world did you find out where this bear's den is which you are inviting us to see?" said alec. "perhaps," said frank, "he marked it in the fall, like other indians mark their beavers' houses." "no, indeed," said mustagan. "i never thought of one being in that place until i found it by the steam." here was a bigger mystery than ever. "steam!" said sam; "and where was the engine?" "down deep under the snow in a den among the rocks," was the answer given. this did not clear up the mystery, but rather added to their curiosity. "how far away is it?" asked mr ross. "one day's journey," said mustagan. so it was decided that on the following tuesday, if the weather continued bright and fine, the start would be made very early from sagasta-weekee. "no use going then," said memotas, "if the days are not bright and cold. no see any steam if no sunshine." this was a great perplexity to the boys, and they appealed to mr ross to help them out. but he wished them to have the real surprise that mustagan had in store for them, and so he told them to wait until they could see it for themselves, when on the ground. the weather was everything that could be desired. on monday four trains of dogs, with a full camping outfit and plenty of supplies to last for five or six days, were prepared. the boys took their guns along with them and plenty of ammunition. they were going to have their share of shooting if there was any to be done. mustagan, with a couple of his sons and two dog-sleds, arrived very early, and the whole party started while the stars were still shining. one of mustagan's sons, who had been with the old man when the den was discovered, ran on ahead of the trains as guide. as the trail had been made by mustagan and his son when they returned after the discovery of the bears, this made the travelling more rapid and agreeable. three or four times during the day's journey they stopped, and cutting down some dry trees made up a big roaring fire, at which they warmed themselves and cooked a hearty meal. about an hour before sundown they reached the place. as it was too late to do anything that evening in the way of bear-hunting, it was decided to make the camp and have a good night's rest. this was not as easy a matter as it had been in some other places. there was not at any one spot sufficient dry wood for a good camp, especially if they should be attacked by wolves and thus require for their safety a good bright fire all night. however, the matter was arranged by making the dogs help. they were unfastened from their sleds, and while some of the men cut down the dry trees, wherever they could be found, the boys and one or two men hitched their dogs to them and dragged them to the vicinity of the camp, where they were speedily cut up into the desired lengths. there were numbers of green balsams around, and so some of these were cut down and so arranged as to be helpful in keeping off the cold winds. the frozen fish were thawed for the dogs, and then some of the men prepared the usual supper, which consisted of the fattest meat that could be obtained. prayers were offered after the evening hymn had been sung, the beds of fur robes and blankets were made, and mr ross and the boys were soon very thoroughly tucked in. nothing unusual disturbed them in the night, although some of the men had an uneasy half hour, as the dismal howlings of a solitary wolf in the distance could be distinctly heard. the mournful sounds at length died away, and the men again went to sleep. as they were retiring mustagan told the boys that the steam would be going best just after sunrise, and so they had better all be up early and, after a good warm cup of tea and something to eat, be off to see it and then return to breakfast. then he said, "after that we will find out what makes the steam." there was only the faintest glimmer of the coming dawn when the boys were called up. my, but it was cold that morning! how the lads did shiver! wistfully they looked back at the warm robes and blankets which the men were rapidly rolling up. gladly would they have tumbled under them again, the cold was so terrible, it must have been at least fifty below zero. it seemed to chill them to the very marrow of their bones. their teeth chattered. the tears in their eyes froze into ice. the breath touching their fur caps, or capotes, instantly became white and shining. well was it for them that the fire was brightly burning ere they were called. speedily were seats of rolls of blankets prepared for them, and here, with a big buffalo skin thrown around each one as an additional protection, they were seated as close to the fire as it was possible to get without setting their clothes or robes on fire. how warming and delicious was the tea that morning!--well-sweetened, and with a lump of cream in it. cup after cup was taken, and soon the bitter cold was forgotten. "very cold morning," said mustagan. "take good breakfast now, then another good one will be ready when we come back from seeing the steam." with all the clothing that could well be worn consistent with rapid snow-shoeing the party soon set off. their direction from the camp was due south. as far as the boys could make out the region was full of great rocky ravines. but the snow covered everything, and it was evident that the high winds had caused enormous quantities to drift into the hollows and ravines. mr ross and mustagan were in front, while the boys and some indians were not far behind. all at once mustagan, who had been on the alert, called mr ross's attention to an object which at first was to him more imaginary than real. sharp as were his eyes, he was asked to look upon what to him was at present invisible and intangible. the party had all now stopped, and each one was endeavouring to see what already seemed so real to mustagan. "o, i see it!" shouted alec and sam together. "see, as the sun's rays fall upon it, it shines like a small bit of a rainbow." "yes," said frank, "i see it, like a thin column of steam lit up by the morning sun." then it was visible to all. for as the sun arose a little higher, and its full rays fell on it, at the right angle to the spot where our party now stood, there it was, clear and distinct, a tiny spiral column of steam rising up in the clear cold air from a great snowy expanse. there was not a sign of a tree or of a den. then mustagan explained that there was a deep ravine full of the snow, and at the bottom of it some bears had made their winter's nest in the fall. whether they had much of a den or not he did not know. they would find that out when they dug them out. anyway, here they were under many feet of snow. the breathing caused the snow to melt around them and above them, until it formed an icy crystal roof. then, as they went on breathing and breathing, by and by in a little opening it found its way through the crust and through the fine snow, until it made a small chimney all the way up to the top; and then he added, "there it comes out, as you see it now." carefully they all walked up to the spot. the opening was not more than an inch in diameter. it was hardy perceptible. the little bit of steam froze into the tiniest particles of ice, which were invisible except when the sun's bright rays shone on them. it was a great curiosity to the boys. "how many feet below us are the bears?" asked sam, in tones so subdued that everybody laughed. but the fact that only a lot of light snow separated him from he knew not how many savage bears had a tendency to make him a little nervous, and hence his whispered question. glancing over the landscape, and taking notice of the hills in the distance and the amount of country that the storm had swept over, mustagan and mr ross came to the conclusion that between twenty and thirty feet of snow were between them and the icy cave where these bears were drowsily sleeping away the long winter months. after some further investigation, and a talk about the best way of getting down to those bears, the party returned to camp for breakfast. the snowshoe run back was a vigorous one, and enjoyed on account of the cold. the second breakfast was dispatched, and the plans talked over for getting down to the bears. if the snow should be found light and dry quite a distance down it would be impossible to dig a well-like hole down to them. if the wind had packed the snow hard as it filled up the ravine it would be an easy matter. if it were found impracticable to get to them that way, then they would have to tunnel in from below, in the valley, until they reached them. a tunnel can always be dug in deep snow, as the pressure of the mass above sufficiently hardens the snow near the ground to make it quite possible to accomplish the work. thus they discussed various plans, and then decided to go and begin operations on what seemed the best way when they reached the spot. axes, ropes, a big baglike bucket for hauling up snow, snowshovels, and other things considered necessary were taken along on a couple of dog- trains to the spot where the steam was quite visible, now that it had been discovered. after some consultation it was decided to go to a cluster of trees not far off, and cut down a number of them and build a kind of platform on the snow directly over the steam orifice, and then commence the work of digging down to the den below. soon all were busy. the men cut down the trees, and the boys claimed the honour of driving the dogs that dragged the logs to the place where they were to be used. as the snow over the bears' den was so very deep the boys had to keep on their snowshoes all the time. it was very difficult at first for the dogs to get along, but, after the snowshoes had tramped out the trail a few times, the snow then easily held them up. the log platform was built, and in the large space left cleared in the centre, which was about eight feet square, the work of digging was commenced. when all the snow was thrown out that could be reached with the long-handled snowshovels a rude windlass was made, and then the leather baglike bucket was brought into requisition, and the work went on as fast as it was possible to haul up the snow and have it dragged away on the dog-sleds. when the well-like hole was down about fifteen feet, and they were congratulating themselves that at least half of the work was accomplished, there was a sudden collapse. the whole thing had caved in and carried down the platform and all to a distance of eight or ten feet. nobody was badly hurt. the two men who were in the bottom at the time, busily filling up the leather bucket, were hit with some of the falling logs and nearly buried in the avalanche of snow that seemed to them to come from every quarter above them. those who had tumbled in were more scared than hurt. the difficulty now was to get the men out, as the sides were so light and yielding. "use the dogs to do it," said frank. and quickly a strong rope was tied to an empty sled and it was let down to the first man. a strong dog- train was attached to the other end of the rope. "marche!" was shouted, and away went the dogs, and soon there emerged one of the men who had fallen in. quickly was he rescued, and speedily this operation was repeated until the dogs had dragged out all therein imprisoned. all this work had gone for nothing. some other plan must be devised. half a day's work gone and nothing to show for it. this was rather discouraging. "what is to be tried next?" was asked by several. "dinner is next," said mr ross. and so away they hurried back to camp, and there, while eating their well-earned meal, they talked over the next attempt, and decided to go down where the ravine ended out on a level place and there begin tunnelling. when they came back and examined the spot, and measured the drift, they found that in order to get low enough to reach the bears they would have to tunnel at least two hundred feet. this meant a lot of heavy work. but they were there to get those bears, and were bound to succeed. at first they dug away the snow like a deep trench, until they reached a place where it was too deep to be thrown out, and then the work of tunnelling really began. to their delight, they found when they had gone some way in, that the pressure of the immense mass of snow upon the lower portion had so packed it that it would not require supports, as has already been referred to. they worked in relays with their big shovels, and cut the snow out in great pieces, which were dragged away by the dogs as fast as the sleds could be loaded. that evening, when they stopped work, they estimated that they had cut about half the way into the bears' den. then they returned to the camp for supper and rest, and hoped to be able to finish their work on the morrow. that night there was a most beautiful display of the aurora borealis. their ever-changing glories delighted and so fascinated the boys that they were loth to cover up their heads in their camp beds. these wondrous visions in the north land exceed in weird beauty anything else that this wide world can show. mr ross was so anxious that they should get the bears to-day, so that the whole party could begin the return journey to-morrow, that he had them all up at such an early hour that they were eating breakfast by starlight. just as the sun rose, and the indians were calling, "sagastao! sagastao!" ("the sun rises!") to each other, they were already at the tunnel, anxious to resume operations. they had to be careful now to so run the tunnel that they would directly strike the bears. so, while the men were digging, mr ross and mustagan were constantly travelling on their snowshoes with a compass to try and help the diggers, who were rapidly pushing on their work. the boys could hardly understand how it was that it could be so cozy and comfortable in the tunnel while outside the cold was so terrible. to their surprise, they here learned that there was warmth even in a snow tunnel. while thus digging away and dragging out the loads, all at once the dogs became very much excited, and began barking furiously. suspecting that it was because of the scent of the bears, which passes a long distance through the snow, the guns and some axes were immediately sent for. "did you ever shoot a bear?" said mustagan to sam. "i was chased by one once," said sam, with a laugh. "but i fancy i got even with him before the summer ended." "o yes," said mustagan, with a comical grin, "i do remember now a boy coming running into the camp with a bear at his heels. that's why your hair stands up so straight ever since." poor sam, whose hair had a natural tendency to stand on end, said he thought he had heard enough of that bear story of his, and so was about blaming the old indian for being too hard on him, when he was astonished at hearing him say: "i want you to be the first to walk into that bears' den with me. mr bear chased you once. you killed some of his relatives since then, but he has lots of brothers, and perhaps some of them are in this den, and so now is your chance to teach them a lesson for one of their relatives making your hair stand up straight. fact is," added the old indian, who had never seen a person with his hair standing up like sam's, "indian thinks you will have to keep killing bears until your hair gets over its scare and lies down flat again." this bit of humour from mustagan amused everybody, and sam himself joined heartily in the laugh. thus they chatted until the guns and axes arrived. then the work was vigorously pursued. the tunnel was dug in further and further, as fast as the snow could be hauled out. every time the dogs came in with their empty sleds they were permitted to remain a few minutes to scent the bears. as they had quieted down after their first noisy actions it was decided that they were still a good way off from the bears. as a precautionary measure memotas went out and cut a long, slim pole, which was about twenty feet long. this he pushed in through the snow ahead of the diggers. by this plan he was able to guard against any surprise, for he had stated to mr ross that, as the snow was so deep, the den would be found very warm, and he would not be surprised if they found the bears so wide-awake that they would have a bit of a fight with them ere they killed them. when this was heard it added much to the excitement of the whole party, and so while everyone worked with a will they were all on the alert for some sudden developments. after mustagan had pushed in the pole two or three times and found nothing but the ordinary snow, which was being rapidly dug away, he at length struck against something hard, which was about fifteen feet in from the end of the now long tunnel. when the dogs came in for their last loads mustagan pulled out the pole and let the dogs put their noses to the opening. they were simply furious, and at once began most vigorously to dig into the snow around the hole. of course, they were quickly stopped and again fastened to the sleds, which on account of the narrowness of the tunnel had to be backed in. cautiously they worked, and soon were only within four or five feet of the obstruction, whatever it was, that prevented the pole being pushed along any further. a consultation was now held, and it was decided to very much enlarge the end of the tunnel, so that if there was to be much of a fight there would be room enough for the men to stand up and easily move around. this enlarging the tunnel and getting out the snow consumed the best part of an hour. fortunately, it was not very dark, although they were so far from daylight in any direction. the pure white snow seems to throw off a certain amount of light. however, it was warm work, and so the men frequently went out with the dogs in relays. once outside they quickly cooled off and were glad to return. when the enlargement of the tunnel was about completed, and the men were again engaged in cutting out great blocks of the snow that was between them and the bears, there suddenly reached them a perfume so strong as to be almost sickening. no need of telling anyone who has ever been near a close old bears' den where they were now. all the shovels except a couple were quickly dropped, and the weapons were seized by those who were expected to do the fighting. the arrangements were speedily made. it was difficult to say how many bears were in the den. if only two or three, there would not be much trouble in killing them, but if, as sometimes happened, a number had clubbed together, there might be as many as eight or ten, and if so there would be lots of excitement, and perhaps somebody might get hurt. so it was decided that mr ross with frank and alec should go out to the mouth of the tunnel, and there with their weapons remain, with the dogs unharnessed, and wait for developments, while mustagan with sam and the others would face them in their dens. if any tried to escape through the tunnel those watching at the mouth would fire at them or run them down with the dogs. cautiously the intervening wall of snow was broken down and trampled under foot. listen! there are low growlings heard, and it is evident that the bears are on the alert. these sounds show that the bears have long been hearing the noise made by the approach of the tunnellers, and are getting their courage up for a fight with the disturbers of their long repose. mustagan had taken the precaution to bring along some torches which he had specially made. the principal materials of them were rolls of birch bark saturated in balsam gum. the gum had been boiled down, and otherwise so prepared, that when ignited it made a most brilliant light and yet emitted but little smoke. at length the diggers came to a wall of icy snow, which was very close and hard. this was the wall and roof of the whole den. the party attentively listened, and now the bears were easily heard. mustagan said: "some of them wide-awake, others seem like sleepy boys called early. they are growling and snarling, and seem to say, `be quiet and let us sleep till it is time to get up.' we'll wake you so you will want to get up in a hurry," added the old man with a chuckle, as he made his final arrangements. these were as follows: the men who had been using the shovels were ordered to exchange them for their heavy axes. with these they were to at once smash in a place large enough for mustagan and sam to step through. they would each have one of the brightest torches, and so the old man believed that the sleeping animals would crowd from the bewildering light to the other side of the den. so the flint and steel were struck and a light made by one of them, while the axemen now vigorously broke through the thin glassy wall. soon an opening sufficiently large was made, and the old indian and sam fearlessly stepped in, with guns and torches. as anticipated by mustagan, the bears, frightened by the brilliant torches, at once crowded away from the dazzling flames. so he and sam were safely in, but it did not take him long to see that they were not altogether safe in there. my, what a crowd of them! and bears of all sizes too. "chop away at the ice," was mustagan's first command, as he and sam kept slowly edging their way around. so numerous were the bears that they dare not think of letting go their splendid torches that were burning brightly. "we are going to try and drive them out," were his next words; and then the old indian shouted, "look out, men, and be ready for them!" sam was cool and collected, for he had all confidence in mustagan, but he could not help being startled and surprised at the number of the bears that lay there snarling and growling like a drove of pigs. the size and beauty of the winter house was also a revelation. as the winter had advanced the warmth of the bears had caused the icy walls and roof to keep slowly receding, until now here was a capacious vault-like room of clearest crystal. as the brilliant light flashed on it, it seemed like some dream of fairyland. one look, however, at the startled, growling bears showed that the fierce occupants were anything but nymphs and fairies. seeing their numbers, mustagan quickly called in a couple more men, with axes and additional torches. pointing out a very large one that seemed ready to begin battle at any moment, he said, "you, sam, you shoot him fair between the eyes." sam at once obeyed. tremendous was the effect. so confined was the place that the sound was as though a cannon had been fired. all the torches were instantly extinguished but one, and the ice cracked and fell in great pieces around them. speedily were the torches relighted. the bears were wide-awake now. fortunately, the biggest and fiercest was stone dead. sam's aim had been sure, and his bullet had done its work. mustagan was now so fiercely attacked by the next largest one that he could not bring up his gun to his shoulder, but he skillfully fired from his side and sent a bullet into the heart of his assailant. this quickly finished him. this second report was, if possible, worse than the first, and so some seconds were lost in relighting the torches. "drop your guns," said mustagan, "and fight with your axes and knives." and fight they had to, for the bears were now full of fight and each went for an opponent. sam bravely tackled a fine two-year-old with his axe. he raised it and made a desperate blow to try and split the animal's skull open. but just as he plunged forward to strike the bear suddenly rose up and with a side blow struck the axe such a clip that it fairly flew out of sam's hands, while the lad, unable to keep his footing, stumbled forward at the bear's hind feet. he was fortunately able to reach sideways and seize one of the flaming torches that had been thrown on the ground, and which was still fiercely burning. he was none too soon, for already the bear's strong forearms were winding round him for a hug that he would have long remembered. however, as the blazing torch was pushed into the bear's face it so suddenly singed his handsome whiskers that he had to throw up his paws to defend his face. finding himself thus free again, sam was quickly on his feet. drawing his knife, he was able to look around. two or three bears were killed and others wounded, but so carefully were they using their paws in parrying the blows of the men that they were fairly holding their own. one man had a shoulder blade broken, and another's crushed ribs were making him groan. "let us drive them out," said mustagan, and already it was evident that the bears' quick instinct had enabled them to catch the scent of the fresh air through the tunnel. "run for your lives!" shouted mustagan to the two men who had been left in the tunnel, "and tell mr ross and the boys to be ready at the mouth to receive them." they lost no time in getting out, for they were about half blinded and suffocated by the smoke of the guns and could render but little service. they were soon out, and found mr ross and the boys ready for the bears. all were much excited, for they had distinctly heard the two shots fired inside. mustagan, sam, and the indians had now wedged themselves so around the bears that they had them all between them and the opening into the tunnel. the cunning animals were loth to leave their winter quarters, and so they very slowly and reluctantly gave ground as mustagan and the others, with their flaming torches, gradually forced them on ahead. it would now have been easy to have shot some of them, but mustagan was afraid that as so much of the ice had fallen already from the roof of the den a few more such reports might find them all buried under the great mass above them. so he decided to drive the bears out into the open air, where the fight could be renewed. at the great opening in the crystal wall the bears made a determined stand. there were still seven or eight of them unwounded. there they raised themselves upon their hind feet against the opening, and seemed to say, "we will not be thus driven out of our house." beyond this point it seemed impossible to drive them. the torches would not burn much longer, and something desperate had to be done. mustagan, while fearful of the effects of a powder explosion on the roof, yet resolved to try one. skillfully throwing some powder in handfuls at the feet of the bears, he said to sam and to the men: "get back as far as possible, before i fire this train of powder. pull your caps over your eyes, and put your heads to the ground." then he plunged one of the torches into the little train of gunpowder that reached from him to the bears. away flew the little stream of fire across the den, and then there was a commotion. the powder went off in sheets and tongues. the bears went off also. they did not stand on ceremony now. they could not stand such a fiery house, and so they wanted to get out of it as quickly as possible. with growls and snarls away they hurried, while mustagan and sam and the rest, with the expiring torches and noisy yells, followed quickly after, keeping them on the move. mr ross and the others heard them coming. they had wisely retired a little from the mouth of the tunnel, so as to let the bears get well out before they should catch sight of these new assailants. at the mouth of the tunnel, as they caught the cold air, so different from the comfortable quarters they had left, there was a decided desire on the part of the bears to retrace their steps, but that horrid din and those blazing torches were just behind, and so they made a break for the distant forest, which was quite visible across the snowy waste. "fire now!" was the cry. and the guns of mr ross, alec, and frank rang out, and a couple of bears tumbled over, one of which quickly regained his feet and was off after his comrades. unfortunately, the man holding the six dogs that had been unharnessed could no longer restrain them, and so they were off after the bears. this was a great annoyance to the men who had guns and were now emerging from the tunnel. they dare not now fire at the bears, for fear of hurting the dogs. the snow on the open plain was not more than a foot deep, and so the bears, as well as the dogs, could make very good speed. some time was lost ere the men and boys could get their snowshoes on and take up the chase. it was a great fight. some foolish dog would close in on a bear and would get a hug that sent him howling back. others were wiser and went in pairs. when they overtook a bear they immediately separated, one rushing to the front, while the other remained behind. thus they keep at him and, as a general thing, so thoroughly engage his attention that the hunter can come up and shoot him at his leisure. in this way frank and alec were each able to get a shot at a couple of bears, which they easily killed without any great risk to themselves. a single dog has hardly any chance with a large bear, as one of frank's train found to his cost. pluckily he rushed in and made a gallant effort to seize the bear by the throat, but the powerful forearms gave him a hug so terrible that he was so crushed that he had to be shot to be put out of misery. his ribs were found broken like clay pipe-stems. poor frank dropped a few honest tears over swag's grave, which was only a hole in the deep snow. this death was the first break in any of the boys' teams, and although another fine dog took poor swag's place, it was long before the boys ceased talking about him and his sad end. some of the fleeter bears succeeded in reaching the trees, but they made there in the bitter cold but a sorry fight, and were soon all killed. for the first time almost for hours, now that the last bear was killed, one and all began to feel the terrible cold, and no wonder. such had been the excitement of the last few hours that they had not noticed that it was long past the dinner hour, and, when eating is neglected in such a temperature, much suffering will quickly follow. so the cry was, "back to the camp!" no second order was necessary, and great was the delight of the boys to find that some one more level-headed and less excited had long since returned and had a bountiful dinner awaiting everyone. it was too late to return home that day, and so a swift runner was sent back for additional sleds, while the men, under mustagan's guidance, with the dogs available--and they were not many--dragged the bears to the camp, and there during the evening and night carefully skinned them and cut up the meat. mr ross and the boys, who were thoroughly tired, wrapped themselves well up in their robes and rested in the camp, feeling that they had had enough excitement for that day. this unique experience of bear-hunting in the depth of winter was often talked about in after years. many sceptics scoffed at it as a dream, but they who were in it knew better. frank never forgot poor swag's sad end, and for long days he mourned the loss of his faithful dog. chapter twenty one. the first signs of spring--the eagle moon--expressive indian names for some of the months--chats among the boys about the phenomena of the north land--power of the frost--cunning of animals--cleverness of the guides--invitation to a muskrat hunt gladly accepted--habits of these little animals--methods of capture--their many foes--the queer battle between wild cats and wolverines. thus rapidly and pleasantly passed the winter months at sagasta-weekee. cold they were, and at times the blizzards had howled around, but as a general thing the days had been full of sunshine and the nights of wondrous beauty. wretched days of fogs and mists and damps were almost unknown. the air at all times was full of ozone, and knew no taint of fever or malaria. there was a luxury in living where the skies were nearly always bright and the air was always absolutely pure. for long months the frost king had reigned supreme, but now there were indications that his grip was lessening and that his power was coming to an end. in sunny, sheltered spots the snow began to soften and then to disappear. then tiny little rivulets in the warmest hours of the day began to make sweet music, gathering strength and courage and hurrying on to play hide and seek as they dashed under the great icy coverings of the still frozen lakes. strong south winds blew frequently, and under their magic influences the great snowdrifts rapidly lessened and then disappeared. from underneath the still hard, dry snow some mysterious melting influence was at work, and the great masses sank down, and soon all flitted away under the wondrous but unseen influences of the coming spring. "i saw a great golden eagle," said alec, as one day he came in from a short hunting trip with big tom. "did you see it first?" said sam. "no, indeed," replied alec; "big tom's eyes were more alert, and so he first saw it and then pointed it out to me as it was flying in graceful circles far up in the blue heavens." "the indians will be all saying that spring indeed has come," said mr ross. "as the appearance of the eagle is, as i think i told you, the beginning of spring, mikisewpesim, the eagle moon, is the first spring month." "is it not," said frank, "a very uncertain way of marking the seasons?" "the variation is not as great as a person would at first imagine," was mr ross's reply. "we talk about an early spring or a late spring, and march with us is sometimes like april. then some other years it is just the reverse. so the indians' methods of marking the months by the arrival of the birds, or other events in nature, is not generally much out of the way." "what birds follow the eagles?" asked sam. "the wild geese," replied mr ross, "and as they do not come until the great marshes, which are their early feeding grounds, are partially bared of snow, they are about a month behind the eagles." "then is there a goose month also?" asked alec. "yes, indeed," replied mr ross, "and it is a very important one to the indians, and i anticipate that we, too, will have our share of excitement in it. it is called niskepesim, from `niska,' goose, or `niskuk,' geese, and `pesim,' month. the niskepesim, goose moon, which corresponds with our april, is followed by unekepesim, frog moon, as then those denizens of the swamps and ponds begin their croakings. in our north land frog moon corresponds with may. then comes `wawepesim,' egg moon, as in june the birds are nesting and hatching out their young. so it is with all the other months, each has some equally expressive name." "i am sure we are thankful for all this information," said frank. "it is a pleasure to get information, even if it sometimes has to be acquired under difficulties, and it is equally pleasing to impart it to those who will make use of it," was mr ross's reply. "i am sure," said sam, "we will have a deal to talk about when we return home next summer. the only thing that is bothering me is that lots will say that it is only a pack of lies that i am trying to cram down their throats." "well, then," replied frank, "we will not be the only returned travellers whose veracity will be questioned. don't you remember, sam, about the first ambassadors to england from a tropical country in the south of asia, that when they returned home they were rash enough to say that in england sometimes in winter the water became hard enough to walk on. then the king was so mad at them for telling such monstrous lies that he immediately handed them over to the executioner and had them shortened by the length of their heads." "i wonder what he would have done with me," said sam, "after i had enlightened him on some of the facts of this country, for that mere trifle of a statement about ice forming on a river in england was a mighty small incident, in comparison with what i have here discovered." "what would you tell him," asked alec, "supposing the old rascal were still alive, and should ask you to visit him and then set your tongue a- wagging?" "sure," replied sam, without any hesitancy, "if his satanic majesty--i beg his pardon, that siamese king--wanted any more water information, i would say to him, `sire, your majesty, once, in a fit of indignation at the doing of a stable man, called pasche, i seized a bucket of water, just drawn, and up with it to throw over the fellow, and, wonderful to relate, it just hit him in chunks of ice as dry as marble.'" "well, we know that is true," said alec; "but supposing the old fellow still left your head on your shoulders, what next would you tell him?" "if the old questioner still wanted anything more about liquid matter, i would just inform him that we carry the milk of our cows wrapped up in old newspapers, and that it keeps that way for months, as solid and tidy and handy as a brickbat in the end of a stocking." "if he could stand that and let you survive, what next?" said frank. "i fancy i would confound his intellect by telling him that the breath- laden air of the church, one bitterly cold sunday, where some hundreds of indians worshipped, so froze up that the whole of it fell to the floor in beautiful snow so plentifully that in one place, near a cold window, it was over a foot deep." "supposing he survived that, or rather let you survive, what next would you cram him with?" said frank. sam, glib of tongue and ever ready, at once answered: "well, if that son of the sun, or whatever his oriental title may be, wanted any more information about our liquids, i would enlighten him with the information that here, as a pastime or scientific experiment, we take quicksilver or mercury and cast it into bullets that become as hard and solid as lead, and then shoot them through stable doors." "anything more?" said mr ross, who had been an amused listener, and had been much pleased with sam's ready answers, which showed how well he was gathering up the facts of the country to use them in other lands in years to come. "well, yes," said sam, "i would tell his bibulous majesty, if he were in the habit of imbibing moisture of a fiery kind, that on one of our long journeys with our dogs i had with me on my sled, for purposes that need not concern his majesty, a bottle of the strongest wine. one day, when no eyes were on me, for good and honest purposes i made a visit to the aforesaid bottle, and to my horror and grief i found the bottle burst into a hundred pieces. feeling carefully around--for it was in the dark when i had made this visit--i discovered that the wine itself was frozen into a solid mass exactly the shape of the bottle. i carefully wrapped it up in a handkerchief, and thus carried it along. suffice to say, none of it was lost." "well," said frank, "if just about water, milk, mercury, and wine we will be able to tell such things, shall we not have lots of fun when we talk of our dogs and their doings, and of many other things that at first seemed so marvellous to us, but are now everyday occurrences and have in a measure lost their force and novelty?" "i fancy," said alec, "that some of the things we can also tell them about the cunning and cleverness of the wild animals we have been hunting, or seeing the indians hunt, will open their eyes." "after all," said frank, "the cleverness of the indian guides in finding their way through the pathless forests, day or night, where there was not the least vestige of a trail, sometimes for hundreds of miles, and often when blizzard storms howled around them for days together, was to me as wonderful and unaccountable as anything i have witnessed." "yes," said mr ross, "that is indeed wonderful. i have been studying it all my life, and am just as much puzzled to-day as i was at first with these first-class guides. they are not all thus gifted, but there are some who never blunder, or even hesitate, under the most difficult circumstances. the sky may be leaden with clouds all day, and an ordinary person get so bewildered that he does not know north from south, or east from west, but the guide never hesitates for an instant, but on and on, with unerring accuracy, he pushes day after day, or even night after night." "that is wonderful indeed," replied alec, "but the cleverness with which the wolves tried to get ahead of me by cutting across the necks of land in the river, and their other deviltries, are what i will never forget." here this most interesting conversation was ended by the arrival of paulette and mustagan, with the word that the melting snow had exposed the houses of the muskrats, and that they were off on a hunting excursion to a great pondlike swamp where these animals were known to be very numerous. at once it was decided that a party would be made up to join them at a designated spot in the forest on the edge of this great swamp. the distance was between twenty and thirty miles, and as the greater part of the route would be on the ice, it was decided not to start until the chill of the evening had hardened the snow, which now nearly every day softened in the midday sun. travelling with dog-trains in half-melted snow, or even when it is just soft enough to stick, is very heavy, laborious work. however, as soon as the sun ceases to shine upon it, at this season, it hardens up again very quickly. arrangements were made for a three or four days' trip, so a regular camp outfit was taken along on the dog-sleds. in addition to their guns the boys were each supplied with a long, lancelike barbed spear for effective use when securing the muskrats. two or three indians were taken along by mr ross, who remarked to the boys, when he decided to accompany them himself, that perhaps this was the last hunting trip of the season with the dogs, with perhaps the exception of the one to the goose hunt, which would not be long distant. the whole party left sagasta-weekee about sundown, and as it was a crisp, cold, beautiful moonlight night, everybody enjoyed the trip exceedingly. the boys, however, could not help remarking the great change in the temperature from midday. then the sun was so hot that the snow was melting at a marvellous rate; now everything was as hard and firm as though it were still january. through the portages and over the frozen ice expanses they hurried, and some time before midnight they reached a splendid camp already prepared for them by paulette and mustagan. a great roaring fire looked very attractive to all, even to the boys, as they had become quite accustomed to these wintry resting places when the heavy day's work was done. kettles were quickly filled and a late supper was eaten, and then all lay down to sleep. nothing disturbed their rest except the distant mournful screeches of the wild cats and some other wild animals, that were already, now that spring was coming, like themselves, on the lookout for muskrats. in the morning, after an early breakfast, the whole party set off for the great pondlike morass that extended for miles. numerous tracks of wild animals were seen, and mustagan pointed out to the boys not only those of some wild cats, but also a number of those made by the great feet of the wolverines, as these latter animals are as fond of muskrats as are any other. when the edge of the shore was reached the boys were surprised to see how rapidly the snow had disappeared from the surface of this lakelike pond. on it they noticed a large number of what seemed like bundles of straw, as though a farmer in a great loaded wagon had driven over the surface and had here and there in many places pitched out large forkfuls and left them to decay. "it looks," said sam, "as though some farmer hereabouts had been drawing out the contents of his barnyard to enrich his fields." "just what i thought," said alec. "all those little hillocks of marsh hay and reeds are muskrat nests," explained mr ross. "they were made last summer on the little mossy hillocks that everywhere abound in all of these great marshes. being then entirely surrounded by water, they are fairly safe from the prowling wild animals that hunt them as their prey, as wolverines and wild cats dislike the water. then in the winter they are completely covered by the deep snow, and so are as safe as beavers' kitchens. but in the early spring, when the snow melts off the ice, they are at the mercy of their foes. the ice remains solid for another month or so, and on its hard surface these water-hating enemies travel and tear open these nests and devour those that have not deep enough burrowings in which to hide themselves away. of course, as soon as open water comes they are safe, as they are thoroughly amphibious animals." the boys were each armed with long, lancelike spears, while the indians had in addition to these some axes and guns. at the first nest the boys found that the wild cats and wolverines had been there before them and had cleared out every muskrat. however, as under the guidance of the indians they pushed out further on the ice, they found many nests or little houses undisturbed. a few blows with the axes knocked the house to pieces, and then there was quick work in spearing the almost helpless animals. in the houses near the channel of the stream, or where there was deep water, very often the clever muskrats had a channel dug from their little straw houses to the water. these "runs," as they are called, serve as a line of retreat whenever their home is attacked. in other places the muskrats contented themselves with merely having a well-like place under their little houses. while some of them were deep enough to save them from the wild cats or wolverines, they were not sufficient to save them from the spears of our boys and indians. it seemed at first cruel to thus stab the helpless animals, but their flesh was food for the natives, and their furs were sold to the traders for things essential to the indians' comfort. so numerous were the nests in this extensive morass that there was work enough for the hunters for days. the boys, however, soon became tired of killing the poor muskrats, and so only remained at the work with the indians for the one forenoon. after that they left their long spears at the camp, and taking a dog or two with them, and their guns, had some good sport among the partridges, which were fairly numerous. the second morning the boys were aroused very early by a couple of the indians who had been on the watch during the night guarding the now large pile of muskrats and skins. paulette and mustagan were too clever to let their game be stolen from them, as were some beavers earlier in the winter from other hunters, as we have described elsewhere. "get ready soon, and get your guns and come with us, and we will show you something that will please you." it did not take them long to respond, and so they were soon on the trail with mr ross, while the two old indians noiselessly led the way. the other indians had orders to remain in the camp and keep the dogs with them, and as quiet as possible. they had not travelled more than half a mile before the boys heard the most discordant screeches. still they had not the slightest idea of what sort of an experience was before them. louder and louder were these sounds, as they came directly with the wind toward them. when they reached a little depression in the trail they found that mustagan and paulette had stopped and were awaiting their arrival. it was now so light in the eastern sky that the boys could see as they approached that the indians were making signs for perfect quiet. so, as noiselessly as possible they, with mr ross, joined them. then they were informed that just over the brow of the steep hill before them a couple of wolverines had chased a couple of wild cats up into a large tree. the cats had each captured a muskrat, and were making off with them when the wolverines came along and tried to rob them of their prey. however, the wild cats had succeeded in getting up into this solitary large tree with their game, and although the wolverines can climb trees they did not like to do so to attack these fierce cats, as their being already above them in the tree would give them such an advantage. very distinctly now could be heard the growls of the wolverines, and then the defiant snarls of the cats. with their guns loaded with ball, they all began the cautious crawl up the hillside, with the indians in the advance. fortunately for them, the top of the hill was studded with short, stunted spruce trees. by each person keeping one of these well in front of him, they were all able to crawl up to positions where they could distinctly see the tree with the wild cats ensconced on its large branches and the wolverines at the foot of it. the tree was not an evergreen, and so every branch was distinctly visible. for a time they watched the various manoeuvres of the animals. they noticed that when the wolverines were not active in their movements the wild cats kept eating bits off the muskrats. this seemed to anger the furious brutes on the ground, and so they would one after another make the attempt to get up the hard, smooth trunk. how the cats had succeeded was a mystery to the boys. wolverines are fairly good tree climbers, but they had no show at all here, for when one of them succeeded in getting well up the almost smooth, bare trunk, a fierce blow from the unencumbered paw of one of the wild cats, securely seated on the large lowest limb, which ran out almost parallel from the trunk of the tree, quickly caused him to loose his grip and fall helplessly to the ground. then, with apparent satisfaction, the wild cat would take another bite or two of his muskrat. several times, as though on purpose, the wild cats dropped small bits of meat or half-picked bones to the ground. the taste or smell of these fairly drove the wolverines furious, and so they would desperately make fresh attempts to get at their enemies, but without success. it was fortunate for our party that the wind was blowing toward then, and also that the air was so thoroughly tainted with the musky smell of the muskrats. under ordinary circumstances they would have been detected long ere they had reached the top of the hill. so, unsuspected, they watched the strange antics of these animals, until suddenly the reports of a couple of guns rang out, and then up sprang both mustagan and paulette and dashed down to the foot of the tree, loudly calling to the rest of the party to quickly follow. following mr ross, the boys speedily obeyed, and when they reached the tree they found that one wolverine was dead and the other was hobbling off, as speedily as he could, on three legs. the other had been broken by the ball of one of the indians. the frightened wild cats had dropped what was left of the muskrats, which was not much, and had found their way much higher up in the large tree, where they vainly tried to hide themselves by stretching out on a couple of large branches. quickly loading his gun again, paulette hurried off after the wounded wolverine, that, in spite of his broken leg, was rapidly making for the distant dense forest. but vain were all his efforts, for behind him was an indian who, although now well up in years, was one of the fleetest runners in the tribe. soon the gun rang out and another wolverine was dead. it was decided that the boys should have the work of shooting the wild cats. so close and flat did they crawl down on the big branches that the boys had to move back to a considerable distance from the tree to get a good aim. sam and alec were to fire first, and if either cat failed to drop, then frank was to bring it down. mr ross and mustagan with loaded guns stood ready for any emergency, for wild cats are uncertain animals, and are not to be trifled with. they are very fierce, and will sometimes, when thus treed, if furious with hunger, or driven from their young, spring down into the midst of the hunters and fight like tigers. when the boys had secured a good position, and each knew which wild cat he was expected to kill, mustagan gave the signal, and together the reports of their guns rang out. the cat at which sam had fired at once dropped to the ground, stone dead. the other did not move, much to the chagrin of alec, who could not understand how he should have missed him. just as frank raised his gun to fire mustagan's quick eye saw what the boys did not, and so before frank could fire he stopped him by saying: "that cat is dead; do not waste another bullet on it. you only more injure his skin." and so it was; when the body was at length obtained it was found that alec's bullet had hit him squarely behind the fore shoulder and had gone clean through his body, of course killing him so suddenly that there was not even that muscular quiver which generally causes animals, when thus killed, to fall to the ground. this was what actually happened to the one that sam shot. paulette soon after made his appearance, dragging the wolverine. they were all delighted with the morning's work. mr ross and the boys hurried back to the camp and speedily dispatched an indian with a dog- train and empty sled for the game. while some skinned these animals, others spent the day in killing additional muskrats, and then after supper, as soon as the snow had frozen hard again and the glorious moon was well up in the heavens, the home trip was commenced. loaded down as they were, they did not travel as fast as they had done in the outward trip, and so it was about daybreak when they reached sagasta-weekee. chapter twenty two. niskepesim, the goose moon--excitement among the indians--the first goose--their northern migrations--feeding grounds--methods of hunting them--nests--decoys--our boys off with the indians--the shooting grounds--their camp--great success--frank's queer accident--hit by a dead goose--sam's comments--laden with spoils. not many days after the return from the muskrat hunt the weather became, for that land, decidedly warmer. this created so much excitement among the generally stoical indians that the boys could not but observe it. so one day, when a number of them were at sagasta-weekee, sam asked mustagan the cause of it. the old man answered but one word, and that was: "niskepesim." ("the goose moon.") "yes," said kinesasis, who had just come in, "it has surely come. some passing hunters saw some wild geese near the mouth of the river, at lake winnipeg, and others who were out spearing muskrats said that they heard flocks of them passing over during the night." great indeed was the excitement everywhere at this news. it rapidly flew from sagasta-weekee to the fort, and then on to the mission. as though by some mysterious telegraphy, it passed from one indian settlement to another, yea, from wigwam to wigwam, until the cry everywhere was, "niskepesim! niskepesim!" ("the goose moon! the goose moon!") why there should be such commotion among these northern indians about the arrival of the wild geese has long been a puzzle to outsiders who happen to be among them at the time. nevertheless such is the case. the fact that this moon is really the beginning of spring, which is so welcome, after the long and dreary winter, may have something to do with this general excitement and gladness. it is really the first month that the family have a flitting out from the close, confined houses or wigwams in which they have passed the cold, dreary months. then it brings them a welcome change of diet, which is much prized after the long six months' dining twenty-one times a week on frozen whitefish, with only the variation of a little venison, muskrat, or beaver. at sagasta-weekee the excitement was as great as anywhere else. mr ross had to exert a good deal of authority to keep some of his men at work after they had seen a great flock of these splendid grey geese fly over their heads. over at the mission mr hurlburt had failed completely in holding his men. he had been for some time urging them to clear up and put under cultivation what ground they had around their village that was good and fertile. at a good deal of expense he had secured a fine supply of axes, hoes, spades, and other necessary implements, as well as seeds, to help them. for some days they had worked industriously and well, and there was every prospect of a large portion of the ground being prepared and planted. one day, when mr hurlburt had about thirty men hard at work in the fields, what should come flying along on the south wind but a great flock of geese? they were in broken ranks, not more than fifty feet above the ground, and evidently tired and looking for a feeding place. the sight was too much for the hunting instinct of the indians, and so every axe, hoe, and spade was instantly dropped, and away they rushed for their guns. the missionary did not see one of them again for two weeks. the wild geese are of various varieties. the first to arrive are the great grey ones. they seem to come up from central america, mexico, and southern california, where they have spent the winter months. then follow the brants, wavey, or laughing geese, which are all smaller varieties. when on their long migrations the geese all fly very high, and generally in long lines or triangles. but when they reach the north country, where they hope to spend the summer, they fly low over the ground. they seem to be then on the lookout for feeding grounds and suitable locations for nest building. if undisturbed, they speedily break up in pairs. they arrive very hungry, and so spend some days in heavy feeding on the peculiar many-jointed grass, called goose grass, the indian name of which is niskeanuskwa. at sagasta-weekee the boys had heard so much about the goose hunt that they were full of curiosity and excitement as the time of its expected arrival drew near. white suits and white caps had already been made for them, and the guns were all freshly cleaned and oiled. camping outfits were all ready, and the boys observed that in addition to the winter's supplies there were added large heavy oilcloths, like tarpaulins. the next morning, after kinesasis had reported the words of the passing indians, there came in another hunter, and he had with him the first goose of the season. he was delighted to be the first, as a handsome reward is given to the one who is fortunate enough to kill and bring in this kind of first fruits of the harvest of these great birds. the sight of this goose was all that was necessary to have all arrangements completed, and it was decided that on the next morning all who could go should be off to the great goose hunt. the point selected for the camp was on the border of one of these great swampy plains, from which the greater part of the snow had been melted by the warm south wind, leaving exposed, over hundreds of acres, vast quantities of this jointed grass, on which the geese feed with such avidity. the frost was still in the ground, and so there was no difficulty on the part of the hunters in arranging their shooting nests and decoys as they desired. the camp was made very similar to those already described. there were a few changes, however. the soft snow was all cleared away, and a deep layer of fine balsam boughs were evenly spread out over the cleared place. then over this a couple of tarpaulins were spread, and on these the usual camp beds of robes and blankets were arranged as elsewhere described. a great log fire was built up in front, and numerous logs were cut for use when required. a number of good stiff long poles were also cut and placed where they could be quickly utilised, if needed, to erect a roof or barrier against a storm of sleet or rain which might unexpectedly come up. while the camp was thus being prepared by some of the party, in this cozy elevated place, back among the trees, where it would not frighten the geese, others were equally hard at work making the nests out on the great open meadowlike place where the goose grass was most abundant. these nests were built up of dry grass and dead brush, and made so that they looked just as their names would indicate--like great nests. each of them was large enough to comfortably hold two hunters, who could easily move around, and thus be able to fire in any direction. they were about four feet high, and so constructed that when the hunters inside were crouching down they were quite invisible to the passing geese. some indians used to pile lumps of snow here and there on the edge of the nest to help the disguise. it is a peculiarity of wild geese that white objects never frighten them. this was the reason why the hunters all wore white suits and white caps. then a number of decoys were made. they were rather rude affairs. the bodies were hewn out of logs about the size of a goose. a couple of sticks were driven in for legs; then the heads and necks, which had been prepared beforehand out of crooked roots, were fastened in their places. they were poor affairs, but seemed quite sufficient to attract the simple geese. a number of these decoys were assigned to each nest, and the hunter had to arrange his own according to his own judgment. the direction of the wind had much to do in rightly placing them. care had to be exercised in arranging the nests so that the occupants of one would not be in danger from the firing from another, as in the excitement of the settling down of a large flock, or in their circling completely around a nest, a person is apt to forget everything but his anxiety to shoot as many as possible. as soon as the sleds were unloaded they were all sent back to sagasta- weekee, as not a dog must be allowed at the camp. no geese will come where there are barking dogs. for the first day or two there was nothing but anxious watching. the southern horizon was eagerly scanned for the oncoming lines of grey geese that were so eagerly anticipated but seemed to be so late in arriving. during the second night the wind, which had been blowing from the north-east, suddenly veered round to the south-west. this was noticed at once by the old, experienced men, mustagan, big tom, memotas, and kinesasis, who had been invited by mr ross to join his party. they were convinced that this wind would bring the geese, and so, dark as it was, they proceeded to make all arrangements for the next day's shooting. they first went out and arranged all the decoys in the right position, so as to attract the geese coming with such a wind. then they carried the guns and arranged them four apiece in each nest, with the ammunition. before this work had been completed the geese could be heard flying over their heads. some of the flocks were so low that the vibrations of the air could be easily felt. when they returned to the camp, although it was still starlight, they called up mr ross and the boys. breakfast was quickly prepared, and while it was being eaten the rush and calls of the rapidly increasing flocks could be distinctly heard. then mustagan and frank, each taking a white blanket with him, hurried off to the most distant nest, which was almost north from the camp. there they cozily ensconced themselves and anxiously waited for the first blush of morning. alec and big tom took possession of the nest on their left, about two hundred yards away. sam and memotas were assigned to the nest about the same distance south of them, while mr ross and kinesasis took possession of the one about three hundred yards distant on the right. all were in white suits, and had in addition their white blankets, as a protection against the cold. while one or two men were left to take care of the camp, the others went off to different places where they thought they could get successful shots. it was not long before the morning star showed up above the eastern horizon, and then the first dawning of the day appeared. "chist!" ("listen!") said memotas to sam, and quickly they were on the alert. the indian's quick ear had detected a low-flying flock, and so, before they were seen in the dim morning light, they were heard. on they came, little dreaming of danger now that they were so far away from civilisation, and so they flew not a hundred feet above this hidden place of their enemies. bang! bang! went the two guns into their midst, and soon bang! bang! went the other two barrels. with loud, discordant cries, those that were uninjured veered off to right and left. memotas then threw down his empty gun and quickly seized his loaded one, but did not attempt to fire it. sam also quickly picked up his extra loaded one, and was about to fire at the now rapidly retreating geese. memotas, however, stopped him, and showed him that his gun was pointed exactly in the direction in which was the nest where alec and big tom were stationed. sam was frightened at what might have been the consequences if he had fired, and gratefully thanked memotas for his caution. memotas, who was busily engaged in reloading the guns, only said: "soon daylight; then you will see better." in the meantime the others had heard the firing and were on the alert, and so when the divided flock turned to the right and left some of the geese came close to the nest of alec and big tom, and the rest were not very far from that of mr ross and kinesasis. there was firing from both parties, but their success was not very much, as the darkness was still too great, and the geese were not so close to them as they had been to sam's nest. memotas went out and found a couple of geese which he brought into the nest. he and sam were quite proud of having killed the first. in the meantime, with the increase of the wind there was an increase in the number of the passing flocks. and now soon they began to be distinctly visible, and the firing became quite frequent. of course, a good many shots were lost, as it is no easy matter to hit a flying goose, large as it is. no experienced hunter thinks of firing directly at a goose that is flying by him, or even overhead. he has to calculate for at least a foot ahead for, say, each hundred feet the goose is away from him, and it takes a quick eye and good judgment to correctly estimate the distance. sam said he liked best to fire at them when there was a string of them in line. then by blazing away at the first he generally brought down the third or fourth. it was now full daylight, and so it was necessary for the hunters to be much more wary and keep themselves well down in their nests and very quiet. when they were perfectly still the geese took them for lumps of snow. this was the reason why there was nothing but white in their dress. even the belts they had tied around them were pure white. soon the indians began calling, to bring the geese within range. the rude decoys were placed as though they were having a glorious time feasting on the rich goose grass. the calls of the indians were exact imitations of the geese calling to their fellows. sometimes these cries sounded like "honk! honk! honk!" then they seemed to be more like "uk! uk! uk!" then sometimes they were like the calls that the ordinary barnyard geese make when well satisfied with food. it was interesting to the boys to notice how quickly a far-away flock caught these sounds. marvellously acute was their hearing. then they acted so differently. some were very wary and shy, and at once began to endeavour, as it were, to climb up higher and higher in the sky. this, however, was a difficult task just then, as the wind was behind them. when geese, as a general thing, wish to quickly rise up high in the air, they turn and go against the wind. in some way or other it speedily seems to lift them up. other flocks, as soon as they thought they heard some of their comrades having such a good time, came right on and were close to the decoys and nests before they were aware of their blunder. then the firing was rapid and destructive. some of the flocks had dropped down so low that in order to rise up again they had to circle round and go back against the wind. then there was double sport for the hunters. often a flock would come in on the left side, and just as it was about to light among the decoys the guns would ring out and do their deadly work. the survivors were so low down that they could not go on with any advantage, and so had to turn sharp to the right and try to get away by going back against the wind. this movement brought them now on the right side of the nest, and as they passed more of the guns were fired and more victims fell dead to the ground. such were the positions of the nests in reference to the wind, that sam and memotas had, by all odds, the best place that day. generally, after they had fired, the flock broke in two, and alec and big tom got part, while the other portion generally found mr ross and kinesasis. however, when a great flock pushed on unbroken, it generally went directly over, and very near, the nest where frank and mustagan had their quarters. then there was some fine shooting, as each had two double-barrelled guns and frank had become quite famous as a shot. many of the geese dropped at once to the ground when shot. others, although mortally wounded, only fell when quite a distance beyond, as the momentum of their rapid flight seemed to carry them on. some fell when they were only shot through one wing. during the lull after the firing, when the boys went out from the nests to bring in the spoils, there were some additional battles to be fought ere some of the geese were conquered. especially was this the case with those that were injured in only one wing. when these were approached they instantly stood on the defensive and struck out most viciously with the unwounded wing. some of the boys had had some experience in this line, and so were now on their guard, and thus escaped feeling the tremendous power of a goose's wing. others viciously used their bills and made lively work for the boys ere they were conquered. others, unwounded in their legs, made off as rapidly as possible, and then there was great fun in the work of running them down. those that could use even their wounded wing, or wings, to help them in their movements made capital time, and while most of then were captured, others succeeded in getting away altogether. doubtless they would be picked up by alert indian hunters, who were, or would be in a day or so, literally swarming over every place where a goose was likely to be obtained. when noon arrived they nearly all returned to the camp, where dinner already awaited them. twenty-seven geese were the results of the shooting in the four nests. other indians came in with their bags. some had done on the average better than this, and some not so well. as the wind remained steady in the one direction the flocks of geese were very numerous. there was hardly a period of ten minutes' time when some were not visible. of course, the great majority of the flocks were high up in the air. on and on they flew, their eyes fixed on a point further north, perhaps a thousand miles beyond. no call from the hunters reached them, no ball even from a rifle pierced the thin air of that exalted region in which, at perhaps a rate of a hundred miles an hour, on they flew. the indians say that the same geese come back, when possible, to their old feeding grounds year after year. after dinner the sport was resumed. when no flocks were near, the boys would jump out of their nests and, by some racing and frolicking on the ice, keep themselves warm, as there was much of winter still in the air. the cry of "niskuk! niskuk!" ("geese! geese!") would send them racing back to their respective nests, and it was often as much as they could do to reach their retreats ere the geese were upon them. a queer accident happened to frank. as a small flock passed over the nest in which sam and memotas were sitting sam blazed away with his last barrel, just as the geese had gone by. he struck one of them and mortally wounded it, but it had vitality enough left to keep itself up until it reached the nest where frank and mustagan were crouched down, watching another flock that was approaching from the other side. without any warning the goose suddenly dropped dead with a whack on top of frank, knocking him over most thoroughly and causing his gun to suddenly go off, but fortunately without hitting his indian companion. a great grey goose weighs something, and so the whack from this dead one nearly knocked frank senseless. the inmates of the other nests quickly came to his assistance. he was so dazed with the blow that it was decided that he and sam, who had had about enough of goose-killing to suit them, should go to the camp for the rest of the afternoon. it was wisely thought that sam's irrepressible fun and good nature would be the best medicine for frank for the time being. that evening, when the shooting was over and all were seated on their comfortable robes around the bright camp fire, there was a lot of talk about frank's queer accident. all were thankful that the blow did no more serious harm. mustagan said that he had shot geese flying over the ice where they had fallen with such force that they had broken clean through ice so strong that men could walk over it with safety. "what do you think about it, sam?" said alec. "think about it, do you ask me?" replied sam. "i have done a deal of thinking about it. i've been thinking that was the queerest weapon of offence i ever heard or dreamed of. i have heard of arrows and bullets and darts and clubs and shillalahs and tomahawks and boomerangs, and even thunderbolts, but the idea of hitting a poor, defenceless english lad with a dead goose! it beats me hollow! sure i can hardly believe my senses. i'll be denying the whole thing to-morrow, although i saw the complete performance to-day." the next morning frank was fully recovered from this queer blow, and just as eager as ever to take his place in his nest with mustagan. the wind veered around to the south-east, and so all of the decoys had to be changed. the shooting was good all day, but not equal to the previous one. the indians were very clever in even calling some flocks back that had been fired into with deadly results. the explanation the indians gave for the returning of these flocks was that although they still kept together in great numbers the geese had selected their mates, and the shooting of one or other of these pairs had caused the whole flock to return to look them up, in response to the cries of the bereaved survivors. sam said that he thought that the elegant voices of the indians as they cried "honk! honk!" had more to do with it than any affection in the heart or gizzard of an old goose. this remark of sam's was at once challenged, and a number of stories were related to prove that even the despised goose was worthy of a much better record than was generally given her. thus, with varied success, several days were spent at the goose grounds. two or three times the boys succeeded in each bringing down four geese with the four barrels of the two guns. this was considered very clever shooting on the part of young fellows on their first spring's hunt. in due time the dog-trains returned from sagasta-weekee. the last visits to the nests were made, and the closing two hours of the goose hunt were voted by all to have been the best, as the geese were so numerous that at times the guns were hot with the rapid work. the boys would have liked to remain longer, but mr ross stated that they had already shot as many geese as they could eat at home or could give away, and that it would not be right to kill any more of such valuable birds. the true hunter thinks not only of present needs, but of the years to come. in times of plenty he remembers there are days and years ahead. this was a satisfactory explanation to all. the loading up of the geese on the extra sleds was soon accomplished. a good warm supper was eaten, and then at about ten o'clock at night, when the frost had again hardened up the snow that had been so soft and slushy a few hours before, the home journey was begun, and among "the wee small hours beyond the twelve," the welcome lights in sagasta-weekee were seen, and the happy, tired excursionists were glad to hurry off and half bury themselves in the beds and pillows filled with the downy feathers of geese killed at the spring hunts of years before. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter twenty three. sudden transition from winter to spring--interesting phenomena--sam's last great run with his dogs--his unique adventure--the open water--his novel raft--successful crossing--frank and alec's duck-shooting trip-- the mighty nelson--a hunter's paradise--returning under difficulties-- one more shot at the wild geese--frank and rumours--the fair visitants at sagasta-weekee. very rapid indeed is the transformation from one season to another in the high latitudes. when the long, steady winter breaks it does so with a suddenness that is startling to a person who observes it for the first time. the snow disappears with a marvellous rapidity. the ice, that was like granite in hardness and several feet thick on the great lakes, becomes dark and porous, and in spots literally seems to rot away. then along the great cracks, where it had burst by the power of the terrible frost some months before, it now opens, and soon great fields of it become floating masses on the waters. under the action of the brilliant rays of the sun it becomes disintegrated, and falls away in crystals that are of various sizes and as long as the ice is thick. this crystallisation begins early, and makes the ice very dangerous and uncertain. the indians call this slivering of the ice, candling. sam had a narrow escape from drowning on account of this rapid transformation of the ice. he had harnessed his dogs and gone out on the shining lake for a run. the snow had all disappeared from the land, and so the great icy expanse was all that was left for an invigorating run with the dogs. the frost had been keen in the night, and so everything was firm and hard when he left in the morning. the day was an ideal april one. the sun was full of brightness, and the south winds were full of warmth. for miles and miles sam recklessly dashed along with his splendid dogs. he was sorry at the thought that he was so soon to forever leave them behind in that north land. soon some pools of water on the ice into which his dogs splashed brought him to his senses, and he turned for the home run to sagasta-weekee, now perhaps twenty miles away. "rip van winkle," said sam; "sure. i am that same old fellow, to judge by the change since i travelled over this icy lake." great indeed was the transformation which the sun and south wind had made. while there was still plenty of good ice, there were many dark, treacherous spots all around, which had so crystallised by the sun's rays that, although the ice there was still three or four feet thick, it was unsafe for dogs or boy. fortunately, dogs become very wise in this matter, and so spitfire carefully wended his way among these dangerous places, cautiously keeping where the ice was firm and solid. rapid travelling was in some places impossible, for fear of running into a bit of rotten ice. suddenly sam was stopped by coming to a long stretch of open water. it was a place where, during one of the coldest nights, the ice had suddenly burst open with a report like a great cannon. the crack then made was about twenty or thirty feet wide and some miles in length. so intense was the cold that the ice in a few hours formed again on the water which was in this great opening. but when these great breaks in the thick ice occur, toward the end of the winter, the new ice that forms is never so thick as is the rest, and so when the spring warmth comes it is the first to disappear. it was to one of these open seams that sam had now come. in the early hours of the morning it had been covered with ice sufficiently strong to hold him, but now it was full of broken fragments that rose and fell on the water that was stirred up by the strong south wind. as far as the eye could reach north and south extended this open channel. sam was perplexed, and hardly knew what to do. to drive across was impossible, as the seam was much wider than his cariole was long. to wait until the night frost again froze up the water was a risk, as to judge by the warm south wind then blowing, if it so continued there would be no freezing of any consequence. thus sam was troubled and annoyed at having allowed himself to be thus caught, especially as he and the other boys had heard mr ross and the indians refer to just such experiences. with his vexation at having thus had his trail so suddenly broken, there flashed into his memory the stories of how some of the indians, when in just such dangerous places, had escaped by making great rafts of the ice and on them floating across the open water. no sooner had this thought come to sam than he fairly shouted out: "this is my plan. now i will have a story to tell that will sound well in dear, darling dublin." it was well for him that an axe and ice chisel, which he had been using in cutting a hole in the ice the day before, were still lying in his cariole. with these in his possession there came a feeling of elation in his heart, and he fairly shouted with delight at the position in which he found himself. with great zeal he set to work, and having placed his dogs in what he imagined was a safe position, he first carefully marked out around them a line to indicate where he was to chop. industriously he set to work. but, o dear!--well, it was hard work. soon off came his outer coat, then he threw down his mittens, and his fur cap followed next. bravely he toiled, until his hands were about blistered and his back sore. to his great disgust he found out that not one tenth part of the task was accomplished, and yet he was about tired out. he had selected the firmest ice he could find, in order that his raft might be perfectly safe. while this was a wise thing to do, and would have been all right if there had been sufficient strength available to cut it out, it was a mistake on the part of sam, and so he realised when he had toiled until weary. but he was not disheartened, and so resolved to try and find a place where the sun's rays could be utilised. straightening out his dogs, he drove along the ice for a mile or so before he reached a place that seemed to suit him. when he had found what he thought would do he set to work at once, for the day was now advancing. the spot selected was a solid-looking piece of ice not much longer or wider each way than his dogs and cariole. it projected somewhat into the water, and on the icy side were several dark places where the ice was rotten, on account of its crystallisation by the sun's rays. here sam with renewed vigour set to work. he made rapid progress, and found that all he had to do was to cut the firm ice that lay between these different dark spots where the ice had lost all of its cohesive power sam found ere he had finished that his dogs were getting strangely nervous, and to keep them from rushing off he had to turn the train around and tie them to the cariole. while doing this he discovered the cause of their fear, and was also thankful that he was with them in the middle of his now floating raft. the strong wind blowing directly up the channel, narrow though it was, had so agitated the water that there was a good deal of force in it, and so now, even before sam had completely severed the ice from the main body, the water had begun to cause it to slightly move. dogs are more sensitive than human beings, and so they had noticed it before sam had, and while he was trying to quiet them the whole thing broke loose and began slowly to move north. as this novel raft broke loose it was quite unsteady for a few minutes, and sam saw with disgust his axe slide into the water and disappear. however, he still had the ice chisel, with its strong handle, which was about eight feet in length. at first he had all he could do to quiet his excited dogs. they acted as though they would plunge into the water in spite of all his efforts. some soothing words, and also some vigorous kicks, quieted those of different temperaments, and they settled down at last and seemed to say: "well, if our master can stand this, surely we ought to be able to." not until sam felt that he had his dogs well under control did he make any effort to get his novel raft across the channel. but when they all lay still and quiet he took up his ice chisel and was ready for work. he vigorously pushed against the icy shore from which he had broken loose, but his strength did not at first seem to make much impression, as the wind was somewhat against him, and so his raft at times ground roughly against the side from which he had broken away. however, he was slowly working north, and he was not discouraged. sam was always an observant lad. when on shipboard he had been interested in watching the sailors shift the sails to catch the changing winds. so now an idea came to him, and he resolved to see what could be done with an improvised sail, even if it were only made out of a large buffalo robe. lashing one side of the robe to the pole of his ice chisel, he then firmly fastened one end of it to the head of his cariole. cutting two holes in the outer corners of the robe, he there tied a couple of strong deerskin strings. then, taking his place in his cariole, he pulled his sail up against the wind and awaited the result. he was not very sure just how to manage to get across the channel, but he had no anxiety about getting further off, as that was an impossibility, as he was now jammed up against the ice. so he pulled in his sail and then let it out, until at length he found the right angle for the brisk wind to cause him to gradually draw away from the side he had been on. when in the middle of the channel so pleased was he with his novel craft that he let out his sail, and for a time sped along north between the two icy shores. then, observing an indenture in the ice to the east sufficiently large to serve for a harbour for his queer vessel, he steered for it and safely ran in, but struck the icy landing place with such a crash that his raft was split in the middle under him. however, all he had to do was to hang on to his cariole and straighten out his dogs by the calls they well understood. in an instant they sprang ashore, and easily dragged sam and the cariole after them. facing toward the distant home, the dogs required no special urging, and so rapidly, yet carefully watching against the treacherous places, they hurried on, and about sundown home was reached. mr and mrs ross had begun to feel anxious about him, and so were not only relieved by his return, but very much amused by the characteristic account he gave of his adventure on the ice raft. in the meantime, although it was not quite dark, there was no word as yet from frank and alec, who with some indians had gone off early in the morning on a duck-shooting excursion. following the geese, the hunting of which has been so fully described in a previous chapter, came the ducks in great flocks. they could be seen in great multitudes during every hour of the day, and the whistling sounds that accompany their rapid flights could be heard every hour of the night. they seemed to be of about every known variety, from the great grey ducks down to the smallest teals. the indians were after them incessantly, and killed great numbers of them. they resorted to no such elaborate preparations in hunting them as they did at the goose huntings, but shot them at the various points along which they seemed to crowd, and in the many pieces of open water on the marshy shores, where they tried to find some favourite food. the boys were out almost every day, either with mr ross or some trusted indians, and had some capital sport. the morning that sam had prepared to have a good long final run with his dogs, frank and alec had gone to what was called the old fort, where the mighty nelson, gathering in lake winnipeg the waters of many rivers, begins in its full strength its fierce, rapid, onward career, that ends only when it reaches the hudson bay. this has been for generations a favourite shooting ground of the indians, and here for the day the two lads and their indian attendants came. they had made the journey very early in the morning, and so their dogs had had no trouble with the ice, which in the night frost had quickly become firm and hard. in the friendly shelter of some trees they had secured their dog-trains. here building a fire, their indian cook had a second breakfast soon ready for them. while eating it they could hear the cries of many wild birds, that the now strong south wind was bringing over them. flocks of wild geese, principally the waveys, a very much smaller variety than the great grey geese, were quite numerous, as well as an occasional one of the larger kinds. swans flew by in straight lines with such rapidity that many a shot was lost in trying to shoot them. pelicans were also there in great numbers, and the boys were intensely interested in their awkward, and at times comical, movements. as they are not good for food, only one or two were shot, as curiosities. cranes stalked along on their long, slender legs in the marshy places, while snipe and many similar birds ran rapidly along the sandy shores. the ducks were everywhere, and so the shooting was everything that our enthusiastic hunters could desire. the indians, toward noon, began to get uneasy about the return trip, on account of the effects of the sun's rays and the south winds on the ice. they suggested an early start, but so fascinated had the boys become in the shooting that they kept putting it off from hour to hour. however, the return trip was at length begun, and then the boys saw the wisdom of the indians' suggestion for an earlier start, and heartily wished they had agreed to it. playgreen lake, which in the morning seemed still one great mass of glittering ice, now appeared half broken up. wherever the ice had burst in the winter, and there frozen up again, now there were long channels of open water. suspicious-looking pools of water were on the ice in many places, and so the outlook for the return trip was anything but pleasant. frank's train was the first to come to grief. his heavy dogs in passing over a dark-looking patch of ice broke through, and were with much difficulty pulled out. what amazed him and alec was that the ice was still over two feet thick where the accident occurred, but under the effects of the rays of the sun it had simply disintegrated into long icy crystals that had no cohesiveness, and so when they were trodden upon they afforded little more support than so much water. the dripping dogs were no sooner hauled out, and once more started, than the appearance of a flock of geese, in one of the open stretches of water, was too great a temptation to be resisted. the trains were halted, and frank and alec took their guns, and crept round to an icy hillock, from which they would be able to get a capital shot. in a few minutes the guns rang out their reports, and up rose the great flocks of geese, as well as many ducks and other birds. frank and alec had both been successful, and so speedily they dashed over the ice to attempt to secure their geese, which seemed to be only badly wounded. as the indians, who were in charge of the dogs, saw them thus recklessly dashing straight for the open water they instantly started the dog- trains toward them. they were none too soon, for the boys, apparently seeing only their splendid game struggling in the narrow channel, noticed not the dangerous black spots on the ice. poor frank, who was a little in advance, almost suddenly disappeared. down he went, and that so quickly that he had not time even to throw from him his gun, which speedily sank. he had all he could do to save himself as he sank in the icy crystals that sounded around him like the smashing of scores of panes of glass. alec, alarmed at frank's sad plight, madly rushed to his rescue, but ere he had gone a dozen yards he too found himself, as he afterward expressed it, like a person dropping into a well. fortunately, he was holding his gun crossways to his body, and as the hole of rotten ice into which he so speedily dropped was but a small one the gun struck solid ice each side, and as he had held on securely to it he did not fall in as completely as did poor frank. his plight was, however, a very awkward one, as the hole was so small and the firm, jagged ice so gripped him that unaided he would have had some difficulty in extricating himself. well was it that the indians had been on the alert, and so it was but a few minutes ere they were on the spot, and at once set about the work of rescue. alec was the first reached and was speedily pulled out, although it required some effort to do so on account of his being so wedged in so small a hole with the sharp, jagged ice. his ribs were sore for many days. in the meantime frank's position was much more dangerous. the speed with which he was running, when he so suddenly tumbled in, caused him to go completely under the ice. he was, however, a good swimmer, and had presence of mind enough to know that for his own safety he must come up in the same place where he had gone down, as all around was solid ice. he was sorry to have to drop his gun, but there was no hope for it if life was to be saved. he found the sensation of trying to swim up through a mass of ice crystals that seemed to be two or three feet long, and no larger in size than pencils, a unique experience. as he bravely struggled through them they broke in thousands of pieces, some of them cutting his face like glass. when he was able to get his head above them he found that only a few strokes were necessary to take him to the strong ice, as this bad spot, in which he had fallen, was not more than twenty feet across. getting out of such a hole on the slippery ice is no easy matter, and so, as he could see that help was near, after a few efforts he was content to wait until strong arms came to his assistance and rescue. speedily were some of the outer garments of the boys pulled off, and as much of the water as could be rubbed off from those remaining on them. two of the indians pulled off their dry coats, and, with these on, the boys were well wrapped up in their carioles, out of which many ducks were thrown, and then at once, with the swiftest and yet most cautious indian on ahead as a guide for the safe places, the rapid race to sagasta-weekee began. it was no easy matter for the indian in front when darkness began to hide the dangerous places. more than once the rotten, treacherous ice gave way under him, and only by a sudden throwing of himself forward did he escape going through into the water. the distant lights in the windows of sagasta-weekee, well called the house full of sunshine, were indeed welcome sights. mr and mrs ross and sam had been long on the lookout for them, and were shocked and frightened at the sad plight of the two boys. frank and alec, however, tried to make light of it, but neither had the slightest objection to offer to the hot baths at once prepared, and then their suppers, taken that night in bed. they were both badly shaken up. frank felt worse in his mind, because he had lost such a valuable gun, while alec's ribs were the spots that were for some days his tenderest places. all sorts of rumours went out in reference to the accident. the story had so enlarged that when it reached the mission house it was that the boys had been rescued in a dying condition and were still very low, and so there was great sorrow over there, even so much that it was said that two sweet young ladies refused to be comforted. when mrs ross heard this her motherly heart was touched, and so, as the wind had changed and the cold north wind had again made the ice safe for experienced indian drivers, two carioles were dispatched to the mission for the aforesaid young ladies to come and spend a week or two at sagasta-weekee. the missionary, with his dog-train in charge of an experienced driver, also came over at the same time as did his daughters. ere they arrived the boys were up and dressed in moccasins and dressing gowns, and so were able to receive their very welcome visitors. mr hurlburt only remained to a very early tea, and then after an earnest prayer, in which there was a great deal of thanksgiving for their deliverance, he, with martin papanekis, the driver, returned to his home. of that happy week that followed we confess our inability to write. that it was a very delightful one was evident to all. the only sorrow that tinged its brightness and bliss was the fact that soon the ice would be all gone, the boats would be arriving, and then the home trip of these three boys would begin. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter twenty four. the arrival of the spring packet--welcome letters--arrangements for the home-flitting--sam's raillery--rachel and winnie at sagasta-weekee-- happy hours--canoeing excursions--the cyclone--young excursionists exposed to its awful power--the narrow escape--the refuge of the rock-- napoleon, the tame bear, in possession--gun signals--the happy rescue. the arrival of the spring packet was, and still is, an interesting event to the dwellers in those remote northern regions. not a letter or paper had reached sagasta-weekee since the christmas packet, and now it was june. and so when the first boats of the hudson bay company arrived from red river and fort garry, with supplies and great bundles of letters and periodicals, there was great excitement. a swift canoe was in readiness at the fort, and so it was not long ere the large number directed to sagasta-weekee were hurried over to the expectant ones. they were quickly assorted, and then each person with his own rushed off to fairly devour the contents. "faith," said sam, as he eagerly seized his bundle, "the sight of my blessed mother's handwriting puts sand in my eyes and a lump in my throat. blessings on the darling! may she live a thousand years!" frank and alec were equally as much interested, but they controlled their feelings and left to the more demonstrative sam these joyous ebullitions, that were as natural as it was for him to breathe. after mr ross had perused a number of his letters he quietly signalled to mrs ross, and immediately they both left the room. he had received a letter from liverpool which informed him that a very serious disease had begun to undermine the constitution of frank's father, and while no immediate fatal results were expected, it was thought best that frank should return by the speediest route possible. in frank's own letters from home all that had been mentioned in reference to the matter was that, "father was not quite up to his usual health, and they would all be glad to have him return as speedily as possible." neither mr nor mrs ross said anything to the boys in reference to the matter of their return until after the evening meal, when they were all in the cozy study discussing the various events that had been occurring in the outside world during the last six months, and of which they had all been in profound ignorance until that day. each boy had read his letters to the others, and together they had been delighted with all the news received, except that concerning frank's father. then, for the first time, the matter of the return home was seriously discussed. so happy had been the months since their arrival, nearly a year before, that even the discussion of the return trip had been kept in the background as much as possible. but now they were face to face with it, and sharp and quick must be their decision if they would avail themselves of the first opportunity for their departure. this would be by the return of these hudson bay company's boats to red river. in them they could travel as far as to fort garry. from that point they would take the overland trail on the great plains to st. paul, and there, boarding the flat-bottomed steamers on the mississippi, would once more begin travelling in a civilised manner. this plan was the one on which they finally settled. it would be much more expeditious than the long waiting for the sailing ship at york factory, and then returning by the hudson bay and north atlantic route. this decided, the next question was how to make the best of the ten days that would elapse ere the journey would begin. "i'll wager my dog-whip against a pair of moccasins," said sam, "that i know where a good part of the time will be spent if a couple of young gentlemen friends of mine can have their own way." "all right," quickly responded mrs ross, "for although i consider a wager, at best, is but a fool's argument, and so you may keep your whip, i will accept your challenge and say that i know that here at sagasta- weekee is the spot where the two young gentlemen you have in your mind will prefer to spend the time until the home journey is commenced." the sudden extinguishment of sam's pet phrases of "i'll wager" and "i'll bet" by the gentle mrs ross was much relished by frank and alec, who well knew that they were the young gentlemen to whom he referred, and on whom he was about to turn his raillery. generous, good-natured sam was quick to acknowledge the error of his ways, in the use of those expressions from the betting world that had, he hardly knew how, found their way into his vocabulary. still, as he gracefully apologised to mrs ross, there was a half-comical, half-perplexed look in his face, and so, as he never could keep even his thoughts to himself, amidst the laughter of all he blurted out: "sure i was thinking of the young ladies over the way there at the mission, and that it would be in their sweet smiles my two chums would wish to be basking." "we have been thinking of them also," said mrs ross, "and before this, i imagine, the canoe has reached the mission, with a cordial invitation for both of them to come over, with as many others of the family as can leave, and spend the time with us until the boats start for red river." "hurrah!" shouted frank and alec in chorus, and ere they seemed aware of what they were doing, in the exuberance of their boyish delight, they had hold of mrs ross and were gyrating with her around the room, to the great amusement of all, especially of roderick and wenonah, who speedily joined in the sport. this being settled, the next thing was to talk over the preparations essential for the return trip. so many and varied were the trophies of the chase, as well as indian curios that each of the boys wished to take back to the home land, that orders were at once given to the carpenters for the requisite number of large cassettes. this is the name given in that region to water-tight boxes made out of the spruce lumber of the country. indian women also were engaged to prepare the requisite travelling outfits for both the water and prairie routes. then they all settled down to a loving talk over the happy months of the past and the outlook of the future. speaking for the three boys, frank said: "we can never sufficiently thank mr and mrs ross for this memorable year. it has been an education to us all that will, we are sure, be helpful to us in years to come. we shall not only, in the many trophies of these happy and sometimes exciting days, have before us in our different homes the tangible reminders of our glorious sports and adventures, but engraved in our memories will be the many remembrances of the unfailing love and indulgent sympathy you have ever shown toward us. we are all very grateful to you both, and, while naturally pleased at the prospect of soon being with our loved ones across the sea, we are very sorry that we shall soon have to say good-bye." this touching and nicely worded speech of frank's was too much for tender-hearted wenonah and roderick, and so they burst out into weeping and hurriedly left the room. sam seemed to be suddenly attacked with a bad cold and blew his nose vigorously, and for once had nothing to say. alec, more able to control himself, added a few kindly, grateful words to these so well put by frank. mr and mrs ross were deeply stirred, and in reply stated the happiness that had come to them in having had within their home three young gentlemen who had ever been a source of pleasure and inspiration to them. kindly were the words of counsel given them for their guidance in the harder battles of life before them--to be manly, self-reliant, and ever honest and true. "remember this," added mr ross, "upright, honest boys will make the true men the world needs." the memory of that evening long lingered with them, and in after years, in some fierce moral conflicts, in which they each had to wear a face as of flint against temptation, the words of wisdom there heard, enabled them to triumph against the fiercest attacks. "a word in season, how good it is!" early the next morning the boys were up, and after breakfast and prayers they began assorting their various collections gathered, for skillful indian hands to carefully pack up for the long, rough journey that lay between them and their distant homes. a month or so before this they had parted with their dogs. kinesasis had taken them all out to the distant island, where in idleness they could spend the few brilliant summer months, ere another winter would call them back to their work again. the boys had found it hard to part with the faithful animals. alec especially, who had, in his scottish nature, formed a great attachment to his gallant four that had found a warm place in his heart by the way they had secured for him his victory in that memorable race, was almost disconsolate. two or three times had he secured a couple of indians and a good canoe, and had gone over to the island for a romp with them. the friends from the mission arrived in the afternoon, and were cordially welcomed. they had accepted mrs ross's invitation in the spirit in which it had been so genuinely given. in such a land there is but little of the artificial and conventional. friendship is true and genuine, and loving words have but one meaning. frank and alec greeted rachel and winnie in oo-che-me-ke-se-gou fashion. they did not know whether to be pleased or sorry when they saw tears in the bright eyes of these young ladies, when the news was told them of the speedy departure of the three young gentlemen to their distant homes across the sea. alec said he was rather proud of seeing the tears in winnie's eyes, as it made him more than ever think that she did really think something of him, and he would try by hard and steady effort in the coming years to prove himself worthy of her love. frank, more open and impulsive, when he saw the tears in the eyes of his beloved rachel, could not restrain his own, and was visibly affected. sam, who had been an interested spectator of the arrival and the various greetings, must of course make a few remarks. "look at alec there," said he. "the self-opinionated young scotchman! he thinks so much of himself that he is pleased to see a sweet young lady shedding some tears for him." this was rather severe on the part of sam, but he could not bear to see anyone in tears, and so he was a little extra-critical just now. his keen eyes had also narrowly watched frank, and as he saw the tears in his eyes and noticed his visible emotion, even fun-loving sam was touched, and he impulsively exclaimed: "frank, my darling, i love you for your great big heart. but my feelings are all mixed, for why should a young gentleman, who has just kissed his sweetheart, be after weeping and giving redness of eyes to the rest of us?" then, with a merry laugh, he roused himself out of these dumps, as he called them, and exclaimed: "frank, my boy, here is a conundrum for you: of which of the venerable men of the past does your conduct remind me?" various guesses were made, but none were considered satisfactory, and so sam was called upon to solve his own riddle. his answer was clever and characteristic. "well," said he, "when reading the blessed book my mother gave me i found a portion which said, `and jacob kissed rachel, and lifted up his voice, and wept.' why he should have shed any tears at such an interesting transaction bothered me. but now i think i get a glimmering idea in reference to it, since i have seen the events of to- day." "sam, sam," said mrs ross, who had heard this quaint reference to the old patriarch, "why do you thus bring in such names in your pleasantries?" "i don't know," replied the irrepressible sam, "unless it is that it is in my blood; for one of the last things i heard my mother say, ere i left home, was that, to judge by the thinness of the milk furnished by the farmer who supplied us, he much reminded her of pharaoh's daughter, as he took a _profit_ out of the water!" "chestnuts," said alec. "i have heard that before." it was new to the majority, and the droll way in which sam gave it put everybody in a good humour, and a very happy, delightful time was spent by them all. rapidly sped on the few days that intervened between the arrival of the packet and the return trip of the boats to red river. these hudson bay company's boats had come loaded with furs caught the previous winter, which would be sent down to york factory with vast quantities from other parts of the great country, and from that fort shipped to england. then, loaded with goods for the next winter's trade, the boats would return to the different posts from which they had come. with the exception of canoes, they afforded the only means of travel in the summer time in those regions. mr ross had gone over to the fort at norway house, and had obtained from the gentlemen there in charge permission to send frank, alec, and sam in these boats as far as fort garry. he also decided to accompany them that far in their journey, and see that everything was secured necessary for their long trip across the prairies to st. paul. as the weather had now become very pleasant for canoeing, several very delightful outings were arranged by mr and mrs ross for the young folks. the boys had become expert canoeists, and in the long gloamings of the lengthened days in june in those high north lands, they had many memorable excursions. as the indian women and maidens are all experts in handling the paddle, so it becomes a point of honour among the ladies, young and old, in the hudson bay fort and mission to be able to, at least in a measure, imitate the dusky, bronzed maidens of the wigwams. mr hurlburt had wisely trained his daughters in this accomplishment. living as they did, where there were really no walks except the trails that immediately led into the primeval forests, where lurking wild beasts were at times so bold that they came up close to the dwellings of the villagers, it was really dangerous to go far from home. canoeing thus became the great summer recreation and amusement. and for the upper part of the body there is no better exercise. the result was that rachel and winnie were both skillful and fearless canoeists, and very much enjoyed this, which has well been called "the poetry of motion." mr ross prided himself on his beautiful, graceful canoes for the summer time, about as much as he loved his dogs in the long winter months. the indians, knowing his love for their graceful canoes, had presented him with some great beauties, on which they had exercised all their ingenuity and skill in construction, and their artistic taste in ornamentation. these were all now in much demand, and merry and happy indeed was the whole party, as perhaps in six or eight canoes they started from the little land-locked harbour of sagasta-weekee. frank and rachel were company enough for one of the prettiest canoes, while the same could be said of alec and winnie in another not less handsome. to the last, sam's joy was to have with him the little children, wenonah and roderick. to him was assigned a large, safe canoe, and a couple of trusty indians to aid in the paddling. the rest of the party went out more or less frequently, as it best suited them. so much had to be done to complete the arrangements for the journey that often the young folks went out alone on their joyous trips. one afternoon mr ross was a little troubled, and at first seemed inclined to ask all to give up their excursions on the water for that day and amuse themselves at home. his trusty barometer, that had stood so steady for fine settled weather for days, was now acting in a most erratic manner. a change of some kind was evident, and so sam and the children did not venture out. still, as the sky was cloudless and the blue waters of the island-studded lake looked so peaceful and quiet, he did not prevent frank and alec, with the young ladies, from venturing out, but gave them some words of caution and then let the happy canoeists embark, and saw them strike out in unison as away they glided over the little sun-kissed waves. for a little while the music of their laughter and song fell on the ears of those who had gone to see them off. when they had disappeared among the beautiful fir-clad islands the spectators returned to the house, and were soon busy in their various duties. crash! boom! what is that? too well was it known by mr ross and those who had lived in that land. it was a dreadful thunderbolt, the precursor of the fierce cyclone, the sudden storm that is coming upon them at the rate of something near a hundred miles an hour. worst of all, four young people are out in it, in a couple of frail canoes, and who can tell what may happen to them when in its full fury it bursts upon them? and how fares it with the young folks about whom there is now naturally so much anxiety at sagasta-weekee? with laughter and song we saw them dash away, as under their skillful strokes their light canoes, like sea birds, glided along over the peaceful waters. now, drenched and half dazed by the blinding glare of the terrific storm, they are battling for life in a very maelstrom of waters. suddenly had the storm struck them. they had remarked the strange actions and the frightened cries of the birds, that all seemed hurrying in one direction. then they had observed the dead calm that had settled down on everything. even the aspen leaves on the trees, on the islands along which they glided, for once were ominously still. every wavelet on the waters hushed itself asleep, and the whole surface of the lake was as a sea of polished glass. rachel was the first to take alarm from this deadly calm, and she exclaimed: "this is unnatural, and means danger. let us return at once." quickly they turned their canoes, and now only a few yards apart they began the race before the coming storm, although as yet it had not revealed itself. the first intimation they had of its approach was the rapidly rising wind, which fortunately arose directly behind them. it was at first different from any ordinary breeze. it seemed to come along like a thing of life, now catching up a handful of water and scattering it like sand, then bounding up in wanton sport, and then once more trailing on the waters and making it ripple in lines or lanes, as in mad sport it now more rapidly hurried along. then, as they looked back over their shoulders to the north-west, they saw coming up the cyclonic cloud. it was dark as midnight, ragged at its edges, and above it was a rim of sky so green and so unnatural that our brave young people for a moment almost recoiled with terror at the sight. "paddle for that island!" shouted rachel. "no canoe can live in such a storm as will soon be on us." hardly had she uttered these words ere there shot out a thunderbolt so vivid that they were all nearly blinded by its intense brightness. it seemed to fill the whole heavens around them with its dazzling whiteness, and then as suddenly it was gone. "one, two, three, four," began rachel, who, although paddling with wondrous effectiveness, was calm and collected. "o, don't stop to count," called winnie, who was like the rest desperately yet cautiously using her paddle. "it would be better to pray than do that." "we'll do that shortly, but paddle for dear life now, and don't interrupt the count. where was i? ten, eleven, twelve--" and at eighteen there came the crash of the thunder of that lightning flash that had so nearly blinded them. it was as though a thousand great cannon had simultaneously been fired. "hurrah!" shouted the brave girl the instant it died away. "we have two minutes and a half yet ere the cyclone reaches us. in two minutes we must reach the other side of that high rocky point, and in the remaining half minute we must get on the lee side of the great sheltering rocks. courage all, and let every stroke tell!" and there was need for courage, for already the white caps were around them, and behind them the waters hissed and shrieked like demons let loose and howling for their victims. the heavens were rapidly being overwhelmed with the blackness of darkness. but here is the point! skillfully the two girls, who were in the stern of the canoes, steered them sharply around, and the strong strokes of frank and alec did the rest, and they were in the shelter of the rock. but it would only be safe for an instant. "now all spring for your lives!" again cried rachel; "and let everything go, frank, but your gun and some cartridges." "can we not save the canoes?" shouted alec. "no, no!" cried rachel. "it is our lives here only that we must think about, for the sake of those who even now, perhaps, are mourning us as dead." the shelter of the rocks was within a few flying bounds, and they were safe. it was an enormous rock that towered up some scores of feet, and on the lee side, where our young folks had found shelter, hung over for perhaps twenty feet. fortunate indeed were they to have reached such a refuge. a few seconds later, when, with backs against the mighty rock, they were in a measure recovering from the violent exertion of that fearful struggle, winnie cried out, "o, where are the canoes?" not a vestige of them was ever after seen. they had been caught up in that cyclone that came thundering on so close behind that in the brief seconds in which the young people had run from them to the rock they had been picked up and whirled into oblivion. "it is well," said alec, "i did not stop to try and save the one i was in. but why, rachel, did you ask frank to bring along his gun and ammunition?" "you will soon see," said the brave, thoughtful girl, "that they will be worth more to us and our anxious friends than the canoes." in the meantime, the storm in passing the point had spread out over the whole place, and the rain, which was now descending in torrents, began to be very uncomfortable. a rim of light was still in the distance, and with the now almost incessant flashings of the lightning it was possible to grope around for a dry and more sheltered spot under the great rock. alec, who had volunteered to go out and try to find a drier place, and who was now groping along in one direction as the lightning lit up his path, was heard to suddenly let out a cry of alarm and then almost immediately after burst into a hearty peal of laughter. "what in the world have you found in such a place to cause you to act like this?" said frank, who was really annoyed at the merriment of alec after such a narrow escape. "come here and you will see," was the only reply they could secure from alec, who was acting in a manner so strange and unaccountable. so, waiting for the lightning flashes to enable them to pick their way over the rough stones under the sheltered place, they cautiously moved toward him. as they came within a few feet and were now in the gloom, waiting for another flash to light up the way, alec said: "don't be frightened at what you will see. it is only old napoleon, and he is as frightened as he can be, and seems glad to have me with him." the sight that met them as the next vivid flash blazed out was indeed enough to try older and stronger nerves, for there was alec with his back against the dry rock and one of his arms around the neck of an enormous bear. "don't be alarmed," shouted alec. "it is old napoleon, and he is more frightened by the cyclone than any of us." "how do you know it is napoleon?" asked winnie, who was noted for her extreme cautiousness. "know him? why, of course i know him, and he was as pleased as an affectionate dog to see me. and see, here are the two brass rings i put in his little round ears last winter at the fort, some time before christmas." this was convincing proof that their comrade was a tame, harmless bear, and so without any more alarm they all crowded into what proved to be a dry and safe retreat from the fearful storm that still raged outside. "bears know a thing or two," said alec, "and so old nap in selecting this spot was quite confident that it could stand a cyclone." meantime the storm continued to rage with awful fury, but sheltered by the rocks they were safe from its ravages. all they could do was to patiently wait until its fury was spent. so they sang some sweet hymns, and the girls gave some reminiscences of previous storms and adventures. as soon as the storm began to abate rachel said, "i think, frank, it is time you began to use your gun." "what, would you have him shoot this affectionate old bear?" asked alec. a merry laugh burst from the lips of both of the girls, and winnie asked him if he had any idea of the reason why rachel so urged frank to save his gun and ammunition, even if everything else should be lost. "not the slightest idea," was his answer. "well," replied rachel, "as the fury of the storm is about spent, it is time to be beginning to explain the mystery. and so now suppose you take the gun and go out on the beach and fire three times in quick succession." frank and alec at once comprehended the riddle, and laughed at their own stupidity. the firing of the gun would bring their rescuers speedily to them. unfortunately for these young people, their retreat was too distant from sagasta-weekee for the report of their gun to reach that place. however, just as soon as mr ross saw the storm approaching he summoned every available man, and had boats in readiness to begin the search as soon as it was possible to risk the angry waves which a cyclone of this description stirs up. for at least three hours they had to wait ere they could make a start. then in the still angry waters they shoved out their boats, and in different directions started on the search. in the meantime let us again go back to the young people in their strange place of refuge. noting the increasing brightness, as the black clouds were now rapidly rolling away, rachel suggested that three more shots be fired. in a few minutes more they were repeated, and soon after, as the rain had now nearly ceased, the whole party came out from their gloomy cave retreat. on every side were evidences of the terrific power of the cyclone. great trees had been torn up by the roots, while others had been snapped off, leaving the stumps standing from twenty to fifty feet high. apart from the sad evidences of the storm, everything was soon simply delightful. in those high latitudes the june evenings are very long. here was now one of wondrous beauty. the angry waves were quickly dying away into pleasant ripples. the sun was setting behind some lovely clouds of gold and crimson, and the air, purified by the cyclone, seemed exhilarating in the extreme. "keep up your firing, frank," said rachel, "for doubtless there are boats out long ere this, looking for what is left of us." "listen!" said winnie, who, being wonderfully gifted in hearing, had been the first to detect an answering gun. "one, two, three, four. fire again!" she cried. "they have heard, but are uncertain as to the direction." again the three reports of the gun sounded in quick succession, and soon there was the answer of two guns, which meant, "we hear you now and will soon be with you." to mr ross's great relief and satisfaction, it was the boat, manned by four oarsmen, of which he himself had charge that was the first to hear the firing of frank's gun. some of his indian crew had detected reports before he had, but nothing would satisfy him until the welcome sound fell on his own ears. "pull, men!" he fairly shouted, "and let us see how many of those loved ones have survived that storm. if any of them are drowned, you need not take me home." not a man in that boat, white or indian, needed any urging. such was the love they all had for those young people that gladly would any one of them have risked his own life for theirs. around the next point, now not far away, again rang out the three reports, and soon a most welcome sight greeted the eyes of mr ross and his crew. for there, distinctly visible on the shore, were four happy young people waving their welcomes. "thank god," reverently said mr ross. "they are all safe." and, strong man that he was, he wept like a child. other eyes than his were moist also. with an effort he checked his deep emotion, and was so able to control himself that ere the shore was reached he was calm and collected. when within hailing distance hearty words of congratulation rapidly passed back and forward. such was the nature of the shore that a good place where they could step into the boat from the shore was not easily found, and so the men at the oars rowed up on the sandy beach as far as they could, and then, running out three oars, made a walk that answered very well. good mr ross was so wild with delight at the fact of the preservation of these young folks, whom he loved so well, that he was the first to rush out and try and gather them all in his arms. in the excitement of the rescue napoleon, the tame bear, had been quite forgotten, but now he acted as though he had been doing his share of thinking, and had come to the conclusion that, if his liberty was to be associated with cyclones, he had had enough of it; and so, just as mr ross and the young people were about to go on board the boat, he deliberately came marching out of the cave and, carefully balancing himself, walked up on the oars and took a comfortable position in the boat. his unexpected appearance very much startled the men, and there was a general scramble for guns. alec, quick to see his danger, rushed up, and taking a position beside napoleon forbade any shooting, and speedily made some very necessary explanations, much to the relief and amusement of all. it did not take long to return to sagasta-weekee, and great indeed were the rejoicings there. soon the other search boats returned, and the anxieties of all were thus speedily relieved. after the recital of the story of their narrow escape an impressive thanksgiving service was held, and every heart was full of gratitude for their deliverance. winter adventures of three boys--by egerton r. young chapter twenty five. homeward bound--farewell to sagasta-weekee--old norway house--sam's clever surmisings--a glad surprise for frank and alec--sam's well- deserved ducking--a glorious evening--the early call--just one more sweet "good-bye"--"all aboard"--on great lake winnipeg--sam's successful shot at a bear--red river--first glimpse of the prairies--fort garry-- the bells of st. boniface--the long trip across the plains--the exciting buffalo hunt--saint paul's--still on by lakes and rivers--montreal--on board ship--the ocean voyage--liverpool--home at last. the start was made from sagasta-weekee in time for the boats to go that afternoon as far as to the old norway house fort, where the mighty nelson river begins its career. here for scores of years it has been the custom for the boats to camp for at least one night and make their final preparations for the long trip of the whole length of lake winnipeg to the mouth of the red river. to the great delight of the boys, some extra boats were sent in with the red river brigade, and so they had big tom as their guide, martin papanekis as their cook, and soquatum as bowman. these boats are each propelled by eight sturdy oarsmen. the work of rowing all day at these heavy oars is very laborious, and so there is great delight when the wind is favourable and a mast can be placed in position and a great square sail hauled up into the favouring breeze. then the voyage is a joyous holiday. what is most dreaded is a long, continuous head wind, against which they can neither sail nor use the oars with good effect. early in the forenoon on the day of starting the young gentlemen said farewell to their good friends of the mission, mr and mrs hurlburt and the sweet young ladies, rachel and winnie. it is almost needless to add that both frank and alec declared themselves as the most devoted of lovers, and vowed that in a few years they would return and claim them as their brides. we must leave time to tell the results of these youthful loves, which had begun under such happy and romantic auspices. to the surprise of the young gentlemen, mrs ross and the children left sagasta-weekee at the same time as did mr hurlburt and his family, and so were not there to see them off when they left a few hours later. so thoroughly and well had the packing been done that not much time was lost after the arrival of the boats before everything was on board. the kindly farewells to all were said, and they were off. sam could not help shouting back to pasche, as he stood on a rock with a sorrowful face: "don't set any more traps for moose bulls, pasche!" "no, mon garcon, i have had enough of that work," he shouted, amid the laughter of the other servants. with waving of handkerchiefs and shouts of "bon voyage" and "good-bye," sagasta-weekee was left behind. there were tears in the eyes of the lads who had spent within its comfortable walls such an eventful year. they had grown much, not only physically, but there had been development mentally and morally that would tell for good in the oncoming years. to have been under the guidance of such a couple as mr and mr ross in such a formative period of their young lives was of incalculable value. happy are the boys who have such guardians; happier still if their own parents are of this splendid class. as the wind sprang up from the north the mast, which had been securely tied to the outside of the boat, was quickly placed in position, and the sail was soon doing its work. mr ross and the lads had comfortable seats arranged for them in the stern of the boat. just behind them stood big tom, skillfully using a great oar as a rudder. wild ducks and a few geese flew by, but there was now no time for shooting. on they sped, and it was easy to observe from the quiet yet frequent consultations in the indian language that passed between mr ross and big tom that there was something more than the sail in the sam, who had picked up quite a knowledge of indian, was the first to suspect what was before them, and so he blurted out: "faith, i believe oo-che-me-ke-se-gou is going to be repeated." "what do you mean?" asked frank. "mean, is it, you ask? why, i mean that i fancy some other hands than martin's will pour the tea for us to-night." "do stop talking riddles, sam," said alec, "and tell us what your palaver is all about." "well," replied the incorrigible tease, "i fancy that, if you young gentlemen are getting sick of having pledged yourselves to eternal loyalty, or, in other words, plighted your troths either to others, as the book says, you will both have a chance to tell the fair damsels to their faces ere the sun goes down." "sam!" they both shouted, "what do you mean?" this explosion on their part caused mr ross to turn from his consultation with big tom. in response rather to his looks than anything he uttered sam said: "i have been trying to get it into the thick heads of these two boys that there is an agreeable conspiracy on foot for their mutual consolation and edification, but for the life of me i believe they are as much in the dark as when i began." "chist!" ("look!") cried big tom. "akota wigwam!" ("there is the tent!") these words of big tom caused everything else to be forgotten, and so even mr ross, who was vastly amused that sam had been so observant, did not make any reply to the lad's remarks. rapidly they sped along, and now soon to all was visible a large tent and a number of persons on the distant sandy beach. sam keenly watched his comrades, and saw their cheeks flush, and their eyes get moist, as they caught the sight of white handkerchiefs, waving from the hands of those to whom they had become so deeply attached. "it is too good to be true," said frank, as he gripped alec one hand, while with the other he was waving his handkerchief wildly in response to those of the loved ones on the shore. onward sped the boat, and soon all were recognised. here they found all who had left early in the morning--mrs ross and the children and all the mission friends. what a delightful surprise, and how happy they all were that it had been such a success! poor sam, the only one to see through it, was the only one to come to grief. he had not patience enough to wait until three or four of the big oars were lashed together, to serve as a rude gangway on which to walk safely to the shore but, seeing the ease with which some of the agile indians ran out on a single oar, in spite of the rocking of the boat, he boldly tried to do the same, and ere he knew where he was he was down in the water, and nearly drowned by a retreating wave under the boat. quickly he was rescued, but he was completely drenched to the skin. he was somewhat bruised, but was not long the worse for the accident. but as he was quickly hurried off to the shelter of the tent and dry clothes secured for him he admitted that he deserved the ducking, as he had purposely hurried ashore to make a few remarks when the young lovers should meet again. and so frank had the joy of again meeting his rachel, and alec his sweet winnie, and a delightful visit they had with them while sam was having his bruised body well rubbed in sturgeon oil by a stalwart indian. this is the indian's drastic remedy for such a mishap, and a good one it is. very delightfully passed that long june evening. it was full eleven o'clock ere the gorgeous colours all died away in the west and the stars one by one came out in their quiet beauty and decked as with diamonds that peerless northern sky. after a time the auroras flashed and blazed in quiet beauty. to-night they seemed not as warriors bent on carnage, but as troops of lovers tripping in joyous unison to some sweet strains of music unheard by mortal ears. amid such surroundings sat and talked this happy group. it was, they well knew, their last evening together, and so amid its joyousness there was a tinge of sorrow and regret. as the evening darkened into night they had all gathered near the great brilliant camp fire, which is always welcome and agreeable even in june nights, no matter how warm has been the day. after the delightful events and incidents of the past had been referred to and discussed by all, the conversation turned to the many dangers that had come to some of them, and their narrow escapes. gratitude to god for their many marvellous deliverances was the uppermost feeling in their hearts. mr hurlburt and mr ross spoke most impressively on this wonderful providential care that had been over them. the indians, except those whose duty it was to see to the welfare of their masters and mistresses, were all now asleep. wrapped up each in his blanket, they lay around on the rocks in picturesque places. during the evening all the other boats had arrived from norway house, and so it was arranged that if the wind continued favourable they would make an early start in the morning. when mr ross felt that it was time to break up the delightful circle he asked mr hurlburt to take charge of the devotional service. always hallowed and precious were these sacred hours of worship in the forest or on the shores, and this last one was not less suggestive and profitable. first from memory they all repeated the one-hundred-and-third psalm, then they sang the sweet hymn, "abide with me," and at its close mrs ross's sweet voice struck up, "blest be the tie that binds." then mr hurlburt, the devoted missionary, led in prayer. heaven seemed very near as the good man talked with god and commended frank, alec, and sam to his loving, omnipotent care during the long, varied journey before them. "say good-bye as well as good night," said mr ross; "for we may be off in the morning without disturbing those who remain behind." so the tender farewells were uttered, and all the ladies of the party retired to the large, commodious tent that, as we have seen, had been prepared for them. mr ross, mr hurlburt, and the boys went to the camp beds that had been long waiting for them on the dry beach. here the indians quickly tucked them in, and soon they were fast asleep--so fast that sam declared when he heard the sharp call, "leve! leve!" in the morning that he had not had time for even one sweet dream. quickly were the morning preparations made. the kettles were soon boiling and a hasty breakfast prepared. when this was eaten the christian indians asked mr hurlburt to take charge of their morning devotions. this he cheerfully did, and so, as was customary, the service was conducted in cree and english. then the cry was, "all aboard!" the boys--frank and alec, we mean-- could not help casting their eyes toward the snow-white tent in hopes of at least one more glimpse at two of its inmates. they were almost in despair, when sam's cheery voice rang out: "don't lose heart, my hearties! if all the boys should go to china, the girls would surely go to pekin. sure they are _peekin'_ now, and here they come! hurrah, and welcome!" yes, here they come. love's ears are sharp, and so rachel and winnie heard the call to the travellers, and up they had sprung and dressed, and now, radiant and lovely, once more they came in their sweet beauty to greet and say "good-bye" again, and "god be with you till we meet again." for a few minutes they chatted, and then the "all aboard!" again rang out, and so they once more lovingly saluted each other and parted. rachel and winnie at once returned to the tent. frank and alec were soon in their places in the boat. one after another of the boats pushed off, until the whole little fleet was under way. the wind was favourable, and so it was a pretty sight to see the whole brigade speeding on over the rippling waves with the white sails filled by the northern breeze. spider islands were nearly reached ere much was said by anybody but sam. his good humour and mirth were irrepressible, and soon it became contagious. he had tried his hand at a big oar, and, "catching a crab," had tumbled back amid some boxes, much to the amusement of all. thus on they sped. at montreal point they stopped long enough to boil their kettles, and then their journey was resumed. at poplar point they spent a few hours and had a good sleep. then next morning, bright and early, they were off again. at beren's river they stopped for dinner, then on they sped. at the narrows they saw a great black bear swimming across the channel. poor bruin got into a tight place. some of the boats headed him off, and when he attempted to return he found that others were between him and the shore. his perplexity was very great and his temper much ruffled. soon the bullets began to whistle around him, and these added to his trouble. a bear swims very low in the water, and so, unless in anger he inflates his lungs and raises himself up to growl, there is very little to fire at. the result was, in this case, the flintlock guns did not seem to be able to pierce his skull. mr ross, who could not bear to see even a bear tortured, took out his rifle and, loading it, handed it to big tom, to kill the animal at once. big tom took the rifle, looked at it and then at sam, and gravely said: "sam ran away from his first bear, suppose he shoots his last one." nothing could please the reckless sam better, and so he quickly sprang up beside big tom, who at once gave him some directions about allowing for the motion of the boat. "now," said big tom, "i will swing the boat so that his head will be right in front of you. when i call he will raise his head, and you hit him right between the eyes." quickly was the boat swung in the right position, and as from tom's lips there was emitted a sound like the call of another bear, the one in the water instantly raised up his head, in a listening attitude. instantly the report rang out, and a dead bear lay there in the water. "well done, sam!" shouted frank and alec, while perhaps big tom was the proudest man in the boat. the bear was hauled on board by the crew of one of the boats in the rear. that night the men skinned the bear, and as rapidly as possible dried the robe, which was carried home to ireland by sam with his other trophies. thus day after day passed. sometimes there was hardly a breath of wind, and then the men rowed all day. a couple of days were lost on account of strong head winds, but, on the whole, they had a fairly good trip, for at the end of the tenth day they entered the mouth of red river and camped on its low, marshy shores, amid its miles of reedy morass and its millions of mosquitoes. this was the boys' first experience of them for the season, but it was enough for a lifetime. "the pious villains!" said sam. "they sing over us and they prey upon us!" but the longest night has an end, and next day the boats were rowed up to lower fort garry. here the boys bade good-bye to big tom and the other indians, after they had taken them up into the hudson bay company's store and bought for each some handsome presents. mr ross found urgent letters here awaiting him, and so that afternoon horses were secured, and he and our three boys were driven along the beautiful prairie road, on the western bank of the winding red river, twenty miles up to fort garry. this was the first glance the boys had ever had of a genuine prairie. they were simply wild with delight at its vastness and inimitable beauty. seeing it as they did, in this early summer time, with its rich grasses at the greenest and its brilliant spring flowers at the perfection of their beauty, it was no wonder that they were in such raptures of delight. twenty miles of travel brought them to upper fort garry. this old historic fort had long played a prominent part in the history of that country. here they were hospitably entertained by the officers of the hudson bay company. a few days only were needed to make all preparations for the long trip across the prairies to st. paul, in minnesota. some red river carts, each drawn by an ox, were secured to carry the baggage and supplies. for the boys a double-seated buckboard wagon, with a canvas top, was purchased, and baptiste, a famous half-breed french and indian driver, was hired to manage the rather uncertain horses that in relays were to drag the affair along. saddles were also taken along for them to travel on horseback when they so desired. as there were all sorts of rumours and stories of troubles among the hostile sioux and chippewa indians along the route, it was decided that the party should join a large brigade of carts that, loaded principally with buffalo robes and furs, was just starting for st. paul. these brigades carried the trading flag of the hudson bay company. its motto was "pro pella cutem" ("skin for skin"). it is a remarkable fact that for generations, even among the most hostile tribes of indians, this flag was respected, and those carrying it were never robbed or in any way interfered with. with sincere regret and sorrow the parting between mr ross and the boys took place. however, they were delighted at his promise that, if all went well, he would see them a couple of years hence in their own homes in the old land. just as they were leaving in the early morning the bells of st. boniface rang out their silvery notes. these are the bells, the first out there on the lonely prairies, that whittier has made famous by his beautiful poem: "the voyageur smiles as he listens to the sound that grows apace; well he knows the vesper ringing of the bells of st. boniface-- "the bells of the roman mission that call from their turrets twain to the boatmen on the river, to the hunter on the plain! "even so in our mortal journey the bitter north winds blow, and thus upon life's red river our hearts as oarsmen row." as some officials of the hudson bay company went along with the large brigade, our young folks had some capital company. after a few days the trip lost much of its excitement and interest. the prairies, beautiful as they at first looked, became somewhat monotonous. every little lake--and they passed many--was greeted with pleasure. as the horses could travel faster than the oxen, sometimes baptiste would hurry on ahead to some well-known lake full of wild ducks, and here the boys and their friends would have some capital shooting, which largely and agreeably added to the food supply. when out about a week they were told by some of the outriders, who came galloping up from the front, that a herd of buffalo was not far distant, and that some sioux indians were preparing to run them. saddles were at once put on some of the relay horses, and frank, alec, and sam, and some of their comrades, at once set off to the front to see the exciting sport. they fortunately reached a high swell in the prairie just in time to have a splendid view of the whole affair. the buffaloes numbered about six or eight hundred. attacking them were perhaps fifty or sixty of the finest horsemen in the world. their horses were trained buffalo runners, and entered into the mad, wild sport with all the enthusiasm of the riders. all the saddle these riders had was a small piece of buffalo robe so securely fastened on that it could not slip. there was neither halter nor bride on their horses' heads. one end of a long lariat was fastened loosely around their necks, while the rest of it dragged along the ground. the indians availed themselves of a great swell in the prairies, and so were able to get quite close to the herd ere they were discovered. very few of these warriors had guns, but they were well armed with their famous bows and arrows. about two miles away from our party they began the attack on the opposite side of the herd. the result was that as the frightened animals came thundering on before their dreaded foes the boys had a splendid view of the whole scene. for a time it looked as though they might be involved in the mass of terrified animals, as the slope up toward them was very gradual and they were in the direct line of the rush. however, baptiste and others, who well knew how to meet such an emergency, quickly bunched the party together, and had all the guns fired off in quick succession. this speedily parted the oncoming herd, and so they in two divisions thundered by on the right and left, with their merciless pursuers on their flanks and in the rear, rapidly thinning their numbers. it was a most exciting scene, and one to a genuine sportsman that was worth many a day's travel to see. the boys were wild to plunge into the fray, especially when the great buffaloes went galloping by not two hundred yards on each side of them; but their horses, although excited, were untrained for such sport, and in all probability if started off at full speed would soon have stumbled into some badger's hole or prairie dog's nest, and thus send their riders over their heads. so baptiste wisely restrained their ardour. the next day our party visited the village of these noted warriors of the plains. st. paul at length was reached. here passage was secured in a flat- bottomed steamer, with its great wheel at the stern. down to st. croix, on the mississippi, in this they voyaged. then across the state of wisconsin to milwaukee they travelled by railroad. at this city they secured passage in a steam propeller to montreal. the trip through lakes michigan, huron, st. chair, and erie was very delightful. in the canal the boys were much interested as they entered into the series of locks, by which great vessels go up and down the great hillside. on they steamed through the beautiful lake ontario. then out into the great st. lawrence river they glided. the thousand islands seemed like fairyland. the rapids, down which they plunged with the speed of an express train, very much excited and delighted them. toward the evening of the fifth day from milwaukee the towers and steeples of montreal became visible, with its splendid mountain in the rear. soon they were alongside of one of the wharves of that great, busy shipping port, and this part of the journey was ended. by telegraph their berths had already been secured for them, and so all our travellers had to do was to oversee the trans-shipment of their boxes and bales from the lake propeller to the ocean steamship. as a day or two would intervene ere the voyage would begin, they had an opportunity for a drive or two around the glorious mountain which gives the city its name. they also visited the quaint old cathedral and other places of historic interest in that famous city. in due time the ocean voyage was begun. the great st. lawrence is a magnificent and picturesque river. quebec, in its stern grandeur, very much charmed the boys, and they gazed with interest as some well-read travellers pointed out wolfe's cove, and the place up which wolfe's gallant men clambered in the night, to fight the next day, on the plains of abraham, that fierce battle that caused half of the continent to change from french to english masters. then on again they steamed. soon they were out on the stormy atlantic. the voyage was uneventful, and in ten days or so they sighted the coast of ireland. on and on they pushed, until the mersey was reached. the tide was favourable, and so there was no delay. here they were at length, after all their wanderings, in dear old england. very green and beautiful did the country look, after their long voyage on the stormy ocean. yonder, in the distance, is liverpool, that mighty city where at its marvellous stone docks are seen the ships of every sea. the boys are excited now. they are nearing home. the coming of the ship has been reported hours before, and now, as she gallantly feels her way among the many vessels passing out, the boys, with staring eyes, are at the front, gazing for the sight of loved ones that they are sure will be there to meet them. "hurrah!" they shout; for there, with waving handkerchiefs and excited gestures, are representatives from three families to welcome home our frank, alec, and sam. delightful is the home-coming; joyous are the welcomes. here we leave them. we have had a very happy time together. we are loath to separate from them. whether we shall see them again and take them back to those interesting regions to meet and wed their sweethearts, left in that far-away country, will much depend upon events which are beyond our ken at present. suffice to say that the year spent in the great lone land proved to have been one of the most profitable of their lives. they had returned in the most perfect health. their readings had not been neglected, and then they had in addition the rich stores of knowledge and information that a year so full of varied adventure could not fail to bestow. they had also returned with something like correct views of the red indians of north america. instead of war whoops and scalping scenes, they had seen how the genuine indian, when honourably dealt with, is a peaceful person, and can, under decent treatment, become the most loyal of friends. they delighted also to speak most emphatically and encouragingly of the work accomplished by the self-denying missionaries among them, who had been instrumental in winning thousands of them from a degrading paganism to christianity, and successfully introducing among them the best phases of a genuine and abiding civilisation. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). the oe-ligature is represented by [oe]. [illustration: "he stood up in the boat, and gave all his attention to the fish." _page ._] camping on the st. lawrence or on the trail of the early discoverers by everett t. tomlinson author of "the boys with old hickory," "tecumseh's young braves," "guarding the border," "the boys of old monmouth," "washington's young aids," "ward hill at weston," etc., etc. illustrated by a. b. shute boston lee and shepard publishers copyright, , by lee and shepard. all rights reserved. camping on the st. lawrence. norwood press j. s. cushing & co.--berwick & smith norwood mass. u.s.a. preface. in this story i have endeavored to take my young readers to one of our noblest rivers, and not only to make them share in the stirring experiences which are to be had on its waters, but also to make them feel something of the power of the wonderful history of those who first looked upon its scenes of beauty. the events recorded have largely been taken from actual occurrences, the characters, i trust, will not be found untrue to life, and the historical references not inaccurate or uninteresting. young people are able to feel the inspiration of nature's power when they are not able to define or express it, and perhaps the best form of teaching is that which enables them to look out with the inner vision rather than to observe these things from the outside. inspiring as is the majestic river, no less inspiring is the story of the men who first sailed over its waters. their heroism, persistence, and consecration are qualities which are needed by all men, and in all places and times. we never outgrow these things, though the best parts of our lives may grow out of them. a better understanding of our own land--its natural beauty, its history and heroes--is certainly not one of the least of the demands of the present time; and the author of this story has had the modest hope that its readers may gain a desire in its perusal to see and know more of those possessions which with pardonable pride they are able to claim as their own. everett t. tomlinson. elizabeth, new jersey. contents. chapter page i. preparations ii. the journey iii. the sail down the river iv. in camp v. ben tries the canoe vi. the first day's sport vii. in goose bay viii. jock has his turn ix. ancient history x. tom surprises the camp xi. a night of anxiety xii. the missing camper xiii. a mishap xiv. ethan tells of the "jumpers" xv. in a foreign land xvi. an alarm in the camp xvii. on guard xviii. an unexpected race xix. a moonlight sail xx. the start for the rapids xxi. shooting the longue seaut xxii. the rivals xxiii. a prize xxiv. what became of the prize xxv. early discoverers xxvi. the squall xxvii. the search xxviii. hamlick xxix. after the tragedy xxx. ben's discovery xxxi. the races xxxii. conclusion list of illustrations. "he stood up in the boat and gave all his attention to the fish" _frontispiece_ page "suddenly the canoe went over" "the fire roared and the flames leaped higher" "'she looked at me a minute as if she didn't know what to make of it'" "bob took a long stick and poked the motionless form" "on and on moved the swift-flying skiff" "'did you ever catch a bigger one?'" "without a protest the young mother rose" camping on the st. lawrence. chapter i. preparations. "have you heard from bob? will he come?" "can't tell yet. i had a letter this morning, and he writes that it's doubtful. he hasn't given up all hope, though, and says he may get on the rear platform just as the train pulls out." "that would be just like him. he never started for chapel till all the fellows were there, or went into class-room until the recitation was just ready to begin. he never wasted a minute of his time hanging round." "he never was late, though, in his life." "that's all right. i know that as well as you do. i sometimes used to wish he would be late, for it made me half provoked to see him. nothing ever seemed to put him out, and yet he'd always come in just at the last minute, as if he hadn't hurried or he somehow knew they wouldn't begin until he got there. it was just the same with his studies. there i'd be burning my midnight oil and putting in my best work, and he'd sit down for a few minutes at the table and do in half an hour what it had taken me three straight hours to work out. i never saw such a fellow." "yes, bob was a great fellow." "you don't have to remind me of that. haven't we roomed together all through senior year? i used to think before he took up his bed and came over to room with me, that if i could only have him with me, somehow i'd catch the way he did his work, but it wasn't contagious." "he's got, without asking for it, what my father says is the one thing he sent me to the academy for, and what he's going to send me to college to get, though i'm afraid he'll be disappointed." "what's that?" "oh, it's what my father calls the power of concentrating your mind." "well, bob had it for a fact. it didn't seem to make much difference to him whether there was a room full of fellows about him, or not. when he got ready to work, he just sat down to it, and you might yell in his ears or pull his chair out from under him, and it wouldn't make a bit of difference. he'd sit there on thin air and dig away until his work was all done and then look up as if he was as surprised as you please to see any one in the room. do you know, i just envied bob. i did for a fact. i'd give all my father's money to stand in his shoes." "perhaps your father would have something to say about that. but bob was a great fellow; no mistake about that. do you think he'll have to give up going to college with us?" "i don't know; i hope not. his mother's a widow, you know, and since his father died, i think they've had a hard time of it. if it was any other fellow i'd say right off he couldn't go. but bob's different, you see. he didn't have any money and couldn't do lots of the things the others did, but he was the most popular fellow in all the school, for all that. so i somehow don't give up hope that he'll go with us in the fall, after all. everything seems to turn his way." "don't you believe it. it's the other way around, i'm telling you. he just turns everything his way." "well, i don't care how you put it if he'll only join us in the camp. i say, jock, how did you happen to hit on this plan? it's great, that's what it is." "oh, i didn't hit on it at all, it was my father. you see, he spent the first vacation he's had in ten years last summer down at the thousand islands. we all had such a good time that we wanted to go again this summer; but he couldn't get away, and my mother wouldn't go without him, so they finally compromised on me. at first they thought they'd send me down to alexandria bay and round island to one of the hotels, and for fear that i'd get lonesome they were going to select some fine man who was well up in latin and greek to go along with me, just for company, you see." "yes, i see," laughed his companion. "they were going to get a tutor for you, were they?" "yes, that's what some people call it, i believe. but when i astonished the family by passing my entrance exams., they didn't know what to do, so at my own suggestion my father hired a camp on pine tree island, and the result is that you and the other fellows are to benefit by my brilliant labors. you ought to be grateful; but this is a cold, cold world, and i'm not building my hopes too high. the trouble is, i _know_ you." "oh, we'll do the dutiful act and put in all the flourishes," said his friend, with a laugh. "but say, jock, is it really true about the fishing and canoeing and all that sort of thing that they tell about there?" "true? well, i should say it was! you won't need but one look at the river to make you think you've found the best spot on earth. fishing, fishing? why, let me tell you." "no, no! please don't. i can't bear too much, you must remember." "fishing?" resumed jock, unmindful of his friend's banter, "why, one morning last summer i got up before breakfast--" "impossible!" interrupted his friend. "i can stand your fish stories; but that--that is too much for me." "one morning i got up early, as i was telling you," resumed jock. "i believe you did make some remarks upon that subject." "keep still! well, i got up before light--" "what, what?" "and went out with my boatman. we caught thirty of the biggest bass you ever saw--" "ever saw or ever expect to see," broke in his friend. "and we were just going ashore to cook our dinner--" "but when and where did you have breakfast? you've got ahead of your story. tell me about the breakfast. i haven't recovered from the shock of thinking of you as being up before that was ready." "and just before we landed, i was beginning to reel in my line. i had out about a hundred and fifty feet, when all at once--" "what, what? oh, don't keep me in this suspense, i can't bear it," again interrupted his irreverent friend, striking an attitude of eager attention as he spoke. "i had a strike that almost yanked my rod out of my hand." "ah, yes, i see, your hook had caught on the bottom." jock flung a book at the head of his friend and then laughingly said: "well, you just wait till we get into camp, that's all i can say. if you don't tell bigger stories then than i can now, it will be because language has failed you." "i usually fail in language; my marks are apt to be below par. but i must be going now, jock. you say the train leaves the grand central at nine to-night?" "yes. you'd better get your ticket and check your trunk early. there's likely to be a crowd at this time of the year." "i'll be there. got your ticket, jock?" "me? yes. i've got a pass for bob and myself, or rather my father got one for us." "that's the way in this world," said his friend, with mock solemnity. "here you are the son of a railroad magnate and just rolling in lucre, and you don't have to buy a ticket like common mortals. no, you have a pass and all the conductors and porters stand off and look at you as if you were the king of cr[oe]sus or some other thing, and we poor little sons of lawyers have to march up to the ticket-office and plank down good, hard-earned straight cash for our little pieces of pasteboards." "you are to be pitied," replied jock. "i heard my father say the other day the reason the railroads couldn't make any money was because the lawyers got in first, and the roads had to take what little they left." "did he say that?" "yes, for a fact." "this moment i return to my ancestral domicile and demand of my stern parent the portion which falleth to me. he has kept his possession of such vast wealth concealed from his family. i go to make him disgorge." "don't forget the train leaves at nine," warned jock. "i've got the sleeping-car tickets, or at least i've got a section and a berth. that'll be enough if bob shouldn't come, and if he does, why, two of us will have to double up, that's all." jock watched his friend as he ran down the stairway, and then turned back into his own room and continued his preparations for the proposed journey. fishing tackle was rearranged, a gun was placed carefully in its case, and many details looked after which only a light-hearted lad, eager for a new experience, knew how to provide. and certainly josiah cope apparently had everything to add to his happiness. his home was one of wealth, and all that father or mother could do had been done for him. he was an eager-hearted lad, as full of good impulses as one could well be, and as he moved busily about in his room it was not difficult to understand why he was such a universal favorite among his mates. his face had that expression of frankness and good-will which somehow draws to itself all who behold it, whether they will or no; and the devotion with which his mother watched over him was, in a measure, shared by his schoolboy friends, for there was something about him which appealed to their desire to protect and shield him from ruder blasts which others might endure more readily. not that jock (for so his friends had shortened the somewhat homely name which the lad was the fifth in direct descent to bear) was in the least effeminate, but his slight figure, his dark eyes and somewhat delicate features, left one with the impression that he was not over-rugged. whatever others might think, his mother was most decidedly of that opinion, and perhaps not without reason; for she had seen his brothers and sisters enter the home only to remain for a few brief years and then go out forever, and jock, she frequently declared, was her all. if she meant all she had left, she was correct, and certainly the love he received in his home might easily have been shared with many, and then no one would have complained of receiving too small a portion. but jock had somehow survived the perilous treatment and apparently was as popular among his mates as he was in his home. and unknown to him it was the loving fears of his mother that had led to the experiment of a summer camp among the thousand islands in the hope that the breath of the great river and the outdoor life would bring a little more color into the cheeks that were too pale for a well-grown lad of seventeen to have. the decision once made, the next move was to select his companions. this was not a difficult problem, and soon the choicest three of his friends in the academy from which jock had just graduated, and with whom he hoped to go up to college in the coming autumn, were invited to join him,--an invitation quickly and eagerly accepted by all save robert darnell, the "bob" of the preceding conversation, and the reasons which led him to hesitate have already been referred to. still all hoped that the sturdy bob, the quiet self-contained lad, the leader of his class in scholarship, and easily the best bat in school, could come from his home in the country and join them. albert, or "bert," bliss, who had been having the conversation we have already reported, was a short sturdy lad, always ready for a good time, his curly hair and laughing blue eyes causing one to laugh whenever he saw him, so irresistible was the contagion of his overflowing spirits. the fourth member of the proposed party, benjamin, or "ben," dallett, was in many ways the opposite of albert, and in school parlance they had sometimes been known as the "siamese twins," or "the long and the short of it." certainly they were much together, and just as certainly was ben as much too tall as his friend was too short. all of the boys save bob had their abode in new york and had come from homes of wealth, but in their presence bob almost never thought of his own deprivations, or only when it was impossible for him to engage in some of the enterprises of his friends, and certain it is that the envy to which ben had given expression, if there was such a feeling manifest among the four friends, was much more of the sterling worth and quiet powers of bob than of the possessions of the others. at all events, they had become fast friends, and, bound together by such ties as can only be found in school and college, would be certain to have a good time if once they should be together in the camp on the selected island in the st. lawrence river. the evening had come, and the three boys had eagerly been watching in the great station for the arrival of their friend. as yet he had not appeared, and when the gong sounded its warning, reluctantly they grasped their various belongings and, holding their tickets in their teeth, passed through the gate and boarded their train. "it isn't time yet," said bert. "he won't come till the train begins to move." "i'm afraid he isn't coming at all," replied jock, as he arranged his various parcels in the section, all the time keeping a careful lookout for the appearance of the missing bob in the doorway of the car. chapter ii. the journey. the train was now increasing its speed and swept swiftly past the city blocks, and then with a groan darted into the long tunnel. the rumble became a roar, and as the boys were convinced that the missing bob had been left behind, they glanced about the car at their travelling companions. apparently every berth had been taken, and it was evident from the fishing rods that could be seen that many besides themselves had started for the great river. there were young people and old, and little children who already were rubbing their sleepy eyes, unable to remain awake longer, in spite of the noise of the fast-flying cars and the roar of the train in the tunnel. soon the sounds changed, and all knew that they had passed through the underground way, and the scattered lights of the streets could be seen again. as the boys turned once more to glance behind them, jock emitted a shout; for there, standing quietly in the aisle, was the missing member of the band, bob darnell himself. "where did you come from, bob?" shouted jock, delightedly, as he grasped his friend's hand. "we thought we'd lost you." "it's mighty easy to get lost in this town of yours. who would want to live in such a place?" replied bob, quietly. "but where were you? how did you get aboard? we waited and waited for you, but you didn't come. tell us about it," exclaimed the eager boys, as they made room for their friend to take the vacant seat. "you might have known i'd be here. you needn't have wasted your precious thoughts on me." "i know it, bob, but i don't see how you got here," said jock. "you city chaps don't understand, and you never will," replied bob. "you always rush around as if you hadn't a minute to spare. what's the good of it, i'd like to know?" "not much good, if we could only be as sure of being on time as you are, bob," said bert. "why don't you tell us how you did it?" "there isn't anything to tell. my train got in about an hour ago, and i went up on madison avenue to jock's house. they told me he'd gone to the station with you fellows, and they all seemed to be very much excited about it, too. all they could say to me was: 'hurry up. make haste, or you'll be left.' queer folks, these new yorkers." "well, you did almost get left, didn't you?" "left? not a bit of it. it's true they had closed the door, and the gateman didn't want to let me pass, especially when i didn't have any ticket. but after a little argument he relented, and i went down to the platform. there i had a tussle with the porter, for he was just getting aboard the train, and had taken in his steps. he, too, wanted to see my ticket, but i didn't have time to stop and talk much with him, so i just climbed in after him. i found i was on the last car, so i had to travel all through the train to find you. you ought not to have made me do that, fellows; it's too much of an exertion," he added regretfully. the boys all laughed, and their evident unconsciousness of the presence of the others in the car, and their light-hearted and merry voices, soon drew the attention of their travelling companions. old men glanced at them with a softened expression on their countenances, as if the sight of young life and care-free lads reminded them of days in their own lives now far away and dim in the years that were gone. old ladies watched them and smiled, without understanding what it was that made their eyes light up as they listened to the contagious laughter of the happy-hearted boys. little children came tottering and staggering down the swaying aisle, and stopped before them, peering wonderingly at the band as if they knew they must be having a good time, and would like to join in it themselves. jock passed pieces of candy to the little ones, and the enjoyment of the boys became keener as they watched the children thrust the sweetmeats into their mouths, and then go staggering back to their mothers, and, climbing into their laps, point gleefully to the group which had treated them so well. indeed, the very presence of the boys seemed to create a different atmosphere in the car, and in whatever direction they looked, they were sure to be met with smiling glances. certainly, thoughts of possible evil days to come did not disturb them; the burdens of life were all for others, and as far as our four friends were concerned, life itself was colored with a halo of the brightness which not only was theirs by right, but was increased by the anticipation of days that were soon to come in the camp on pine tree island. "i haven't bothered my head much about the details of this thing," said bob, "but i'd like to know how much work we've got to do to-morrow." "no work at all, bob," said jock, laughing. "i wouldn't dare lay such a contract as that on your delicate shoulders." "that's kind of you," replied bob, shrugging those same shoulders, which certainly to the ordinary observer gave no symptoms of delicacy. "but i was thinking about the camp, you know. some tent or some thing or other has to be set up, i suppose. who's to do that, i'd like to know?" "that's all been done," said jock, laughingly. "my father wrote ethan barnes last week--he's to be our guide, you know, or rather one of them, for his son is to be there too. everything has been sent on ahead and probably by this time ethan's got everything all ready for us. you see, my father used to live in that part of the world when he was a boy, and he and ethan were old school friends. they used to sit together on the same bench, i believe. father says the old red schoolhouse is still standing, and he'd like to have me go over there some day. he says i'd find his initials cut in the seat with the first jack-knife he ever owned. there's one thing you'll have to do though, bob." "what's that?" "you'll have to reel in your own fish when you get a strike." "strike? what's a strike? do i have to do the striking?" "no, no. when a bass swallows your hook they call it a 'strike.'" "who calls it a strike, the bass?" "no, everybody calls it that." "well, all i can say, i don't blame a bass for striking then. i'd strike, too, if i was in his place." "you? not much, you'd never strike. you'd just wait till somebody came along and took the hook out of your mouth," was ben's merry comment. "how do you do the fishing?" inquired bob, apparently unmoved. "why, we go out in boats, you know. skiffs. those st. lawrence skiffs are beauties too, let me tell you," said jock. "but how do the skiffs go?" persisted bob. "by steam?" "no, no. we'll have boatmen. ethan will pull one and his son the other, and two of us will go in each. it's great sport." "it must be. you don't know what a load you've lifted from me. i almost gave up when i thought i'd have to work. it doesn't agree with me. never did. my mother has noticed it ever since i was born. but she's the only one who understands me. hello, here's the mogul!" the boys looked up as he spoke, and saw the conductor and the porter near them. as their tickets were taken and the berths assigned, bob said:-- "jock, you say you'll take the berth in the next section. there won't be any room left for you, i'm thinking. that's all spoken for now." for the first time jock noticed who was seated in the adjoining section. a woman was there, but never in all his life had he seen one so stout. it almost seemed as if she completely filled the seat, and it was evident from her manner that she was far from feeling at her ease. she glanced nervously about the car, and not for a moment relaxed her grasp on the seat. her eyes, too, betrayed her alarm, and it was plain that the experience she was then undergoing was a new and not altogether pleasurable one. as the boys glanced at her, her fear seemed to increase. she rose from the seat, but a sudden lurch of the car sent her back again with an exclamation of anger which could be heard by all. "here, you!" she called. "i say, mister, come here!" it was the colored porter to whom she was speaking, and as he turned back respectfully to listen to what she had to say, his face beamed with good nature and amusement. "what is it, madam?" he said kindly. "i thought they told me this was a sleepin' car." "so it is." "it is, is it? well, where do folks sleep, i'd like to know?" "why, in the beds." "i don't see no beds," she replied angrily, as she looked about the car. "why, madam, these seats are the beds." "the seats are the beds? humph, pretty beds they are! do you expect _me_ to lie down on 'em?" "they are changed and made up. i'm the porter and i'll make up your berth whenever you want it." "you're the porter, be ye? well, i thought you was one o' the vanderbilts, with all yer gold buttons and fine clothes. well, ye jest make up mine now." "i'll be back in a minute and fix you up all right, madam. you're going to philadelphia, aren't you?" "yes, i am. i'm goin' to philadelphy, an' the sooner i get there the better." as the porter turned away to complete his collection of tickets, jock turned to his companions and said: "that woman has made a mistake. she says she's going to philadelphia, and she's got on the wrong train, as sure's you live. i'm going to tell her." leaving his seat, jock approached the troubled passenger and said, "did i understand you to say you were going to philadelphia?" "hey? yes, i'm goin' to philadelphy, but i don't see how that concerns you, bub," and as she spoke she hurriedly felt in her pocket as if she expected the stranger who had dared to address her was one of the light-fingered gentry who she had been informed infested the city and were wont to take advantage of innocent and unsuspecting strangers. jock's face flushed as he heard himself addressed as "bub," and his confusion was increased as he saw an expression of amusement creep over the faces of his companions; but he was too polite to heed now, and was determined to assist the old lady in what was her evident confusion and mistake. "all i wanted to say, madam," he continued, again speaking to the troubled woman, "was that i fear you have made a mistake. if you wanted to go to philadelphia you ought to have gone on the pennsylvania road, not on the new york central; this train doesn't go to philadelphia." "hey? what's that ye say?" exclaimed the startled woman. "got the wrong keers, have i? here you, mr. porter," she shouted, standing with difficulty and shaking a huge cotton umbrella at that officer. "come here, come here!" she called in increasing excitement. as the porter hastened toward her, the eyes of all in the car were turned upon her. some of the passengers were evidently amused, and some were sympathizing with her in her trouble. "what is it, madam, what is it?" inquired the colored man, politely. "this boy says this isn't the train for philadelphy," she exclaimed wrathfully. "what d'ye put me on this keer for, i'd like to know?" she was grasping her pocket with one hand and waving her cotton umbrella frantically in her excitement with the other. "ye jest meant to rob me!" she continued. "i know ye. ye knew i had six dollars and seventeen cents in my pocket. ye shan't get it, that's what ye shan't!" "but, madam, this train does go to philadelphia." "hey? it does, does it? what d'ye mean, then?" she demanded, turning again upon jock. "then it was you that wanted to rob me! i'll turn you over to the police, i vum i will!" it was some time before it was explained that there was a little junction not far from the st. lawrence which rejoiced in the same name as its larger sister in the adjacent state; but at last all was made plain, and covered with confusion jock took his seat once more, hardly daring to look around upon his fellow-travellers, who evidently had been hugely enjoying the scene. but the troubles were not yet ended. as the porter volunteered to make ready the old lady's berth at once, the boys vacated their seats for their neighbor, who watched with evident consternation the preparations for the night. the berths were speedily prepared, and then the porter said, "i'll take your tickets, madam, and you can retire when you please." as he took the slip the porter glanced once more at her in amusement as he said: "yours is the upper berth, madam. wait a moment and i'll get the steps for you." "what!" exclaimed the excited woman. "up there in that garret? me? well, i guess not. jerushy jenkins don't climb up into any sech hole as that! not much; i'll ride on yer old cow-catcher afore i'll do that." "you may have the lower berth, madam," said jock, quickly. "i'll be glad to give it up to you." "ye will, will ye?" said jerusha, suspiciously. "well, i don't know whether ye will or not. do ye think it's safe, perfectly safe?" she inquired of the porter. "yes, madam." at last the trembling traveller was mollified, and soon afterward all in the car were asleep. with the coming of the dawn our boys hastily dressed and soon were gazing out of the windows at the silver-like strips which here and there could be seen in the distance, and in a moment knew that they were drawing near to the waters of the majestic river, which already were reflecting the light of the coming day. chapter iii. the sail down the river. the first impression of the boys was that they were passing through a country hoary with age. the scattered homes of the farmers, which occasionally could be seen, were evidently all of recent date, though many of them were weather-beaten and had never known the touch of a paint-brush. but the country itself in the gray of the dawn seemed to be wrinkled and old. it was a level land and without any marked features, save that of its venerable appearance; but all this was instantly forgotten when suddenly the full sweep of the mighty st. lawrence burst into view. far as the eye could see the great mass of water stretched away, and of what a beautiful color it was! its strong, swift current could be discerned even from the cars, and in the distance were the islands. beautiful cottages and well-kept lawns were before them, and from the flag-poles fluttered the stars and stripes, winding in and out as the morning breeze shook out the folds of the bunting. far to the east could be seen the shores of the larger islands, many of them covered with trees, and already changing color in the light of the rapidly approaching dawn. all together, the sight was one of imposing beauty and grandeur; but all other things were speedily forgotten, for the great river, as it went surging in its way, seemed to fascinate the eyes of the eager boys. too much impressed by the sight to give voice to their sentiments, for a few minutes the lads gazed at the changing scene before them; but they were speedily recalled to their immediate surroundings by the movements of the people in the car, who were all astir by this time. "here we are!" called jock, gleefully, as the rumbling train came to a standstill, and the passengers all prepared to leave the car. in a moment the boys joined the procession, and as they stepped upon the dock they saw that steamers, large and small, were there, and innumerable smaller boats of all kinds and descriptions. what impressed our boys more than the steamers and yachts, however, was the sight of the beautiful st. lawrence skiffs, numbers of which were near the dock. graceful and light as a birch-bark canoe, and with cushioned seats and even equipped with chairs, it seemed to them that never before had they beheld such beautiful little crafts. what speed could be made in them, and once in the current of the great river, how they would go! the dock was filled, in spite of the early hour, with a multitude of people, some of whom were selecting their baggage and giving orders for its transfer to the waiting steamers. others were calling to the porters, and still others were themselves rushing back and forth between the train and the boats, looking after their own belongings and seeing that they were properly placed. it was a stirring sight, and the fact that almost every man, to say nothing of the boys, was equipped with the case which plainly enclosed a fishing rod, showed that others besides themselves had hopes of sport on the great river. jock, who was the leader of the party, was looking eagerly about in the crowd for some one who should correspond to the description his father had given him of ethan, the man who was to be their guide and cook; but for a time he was unable to find any one whom he dared to address as the one he was seeking. soon, however, a man clad in the country garb, with a flannel shirt open at the neck, and a huge straw hat on his head, came near and peered inquiringly at the boys. satisfied with his inspection, he approached and said in a deliberate manner,-- "mebbe you're jock cope's boy?" "yes, yes," responded jock, quickly. "he's my father, and you are ethan, if i'm not mistaken." "that's what folks call me. these the boys goin' into camp with ye?" he inquired with a drawl, turning to the other boys as he spoke. "yes, these are my friends," and jock proceeded to introduce each to ethan. "glad to see ye," responded ethan, apparently not very much impressed by the sight of the band. "got yer trunks checked?" "yes, they were checked through to alexandria bay. we don't have to do anything here, do we?" "naw, unless ye want to go down to the bay on the steamer. i've got my boat here, an' if ye want to ye can sail down with me. ye'll have speak up, sonny, though, for if ye want to take the steamer ye'll have to say so mighty quick." "we haven't had breakfast," said jock, "and if the other fellows feel as i do, we'll want something to eat." "ye can get breakfast aboard the boat if ye want to an' can afford to pay for it, or ye can go up to one o' the hotels an' get it, an' i'll wait here for ye. 'tisn't for me to say." "oh, let's wait and get our breakfast at one of the hotels, and sail down the river in ethan's boat," said bert, eagerly; and as it was apparent that all the boys shared in his desire, it was quickly decided to leave their rods and the personal effects they had brought with them in his care. ethan received the rods with a grunt, which was not expressive of high admiration for their outfit, and the boys at once started up the street to secure their breakfast. they were too much excited to give much attention to the straggling little village of clayton, for their appetites were imperative and must be satisfied, and soon they entered one of the hotels and secured places in the dining room. "i tell you what," exclaimed bert, "this is great! i never saw such a sight as this river. we'll have a great time here. even bob is excited." "hungry, you mean," replied that individual. "you fellows have been all stirred up by the scenery, but i'm thinking of the inner man." "i'm not," said ben. "do you know, jock, i'm afraid of that ethan of yours." "afraid of him? what do you mean?" "why, he acts as if he was a king or some other potentate. you don't really suppose he actually owns one of these islands, do you?" "i don't know," replied jock. "i'll ask him, if you want me to." "well, the way that same ethan looks at us, and sniffs at our rods, and treats us as if we were boys, just scares me; it does, for a fact. i don't know the difference between a reel and a rod, and somehow i know i shan't even dare to put a worm on my hook if he's looking at me." "put a worm on your hook!" exclaimed jock, laughingly. "you are green. you don't use worms here." "don't use worms? what do you have for bait, then, i'd like to know?" "minnows, little fish." "i should think it would hurt 'em if you put 'em on the hook," drawled bob; "i'm too tender-hearted for that." "you won't have to hurt your tender feelings, bob," laughed jock. "ethan does all that for you. that's the advantage of having a boatman, you see." "ah, yes, i see," replied bob, with a sigh of relief. but the breakfast was now brought in, and in a moment all other things were forgotten as the boys fell to with a will, and ate as only hungry boys in the early morning air of the st. lawrence can eat. when this task was at last completed, they started eagerly toward the dock, and as they approached they discovered ethan watching for them. he had already hoisted his sail and all things were ready for the departure. as the boys leaped on board, they noticed the beautiful little craft of which ethan was the proud owner; but as he was evidently eager to set sail at once, no remarks were made until after the boat was free from the dock. then the strong breeze and the swift current combined to send them swiftly on their way down the river, and in the exhilaration of the scene the boys for a moment gave free play to their feelings. "you don't often have a day like this, do you, ethan?" said jock. "hey? oh, we have 'em 'most as often as they come." "i know that, but they don't often come, do they?" ethan looked at his questioner for a moment before he said, "you don't know much, i see. lived in the city all yer life, haven't ye?" "yes," replied jock, feeling for the moment as if he were guilty of something, though of what he could not just determine; but the boatman's contempt was so evident that the lad resolved to ask no more questions. "then you're jock cope's boy, be ye?" said ethan, after a pause. "yes. i've often heard him speak of you, and tell how you two used to sit together in the same seat over in the little red schoolhouse. father says it's still standing, and he wants me to go over and see it some day while we're here." "wants ye to see it? what fur?" "oh, just to see it, that's all. he wants me to see the place where he went to school when he was a boy." "humph! it isn't much to see. jest a little shanty, that's all. say, they tell me your pa is worth a lot o' money. is that so?" "i don't know," said jock. "he's got some, i suppose. enough to pay for our expenses here this summer, i think." "but heow much has he got?" persisted ethan. "i don't know just how much. he never told me." "got five thousand dollars?" "perhaps so." "i don't b'lieve it," grunted ethan, contemptuously. "i know jock cope, an' i know he ain't worth no sech money's that. he's done a pile o' harm to this country, though, i'll say that for him," he added glumly. "done harm? my father done harm? i don't believe it!" exclaimed jock, warmly. "well, he has, whether ye believe it or not." "what's he done?" "oh, he wasn't satisfied to stay here an' do what his father did afore him. no, he had to go off down to new york, an' they say he's worth five thousand dollars now. i don't believe it, but all the boys reound here do, an' so they're goin' off to teown to make their fortunes too. now my boy tom, he's goin' to help reound your camp, ye know, he's got the fever too. somebody's told him if he'll come down there they'll get him a job on the street cars an' pay him a dollar an' a half every day." and ethan's eyes became large as his voice dropped lower in his efforts to be more impressive. "he's nothin' but a young fool, that's what he is, and he's all took up with the notion. i want you boys to tell him 'tisn't so, that is, if you know anything abeout it, which i don't much believe for my part. it doesn't stand to reason that there'd be anybody so tarnel foolish as jest to give him a dollar and a half every day for standin' up on a street car. no, sir. i don't believe no such thing." the boys looked at one another, and not even the sight of the beautiful river could keep back the look of amusement which crept over their faces. "ethan, have you ever been in new york?" inquired bob. "who, me? well, i rather guess not. they don't get me to go to no sech place as that. pickpockets an' thieves an' gamblers. no, sir. i've never been outside o' jefferson an' st. lawrence counties in all my born days. this 'ere river is good enough for me, an' i'm goin' to stay where i'm well off. since these city people have got to comin' up here summers, i'm makin' money." from ethan's manner it was evident that he wished the boys to question him, and bob was the first to improve the opportunity. "ethan, are you a rich man?" he inquired solemnly. "rich? well, i don' know as ye'd call it that exactly. i'm doin' pretty well, though. d'ye know heow much money i took in last summer rowin'?" he added, as if he were about to disclose some great secret. "no; i can't imagine. how much was it?" said bob. "one hundred an' ten dollars an' sixty-nine cents!" "you don't mean it! it can't be possible!" "well, it is trew, whether it's possible or not. i saved thirty-one dollars an' sixteen cents an' have got it in the bank up to wat'town now." "what did you do with the rest of it?" "oh, i had to live, didn't i? well, i used that in livin'. my neighbors thought i was livin' pretty high, but i didn't put on no airs. i ain't proud." "whose island is that?" inquired ben, pointing to a small island on which there was a beautiful cottage. he felt that diversion was necessary to break the spell ethan's astounding statements had produced, and accordingly asked the first question that occurred to him. "that? oh, that b'longs to another fool deown new york way. they tell me he's just bought it an' give a thousand dollars for it. 'tain't worth it. 'tisn't worth fifty cents. ye jest can't raise nuthin' on it. why, i could 'a' had that island for a gift if i'd been willin' to pay the tax on it twenty-five year ago, an' that wasn't more'n fifty cents. there's yer camp ahead o' ye, boys." instantly the statements of the incredulous ethan were forgotten, and all peered eagerly at the place he had indicated. even the exhilaration of the sail which had occupied two hours and a half was also forgotten now. as they had swept on in their course the boys had been more and more elated. on past beautiful islands, and summer camps, and parks which seemed like large villages, they had come. sometimes they had passed close to the shore in places where the channel was almost like a mill-race in its swiftness, and then again they were out in the river where only an eddy here and there indicated the tremendous power of the great water, on whose surface they were sailing. wooded islands had been seen, and then islands which appeared to be only great rocks and boulders loomed up before them. camping parties like their own had been passed, and salutes had been fired to acknowledge their approach. men and women, boys and girls, had all seemed to catch something of the life of the great river, and on every side there appeared to be the joy which came from the freedom from care and the life-giving breezes of the majestic st. lawrence. only jock, of the party, had ever been there before, and in the novelty and delight of the experience, his companions had, perhaps, failed to be duly impressed by the sceptical sentiments of their boatman. at all events, when ethan declared that the camp was in sight, even his own presence became vague and unreal as the boys peered eagerly before them at the place where they were to stay for the coming six weeks, and where doubtless many and thrilling experiences were to be theirs. chapter iv. in camp. as the swift little boat swept forward the tents were soon visible, standing as they did near the shore and yet close to the woods which stretched away in the distance. there were two of these tents, and the white canvas outlined against the green foliage presented a wonderfully attractive appearance, at least to the eager boys, who were all unmindful now of their boatman's financial problems and intent only upon the vision of their abode for the coming few weeks. ethan explained to his companions that one of the tents was designed to be their sleeping quarters and the other was to provide a kitchen which could be used on stormy days. on other days the cooking was to be done in the open air, and the fireplace and the pile of logs which was to furnish fuel soon could be seen clearly as the party came nearer to the island. there was a rude little dock near the camping place, and to this ethan guided his boat and soon landed his passengers. as the boys leaped out, bert called to his companions: "this is great, fellows! let's give the school cheer!" instantly their united voices rang out, and ethan looked up in astonishment. "what d'ye do that for?" he inquired blankly. "that's our school yell, ethan," replied jock. "give it again, boys!" as the sharp, clear cry rang out again they saw a young fellow of about their own age approaching from the tents, and his evident surprise was as marked as that of the boatman. only a brief glance, however, was required to convince the boys that it was ethan's son before them. there was the same general outline of features as in the older man, and the same peculiar hitch as he walked. "that's yer school yell, is it?" said ethan. "do they make ye do it often?" "oh, whenever we feel like it," laughed jock. "well, your pa an' i used to have a school yell when we went to the little red schoolhouse, an' i want to tell ye that not one of ye can come up to him either. many's the time i've seen him toe a crack, an' when the teacher brought his hickory ferule down ker-whack, yer pa could make a louder noise than any o' you boys. he was a powerful one to yell, jock cope was!" even ethan's recollections were not of sufficient interest now to prevent the boys from running up the bank to their tents, and soon they were eagerly examining all the details of their camp. there were four cots in one of the tents and in the other were places where their trunks and guns and rods and their various belongings might be stored. ethan's son, who had been introduced as tom, remained with his father and assisted in bringing from the boat the articles which were to be stored in the tents, and soon had everything arranged and in order. the camp was on the wooded shore of one of the larger islands. before them was a view of the broad river, dotted here and there with islands, on some of which were cottages and on others camping parties not unlike their own. it was noon time now, and the sun was almost directly above their heads. the air was almost motionless, but the restless river was hastening on as if wind or wave, or heat or cold, were all alike to it. the sublimity of the scene, the novelty of the camp, the rushing waters, and tall silent trees all combined to produce a feeling of intense delight in the hearts of the boys, and they stood together on the shore looking out over the beautiful sight and filled with expectations such as only light-hearted lads at such a time can know. "i say, boys, mebbe ye'd like something to eat." in a moment the beautiful vision had lost its power, and turning eagerly to the camp, jock said: "you are right, ethan. how did you know we were hungry?" "didn't have to know. folks have to eat, don' they? it's dinner time, that's what it is. most o' folks like to look at the river when they first come, but they find scenery isn't specially fillin' as a diet. they mostly wants somethin' to eat afore long." "we're like the others, then," said ben. "did you say you had dinner now in the middle of the day?" "yes, that's what i said. when did ye expect to have it?" "oh, i didn't know. we usually have it at night when we're at home." "at night? dinner at night?" exclaimed ethan. "ye must be funny folks. noon's the hour for dinner. everybody knows that." "go ahead, ethan. have it now. we may want it every hour in the day, if the feeling i have is anything that lasts very long." thus bidden, ethan and tom at once prepared dinner. while the younger man made a fire, ethan prepared the potatoes, whittling the skins as if he had been carving an oar. he also split three black bass which tom had caught in the morning, and made them ready for broiling. in addition to these he had fresh vegetables, a coffee pot, a can of milk, and various other necessities, and to the surprise of the boys it at once became evident that both ethan and his son were adepts in the art of preparing a dinner in a st. lawrence camp. soon a savory odor rose from the fireplace, and the curiosity of the boys gave place to a feeling of eagerness for the time to come when they would be summoned to the repast. the few dishes were at last brought forth, the dinner was declared to be ready, and the boys fell to with a will. what appetites they had! how good everything tasted! for a time even conversation was neglected, but at last, when the cravings of the inner man began to be appeased, then the joy and inspiration of the hour once more returned. "i s'pose ye've got a pretty fair house down to new york?" queried ethan of jock. "oh, yes. it's one you might call comfortable, i suppose," said jock, with a laugh. "got good beds in it?" "yes." "your ma keeps a girl, i s'pose?" "keeps a girl? i don't know that i understand what you mean," said jock. "i mean what i say. she's got a hired girl, hasn't she?" "do you mean the maids? the servants?" "no, i don' mean no _servants_. i mean hired girls." "well, yes, i suppose she has." "they have four servants--hired girls, i mean," drawled bob. "four, four? what's yer ma do herself?" "oh, she's busy all the time, too busy, my father thinks," laughed jock. "four hired girls! i swan, if that don' beat all creation! what did ye want to come down here for then, i'd like to know? eatin' outdoors and sleepin' on a cot when ye don' have to; that beats me! ye city folks must be a queer lot." "that's just what we're here for, ethan. we came on purpose to get a taste of outdoor life." "well, ye're likely to have a good deal more'n a taste, i'm thinkin'. now, then," he said to tom when the dinner had been eaten, "i'll leave ye here to look after the boys while i go over to the bay an' get the trunks an' things that were checked through. i'll be back by the middle o' the afternoon. ye can get along without me, can't ye?" "yes, yes," said jock. "we want to get out our rods and fix things up a little. we can try the fishing to-morrow, can't we, ethan?" "yes, ye can _try_ it," replied ethan, dryly. "you don't think we'll do much? is that it, or isn't the fishing good this summer?" "oh, the fishin' is all right. lots o' fish here. no trouble about that." but ethan at once went down to the dock and set sail for alexandria bay, and the boys began to look to their rods and guns. tom, who was supposed to be clearing away the dishes, frequently paused in his occupation to examine the belongings of the campers; but, although he was feeling more at ease now with them, not one word of surprise or commendation did he bestow. indeed, his companions began to fear that their tackle must all be wrong or out of date, for the only response tom would make to any of their anxious inquiries, was that 'he supposed 'twas all good enough; he could tell better to-morrow.' when everything had been done which could be done before the trunks came, the four boys together left the camp and walked up the shore. the novelty was still strong, and they were eager to examine their immediate surroundings. and there was much to interest them. swift steam yachts frequently passed up the river, and the groups of happy people on the decks could be plainly seen from the shore. occasionally a puff of smoke could be seen, and the boom of a small cannon on some of the neighboring islands could be heard, and then the shrill scream of the whistle of a passing yacht or steamer would respond in acknowledgment of the salute. skiffs were also seen, and the rod held in the hands of the person seated in the stern would indicate the occupation upon which he was bent. above them was the clear blue sky, behind them the whispering trees of the forest, and before them the great, onward-rushing river, its blue waters knowing no rest, and yet in spite of their evident haste imparting a feeling of restfulness to all the beholders, so vast was the power, so slight the effort required to maintain the steady, constant course. to jock the great river almost seemed to be alive. at times it was restless and almost angry, and then again it seemed to be hastening past him as if it were unmindful of its surroundings, or scornful of the puny people who sailed over its surface or stood wondering upon its banks. but the feeling of exhilaration, the delight in the presence of one of nature's most wonderful works, was apparent in all the boys. as they turned at last to retrace their way to the camp, bob, who had been silent most of the time, said: "this is a great place, jock. 'twas good of you to have us all here." "yes, it was pure philanthropy," said jock. "you see, i had been down here before and wanted all the more to come again; but my father didn't want me to come alone; so i just had to make up a party, or stay at home. i'm generous, am i not?" "yes; what was that?" bob suddenly said, stopping short and peering excitedly out into the river at a place where a whirl or eddy in the stream appeared. "that? oh, that was probably some fish." "jock cope, do you mean to tell me they have fish like that in this river?" "why, yes; what did you think was here?" "oh, i didn't know. but i'm wondering what i would do if a fish as large as that one was should get hold of one end of a line and i should be at the other." "you'd wake up and go to work, for once in your life." "i think i should, for a fact. i almost wish we could try it to-night." "we'll try it, all right, in the morning. ethan will have to get our minnows for us. hark! what's that?" the boys were now near the camp, and suddenly stopped as the sound of some one calling was heard. and yet the voice was more like that of one in distress, and fearful that something was wrong they began to run. as they came to a place from which they could see into the interior of their camping place, they stopped and gazed curiously at the sight before them. tom, evidently thinking that he was unobserved, had taken a position in front of one of the tents and was looking up into the sky. his arms were occasionally flung out, moving with the grace with which a pump handle performs its duties. he was standing with his feet far apart, and his entire bearing betokened the evident excitement under which he was laboring. the startled boys were about to rush forward to his assistance, when they were still further astonished by the words which tom thundered forth. "tew be--or not tew be," shouted the young fisherman. the listening lads gazed blankly at one another, but before they could speak tom's voice was heard again. "_tew_ be--," then came a long pause before he shouted, "or not _tew_ be." his arms were again flung out wildly and his face was still turned toward the sky. apparently the question received no answer, and varying the emphasis and inflection, the sadly troubled tom again broke forth,-- "tew _be-e-e_, or not tew _be-e-e-e_." again our boys gazed blankly, first at the excited young fellow before them, and then into one another's faces. "he's sick! he's crazy!" said ben, excitedly. "he's going to commit suicide!" responded jock, with equal excitement. moved as by a common impulse all four of the boys instantly darted into the camp; but the startled tom, bestowing upon them one glance of terror and confusion, turned and ran swiftly into the woods. chapter v. ben tries the canoe. before any of the boys could start in pursuit of the fleeing tom, one of them suddenly called out, "isn't that ethan coming?" they all turned at the words and perceived the fisherman already near the dock, and with one accord they ran swiftly to meet him. his boat was apparently filled with their trunks and belongings, and the two canoes which jock had ordered to be sent were also on board. as ethan ran his craft alongside the dock, jock, too excited to note carefully whether all his possessions had been obtained or not, called out, "oh, ethan, something's the matter with tom!" "hey? somethin' the matter with him? how long since?" to the surprise of the boys ethan did not seem to share in their alarm. he was giving all his thought to the landing he was making, and as soon as his boat was made fast he climbed up on the dock and stood calmly regarding the excited lads before him. "what's he been doin' now?" he said. "oh, i don't know," exclaimed jock. "we had all gone up the shore and when we came back to camp we heard tom calling. we could see him, too, and he was waving his arms and calling out as if he was in pain, and when we ran in, he just looked at us a minute and then started off into the woods as fast as he could go. he must be sick, ethan. come on, we'll help you look for him." "was he a-sayin' anything?" inquired the fisherman, still for some unaccountable reason not much aroused by the startling announcement. "saying anything?" exclaimed bert. "i should say he was. he was calling and groaning. why, we could hear him way up the shore. he must be in trouble. come, ethan; come on! we'll all help you." "was he a-sayin' anything? i mean any words like?" "yes, i believe he was," said bob. "we could make out a few words." "what was they?" "oh, he said something about 'to be' or something like that. we didn't stop to listen much. the poor fellow was in such distress. what are you waiting for, ethan? why don't you come on?" "that's jest what i thought. tom was sayin' his hamlick." "saying what?" "his hamlick. don' ye know what that is? hamlick's a dialogue or a play. i don' know who writ it, but tom does. the young folks over to the corners is goin' to give a exhibition, and hamlick's the one they decided on. tom is to be hamlick, and he was jest a-practisin' his piece." for a moment the boys gazed blankly at one another, and then all but bob rushed from the dock as if they too had been stricken by the same evil disease which they feared had seized upon tom. bob, however, remained with ethan, and with his face as expressionless as he could make it at times, inquired soberly,-- "when is this play going to be given, ethan?" "oh, i don' know. some time this summer, i suppose. they 'most always give somethin' while the summer boarders is here, and this year the walks needed fixin' up in the corners some, so they--i mean the young folks, o' course--decided to give hamlick; and tom he's to be the hamlick in chief. ever hear that dialogue down to your place?" "yes, i believe i have. i've heard of it, anyway." "i thought likely. pretty good thing, isn't it?" "i believe it is thought to be a very good one. we shall want to know when it is to be given so that we can all come over and see it." "i'll let ye know when it comes off." ethan suddenly placed a finger in his mouth and emitted a shrill whistle. "i guess that'll call up tom," he explained. a repetition of the signal brought the reluctant tom from the woods, and as he approached the dock he gazed in a shame-faced way at bob, as if he expected him to say something about what had happened; but bob's face was still expressionless, to the evident comfort of the young fisherman. "step lively here, tom," called his father. "we must get these trunks and things up to the camp afore night. you 'most scared these boys to death with your hamlick," he added. "your father has been telling us about the play you are to give at the corners, tom," said bob, quietly. "we shall want to come over and see it. you mustn't fail to let us know when it is to be given." somewhat reassured by the kind manner of bob, tom was more at his ease and at once began to assist his father in transferring the cargo of the little boat to the camp. the other boys now returned, but a warning look from bob caused them all to be silent about the recent occurrence. in a brief time the trunks had been placed in the tent where they belonged, the canoes were left on the shore, and then ethan and tom began to prepare supper. the appetites of the boys apparently were as keen as they had been at noon time, and the rapidity with which the table was cleared was a delight to ethan's heart. neither hamlick nor the ghost could interfere now, for the demands of their hunger were supreme. soon after supper ethan and tom departed for the night, promising to return at daybreak in time to prepare breakfast and be ready for the fishing which was to be done on the following day. the boys stood on the shore and watched the boat as it sped away over the river, and then when it had disappeared from sight they all turned and demanded of bob the explanation of hamlick. but bob was in no mood to banter, and so he soberly related what ethan had told him about the efforts of the "young folks" at the corners to do something which should aid in improving the little hamlet in which they dwelt. somehow it all appeared in a different light now, and the merriment was soon gone. "i'm going to have a paddle in one of the canoes before i go to bed," exclaimed jock, as he leaped up from the bank on which they were all seated. as the other boys had had no experience in that sport, they all stood on the dock, eagerly watching their comrade as he took his seat in the light little canoe and wielding his paddle swept swiftly over the water. "did you ever see anything like that!" exclaimed ben, delightedly. "'it's like a feather on the water or a leaf upon the stream,' or something like that we had in our english last spring at school. isn't it fine!" "yes, and how easily jock does it too," added bob, with a wink at bert as he spoke. "travelling like that is just fun." "i wonder if i can't do it," said ben, looking longingly at the other canoe, which was still on the bank. "you can try it, can't you?" drawled bob. "nothing like trying, you know. it's a knack, that's all, and you have to be careful. shall i help you bring the other canoe down to the dock?" ben glanced once more at jock, who could be seen far out on the river, and the sight served to increase his eagerness. "yes; come on, fellows. if you'll help me, i'll try it, anyhow." in a moment the canoe was lifted and carried down to the dock. then bob held one end of it securely and bert the other, while ben cautiously took his seat in the middle. a shout from jock caused them all to look up, and they could see that he was paddling toward them with all the speed he could summon. "perhaps he's calling for you to come out and meet him," said bob, soberly. "i'll do it," said ben, eagerly, "and then race him for the dock. push her out, boys!" he added gleefully, as he grasped his paddle. the canoe shot out from the dock, and the boys stood eagerly watching ben as he drove his paddle deep into the water. "look out there, ben!" shouted bob. "remember, you'll have to keep your balance." "be careful, ben! look to your paddling!" called bert. "don't tip her so much to one side!" "ease up, there! don't lean so far over!" "sit up! lean back! lie down! tip over!" called bob, soothingly. "go up the river! go down the stream! come ashore! turn around! go ahead!" shouted bert, encouragingly. but poor ben was too much occupied with his own efforts to heed the confusing calls of his companions. twice the little canoe had almost capsized, but somehow ben had managed to keep it afloat, though he had abandoned all efforts to paddle and was only striving to keep his craft above the water. "i say, you fellows!" he called in despair. "i can't manage this--hi!" he added, as the canoe gave a lurch and almost went over. "throw me' a rope! come out and help me!" "i can't, my dear, though much i wish, for, oh, you've tied my hands," sang bob, mockingly. "oh, come ashore, ben, if you can't go ahead," called bert, soothingly. "you won't tip over. i'll risk it! i'll risk it!" "you risk noth--" began ben, desperately; but his exclamation was not completed, for as the canoe gave a sudden lurch to one side the unfortunate lad leaned to the other to assist it in righting itself. he leaned too far, however, and then strove to reverse the weight. his actions were frantic now, and it seemed as if there could be but one result, and that must come soon. "it's going!" shouted ben, in despair. "so i see," called bob, encouragingly. "keep it up, ben! what you need is practice. practice makes perfect, you know. keep it up! keep it up!" "i'm going! i'm going! i'm go--" shouted ben. it was evident that he had spoken truly. for a time or two he succeeded in righting his craft, but each effort seemed to make his condition worse. suddenly the canoe went over; the paddle in ben's hands flew out over the water, and then the lad's long legs and feet appeared to be lifted into the air, and waved frantically for a moment before, with a circular movement, they followed their owner and quickly disappeared in the river. "going, going, gone!" called bob, solemnly, as he gazed out over the water at the place where his friend had disappeared. ben was an expert swimmer, much the best of the four, so that they had no fears for his safety; and the ludicrous sight of those long legs, with what bob called "their despairing appeal to come over and help us," disappearing in the st. lawrence, was more than either could endure. they burst into shrieks of laughter. they hugged each other in their delight, and even bob laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks. [illustration: "suddenly the canoe went over."--_page ._] but ben speedily appeared, and as he started out for the dock, bert called to him, "your canoe's going down the river, ben; so's your paddle." "the proper way, my friend, to paddle a canoe is from the upper, not the under, side," said bob, soothingly. "take my advice, ben." ben was for taking the canoe, however, which already was drifting away from him; but as he started to swim toward it, jock swept past him, and, calling to him to go ashore, said that he would get both canoe and paddle. when ben climbed in his dripping clothes up on the dock, the laughter of the boys was renewed. "you'd have done all right, ben, if you'd left those feet and legs of yours ashore. they were in the way. there are some things even the st. lawrence won't stand." "you wait," said ben, doggedly. "i'll show you yet." and "show" them he did. as soon as the canoe was restored he insisted upon repeating his experience. it was true that he was capsized again, but he sturdily stuck to his task, and in an hour had, in a measure, mastered the problem, and was able to paddle swiftly up and down the river. it was dark now, and the boys were soon ready for bed. a pile of logs had been placed before their tent, and as soon as the other boys were in their cots, jock started the fire. the light of the flames could be seen far out over the river, and it was long before sleep came to the campers. the sighing of the wind in the tree-tops, the rush of the mighty waters, the constant lapping of the little waves upon the shore, the twinkling stars, which could be seen beyond the waving branches, were all novel and strange. then, too, when some of the boys would be ready for sleep, others would not feel so inclined. they would leave their tent and fire their guns at imaginary enemies or wild beasts. the school cheer, and even the school songs, had to be given again and again, but at last even these experiences became monotonous, and the tired boys slept. it was not long after dawn on the following morning when jock and ben sat up in their beds and looked about them. both of their companions were gone, but the sounds that came from the river left no doubt as to their whereabouts. hastily dressing, both boys ran down to the shore and there beheld their friends, clad in their bathing-suits, and practising the art of paddling a canoe without departing from the craft when it was in motion. apparently both boys had already succeeded, but even their efforts were ignored when ethan and tom were discovered approaching in their sailboat, and all knew that not only would the breakfast for which they were eager soon be ready now, but that their first efforts in fishing in the st. lawrence would soon be put to the test. chapter vi. the first day's sport. ethan and his son soon had breakfast ready for the campers, and as they had brought with them from home some dainty viands such as only the housewives of the region knew how to prepare, these, with the food the fishermen cooked, made a repast over which even a king might have rejoiced, especially if he could have boasted of such an appetite as the lads on pine tree island had. none of them was thinking, however, of kings or of kingly appetites that morning; and when at last the boys ceased, chiefly because even the well-spread table had been cleared, jock turned to ethan and said, "where are you going to take us to-day?" "fishin'." "yes, i know; but where are we going to fish?" "oh, i haven't jest made up my mind yet. mebbe in one place, and then again mebbe in another. will try our luck till we strike what we want." perceiving that ethan was averse to committing himself on such delicate matters, jock called to his companions and they at once began to collect their rods and the various necessities of the day, and by the time they had all things ready, ethan and tom had stored away the cooking utensils, and soon after came to the dock. "is it safe to leave everything here in the camp without any one to watch it?" said bob. "hey?" replied ethan. "safe? 'tisn't goin' to rain to-day." "oh, i wasn't afraid of the weather. i didn't know but some one might come along and, finding no one in the camp, help himself; that's all." "folks is honest here," said ethan, gruffly. "i s'pose you have to keep your doors locked down to new york, don't ye?" "why, yes, we usually do," said bert. "well, i'm glad i don't live there, that's all i can say then. i haven't got a lock on my house over at the corners, and i haven't had since i built, nigh on twenty-two years ago." "what!" exclaimed ben. "you don't mean to say you don't lock up nights, do you?" "that's just what i mean to say. i never had nothin' stole since i've lived here. folks is honest here, i tell ye. if anything is taken, it'll be because some o' the city folks what come down here summers has taken it. the city must be a dreadful place to live in. they say even flowers won't grow there; an' if the posies don't like it, i don't know what it must be when it comes to huming bein's and boys. heow ye goin' to divide up yer party?" it was speedily arranged that jock and bob should go with ethan, and the other boys with tom. the skiffs were at once prepared, and when the fishing tackle had been placed on board, the boys took their seats as the men directed. what a delightful experience it was, they all thought. the skiffs were models of beauty and grace, and the seats the boys occupied were cane chairs from which the legs had been cut, and were also provided with cushions. bob was seated in the stern and jock in the bow, with ethan between them, and in the other boat a similar arrangement had been made. as soon as he perceived that they were ready, ethan grasped the oars, and with steady strokes began to row out into the river. the water over which they passed was clear and beautiful. scarcely a breeze ruffled the surface, and as the light skiff darted ahead, it almost seemed as if it required no effort to send it forward. "i don't know but ye might as well bait up," said ethan, when they had gone a few hundred yards from the camp. "i don't s'pose ye'll catch anything here, but there's no harm in tryin'. it's about time for the muscalonge to begin to run, an' who knows but ye might strike one?" ethan rested on his oars, and taking first one of the lines and then the other, attached a live minnow to each of the hooks, and threw them overboard. "neow, let out about a hundred an' twenty-five or fifty feet," he said, "an' we'll troll till we get where we're goin' first." far behind on one side of the skiff stretched jock's line, and on the other was bob's, and as they paid out the slender cord they could see that their friends in the other boat, which was distant about two hundred yards, had followed their example. "this is what i call great sport," said jock, contentedly. "it is pretty good," replied bob. "at least it isn't what you call actual labor, except for ethan. i think it's rather my way of fishing. i've heard them tell about catching trout with an eight-ounce rod, and how a fellow has to crawl through the bushes and tumble over the logs, and then he makes his cast. he mustn't move, they say, not even if a million million mosquitoes and black flies light on his hand; and then if he succeeds, at last he yanks up a little speckled trout that weighs about four ounces, and he thinks he's had a great catch. no, i think this is the situation which is better adapted to my precious and delicate frame," and as he spoke bob stretched himself out lazily in his chair and permitted his rod to rest on the boat, while he gazed about him with an air of deep satisfaction and content. and truly there was much to produce that feeling. the early sunlight now flashed across the water and covered all things with its halo. in the distance were the dark green forests, and here and there among the islands, or on the main shore, the rising curls of smoke indicated the location of the cottages or summer camps. the very air was a tonic; or, as jock declared, 'it seemed to him it was so laden with life that he could almost bite it off.' and all the time the two boats were moving slowly and steadily over the water, ethan pulling lightly at the oars and from time to time glancing keenly at the lines, which seemed to fade away in the river. the calls of the far-away crows or the sight of a great hawk circling high in the heavens above them only increased the wildness of the scene, and for a time the roar of the great city and the sight of its crowded streets seemed only like the memory of a dream. even the occupation in which the boys were supposed to be engaged seemed unreal, and bob closed his eyes dreamily and permitted the rays of the sun to strike him full in the face. "i say, ethan," said bob, opening his eyes lazily, "don't you think it hurts the fish you put on those hooks?" "hurt 'em? naw! fish hasn't any feelin's." "how do you know that, ethan?" "they never make no complaint, do they?" "yes, they kick." "no, they don't kick. they can't kick without legs, can they? they jest wiggle." "it's all the same. it seems pretty hard to put 'em on those hooks." "hard? not a bit. it's give an' take with a fish. the big fish eat the little ones, and the little ones eat the smaller fellows. now it's only gettin' what they tried to give, that's all; and they can't complain." bob made no reply, and settled back into his former lazy attitude. ethan still rowed slowly on, casting occasional glances at the lines, which the boys had apparently forgotten. but the fisherman knew what was unknown by the others in the boat, and that was that they were approaching a shoal, and it was not unlikely that something might happen here of interest to all on board. suddenly bob sat erect in his seat and made a frantic grasp at his rod, which had almost been torn from his hands. "hold on, ethan," he said quickly. "my hook's caught on the bottom." the fisherman smiled, but made no reply as he backed water and swung the little boat around in the current. "caught on the bottom, did ye?" he inquired sharply. "well, that doesn't look much like bottom!" as he spoke, about a hundred feet in the rear of the boat a good-sized fish leaped from the surface in the sight of them all, and almost seemed to shake himself as a dog does when he has been in the water. "bass," said ethan, laconically. "now look out heow ye play him. don't give him any slack. be careful. keep yer hand on the reel." it is doubtful whether bob heard any of the boatman's directions, for he was all excitement now. he stood up in the boat and gave all his attention to the fish, which was struggling to free himself. again and again the tip of the rod was drawn under the water, and the "zip" of the line as it sped from the reel was distinctly heard. the bass was well hooked, and for a time the struggle became most exciting. again and again bob brought the fish near to the boat, and then, with a dart and a rush, away the victim would go, making the reel sing as the line was drawn out. "be careful," muttered ethan. "you'll tucker him out pretty quick, an' then we'll have him. give him the line, but don't let him have any slack. that's right. let him go," he added, as once more the fish darted toward the deeper water. bob steadily held to his task, and when he felt that the run of the bass was ended, began once more to reel him in toward the boat. the fish was evidently tired now, and his resistance was much less strong. nearer and nearer the eager boy brought him, and soon, peering over the side of the boat, could see in the clear water the movements of the struggling fish. ethan had grasped his landing-net, and was ready for the last effort. "bring him up near the boat now," he said, "and we've got him. look sharp, and don't give him any slack!" he added, as the fish, perhaps having caught sight of the boat, began once more to struggle desperately. darting first in one direction and then in another he made the line cut deeply into the water, while more than once he dragged the rod far below the surface. "look out, now! don't give him any slack! bring him up alongside!" called ethan, as with his landing-net in the water he endeavored to thrust it under the struggling fish. but, alas! in his excitement bob either neglected the directions given him or was unable to comply, for somehow his grasp on the reel was removed, the line sped out, and when the excited lad began to reel in again, the tension was suddenly relaxed, and with a quick movement of the boat he was thrown back into the chair. "he's gone! he's got away!" exclaimed bob, ruefully. "so i see," remarked ethan, as he calmly picked up his oars and resumed his labors. "but he was a big fellow!" protested bob, "and i had him right up to the boat." "he was a pretty good one," said ethan, "but it's a game of 'now you see him and now you don't.' it's a good deal of a trick to know how to land a three-pound bass. still, you didn't do so very bad for a greenhorn." bob made no reply as he slowly reeled in his line at the boatman's direction. greenhorn! well, there were some things he did not know, although he had spent much time in the city. to his mind ethan, with all his good qualities, had been the greenhorn; but now the boatman was the one to accuse him of the possession of that very quality. his respect for ethan went up instantly, and he looked up at him in a new light. "you'll soon get the hang o' it," said ethan kindly, as he proceeded to bait bob's hook again. "you did first-rate for a beginner. the main thing is to look out for yer slack. a bass is a fighter, and he'll take advantage o' ye every time you give him a chance. i think we'll try it again around this shoal. one strike may bring another." "why do the bass come to the shoals, ethan?" inquired jock. "that's where the minnies [ethan meant minnows] are, and they're the ones the bass feed on. now we'll try it again." once more ethan began to row, and the long lines dragged on behind the boat. both boys were all eagerness now, and bob's laziness had departed. they watched and waited for the longed-for "strike," and soon to bob's great delight he felt the tug upon his line which indicated that his hook had again been seized. "now be careful, son," said ethan, "and mind you don't give him any slack." mindful of the caution, bob worked carefully, and after a time succeeded in bringing the fish up to the boat, when ethan deftly thrust the landing-net underneath it and threw it into the boat, and with a blow of a stout hickory club speedily put an end to the struggle. "i 'most always does that," he explained. "i don't s'pose a fish knows anything about it, but i don't like to see 'em go ker-flop, ker-flop! so i puts 'em out o' their misery. besides, they're better eatin' when ye treat 'em that way." "this one is a little fellow," said bob, regretfully, as he gazed at the fish, which now had been thrown into the fish-box. "the other must have been ten times as large as this one. that was a monster!" "the big ones 'most always gets away," replied ethan, smilingly. "an' they grow mighty fast, too, sometimes. the farther away they git the bigger they be." "what do you mean?" "oh, nothin'; but that i've knowed a man when he was out with me to lose a half-pound bass, an' by the time he got back to the camp or the hotel, that 'ere bass weighed a plump five pound. it's marvellous like, the way they grow sometimes." "where's the other boat?" said jock. "i dunno. we'll let 'em look after themselves a bit. we'll try it here again afore we leave. it's your turn next to get one." eager to continue the sport, the boys once more let out their lines, as ethan began to row slowly over the shoal again. chapter vii. in goose bay. the success which attended their efforts was not great, and after a few more bass had been taken, jock, to his chagrin, not having even one strike, ethan decided to leave that ground for another. "i think i'll take ye over to goose bay," he said. "that's where i told tom to go, and probably they're there by this time." "that's historic ground, isn't it, ethan?" inquired bob. "yes. the british and yankees had a bit of a go round there in the war of . i'll show ye jest where it was when we get there." "how did you know there was a fight there, bob?" said jock, quickly. "'most everybody knows about that, i s'pose," said ethan, before bob could reply. "everybody round these parts has heard of it." bob looked up at jock and winked slowly. "do you remember what oliver wendell holmes said about every little place he went to thinking it was the central spot of all the world, and that the axis of the earth came straight up through it? he went down to a little place named hull, once, and when he came away he said the people there were all quoting pope, though they didn't know it, and saying, 'all are but parts of one stupendous hull'! remember that, jock?" "ye needn't be makin' fun o' me," said ethan, sharply. "i guess folks round here is as smart as they be anywhere. you city people talk about how green country folks are when they come to teown, but i don't believe they're any greener than city folks be when they go into the country." "i didn't mean that," said bob, quickly. "i was only wondering a little why it was that you thought everybody ought to know about goose bay, and the time the british and our men had here in the war of ." "why shouldn't they know about it, i'd like to know?" replied ethan, somewhat mollified. "it's hist'ry; an' ye study hist'ry, don't ye?" "we pretend to; but jock here doesn't know much about it, you see," said bob. "he'll larn. but i was speakin' about the greenness o' city folks in the country. well, they be green. my wife had a time of it with the fresh airers only last summer." "the 'fresh airers'? what are they?" "don't ye know what they be? well, i swan, ye're greener 'n i thought. they're the boys an' girls the folks pick up off the streets in the city and send up into the country every summer. we had some last year." "oh, yes, i know. you mean the children sent out by the fresh-air fund." "i s'pose i do. we call 'em 'fresh airers' up here." "what did they do?" inquired jock. "lots o' things. two of 'em--we had five to our house--was walkin' along the road with me the next day after they come, an' one little fellow ran up the bank an' began to pick some buttercups what was growin' there. the other little chap was scared like, an' he called out, pretty sharp, 'hi, there, henry! keep off the grass or the cop'll get ye!' an' he meant it too." "poor little wretches," said jock, sympathizingly. "'twasn't whether they was wretches or not; 'twas their greenness i was thinkin' on. we had a lot o' bee-hives out near the back door, an' after dinner that same day my wife looked out the window an' she see that same little chap there with a stick in his hand. he'd jest poked one o' the hives over, and the bees was fightin' mad. she was scared 'most out o' her seven senses, my wife was, an' she jest grabbed her sunbunnit an' hurried out o' the house an' screamed to that young 'un to come on. he didn't want to come, an' was layin' about him with his stick; but my wife ran out an' grabbed him by the hand an' they started up the hill 'lickety-whew, yer journey pursue,' an' the bees after 'em. they finally made eout to get free from 'em, an' then the little shaver was for goin' back an' havin' it out with 'em. 'them bugs bit me,' he says, says he, 'an' i'm goin' to go back and fight 'em.'" both the boys laughed heartily at ethan's narrative, and now that his good humor was restored, he said, "wasn't that greenness for ye? that same little chap was a great one, he was. he was tickled to pieces to gather the hens' eggs. he'd be out in the barn an' kep' so close after the hens they didn't have a chance to hop onto a nest, so that my wife had to tell him that he mustn't go out there for the eggs except when she told him he could. he teased like a good fellow, an' finally 'bout noon the next day she told him he could go out an' get the eggs. he was gone a long time, an' she kind o' mistrusted some-thin' was wrong, so she started out to 'view the landscape o'er,' as the tune says; but pretty quick she sees him a-comin' out o' the barn holdin' his hat in his hand, an' lookin' as disconsolate like as if he'd lost every friend he ever had or ever expected to have on this earth. 'what's the matter, sonny?' says she, 'can't ye find any eggs?' 'yes,' says he, 'i found two, but they ain't no good.' 'what's the trouble?' says she. 'they ain't no good,' says he, again. 'the old hen was on the nest, an' when i scart her off, the eggs was spoiled,' says he. 'i guess she's cooked 'em, for they're both warm!' i'd like to know if any country boy could be greener in the city than that city boy was in the country?" "i don't believe he could," laughed jock. "that's my opinion, too," said ethan, soberly. "why, that there boy was the greenest thing alive! d'ye know, he 'lowed he'd never seen a live pig in all his born days. what d'ye think o' that? yes, sir! never had seen a live pig, an' he was a boy ten year old, goin' on 'leven." ethan's reminiscences were cut short, however, for they were now entering goose bay. its wooded shores and high bluffs, its still waters and little islands, in the light of the morning sun, presented a scene of marvellous beauty, and both boys were much impressed by the sight. in the distance they perceived their companions, and as soon as they had been seen, ethan exclaimed,-- "they're still-fishin'." "still fishing? of course they are. why shouldn't they be?" inquired bob. "ye're as green as that city boy i was tellin' ye of. still-fishin' is jest fishin' still, ye know. not trollin' the way i'm goin' to, but they're anchored, and are havin' a try with worms for bait." "what do they catch?" said bob. "i don't know what they're catchin', but there's perch there, an' i presume that's what they're fishin' for. we'll try the bass, though, a spell longer." ethan rowed slowly in near the shore, and had gone but a short distance before bob felt the welcome tug upon his line, and, after a contest of a few minutes, succeeded in bringing the struggling fish close to the boat, where it was successfully landed by the boatman. bob was doing better now and profiting by his mistakes, but jock had not caught a fish since they had started from the camp. "what's the trouble, ethan? why don't i get any?" he said. "more'n i can tell ye. bees won't sting some folks and dogs won't bite 'em, either. mebbe it's the same way with fishes." jock's ill-luck still continued, however, and although ethan rowed over the rocky shoal for an hour and a half, not a fish did the eager lad secure. bob was rapidly becoming an expert, and already had landed a half-dozen large bass, and had lost only three. "i'll row ye in-shore a bit," said ethan, dropping his oars and taking a tin cup, with which he dipped up some of the water in the bay and quenched his thirst. "what's wrong with this work?" inquired bob. "i'm not finding any fault." "probably not," replied ethan, dryly. "we'll change our tune a spell, and see if we can't do some thin' for this other boy." bob uttered no further protest, and ethan at once sent the little skiff swiftly toward the shore. as it grounded upon the beach he said, "now you two boys get out an' wait for me here. i'll be back pretty quick, an' we'll see what can be done." the boys obediently leaped ashore and then stood for a moment together as they watched their boatman. ethan moved out near a low point and, dropping overboard his anchor, took a light little rod they had noticed in the boat, and began to fish. they could see him as he drew several into the boat, and then in a few minutes he came for the waiting lads. "wait a minute," he said, as he drew the boat up on the beach. "i'm goin' to do somethin' else. i'm goin' to have young jock get a fish if such a thing is possible." ethan walked up the shore, and the boys could see him as he darted in among the rushes, leaping about like a schoolboy. they could not perceive what his object was, but as they had implicit confidence in his ability, they remained contentedly where they were, and ethan soon returned. "there!" he exclaimed. "neow if them fish don't bite, it won't be because we haven't given 'em what they want for dinner. get aboard, boys." the boys quickly resumed the places they had occupied, and their boatman once more began to row. "don't let out yer lines yet," he said. "wait till i'm ready for ye." wondering what plan ethan had in mind, the boys obeyed, and ethan soon started toward another part of the bay. he glanced keenly about him and then peered over into the water. apparently satisfied with his inspection, he let the anchor fall, and as the skiff swung around before the light wind and settled into position, he said, "let's have your lines, boys." "we're going to still-fish, are we, ethan?" said jock. "i'm thinkin' some on it." "what do we catch here?" inquired bob. "that depends. some folks catches one thing and some another, an' sometimes they doesn't catch anything at all." "why do you put such a fish as that on my hook?" exclaimed jock, aghast. ethan had taken a fish, a "chub," he termed it, which must have weighed a full half pound at least, and baited jock's hook with it. "to catch fish with," remarked ethan, laconically, as, after inspecting the struggling bait, he threw it overboard. "now let him take your line and go where he wants to. not too fast. go easy, like," he added, as he turned to equip bob in a similar manner. "ethan thinks we're after alligators or whales," said bob, as his own line began to run out. "oh, well, we'll have the fun of sitting out here on the water if we don't get a strike," he added, settling back in his comfortable chair. indeed it did seem as if no fish in the st. lawrence would be attracted by such a bait as that which the boatman had provided. neither of the boys really expected any result, but they were not inclined to protest. the scene about them was the reflection of that within. a perfect summer day, with woods in the distance, and a silence interrupted only by the harsh cawing of the crows. the beautiful water glistening in the sunlight, and the gentle motion of the skiff as it slowly turned with the slightly changing breeze, increased the sense of absolute peacefulness. the roar of the city seemed like something unreal and something which they never had actually heard. neither of the boys spoke for a time, and bob closed his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. ethan also was silent, but his keen eyes were seldom taken from the lines. "your bait seems to be goin' up-stream," he said in a low voice to jock. instantly the lad sat erect and looked eagerly at his line. it did seem to be moving through the water, but as yet he had felt no tug, and could hardly believe it was anything more than the motion of the "chub." "is it a fish, ethan?" he exclaimed excitedly. "looks like it." "shall i reel him in?" he inquired, as he started to rise from his chair. "no, no!" replied ethan, quickly. "let him get the bait. if he swallows it for good and all, you'll have him." all in the boat were now following the movements of jock's line. the lad had reeled out more, and still it was steadily moving away. for two full minutes the excitement continued, and then ethan said:-- "reel in now, a bit. do it gently, and don't skeer him. want me to take the rod?" "no!" exclaimed jock, decidedly. "i'll win or lose him myself." slowly he turned the reel, gazing eagerly all the time at his line in the water, but as yet he had felt no response. suddenly there was a yank which almost took the rod from his hand, and which made the reel sing as the line was drawn from it. "let him go! let him go! ye'll have to tucker him eout!" exclaimed ethan. "i'm thinkin he felt somethin' prick his heart." "shall i stand up?" said jock, in increasing excitement. "no, ye'll be overboard if ye do. now, keerful! reel him in when ye can, and when he wants to take the bit in his teeth let him go. there! that's the way! that's the way to do it!" jock was enjoying the contest hugely. he would reel in a few yards, and then with a savage plunge the fish would dart away again, only to have the measure repeated. five minutes, ten minutes, passed, and still the contest was not ended, nor had jock had one glimpse of the fish he had hooked. from its struggles and the manner in which it pulled, the excited lad thought he must have caught a monster of some kind. he was reeling in steadily now, and peering at the same time over into the water. suddenly he caught sight of a huge body near the boat and knew that it must be his victim; but the glance was only for a moment, for with another desperate plunge the fish darted away again and the reel repeated its song. "he's gettin' tuckered out," said ethan. "now don't give him any slack, and look out for your rod, or he'll snap it in a minit. keep a steady hand this time, an' i'll see what i can do with the gaff." jock had no idea of what a "gaff" was, but he gave it little thought, whatever it might be. the fish was coming steadily this time, and once more the eager boy could see him in the water. "now be keerful! bring him up alongside the boat. there! that's right!" said ethan, in a low voice. "what a beauty!" exclaimed the delighted jock. "keep still, or ye'll scare him," warned ethan. but the fish was within reach now, and the boatman leaned forward, and with a quick thrust of his gaff drove it into the body. there was a splash of water, the light skiff rocked until the boys were almost thrown from their seats, and then they instantly recovered themselves and turned to see the result of ethan's effort. chapter viii. jock has his turn. there was a commotion on board which seemed to threaten the safety of all. the huge fish was throwing himself from side to side, but ethan was equal to the emergency, and with his merciful hickory club soon put an end to the struggle. "whe-e-w!" exclaimed jock, in delight. "isn't he a beauty!" "that depends," said ethan, laconically. "i don't believe that chub thought he was specially pretty, when he saw this fellow get after him." "he seems to have a remarkably open countenance," drawled bob, as he pried open the great mouth with the end of his rod. "'tis something of a mouth the pickerel has, for a fact," said ethan. "d'ye see how the teeth are all set the wrong way?" the two boys eagerly examined their prize. the mottled sides still glistened and the beautiful markings were all clear; but the mouth, as the boatman had said, was enough to strike terror to all fishes of lesser degree. "not much chance for a chub if that trap once shuts to on him," said ethan. "if he tries to back out, he only drives the teeth in farther." "how much will he weigh, ethan?" inquired jock. "oh, seven or eight pounds. it's a pretty fair pickerel." jock was disappointed. to him it had seemed as if the pickerel must have weighed much more than that. his disappointment was still further increased when ethan added, "they ain't much good for eatin'. oh, ye can eat 'em if ye want to, an' some folks like 'em first-rate, but give me a bass every time." "that's the reason i caught bass," drawled bob. "it's a shame to pull out a pickerel when you don't want him." "pity about you," laughed jock. "i don't care about fooling with little bass that aren't big enough to leave their mothers. when i catch a fish i want to get one large enough to know what he's doing. hello," he suddenly added, "there comes the other boat. i wonder what luck they've had." the other skiff was now swiftly approaching, as jock had said, and in a few minutes it came alongside. long before it was near enough for his voice to be heard, jock exultingly held up to view the immense fish he had captured, and when his friends came closer, great was their astonishment and many their words of praise. "we'll go ashore for dinner now," said ethan, after the prize had been examined. "ye're ready to stop a bit, aren't ye?" "we are," shouted the boys together; and side by side the two skiffs moved toward the shore. before the boys landed they discovered that near the place to which evidently ethan was going were the ruins of some building which plainly had been a large one. the boatman explained that a hotel had stood there at one time, but it had been burned, and never had been rebuilt. as the boys leaped ashore they all eagerly examined the catch which tom's boat had made. there were several bass and a fish which strongly resembled the pickerel which jock had caught, though it was much smaller. "they've got a pickerel, too," said jock, as he discovered the fish. "that isn't any pickerel," remarked tom. "what is it, then? it looks just like one," said jock. "it's a muscalonge. it's a little fellow, and the first one i've seen this year." "ye ought not to have saved him, tom," remonstrated ethan. "if you'd let him go, he might 'a' growed big enough to amount to somethin'." "i thought of it, but i didn't know what luck you were having, and i knew we'd want some fish for dinner, so i let him stay." "if they're beginnin' to run, mebbe we'll strike one some day that's o' decent size. jock, if ye ever get a muscalonge what weighs forty pound on the end o' yer line, ye'll find out that catchin' pickerel's boys' play alongside o' it." "do you really think we'll get one?" said jock, eagerly. "can't tell. like enough ye will, an' jest as likely ye won't. out with ye now, the whole kit and posse o' ye," he added, and the boys turned toward the grove of maples which grew near the shore. "this is what i call great fun!" exclaimed ben, as he threw his long body on the grass. "i think i could almost make up poetry if i was to stay here long enough." "your face looks as if it was burning with poetic fire," drawled bob. "it can't look worse than yours," replied ben, as he placed his hands on his cheeks. indeed, all four of the boys presented a similar appearance, for the effect of the rays of the sun reflected from the water had made all their faces of a decidedly brilliant hue. jock tried to comfort them by explaining that that was what was to be expected, and that more marked results than these were likely to be attained before their stay in camp was over. but for the present the boys were content as they lay beneath the grateful shade of the spreading maples. in the distance was the glorious st. lawrence, and an occasional whistle indicated that yachts were speeding over its course, or that the river boats were passing. other skiffs had now entered goose bay, and as they moved slowly over the shoals or anchored near the "weeds," it became evident that its waters were well known before the coming of our boys. it was now noon time, and the leaves upon the trees were hardly moved by a breeze; out on the bay the sun was beating, and the quivering motions of the air under the influence of the summer heat could be distinctly seen. in the distance the calls of the crows could be heard, but otherwise the quiet of the day was unbroken. on every side was the solitude, and as one of the boys expressed it, 'they could almost hear the silence.' yet the impression produced by it all was as strong as it was novel. the struggle for existence, the life of the city, the rumble and indefinable roar of the town, were all forgotten for the time. here, at least, was peace, and the reluctance of ethan to leave his home by the great river, or depart from the comradeship of the st. lawrence, could be readily understood. all four of the boys felt the influence of the scene, and after a few minutes the laughter and conversation ceased, and the young fishermen were as silent as the silent trees above them. their revery was soon interrupted by the call of ethan for them to come to dinner, and with a shout the boys leaped to their feet and ran to the place where the dinner had been prepared. the sight which met their eyes was one which might have done even an epicure good. both the fishermen had been busy, and the results of their labors were now manifest. a fire had been kindled near the shore, and over it had been placed a contrivance with which nearly every fisherman on the st. lawrence was provided. a frying-pan and pot had been used, in the former of which small pieces of salt pork and some of the recently caught fish had been cooked, and in the latter were green corn and potatoes. coffee, also, had been made, and when the boys seated themselves upon the bank they perceived that ethan had brought other dainties from his home. huge "doughnuts," and cookies of ample size, as well as pickles and various other dainties, were there. a large can filled with milk was also placed upon the improvised table, and altogether the "spread," as bert termed it, was most inviting. "where did you get all these things?" exclaimed the delighted bob. "brought 'em with me in the skiff." "is that what you do, every day you go fishing?" "'most always, when i take out city folks. i think they like the dinner we cook about as well as they do the fishin' itself. 'long about noon time we usually land and cook the dinner. every boat has a lay-out somethin' like ours, though i don't say every one is as good as this," he continued, with pardonable pride. "i should say not," replied ben, as the boys all fell to with a will. for a time scarcely a word was spoken, so busy were they all in the occupation upon which they were engaged. ethan still remained by the fire, and from time to time brought pieces of the sputtering pork, which somehow seemed to disappear almost as rapidly as they came. "what kind of meat did you say this is?" inquired bob, as distinctly as one could pronounce the words when his mouth was filled with the article in question, and at the same time leaning forward to make sure that the last piece on the plate should not be wasted. "salt pork." "i never tasted of it before." "go 'long," said ethan, incredulously. "ye don't really mean it, do ye?" "yes, i do mean it," replied bob. "it's my first experience; and my only hope is that it won't be my last." "if you don't stop before long it'll be your last, i'm sure," interrupted ben, himself as deeply engrossed in the occupation as was bob. "well," said ethan, "i wouldn't 'a' believed that ye never eat any fried salt pork afore. why, everybody eats it." "i don't wonder," murmured bob, as he dexterously flung a corn-cob, which had now served its full duty, at a tree in the distance. "i'm afraid ethan doesn't think we know much," said jock. "he's been telling us this morning about the greenness of city people when they're in the country. i'm inclined to think he's right, too." "well, they be green," protested ethan, sturdily. "i had a young fellow from bosting up here last year, what i rowed for, an' if ye believe me, he didn't actually know how many teeth a cow had on her upper jaw. no, sir, he didn't for a fact; an' he was in college, too. mebbe ye don't believe me, but it's true as yer life, what i'm tellin' ye." there was a twinkle in ethan's eyes as he spoke, which was not lost upon our boys, who were looking somewhat foolishly at one another. perhaps they were fearful that the question would be brought home to them. their anxiety was relieved when jock spoke up quickly, and said, "tell us, ethan. how many teeth does a cow have on her upper jaw? i don't know; i don't, for a fact." "thank you! you have expressed my feelings exactly," said bert, partly rising from his seat, and bowing in mock honor at jock. "she has all she needs, i'm thinkin'," said ethan. "if ye don't know, i shan't tell ye. i understand all four o' you boys are goin' to college, an' when ye get there i'm thinkin' some o' those latin or greek books'll tell ye all about it." at last the dinner apparently was finished, and with a sigh bob rose from his seat. "this has been a great treat, ethan," he said. "if delmonico or the waldorf-astoria can do better, i've yet to learn it." "there's one thing they can't furnish," said ethan. "what's that?" "the appetite. it takes this river and the air to furnish that." "that's so; though i hadn't thought of it." "hold on," said ethan, quickly. "we aren't done yet. tom, you go down to my skiff an' bring up those pies an' things in the box under the back seat. be quick, lad, or the appetite'll get away from these boys." "poison things? what do you mean, ethan?" laughed bob. "aren't you satisfied with feeding us in this way? don't you want the trouble of rowing us back to camp?" "i didn't say nothin' about 'poison things,'" replied ethan, gruffly. "i was talkin' about pies. ye know what pie is, don't ye?" "i do that," replied bob. "it's something i have never had enough of yet." "i should think ye ought to get enough, if ye have it three times a day." "three times a day! i never have it but once, and then in small doses." "sho! i know better. all folks always have it reg'lar three times a day. why, i shouldn't feel as if i'd had my breakfast if i hadn't had a piece o' pie and a doughnut along with it." "ethan," said bob, soberly, "do you take summer boarders at your house?" "no, i don't. we did take some one time, but we'll never do it again." "why not?" "why, do you know," said ethan, in a low voice, as if he was imparting a secret, "some o' those folks bothered us dreadful. yes, sir; they did, for a fact. there was one o' the men we couldn't get eout o' bed before six o'clock in the mornin'. what d'ye think o' that? yes, sir, he'd actually lie in bed till six o'clock in the mornin'! but we must get out o' this if we're to do any more fishin' to-day. come, tom, help me clear away these dishes." that task was speedily accomplished, and then the sport was resumed. a fair degree of success attended their efforts, and as the sun began to sink low in the western sky, goose bay was abandoned for the time being, and the two skiffs were headed for the camp on pine tree island. chapter ix. ancient history. it was supper time when the boys arrived in camp, and ethan and his son at once prepared the evening meal. strange as it may seem to be, the appetites of the campers were almost as keen as they had been for the dinner at goose bay, and a full hour had elapsed before they rose from the table. as soon as the remains of the feast had been cleared away, that is, if dishes can be called "remains," for little else was left by the hungry lads, ethan and tom prepared to depart for home, promising to be back in camp in time for breakfast. "you won't forget what i told you, ethan," called jock, as the men were about to set sail. "no. i'll go over to the bay [alexandria bay, ethan meant] and stop on my way home. i'll fix you out to-morrow mornin' sure." "what conspiracy are you up to now, jock?" inquired bert. "that's a secret," replied jock, laughingly. "if it's a good day to-morrow you'll know all about it. you'll like it, too. i'm sure you will; and it'll leave even the fishing we've had to-day away behind." "what is it?" persisted bert. "more fishing?" "no. you've had enough of that for one day, i should judge by the looks of your face. it'll peel in a day or two." "i can stand it to have a layer or two drop off. but what is it you and ethan are going to do to-morrow?" "sufficient unto the day is the question thereof," answered jock. "i shan't tell you, bert. it's to be a surprise." "come up here, you fellows," called bob from the bank. "we want your valuable assistance. my little body is aweary." "since when?" called jock, as he and his companions started back to camp. "since i've been trying to roll these logs into position. lend a hand, you two. i'm not equal to the task." the boys all began to labor now, and soon had a great pile of logs in the fireplace in front of the camp, under these some kindlings were placed, and as soon as all things were in readiness, bob took a match and started a fire. the flames were soon leaping into the air and cast their beams far out over the river. the boys then threw themselves upon the ground in front of the blazing logs, and for a time no one spoke. [illustration: "the fire roared, and the flames leaped higher."--_page ._] the fire roared, and the flames leaped higher into the air. all about them it was as light as day, and the scene was indescribably weird. the great river swept onward in its course, and its waters reflected the light of the blazing camp-fire. the branches of the tall trees in the rear of the camp swayed before the night wind, and increased the wildness of the scene. bats could be seen circling about in the air, as if they were startled and confused by the strange light. across the water came the faint and indistinct sounds of a party of young people out for an evening sail. altogether the experience was so novel that the boys were all impressed by it, but it was impossible for them long to remain silent, and bob was the first to speak. "i've been thinking about the history of goose bay. it is an historical spot, you know, boys, just as ethan said it was." "suppose you tell us about it, then," said ben, whose long form had hardly stirred since the fire had been kindled. "that's just what i was intending to do," replied bob. "it'll be a good lullaby," drawled ben. "if you hear any sound that leads you to suspect that i have fallen asleep, please don't blame me. i always go to sleep when i try to read history." "as long as there are live coals here, you'd better not go to sleep," warned bob. "i'll serve you worse than the tithing-men used to serve the old farmers who went to sleep during the sermon." "oh, no, you won't. it won't be my fault if you put me to sleep. did you ever hear what henry ward beecher said about the tithing-man and his pole?" "no. what did he say?" "he said if he saw anybody going to sleep when he was speaking, he didn't want any tithing-man to come around with his stick and stir the man up, but he wanted him to take his stick and stir him up, for it was his fault if he let a man go to sleep. see?" "yes," replied bob. "i'll do my best. listen, then, my children, and you shall hear the wonderful tale of goose bay." "i knew a goose had a tail, but i didn't know goose bay had a tail." "well, it has," replied bob, as he pretended to kick a live coal toward the mocker. "this is the tale of goose bay. many years ago, away back in , the british and americans were at war. i know just how much you know about that, so i'll not go into particulars." "don't," drawled ben. "i'm beginning to feel sleepy already." "well," resumed bob, "it was about the middle of july in that year. our forces were over at sackett's harbor, but they weren't having much excitement, so it was decided to fit out an expedition and come around the lake to cape vincent and then go on a cruise down the st. lawrence, seeking whom they might devour." "i thought it was a lion, a ro-a-a-ring lion that did that," interrupted bert. "so it is sometimes." "but wasn't it the british lion you were telling about? now i could understand how a lion, a real genuine british lion, might go roaring around, but when the eagle, the genuine american eagle, starts out on an expedition, i never thought of him as 'roaring.' what is a roaring eagle, bob? any relation to a soaring lion?" "oh, hold on, bert, give bob a chance to tell his story," said jock. "story? story? what more of a 'story' do you want than that? the american eagle going down the st. lawrence roaring and seeking whom he might devour. is that where 'goose' bay got its name, bob?" "as i was saying, when i was interrupted by this infant crying in the night," resumed bob, disdainfully, "the expedition was partly national and partly individual, that is to say, it was a privateering trip with government backing. the man who fitted it out was named gilbert, i believe." "a kind of patriot for revenue only?" inquired ben, blandly. "precisely. well, they had two gunboats, the _neptune_ and _fox_, and about forty-five or fifty men. they stopped at cape vincent and clayton, or french creek as they used to call the place then, and then kept on their way rejoicing, until they came to goose bay. there they landed and had a parade." "what did they parade for?" inquired jock. "no one knows, or at least i don't. what do they ever parade for?" "for to show brass buttons and for to delight the ladies and small boys. i used to think a drum-major was a bigger man than the president," replied ben, quickly. "after they had landed and paraded, they--" "went fishing?" inquired ben. "they sent a few men down toward ogdensburg to spy out the land." "weren't they roaring and seeking whom they might devour this time?" "keep still, ben, i want to hear about this," said jock. "the next afternoon two men, their names were baldwin and campbell--" "good names!" interrupted ben, again. "--came back and reported that a gunboat and fifteen loaded bateaux were coming up the river. the gunboat was the _spitfire_--" "that's a good name, too," remarked ben. "at once there was great excitement among the american men. they arranged a force to cut off all retreat, and then started for the enemy. before they fairly knew it they were all taken." "who?" "the british," replied bob. "were they dead? did they like it?" "then the americans landed at goose bay. oh, i forgot to say that not a shot was fired in the attack on the bateaux and the _spitfire_." "that's the way to fight," drawled ben. "that would suit me exactly. if i could parade and then go out and call names, and then march back in triumph with the haughty foe in chains, i'd like to be a soldier. i wonder why i wasn't born into this world in my proper age." "of course our troops were highly elated," resumed bob, "for the _spitfire_ was armed with a twelve-pound carronade and fourteen men, and in the bateaux were two hundred and seventy barrels of pork and as many bags of pilot bread." "was that where ethan got the pork we had for dinner to-day?" inquired bert, innocently. not deigning to reply or to notice the laugh which arose at bert's words, bob resumed. "the americans sent sixty-nine prisoners across the country to sackett's harbor, and then with the others they waited for the enemy to come." "why did they wait? what did they want them to come for? i should think they'd all have gone 'cross lots to sackett's harbor," said jock. "they wanted to save the gunboat and supplies. the next morning about sunrise the bold and brave foe, to the number of two hundred and fifty, hove in sight. they had four gunboats and two transports and were evidently ready for the fray. our men had been stationed in detachments along the shore, and soon the action was begun. 'they fit all day and they fit all night,' as the poet says, though i don't know whether that's history or not; but two of the gunboats had soon been so injured by our fire that they had to stuff the holes the shot made with weeds to keep them from sinking." "oh! oh! oh!" groaned ben, sitting quickly erect, "i have lived long in this weary world of woe, but that's the worst i ever heard yet. a british gunboat stuffing the holes in its sides with weeds! there's an insane asylum down at ogdensburg, and either you or i must go there." "it is a pretty big story, but that's what the book says," protested bob. "go on! go on!" said ben, eagerly. "after the british had stuffed the gaping wounds with seaweed, and our brave and determined lads, with a fresh supply of spitballs and slingshots--go on! go on!" "the next morning the redcoats wanted to call it quits, or rather they sent a flag and a demand for our men to surrender 'to save the effusion of blood.' the proud foe was sternly repulsed, and the firing was resumed. it seems all they had expected was to gain time. trees had been felled across the creek,--cranberry creek they called it, i believe,--but the foe managed to get away. they were said to have lost a good many men." "did our side lose any?" inquired bob. "three. but reinforcements soon came, and after the boats had been patched up they started up the river again, bound for sackett's harbor. off tibbet's point they fell in with the _earl of moira_, which chased them, and finally to get away they had to sink the gunboat they had taken and the most of the bateaux, so that the expedition came out about even." "bob," demanded bert, once more sitting erect, "the next time hadn't you just as soon tell us a true story?" "that's true. i read it in the old histories." "do you know any more as 'true' as that?" "yes. i've been reading up on the st. lawrence. i wanted to know something about the region before i came down here. i don't believe you know anything about cartier, or frontenac, or any of the early discoverers." "carter? who's carter?" demanded ben. "i didn't say carter. i said cartier. he's the discoverer of the st. lawrence." "he was, was he? well, he's the man for me. just think of it, fellows, we'd never be camping here if this place hadn't been discovered. i move you," he added, "that the professor be invited to resume his falsehoods to-morrow evening, and that whenever we are seated before the embers of our glowing camp-fire, or can't get asleep nights, that he soothe us with his fairy tales." the boys laughingly agreed to the proposal, and as they rose, ben said, "i feel a craving in the inner man. any of you got a 'crave' too?" all four declared they were in suffering need of food, and at once began to prepare another supper. when their labors were ended, however, the results were far from satisfactory. somehow the fish did not tempt them, and when jock opened the coffee-pot he exclaimed: "i thought coffee was a liquid, fellows. look at this, will you?" with his fork he lifted from the interior of the pot long, stringy substances, which certainly were not inviting to the sight. "what do you suppose is the trouble?" said ben. "there must be something wrong with the coffee. do you suppose it's poison?" "i don't know. i'll leave it and ask ethan in the morning," said bob. "he'll know all about it." however, the boys discovered the pies and other viands the boatmen had left in camp, "pies'n things" bert termed them, mimicking ethan's dialect, and their immediate wants had, to all appearances, been satisfied when they sought their cots. so tired were they that even the question of what jock and ethan had prepared for the morrow was soon forgotten, and the smouldering camp-fire burned low and lower, while the boys slept the sleep which can only be gained within the sound of the music of the mighty river. chapter x. tom surprises the camp. the sun was just appearing above the tree-tops on the following morning, when the camp was shaken by a report which caused the boys to leap from their beds and rush out into the open space. so startled were they that the absence of jock was not perceived; but when they discovered him on the bank, and a cloud of smoke could also be seen floating over the river, they knew at once the cause of the alarm. the presence of a small brass cannon on the ground near where jock was standing would have revealed the cause of the excitement if nothing else had; and, as jock laughingly turned to greet them, he said:-- "that's the signal to get up, boys. ethan will be here soon, and we don't want to delay breakfast." "where did you get it, jock?" said bert, eagerly examining the cannon as he spoke. "it's a beauty!" "oh, i brought it with me, but i hadn't had a chance to mount it before. we wanted something to salute the sun with, to say nothing of the yachts and steamers that pass us every hour or two." "you don't know how you frightened me," said bob, slowly. "i almost thought the british had come back for us." "look out at that smoke, will you, fellows?" said ben, pointing to the little cloud which could still be seen. "what do you think it looks like?" "what does it look like, ben?" inquired jock. "it reminds me of the tail of a goose. something like the tale of goose bay, with which our imaginative friend here regaled us last night." "it makes me think of the story virgil tells about �neas, where the 'pious son' tried to grasp the shade of his faithful wife creusa. she just vanished into thin air, you remember." "it's like bob's history,--too thin," laughed bert. "isn't that ethan's boat?" he added, pointing as he spoke to a sail which could be seen approaching the island. "yes; that's ethan. hurry up, fellows, or you'll be late for breakfast. you know what his opinion is of people who aren't up early in the morning." his companions hastily returned to the tent, and by the time ethan landed they were ready for the breakfast which he speedily prepared. "goin' to have another good day," remarked ethan, as he and tom cleared away the breakfast dishes. "that's what we want," said jock. "ethan, did you bring over the things we were talking about last night?" "yes, they're in the boat. we've got just the kind of a day we want, too." "what is it, jock, you and ethan are plotting?" inquired ben. "you'll find out pretty soon." the boys were all eagerness as they followed ethan down to the dock. the boatman soon brought forth a small mast and sail, and as he spread the latter out on the ground, its peculiar shape at once impressed the interested beholders. "what do you call that thing, ethan?" inquired bert. "a sail." "yes, i see; but what kind of a sail is it? i never saw one like it before." "likely not. they don't grow in cities. it's a 'bat wing.'" the name was so appropriate that no one had any difficulty in understanding the cause of the term, but the boatman did not deign to make any further explanation and at once proceeded to fit the mast in one of the canoes. "i only had one," he explained, when the task was completed. "i can get another at the bay, probably, and as i didn't have time to stop there this mornin' and see whether there was any letters for any o' ye, if ye don't object, i'll take jock along with me and sail over there now. i can show him a little how the thing's managed on our way over, and then when i come back i'll have a couple o' the bat wings, an' can let the rest o' ye have a try, if ye want it." jock protested that some other one of the boys should be permitted to have the first sail; but they all declared that he was the one to go, and so the lad took his place in the little canoe, and in a moment the light craft was speeding swiftly over the water in the direction of alexandria bay. "isn't she a beauty!" exclaimed bert, delightedly. "they wont be gone long, will they?" he added, turning to tom. "no," replied tom. "you'll get all the sailing you want, to-day." the boys watched the canoe as it sped on before the wind. they could see jock, who was seated on the edge of the canoe in the bow, while ethan was in the stern and was managing the sail. at times the canoe dipped until it seemed to the watching boys that it must be swamped, but it always righted itself and then leaped forward with ever increasing speed. at last it disappeared from sight behind one of the neighboring islands, and then the boys turned with a sigh to the camp, all of them eager now for the return of their companions, and for the opportunity to try the merits of a canoe fitted out with a bat-wing sail. "what'll we do to pass the time, fellows?" said ben. "i think it would be a capital idea for tom here to speak his piece before us," drawled bob. "he wants to practise, and perhaps we can be of some help to him. ben here is a prize speaker, you know." tom's face flushed, and for a moment he evidently thought bob was poking fun at him. "it isn't much of a piece," he said in confusion. "the young folks are going to have a dialogue and try to raise some money to fix up the walks over at the corners." "so your father told us," said bob. "i'm in dead earnest, though, tom. it's more than likely that ben can give you points. he took the school prize in speaking this summer. go ahead, anyway." "and you boys won't make fun of me?" inquired tom. "not a bit of it," said bob, cordially. "we're coming over to see the show when it comes off, anyway, so you might as well give it to us now, or, at least, your part. you had pretty good courage to tackle one of shakespeare's plays, though. how did you happen to do it?" "oh, that was mr. wilkinson's idea; he's the teacher at the corners, you know. he said we might as well learn something worth hearing while we were about it, so we finally chose 'hamlet.'" "quite right, too," remarked bob, encouragingly, as if he was familiar with all such little matters as the great dramas of shakespeare, and was willing to share his courage with all the world. tom at last reluctantly consented, and striking an attitude, gazed up into the sky as if nothing less than the ghost was beckoning to him. his eyes assumed a far-away expression, and he waited a moment before he began. then apparently every muscle in his body became rigid, and in a loud and unnatural tone of voice he commenced. "tew be-e-e- or not to be-e-e-e-e-" as he spoke his right arm shot suddenly out in front of him, much after the action of a piston rod in a great locomotive, and his eyes began to roll. bert suddenly rolled over upon the ground and hid his face in the grass, and ben as quickly turned and gazed out upon the river as if something he had discovered there demanded his attention. only bob was unmoved, and without a smile upon his face, he said solemnly, "why do you talk it off like that, tom?" "isn't that the way to do it?" "i should hardly think so. don't you think hamlet was puzzled and was somehow half talking to himself? it seems to me as if he was musing and didn't think of any one to whom he was speaking. he was talking to himself, so to speak. don't you think so, ben?" "yes," replied ben, desperately striving to control his voice, and not turning his face away from the spot he had discovered on the river. "well, i don't know about it," protested tom. "it always seemed to me that hamlet was a good deal of a crank, and instead of acting naturally he was more likely to do the most unnatural thing in the world." "that may be so. perhaps you are right about that," said bob, "but still i think he was communing with himself. they call it his soliloquy, don't they?" "yes; but he was crazy, wasn't he? i think that's what the critics say." "i don't know. i believe so," replied bob, though somehow his air of confidence seemed to be departing. "tom," he added, "have you read much of shakespeare?" "i've read all he wrote," said tom. "we can't do much except read in the winter down here on the river." ben by this time had either examined the distant object on the river to his entire satisfaction, or else was startled by tom's words. at all events he quickly withdrew his gaze and looked at the young boatman in surprise, and even bert had ceased to bury his face in the grass. somehow the comical aspect of tom's speech had suddenly changed. "what have you read this winter, tom?" inquired bob, slowly. "oh, i've read all of shakespeare, as i told you, and then i've read all of parkman's histories, and all of bancroft. you know parkman has a good deal to say about the men who first came up the st. lawrence, and i wanted to learn all i could about the part of the country i live in. but i wanted to know something about other countries too, so i've read motley's 'rise of the dutch republic,' and prescott's 'conquest of peru and of mexico.' then i've read wordsworth's poems. it seems to me i enjoy him better than i do any other poet, for the country around his home must have been something like this st. lawrence country. don't you think so?" before bob could reply, ben and bert suddenly rose from the ground, and ran speedily into the tent where the trunks were. "what's the matter with those boys?" inquired tom, innocently, looking up in surprise at the sudden departure of his companions. "i don't think they feel very well," replied bob, demurely; "or it may have been that they've gone to see if their fishing tackle is all right after the experience of yesterday. tom," he added, "do you read any fiction, any novels?" "not many. pa doesn't like to have me. he says they're all lies anyway, and there's enough that's true to read. i've read a little. i've read most of scott's novels and charles kingsley and some of the other writers. the last book i read was defoe's account of the london plague. i don't like that very well, do you?" "i've got to see what those boys are up to," said bob, suddenly, leaping to his feet as he spoke and moving with unusual quickness away from the place where he had been lying. "i say, bob," said bert, when their friend joined them, "the next time you catch a weasel asleep, you let me know, will you?" "i wouldn't have believed it," spoke up ben, quickly. "here we were thinking we'd get some fun out of this greenhorn, and then he turns round and puts us all in a hole. i wonder if he really has read all those books he says he has?" "you might examine him and see," replied bob, dryly. "not much. you don't catch me that way. here i was thinking we'd do some missionary work for the poor benighted heathen of the region, and lo and behold, they turn upon us and beat us at our own game. who would have believed it? i know i shouldn't, for one." "serves us right. i'll keep clear of tom till his 'pa' comes back." bob's sentiments were echoed by his companions, and not one of them ventured to remind the young boatman of the desire to hear him recite hamlet's soliloquy. indeed, they did not venture near the camp until it was almost noon time, and then ethan and jock returned with the new "bat-wing sail." as they had also brought with them letters for each of the boys, the time until dinner was ready was all consumed in reading them, and perhaps no one of them regretted the fact. after dinner, both ethan and his son gave their entire attention to the task of teaching the young campers the art of sailing a canoe equipped with a bat-wing sail. only one of the party was taken out each time by a boatman, and then, after a trial trip, he was allowed to hold the sheet while the boatman occupied the place in the bow which the pupil formerly had held. in this manner the entire afternoon was consumed, and when they all returned to camp for supper, ethan declared that he thought it would be safe for the boys to use the canoes, though he advised that no one should venture far from the island, and promised on the following day to repeat the lessons. when he and tom had gone, ben declared he was going out alone for a sail. he would not listen to the remonstrances of his comrades, and soon started from the dock. the boys watched him until the canoe disappeared behind the nearest island. they had no thought of peril, but when the darkness deepened, and at last the hour of retiring had arrived, the uneasiness in the camp had become a fear which no one dared to express. chapter xi. a night of anxiety. to add to the consternation of the boys, the face of the sky was now obscured by clouds, and the rising wind gave tokens of a coming storm. the tall trees groaned and swayed, and the quiet waters of the river were rising, and already were beginning to lash the low beach. "i'm afraid ben's in trouble," said jock, unable to endure the silence longer. "if he's all right, he never could find his way in such darkness as this." "he started out as if he was going up the stream," said bert, no less troubled than his friend. "he ought to have been able to get back." "he ought not to have gone out at all, as far as the 'ought' is concerned," replied jock, gloomily. "here we were thinking ethan was a greenhorn; but he's forgotten more than we ever knew. it was a fool trick for ben to start out as he did." "well, he went, and that's all there is to say about it. we'll pile the logs up higher and wait. it's all we can do now," said bob. bob's suggestion was at once acted upon; and soon the light of the camp-fire was leaping up in long tongues of flame. the wind served to increase the blaze, and the roar of the blazing logs was added to that of the rising storm. for a time the boys sat in silence before the fireplace, gazing out over the river, and eagerly looking for the sight of the little canoe. they knew that even a skilled sailor would not dare to venture out in such a night, but as ben was already on the river, he must find some place to land; and so, hoping against hope, the lads waited. "there comes the rain," said bob, at last, as a few drops fell upon his upturned face. "what a night to be out on the river in!" "jock," said bert, "haven't i read that these canoes are upset very easily on the river here?" "i think it's likely. they are capsized, whether you've read it or not." "ben can swim, anyway," said bert, "and that's one comfort." "i'm afraid he couldn't swim very far to-night," replied jock, gloomily. "he couldn't see ten yards before him, and he wouldn't know where to start for. whew! just hear that!" the rain was now coming faster, and beat upon the faces of the boys and fell sputtering into the fire. the wind, however, was so strong that the fire roared and snapped, and a cloud of smoke was borne away down the river. inky blackness surrounded them, and the sounds of the storm-swept river became steadily louder. "there's no use in all of us staying out here in the rain. the rest of you go into the tent, and i'll stay here and attend to the fire," said jock. "don't you think we'd better try to go over to the mainland and rouse out ethan? ben may be in trouble somewhere, and ethan'll find him if any one can," said bert. "i've thought of that," said jock, "but it won't be safe to try it. we've nothing but the canoe here, and it couldn't live in such a storm as this. just hear that, will you!" he added. there was a great roaring in the trees now, and the sound became steadily louder. the rain, too, increased, and sometimes seemed to dash upon them in sheets. out on the river the tossing waters could be seen where the light of the camp-fire fell, and, capped with white, they presented a wild sight. and ben was somewhere on those angry waters! for a moment it seemed to the troubled jock that he could see the picture of a little white-winged canoe driven on by the furious storm, and in the stern of the boat was a terrified face which strongly resembled that of the missing ben. just then there came a still more furious blast. the tall trees bent and groaned, and the tossing waters leaped before it, as a highly strung horse darts forward at the touch of a whip. again it seemed to jock as if he could see the little canoe driven before the roaring wind. the gust seemed to lift the light craft in its grasp, the pale face of the lad on board leaned forward, then there was a sudden lurching of the boat, the sail dipped until it touched the water, and then boat and boatman disappeared from sight and nothing could be seen but the tossing waters and nothing be heard but the roar of the storm. thick darkness settled over all, and even penetrated the heavy heart of the anxious watcher. none of the boys was willing to leave jock alone to watch the camp-fire, and after the mackintoshes had been put on they all returned and waited. occasionally a fresh log was thrown upon the blazing pile and the sparks flew upward, serving only to render more intense the thick blackness that surrounded them. there was slight hope of ben returning now, but the anxious boys were determined to keep the fire burning, for it would serve as a landmark if, by any chance, the absent lad might be near. their eyes were seldom taken from the river, and hour after hour passed as the vigil continued. about midnight the storm abated, and soon the twinkling stars appeared in the sky. in the renewed hope that ben might have been able to gain the shelter of some secluded island and remain until the storm had passed, they piled the logs still higher and waited and watched for the canoe to appear. there were few words spoken now. the river gradually became more silent and resumed its former peacefulness, and the tall trees ceased to bend and sway. perhaps the end had already come and even the waves were satisfied with the ruin they had wrought. "i shan't give up hope yet," said jock, at last. "ben wouldn't be likely to try to get back before morning, and he'll wait for daylight wherever he is." "wherever he is," murmured bert, as if he was speaking to himself. "you don't really think he's been--that anything has happened to him, do you?" said jock, anxiously. "i hope not." "i don't know what i'd say to his father and mother," began jock, again. "and just think of it! when we were counting on such a good time, too, and to have this happen almost at the very beginning! don't you think we'd better go over to ethan's now and rouse him out? he'd know what to do." "i think we'd better wait till it's light, anyway," said bob. "i suppose you're thinking of sending ethan with his sailboat to look him up?" "yes, that was what was in my mind. you see, ben may have met with an accident. he may have lost his paddle, or his mast may have been broken. there's a hundred things i can think of, and if he should be cast away on some island, he wouldn't be able to get off without help." "you don't know whether to go up the river or down," said bert, disconsolately. "ben started up the river when he went off," replied jock; "but it's just as likely that he's been carried down the stream, with the current and the wind both to push him on. ethan will know what to do, though." "he'll probably go in one direction and tom in the other," suggested bob. the three boys lapsed into silence, and while no one spoke openly of the great fear in his heart, it was nevertheless evident that a common anxiety had them all in its grasp. occasionally one would rise and go down to the dock and peer eagerly out over the river, but his failure to discover anything of interest would be betrayed by his silence and gloom when he rejoined his fellows. the slow hours dragged on and still the heavy-hearted lads waited. the leaves of the trees dripped steadily, and the monotonous sounds served only to deepen the feeling of depression. try as they would the boys could not shake off their fears, and when at last the first faint streaks of the dawn appeared in the eastern sky, they were so worn by their watching, and the anxiety of the long night, that the coming day brought no relief. "two of us had better stay here in the camp," suggested bob, when the light became more pronounced. "if you know where ethan lives, jock, you'd better take the canoe and go over to his place." "i'll go," replied jock, quickly. the opportunity to bestir himself afforded a slight relief, and going at once to the bank he lifted the overturned canoe from its place and bore it in his arms down to the water. quickly taking his place on board he grasped the paddle and with vigorous strokes sent the light craft swiftly over the water in the direction of the mainland. his two friends watched him as long as he could be seen and then returned to the camp. the fire had burned low by this time, but as daylight was at hand there was little use in keeping it up, and the boys occasionally stirred the embers as if in the ashes they were looking for something they had lost. as the glow of the dawn became more pronounced, and at last the great sun itself appeared above the horizon, the waiting lads had no thought of breakfast. even the wonderful appetite of which they had boasted on the preceding day, was not able to move them now. the keen air had lost its power, and all hunger was gone. from time to time a boat was discovered on the river, and the lads watched each in silence until it was hidden from sight among the islands; the missing ben did not appear. more than two hours had elapsed since jock's departure from the camp, when bob suddenly exclaimed:-- "isn't that a canoe out there on the river?" "where? where?" inquired his companion, eagerly. "out there in the direction of the point! hold on a minute, and i'll get the glasses and we'll see what we can make of it." bob hastily ran into the tent and returned with the glasses. lifting them to his eyes he gazed long and earnestly at the little spot on the surface of the river, and then without a word handed them to his friend. bert eagerly took them, and after he had peered intently at the distant object, he lowered the glasses and said in a low voice, "it's a canoe, bob, and it's headed this way." "that's what i made out of it," replied bob. "if it was ben he'd have a sail." "i don't know whether he would or not. he might have lost it, you know, in the storm. that isn't the direction from which jock would come." "no. he went straight across from here. do you think it's ben?" bob made no reply, but he ran swiftly down to the dock, and his companion as speedily followed him. there they waited for the approaching canoe, confirming themselves by repeated uses of the glasses that it was headed for the camp. the little boat became more distinct, and soon they could see the movements of the occupant as he deftly wielded his paddle. at last, when it was within two hundred yards of the dock, after another long look through the glasses, bob said, "it's jock." neither of them spoke until jock ran the canoe in-shore, and then by the expression upon his face they knew that he had no good report to make. "i found ethan," said jock, as he lifted the canoe out of the water and placed it on the bank, "and he and tom have gone out. one has gone up the river and the other down." "what did he say?" inquired bert, eagerly. "nothing." "does he think ben's--" bert did not complete the question, and then said, "we weren't looking for you to come from that direction. we thought perhaps it might be ben." "ethan sent me over to a man he knew a little farther up the river. i've started him out to look, too. that's the reason why i came from that direction. ethan suggested that i should bring some breakfast over for you, but i didn't think you'd want any. i knew i didn't, anyway." "nor do we," said bob. "what are we to do now, jock? isn't there something we can do?" "ethan told us to stay here in camp till he came. he says he'll be here by noon, and then if he doesn't learn anything, we'll decide whether we'd better telegraph home or not." jock's voice broke as he spoke, and his evident anxiety was shared by the other boys. the end would soon be at hand, but before ethan's return there was nothing for them to do but to strive to possess their souls in patience and wait. working would have been much more easy for them all, but there was nothing they could do. they dared not venture forth from the island for fear of losing their way in the tangled maze, but they paced back and forth along the shore, peering eagerly out over the river for the boat which still did not come. about noontime ethan returned to camp, but he had found no trace of the missing ben; and when an hour later tom returned, he also had the same disheartening report to make, for neither had he seen any one who knew of the lost boy. chapter xii. the missing camper. ethan beckoned to tom, and together they at once began to prepare dinner. the boys noticed their proceedings, but in spite of the fact that they had had no breakfast, none of them took any interest in the boatman's task. they did not leave their position on the bank, and still stood looking out over the river, vainly watching for the coming of a canoe which as yet had not appeared. dinner was soon ready, and ethan at once summoned the young campers. his own distress was evident, and did not tend to allay the anxiety of the boys; but in response to their protest that they were not hungry, he said:-- "that doesn't make a bit o' difference. ye've got to eat whether ye want to or not. it may be we'll have a lot o' work yet to do, and if ye don't eat ye can't work." "ethan," said jock, "don't you think we'd better telegraph to my father or to ben's?" the boys had obeyed the summons, and were now seated at the table, but the eyes of all were upon the boatman. "telegraph?" replied ethan. "it'll cost ye four shillin' to do that." "i don't care what it costs," said jock, recklessly; for even ethan's fear of a telegram and its probable expense did not interest him now. "wall, mebbe, mebbe," said ethan, slowly. "ye'd better eat yer dinner first, and then we'll see what can be done." no one spoke during the early part of the dinner, and although the boys managed to eat some of the food which had been provided for them, it was evident that they were not hungry, and their thoughts were all upon their missing comrade. the hopes which they had had at the coming of the day had disappeared now, and with the passing of the hours the conviction deepened that ben was lost. how could they ever send word to his home? when jock thought of the enthusiasm with which they had come, and then realized that he was the one who had proposed the camp, he was ready to blame himself as the cause of all the sorrow and trouble. already in his mind he could see ben's father and mother, when the word should be received in their home. how could he bear it? but ben was gone; there could be no question about that, and it was quite probable that they never would learn how or where he had disappeared. the hungry current of the river bore swiftly onward in its course all that it seized, and traces of missing boat or boy would be difficult, if not impossible, to find. his eyes filled with tears, and he started abruptly from the table. no one spoke to recall him, for they all understood his feelings, and indeed their own sympathies were now increasing; but as jock ran toward the shore, he perceived that tom was standing on the bank and gazing earnestly out upon the river. jock looked up to see what had interested tom, and perceived a small steam-yacht coming close in-shore. even while he was watching it, the beautiful little craft stopped, and a moment later he saw a canoe lowered from the stern and some one step into it. the whistle of the yacht sounded shrilly, and in a moment all the campers were running swiftly toward the dock. no one spoke, but the canoe was now being paddled toward them, and in a brief time such a shout rang out from the watchers as was seldom heard on the great river. "it's ben, it's ben!" cried jock; and instantly his companions joined in the word. there could be no doubt about it now, for even ben's face could be seen as he occasionally turned and glanced at them. the yacht whistled again, as if the people on board shared in the manifest excitement of the camp, and then turned and steamed up the river, leaving a long trail of dark smoke behind it. none of the boys marked her departure, however, interested as they would ordinarily have been in the approach of such a beautiful visitor, for they were all intent upon the canoe and its occupant now. nearer and nearer came the canoe, and soon it was close to the shore. in their eagerness, the boys ran into the water, and to save himself ben was compelled to relinquish his paddle, and suffer himself to be drawn up on the beach. as soon as he was safely landed, there was a scene enacted which none of them ever forgot. jock was laughing and crying at the same time, and even the phlegmatic bob was not unmoved. "you rascal!" he said at last, when a momentary lull came, "what do you mean? give an account of yourself, sir!" "here i am," replied ben, evidently not unmoved by his reception. "proceed, my lord, and do as it seemeth good in thy sight." "where have you been, ben?" said jock, eagerly. "tell us about it." "mebbe he wants some dinner, first," suggested ethan, who was not the least unmoved of the party. "he can tell us while he's eatin'." "we're all hungry, now," said bert; "we've been fasting while you've been gone, ben. don't we look so?" "fasting, fasting?" exclaimed ben; "then you must have suffered keenly. i'm as hungry as a bear, myself. come on, and i'll tell you all about it, while i'm sampling ethan's wares." the boys were soon all seated at the table again, and now that their lost comrade was found it seemed as if the lost appetites had also been restored. they fell upon the food before them in a manner which highly delighted ethan, and compelled him and tom to busy themselves in preparing more. the dual occupation seemed in no way to interfere with ben's ability or disposition to talk, and he at once began his story. "well, fellows, it was like this. when i started out last night i intended to go only a little way. i was going up just around the first island and then come straight back to camp; but when i rounded the island, i found the passage so narrow and dangerous i thought i'd go on around the next one. when i got to the end of that i found i was a good way out of my course; for the island was a pretty long one, you see, and when i cleared it, and i came out into the open river again, i must have made a mistake in my bearings. i didn't realize i'd lost my way till about a half an hour later, but then i knew it. there were islands all around me, and the wind had died away, or at least had died down a good deal. "i kept on, thinking i'd strike a familiar spot, but the current is much stronger over there than it is here, and i found i was going down the stream all the time. i ran the canoe in-shore and took in my sail and thought i'd paddle, for the wind was mostly gone, as i said. i got along all right till i was out in the open water again, and had gone a good distance, but i couldn't find the island i was looking for. "i began to look about me then, for the sun was almost out of sight by that time, and the first thing i knew it was dark, and the rain was on me. i'd been so busy i hadn't fairly realized there was a storm coming, but i knew it pretty quick then, i can tell you. i kept on and did my best, but that wasn't much, as you can imagine, and all the time it kept getting darker and darker. i was wet to the skin in no time, and the way the waves began to toss my frail bark about was a caution. paddling wasn't of much use, and i began to look about me for some place to run into. everything was pretty dark, and getting darker all the time, and i couldn't make out any island anywhere near me. but i wasn't staying in one place all the time, let me tell you, for the river was busy if i wasn't, and i went down the stream very swiftly, for the wind was at my back. "i don't just know how long the thing kept up, or how far i'd gone, but i pretty soon saw a light ahead of me which i decided in very short metre must be a cottage or a house on some island. the paddle was still in my hands, for i'd been lucky enough to hold on to that, and then i did my best to steer for the light i'd seen. "it kept coming nearer to me all the time, or so it seemed to me, though i suppose i was the one that was doing the travelling, and after a while i found i was correct, and that it must be 'a light in the window for thee, poor sailor, a light in the window for me.' i pulled for the shore, or rather ran for it, and i thought i was just going to run into shelter, when plump! my canoe struck a rock, and i was in the water before you could say jack robinson. the water didn't come much above my knees, and then, when i discovered that i wasn't dead, i swallowed my despair, also a few gallons, more or less, of this noble river, made a grab for my canoe, and somehow managed to get to the bank. "the storm was getting in its fine work then, but it didn't make much difference to me, for i was wet and couldn't be any wetter. i'd reached the superlative degree, you see, by that time. i looked up, and there on the bluff was the light which i'd seen when i was out on the river; so, when i'd carried the canoe up on the bank, i decided to try my luck in the house, for i knew i couldn't get back to camp that night, so i marched up to the door and rapped as bold as you please. [illustration: "she looked at me a minute, as if she didn't know what to make of it." _page ._] "i almost fell over backward when the door was opened by one of the prettiest girls you ever saw. she looked at me a minute as if she didn't know what to make of it, and to tell the truth, fellows, i couldn't think of anything to say. but her father came to the door just then, and in a few minutes they knew all about my story, though i don't remember a word i said. "at any rate, if i was a stranger they took me in, and the goodman of the house dressed me out in some of his clothes. he was 'a trifle too short, and a shaving too lean' for me, so that when i was finally dressed i didn't hardly dare to go downstairs again, for i could hear their voices through the floor, you see, and i knew there was more than one girl there then. "finally, i plucked up courage and went down, but do you know what those girls did when i came into the room? well, they tried to be polite and all that, but they were mightily tickled about something, and pretty quick one of them got up and made a rush for the window and made out that she was looking out into the storm; but i could see her put her handkerchief to her face as if she was crying, and then the other three girls went to join her and see the dark, and then one of them said, 'tee-hee,' and before you could say jack robinson they were laughing with 'inextinguishable laughter,' as our homer has it. "at last one of them turned to me, and i was glad to see her blush, for she ought to have been ashamed of herself, and i think she was, and she said, 'you must excuse us, mr. dallett. we are ashamed of ourselves, but really we couldn't help it. if you will come over here with me you'll see for yourself what it is that troubles us.' well, i went over and she stood me up in front of a mirror and what do you suppose i saw, fellows? there was a chap looking at me from that mirror, and he was a little pee-culiar i must admit. the coat he had on was about three sizes too small for him. his trousers were about four inches above the tops of his shoes, and he looked as if he was mostly hands and feet. "well, i laughed. i couldn't help it, and we had a good time, after all. you see, miss bessie had three of her classmates with her spending the vacation, and they're a lively lot, i can tell you. i had a good time, and this morning, clothed in my right mind and also in my proper garb, they brought me back to camp in their steam-yacht." it was the middle of the afternoon before ben's story was ended, and after they had given vent to their delight over the safe return of their friend, ethan said, "ye don't want me to stay any longer to-day, do ye?" "no, ethan. you can go home. come over early to-morrow morning." "to-morrow's sunday," said ethan, soberly. "you don't mean it?" exclaimed jock. "i'm ashamed to say i'd actually forgotten even the days of the week." "i'll come over and take ye all to church," suggested ethan. "we'll go to church, but you needn't come for us," said ben, quickly. "ye can't go then, for i thought i'd take yer canoes back with me. i don't want to leave ye in any more danger." "no, no. you're not going to take the canoes," protested ben. "we're going to master them, now. i'll never give up in the world." ethan hesitated, and then under protest finally yielded. he explained that they could attend service at the corners, at alexandria bay, or the "park," as they preferred. "we'll go to the bay," said ben, quickly, so quickly that the boys all laughed, thinking that they understood his motive. "'twill be better for ye to go there," said ethan, soberly; but he had no idea of the trouble which his suggestion brought on the young campers on the following day. chapter xiii. a mishap. sunday morning dawned clear and beautiful. when ethan came over to the camp to prepare breakfast, the river lay like a sheet of glass before the vision of the boys. the twittering of the birds was the only sound to break in upon the stillness. the summer sunshine covered all things in its softened light, and as far as the eye could see the hush of a solemn silence seemed to have driven away all other effects. even ethan's manner was more subdued than on other days, and when our boys obeyed his call to breakfast, they also were in a measure under the spell of the perfect summer day. sentiment did not interfere with appetite, however, and ample justice was done to the boatman's labors; and though he referred to his desire, when he was ready to depart for home, to carry the boys himself to the bay to attend service, his offer was once more refused. about an hour before the time when the service was to be held, the boys placed the two canoes in the water again, and with jock and bob in one, and their two friends in the other, they began to paddle. the light little crafts sped swiftly over the water, and keeping well together, not long afterward began to approach alexandria bay. to them all it seemed like a novel way of attending church, but they soon discovered that they were not the only ones to come in that manner. sailboats and skiffs, canoes and steam-yachts, could be seen in various directions, and though these were not numerous, it was evident that they were all bent on an errand similar to their own. the boys were paddling more slowly now, as they came near the dock, and the two canoes were within a few yards of each other. not an accident had occurred, and the confidence of the young campers had been largely increased by their success. they halted a moment to determine where was the best place to land, when ben glanced up at an approaching yacht, and discovered his friends who had welcomed him to their cottage when he had escaped from the storm. his own presence was discovered by them at the same moment, and the girls crowded together near the rail, waving their handkerchiefs and calling to him, as they perceived that he had seen them. eager to return the salutation, ben took his paddle in one hand, and with the other tried politely to lift his cap. but alas for human efforts! his movement suddenly destroyed the equilibrium of the treacherous canoe, and as it tipped dangerously to one side, bert, who was taken unaware by the movement, strove to restore the balance; but unfortunately he leaned to the same side to which ben turned, and in a moment the canoe was capsized, and the occupants sent speedily into the water. a cry of alarm and dismay escaped the lips of the girls on the yacht, and the few men standing at the time upon the dock echoed it. startled by the shout, jock glanced up, and to his consternation discovered his friends struggling in the water. in his efforts to turn about his own canoe, he too destroyed its balance, and instantly both he and bob were also thrown into the river. the second accident increased the confusion and alarm, both on the yacht and on the dock; but in a moment two skiffs were manned, the struggling lads were drawn from the water, and the canoes as speedily seized and restored. when it was seen that the boys were all safely landed, the yacht came in alongside the dock, and as the girls sprang lightly from the boat and beheld the dripping, woe-begone lads before them, they burst into a hearty laugh, in which the boys themselves, in spite of their confusion, were compelled to join. "good morning, mr. dallett," said miss bessie, to ben. "what made you go into the water? did you think we wouldn't recognize you unless you came before us in wet clothes?" ben laughed, and presented his friends to the young ladies and then to miss bessie's father and mother, mr. and mrs. clarke. the last named expressed her sympathy for the boys in their accident, and suggested that the yacht should be used to carry them back to their camp. "i don't believe they want to go back, unless mr. dallett wants to get that suit of papa's he wore the other night," said miss bessie, mischievously. "that would make a good go-to-meeting suit for him." ben laughingly declared that he preferred his present garments, but the offer of mrs. clarke to the free use of the yacht was declined, and, waiting only until the party had disappeared up the street on their way to the church, the boys speedily reëmbarked, and began to paddle swiftly back toward the camp on pine tree island. "i say, fellows," said ben, eagerly, as they landed, "let's dress up and go back again. we'll get there in time for the benediction." "it's more than that you need," said bert, glumly. "tipping two canoes over in one morning ought to be enough to satisfy you." "ben's right," said jock, quickly. "it'll be all the better to go back now. we don't want to give up, do we? we started out to go to church, and i say let's go. we'll have to be quick about it, though, to get in even for the benediction." the proposal was agreed to, and hastily changing their clothing they resumed their places in the canoes, and soon afterward landed at the dock at alexandria bay. then they walked swiftly up the street to the little church, but were chagrined to find that they were too late even for the final part of the service. the congregation had already been dismissed, and as the boys approached the building they discovered the people just beginning to depart. their friends soon perceived them and expressed their surprise at their return, which ben hastened to explain had been brought about by their desire to accomplish that which they had set out to do in the beginning. "they were not going to be floored," he declared, "by any such little thing as the upsetting of a canoe." as they walked down to the dock, mr. clarke said to jock, "i received a letter from your father, yesterday." "did you?" replied jock, eagerly. "i didn't know that you knew him." "oh, yes, we've had business relations for years. he's a good man." "you're not the only one to hold that opinion," said the boy, with a laugh. "no, i am aware of that. he wrote and requested me to keep an eye on you. from what i saw this morning, i'm afraid i ought to keep two eyes in the direction of your camp, instead of one." jock laughed, and his cheeks flushed slightly as he heard the laugh echoed by the girls, but he protested that such an accident as that which had occurred was not to be considered in a serious light. "not that, perhaps," replied mr. clarke, "but the one your friend had the other night was serious enough. it was a narrow escape he had." "yes, we were all badly frightened." "i'm not going to scold you, for i doubt not you'll learn by your mistakes. still i should advise you not to take many chances with canoes on this river. what with the swift current and the squalls which come, no man knows when or how, it's hardly safe for one who is not an expert." "i know that, and we shall be careful." "that's right. now mrs. clarke would be pleased, i know, to have you go back home with us and dine there to-day; or if it is not convenient to-day, then some other day will do as well," he added, as he saw that jock hesitated. "i thank you, mr. clarke, and i am sure all the boys will be glad to come, but ethan will come over to get our dinner for us to-day, and there's no way of getting word to him." "very well; then come some other day. you'll let us carry you back to your camp in our yacht, won't you? it's directly in our way." the invitation was accepted, and the canoes taken in tow. upon the invitation of the boys the party all landed at the dock and went up to the camp together. there everything was of interest, particularly to the girls, who wanted to understand just the uses of all the various camp belongings. doubtless very clear explanations were given, for at last when they returned to the yacht they all expressed themselves as delighted with what they had seen, and the boys were glad to renew the promise jock had given that the invitation to dine at "the rocks," the name by which mr. clarke called his cottage, would be accepted soon. not long afterward, ethan appeared, and as he began his preparations for dinner, he said,-- "i hear ye had trouble over to the bay to-day." "who told you?" said ben, quickly. "i don' know as i just remember. everybody was talkin' of it, though. i warned ye. yer pa can't say i was responsible." "you aren't responsible, ethan," said jock, quickly; "'twas ben." "how?" inquired ethan, stopping short in his occupation, with the frying-pan in his hand. "he got light-headed and destroyed our balance. the centre of gravity fell outside the base, and as a natural consequence what took place naturally occurred." "was that it?" said ethan, slowly. "i heard ye capsized." after dinner the boys stretched themselves upon the bank, and in the cool shade began to talk over the experiences of the morning. at last even that topic ceased to interest them, and for a time they were silent. "this is a great river," remarked ben, at last, breaking in upon the stillness, and looking out over the water, which was sparkling under the rays of the sun. "so it is," replied bob, lazily. "that was an original remark, my friend. i'd like to know just how many times it's been said since the first white man saw the river." "bob's going to tell us about carter," said bert, solemnly. "i know of no carter. cartier discovered the river, if he's the one you have in what you are pleased to call your mind." "i stand corrected," replied bert. "go on with your carter or cartier." "i don't know that there's much to tell. jacques cartier was a frenchman who lived about four hundred years ago. just think of it, fellows; four hundred years, almost, since the first white man saw the river st. lawrence." "did you say he lives here now?" inquired ben, solemnly. bob gave him a look of scorn and then went on with his story. "francis i. fitted him out with two ships of sixty tons each, and with a crew of a hundred and twenty men he set sail from st. malo, april , . they say it was only twenty days later when he reached the east coast of newfoundland." "they say?" interrupted ben. "who are 'they'?" "the historians, and other fellows. he sailed north, and finally planted a cross on the coast of labrador near rock bay." "what did he plant it for?" "then he went south," continued bob, without giving any heed to the interruption, "and came down the west coast of newfoundland until finally he was driven by the unfavorable winds toward the magdalen islands. he soon started out again, and, still sailing west, landed at last at the mouth of the miramichi, and with some of his men began to explore the bay of chaleur; but pretty soon afterward he set sail with his ships--" "did he take his men with him?" interrupted ben. "and sailed north and landed in the bay of gaspé. he thought the bay was the mouth of a large river, so he landed and remained there a little while before he started on again." "he was a wise man," said ben. "now if he'd remained there after he'd started on, that would have been another matter. but to remain there before he left the place,--ah, that's the man for me, every time." even bob laughed good-naturedly at the interruption, and then resumed his story. "he had some dealings with the indians there at the bay of gaspé, and one of the chiefs was so taken with cartier that he gave him permission to take his two sons back to france with him on the condition that he would bring them back in the following year." "whose two sons? cartier's?" inquired bert. "no, the indian chief's. of course the frenchman promised; but before he left he planted another wooden cross there, and put on it a shield with the arms of the french king, and the words, _vive le roi de france_." "how the king must have felt to have his arms left there," murmured bert. "cartier soon after set sail, and after doubling the point of anticosti found himself in a channel and sailed a little way up what was really a branch of the st. lawrence, though he didn't know then, of course, that there was any such river." "he'd found the st. lawrence and didn't know it?" inquired jock. "yes." "he was like some men i know," said bert. "he knew more than he thought he did." "some men think they know more than they do," replied bob, soberly. "well, cartier knew the winter was coming on, so he decided to go home. he sailed out through the straits of belle isle, and finally arrived at st. malo, september , . the king was mightily pleased with the trip, and promised to send him again in the next year." "then, as i understand it," said jock, "cartier didn't really sail up the river in . he only found a little piece of it, and didn't know what it was he had discovered." "that's it. he'd discovered it, but didn't know it." "poor fellow!" murmured ben. "and, bob, did he die?" "you'll find out," said bob, "when i tell you the rest of it." "what! is there more to follow?" "yes, it's 'to be continued in our next.'" "i don't know what i've done to deserve all this," said ben, "but i suppose i'll have to put up with it. when's the next instalment due?" "not till after we've finished the other thing we're to do to-morrow." "what other thing?" "oh, that's a secret between jock and me," was bob's reply, as he rose from the bank and started toward the camp, an example which all of his companions at once followed. chapter xiv. ethan tells of the "jumpers." with the coming of the morning the little brass cannon in the camp on pine tree island woke the echoes, and likewise the boys, who had not left their tent when jock had gone forth to greet the sunrise. there was no sleep to be had, however, after the summons, and soon all, except bob, were dressed and waiting for the coming of ethan. that worthy was soon discovered, though he and tom came in the sailboat instead of the skiff which they used on ordinary occasions, and the sight recalled to ben the "secret" which had been referred to on the preceding evening. "what's to be done to-day, jock?" inquired bert, as he stopped to watch the approaching craft which was speeding swiftly toward them under the strong breeze. "you'll have to wait till ethan comes and tells us," answered jock. "it's never safe to reckon without your host, you know." ethan and tom soon landed, and questions of the future were soon ignored in the immediate prospect of breakfast. bob also had to be aroused, and as that was a task which required the combined efforts of his friends, by the time it was successfully accomplished breakfast was waiting, and all speedily seated themselves before the rude little table. "i'm thinkin'," said ethan, "that it would be a good day for a trip down the river. the wind's good this mornin', and if you boys want to try it, i don't know as we'll find a better day." "that's the thing," said ben, enthusiastically. "how far down do you go, ethan?" "oh, that'll depend," replied the boatman, who was usually as averse to giving a decided expression of his opinion as any lawyer might have been. "we can go as far as we want to, if not farther, and then if we haven't gone far enough we can go farther, i take it." "precisely," laughed bert. "thank you, ethan." "ye haven't anything to thank me for," replied the boatman, soberly. "i was jest givin' you my opinion, that's all." "that's what i was grateful for," said bert. "ethan, do the people down here ever laugh?" "laugh? i s'pose so. i don't jest know what ye mean." "oh, nothing much; but i've noticed how sober everybody was. we've seen a good many, but i don't believe i ever heard one of them give a real good hearty laugh. i didn't know but they'd forgotten how." "i guess they don't spend no time grinnin', if that's what ye mean," replied ethan, evidently stirred by the apparent reflection upon the people of the region. "i don't know as they have the regulation snicker some o' the city folks puts on. i've sometimes suspicioned that they put on that grin o' theirs first thing in the mornin', along with their clothes. they say, 'how de do,' 'how de do,' an' smile an' smile jest as if they'd got to do it, same's as they'd take a dose o' pickery. i don't see no sense in it, for my part." "there's comes a big steamer!" exclaimed ben, suddenly pointing up the river as he spoke. "good-by, fellows! i'm off!" "it's a liner," said ethan, soberly, pausing to look at the boat, which was larger than any other on the st. lawrence, and which was leaving a long trail of thick black smoke behind it as it approached. "what's a liner?" inquired bert. "don't ye know what a liner is? it's a line boat." "but what is a line boat, ethan?" persisted bert. "it's a boat that goes regularly to montreal," said tom. "that's what pa means. it gets along here purty early in the morning." "what's that young un up to now?" exclaimed ethan, abruptly. the boys all turned at his words, and saw that ben had run down to the bank and launched one of the canoes. he leaped on board and, steadying himself carefully, was already paddling out upon the river as if he had gone to meet the huge steamer. "he's goin' to take the breakers, the pesky little reptile," said ethan, evidently annoyed by the recklessness of ben. "i should think he'd had enough o' canoein' in rough water for one day." ben, however, was too far out by this time to be recalled; and as the boatman probably thought all attempts to summon him would be useless, he wisely held his peace and stood upon the bank with the boys watching the movements of the reckless lad. the great steamer came steadily and swiftly forward, and ben almost as swiftly advanced to meet it. he was plying his paddle rapidly, and the canoe almost seemed to leap over the water. a long line of rolling waves were upturned by the steamer in its course, and stretched away like a furrow left by a ploughman. ben rested a moment as the great vessel came abreast of him and then, quickly dipping his paddle deep into the water, sent the light canoe straight for the tossing waves. no one on the bank spoke as they breathlessly watched their companion, and it was evident that they all expected to see him overturned in the boisterous water. soon ben could be seen as he entered the wake of the steamer, the canoe was lifted high for a moment and then disappeared from sight. again it rose and seemed almost to stand upright, but it rode the wave successfully and again went down into the trough of the sea. so up and down, tossed like a leaf on the stream, the little canoe held to its course, and it soon became apparent that ben was master of the situation. "he done it," remarked ethan, forcefully if not grammatically, and a sigh of relief escaped from his companions as they perceived that ben was safe. jock quickly turned, and the brass cannon belched forth its salute to the passing vessel. the delight of the boys was great when they saw a little cloud of steam shoot upward from the steamer and the heavy whistle acknowledged the salutation. some of the passengers on the deck waved their handkerchiefs, and not to be outdone bert seized the tablecloth from the table, from which the dishes already had been cleared, and waved it in response to the salutes from the deck. there was another cloud of fluttering handkerchiefs waved at them from the deck, and then the great steamer passed on its way to the largest of canadian cities. ben by this time had returned to the camp, and as he landed and lifted the canoe to its place on the bank, ethan said sharply to him:-- "that was a foolish risk to take, boy. what did ye do it for?" "oh, i wanted to see how it seemed to take those breakers," was the reply. "besides, i thought it was a good time to put my ability to the test." "ye haven't got no ability," replied ethan, gruffly. "it was a foolish trick; and if ye'd been spilled and got drowned, i'd had the blame of it." "i knew you were close by, ethan," protested ben. "i couldn't drown when you were in camp. i just had to do it, you see, for i wasn't going to let that canoe get the better of me. i'm going to learn how to manage one while i'm here if i get tipped over a dozen times." "ye ought to be careful, though," said ethan, evidently mollified by ben's words of praise. "i didn't believe a city fellow would have so much grit." "you don't know us yet," replied ben, with a laugh. ethan said nothing more, and at once gave his attention to fitting out the sailboat. this task was soon completed, and the eager boys at once took their places on board. "have you got everything we shall want?" inquired jock, before they set sail. "i don't know whether i've got everything ye want, but i've got everything ye need," said ethan. "got those 'p'is'n things'?" inquired ben, soberly. "yes, i've got the pies an' things," replied ethan, shortly. "now, if ye've got no further speeches to make, we'll cast off." the boat was soon free from the dock, and, as the sail filled, it began to move swiftly over the river. there was a strong breeze, and aided by the swift current the boat drew rapidly away from the island. ethan held the tiller, and when, after he had satisfied himself that nothing had been neglected, he at last took his seat, and gazed about him with a smile of contentment upon his sunburned face. "this is something like it, boys!" exclaimed ben, as he looked about him over the great river. the wooded islands, the glistening waters of the river, the strong breeze, and, above all, the swift motion of the boat, lent an additional delight to those who were on board. camps, not unlike their own, were passed; cottages, on the piazzas of which groups of people could be seen; the beautiful st. lawrence skiffs, in which were men starting forth on an errand like that which had taken our boys a few days before to goose bay, were noted, and all were enthusiastically greeted. occasionally some beautiful steam-yacht would meet them on its way up the river, and in response to their hail would toot forth its salute. altogether, the scene and experience were so novel and inspiring that the boys all felt the exhilaration, and their delight was unbounded. "do ye see that island over there?" inquired ethan, pointing as he spoke to one which lay between them and the shore. the boys all glanced in the direction, and then the boatman said, "they had a fracas there in the civil war with the bounty jumpers." "bounty jumpers? what are they?" said ben, innocently. ethan gave him a look which was almost one of contempt, and then said, "i thought you was goin' to college." "i am," said ben; "but i don't go because i know it all, but because i don't. if i knew as much as you do, ethan, perhaps i shouldn't go." "ye don't know much for a fact," replied ethan, soberly. "i s'pose ye'll be studyin' latin and greek and lots o' such 'tarnal nonsense when ye git there. if there was a six-year-old boy 'round here that didn't know what a bounty jumper was, i'd send him to the 'sylum, i would, for a fact. have ye found out how many teeth a cow has on her upper jaw yet?" "not yet," laughed ben, good-naturedly. "what's that got to do with bounty jumpers?" "a bounty jumper," began ethan, ignoring the question, "was a man what jumped his bounty." "how far did he jump? what made him jump, anyway, ethan?" said bob. "he jumped straight into canada, and then he jumped back again." "was he any relation to the wise man who jumped into the bramble bush? ever hear that story, ethan? it's a good one. jock knows it, and he'll tell it to you if you want him to," said bob. "tell us about the bounty jumpers," interrupted jock, quickly. "well," began ethan, slowly, "you know, they was a-offerin' a bounty of a thousand dollars to every man who'd enlist." "when?" interrupted bob. "was it during the war of ?" "no. 'twas in the secesh war, that's when it was." "you weren't here when the war of broke out, were you, ethan?" inquired bob, soberly. ignoring the laugh which followed, ethan went on: "they wanted men putty bad in the civil war, and so they offered a thousand dollars to every one who'd enlist. well, lots enlisted; and then, after they'd got their money, they'd leave the army and put straight for this river, and git over into canada. then they'd cross over the border somewhere, and enlist somewhere else, take another thousand dollars and light out for canada again. 'twas a payin' job in those days; paid better'n drivin' a horse-car down to the city. there were regular 'bounty brokers,' as they were called, to help these rascals, and finally the government sent some provost marshals up here to look out for these fellows, and one of the liveliest tilts happened right by that island. "there was a camp o' the jumpers on that island, and they had come to be as bold as ye please. there was so many on 'em that they felt pretty secure like, and besides, the wife o' one o' the men lived in a little house right on the shore. she used to go to school with me an' your pa," he added, turning to jock as he spoke, "and he'd know her name in a minute if i should tell ye what it was. well, she used to come out and wave a white cloth at the camp, and then her husband, or some other fellow, would come ashore an' get what she cooked up for 'em. "one of the marshals found out the trick an' he made up his mind he'd get some o' these fellows; so one day he came down to the house, and as he wasn't dressed up like a soldier, jest wore ordinary clothes like yours or mine," he explained as he glanced at the boys, not one of whom changed the expression upon his face as he was addressed, "and so, though the woman was pretty suspicious, she didn't think he was on the lookout. pretty quick she went out o' the house and waved the cloth, for she probably thought the men were gettin' hungry, and then a boat left the camp, and when it came pretty close to the shore the marshal, who was a-peekin' out o' the window, saw the very man he wanted most of all--this woman's husband. "he waited till the boat was close in, and then he rushed out and yelled to the man to give himself up, and to strengthen his argument pulled out a pistol. the man was scared like at first, but the woman wasn't a mite, an' she jest yelled out, 'don't ye do it, bill; don't ye do it.' at that the marshal began to make his pistol pop, an' he fired all six o' the cartridges, an' never once touched the man or the boat, either." "is every man hereabouts as good a shot as that?" drawled bob. "i'm thinkin' they shoot as well as they do anywhere," replied ethan. "well, some o' the marshal's friends came up, an' they went into the house to make themselves to home. they waited all night, an' a neighbor came in an' told them the jumpers was fixin' to come ashore and shoot every one of 'em. jest then they heard a drum an' fife over in the camp, and they fixed up the house to stand a siege. they barricaded the doors and windows, and waited for deserters, an' likewise for the mornin'. "the mornin' came, but the jumpers didn't; an' as the camp was too strong to be attacked, the marshal an' his friends cleared out afore noon and left the region. but that scrape happened right over there by that island. i could tell ye a whole lot more o' stories o' the jumpers, but i've got to look out for this boat now, or ye'll all be goin' down to the bottom instead of down the river." as ethan spoke, he quickly rose and began to give some sharp directions to tom. apparently they were needed, for the boat was moving with wonderful speed now. as the boys looked over into the river they could see that the swiftness of the current had greatly increased. the waters ran like those in a mill-race, and it almost seemed as if the boat had been lifted by some unseen and mighty hand, and thrown forward with incredible swiftness. no one, save ethan, spoke, and the white faces of the boys indicated that the alarm which they thought their boatman had displayed was shared by them all. chapter xv. in a foreign land. on either side the boys could see great eddies in the stream, in which the water whirled as if it were twisted about on some unseen axis. the boat itself was moving swiftly, and as it was swept onward by the current, they of course could not fully perceive the motion of the river. the experience was a novel one, and the alarm of the boys was but natural. their confidence was in a measure restored when they saw that ethan apparently was not frightened, and as he noticed them watching intently a whirling eddy off to their right, he laughed and said,-- "that's a pretty good twister, isn't it, boys?" "yes," replied bert. "what would happen to us if we should be caught in it?" "nothin'. nothin' at all." as the boys looked up in surprise, he continued, "there's a mighty sight o' difference between the eddy and the current, let me tell you. some folks mistake one for the other in more ways than one, i'm thinkin'. in my paper, which comes reg'lar every friday, i sometimes read the most alarmin' articles. i suppose the men that write them think they're all true enough, an' they really are afraid the country is goin' to the dogs. when i read 'em i confess i'm a bit skeered at times; for what with the strikes an' riots an' all sorts o' things that happen, it does look like as if it was goin' to be a bit of a blow; but i look out o' the window o' my house, an' i see the great river a-hurryin' on as if it was all the while afraid it would be late, or wouldn't get there on time. but i see more'n the current, for i see some big eddies, too. they whirl an' boil as if there was a big fire down below, an' when i see 'em i always think that some folks can't tell the difference between a eddy and the stream. then i make up my mind that that's what's the trouble with those newspaper fellows. they've seen a eddy and mistook it for the current: an' all the time the great stream is a-goin' on jist as smooth and swift as ye please. this river is a great teacher, in my opinion." ethan's quaint words served to quiet the fears of the boys, though doubtless they failed to appreciate the deeper philosophy which lay beneath them. at all events, they soon perceived that the river was calmer now, and that the boat was not moving at the speed it had had a few minutes before. "that must have been one of the rapids, wasn't it, ethan?" inquired jock. "rapids? i rather guess not. that spot's no more like the rapids than a milk pail's like a mill-pond. no, sir! when ye strike the rapids, ye'll know it. it's most like slidin' down hill on water." "but how do the boats come up the river, then?" queried ben. "they do come up, for i see them every day. i shouldn't think they could get through the rapids, if they're like what you say they are." "no more they don't." as the boys looked blankly at him, ethan laughed and said, "they come up the canal. course they can't get through the rapids." "i didn't know there was a canal," said ben. "humph," grunted the boatman; but it was evident that his opinion of their knowledge was but slight, in spite of the fact that they had endeavored to impress him with the entrance into college they had all gained. "are we going down to the rapids to-day?" inquired bert. "to-day? well, i guess not," said ethan, decidedly. "how far down the river d'ye think them rapids be?" "i didn't know," protested bert, hastily. "i only asked for information." "we'll go down there some time, but we'll have to make a two or three day trip of it. even this boat o' mine, and she's no laggard, i'd have ye understand, couldn't make it in a day. but we're goin' down there. there's fishin' below the longue seaut that leaves goose bay and eel bay and all the spots among the islands in the shade." "what do they catch?" inquired bob. "fish." "oh!" and bob lapsed into silence once more. indeed, it was becoming more and more difficult to deal with ethan; and his estimate of their knowledge, or rather their lack of it, was so apparent that they began to feel as if they were the embodiment of the city greenhorns he had so contemptuously referred to when they had first entered camp. for a time there was silence on board, and the boys all gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the hour. in the distance were the shores, and in various places the farmers could be seen at their work. the farmhouses, low and quaint, appeared here and there, and the cottages, though less numerous than among the thousand islands, were still much in evidence. perched on some high bluff along the shore, or built in groups in some grove, they continually presented a spectacle of life far different from that which was to be seen in the towns or cities. to ethan their coming was the most natural thing in the world, for where could another such region be found as that along the borders of the majestic st. lawrence? the only thing against which he rebelled was the price paid for the spot on which some cottage had been erected, and as they passed the summer homes he frequently referred to the amount of money which had been paid for the lots. "that's where tod church lives," he explained, pointing as he spoke to a low farmhouse on the shore, near which stood several modest cottages. "is that so?" replied bob seriously, as if the abode of tod was a matter of intense interest to him. "was he in the war of too?" "no; he wasn't. tod's a young man. he's only fifty-nine, jest three months younger'n i be. but tod's got rich!" "you don't mean it!" exclaimed the serious bob. "how did the aforesaid tod acquire his wealth?" "he didn't do nuthin', an' yet he's well off, tod is. some folks is born lucky. that's all the difference there is between folks, in my opinion. some has luck for 'em and some has it agin 'em." "and tod had it with him, did he?" inquired bob. "he did that. his father left him well fixed, for tod had the house and fifty acres o' land all clear. and now he's gone an' sold some lots up there on that bluff where he couldn't raise nothin', and he's got two thousan' dollars in clean money for 'em. neow if that isn't luck, then i don't know what luck is," said ethan, impressively. "he jest works when he feels like it, and when he doesn't, he doesn't. jest takes his ease and comes an' goes when an' where he pleases, an' doesn't ask no odds of nobody." "fortunate youth!" murmured bob; and again silence came upon the party. for an hour more they sped on before the breeze, which still continued strong. the sun was high in the heavens, and across the bright blue of the sky occasional masses of silver-colored clouds passed. it was a perfect summer day, and the deep peace which rested over all things seemed to include the boys in its embrace. the boat was handled perfectly by ethan and tom, and it must have required men made of different material from that in our boys not to feel the keen delight of living amidst such surroundings. the rush and roar of the city were things impossible to be imagined, and even the grind of the closing days in school, and the prospect of the hard work in college, were all vague and meaningless. "what's that place ahead, ethan?" suddenly exclaimed jock, sitting erect as he spoke, and pointing to a place of considerable size to their left. "brockville." "why don't we stop there and get dinner?" "i've got something for ye to eat aboard the boat." "i know that; but we'll want it all on our way back." "it'll cost ye four shillin' apiece for your dinner if ye go to the hotel, though i know another place where ye can get it for three shillin'; but i'm not sure the place is bein' run now." "never mind the cost, ethan," said jock, recklessly. "we're out for a time of it, and even such extravagance can be put up with once in a lifetime." "jest as you say," replied ethan, though it was evident that he felt in a measure responsible for the expenditures of the lads under his care. the dock was soon gained, and as ethan made his boat fast, the light-hearted boys leaped ashore. "come on, ethan! come on, tom," said jock. "we'll go up to the hotel and get our dinner." "who? me!" exclaimed the boatman in surprise. "yes, you. you and tom too. come on, both of you." "no," said ethan, shaking his head decidedly. "i ain't a-goin' to pay no four shillin' for a dinner when i've got enough to eat aboard my boat." "well, let tom come, anyway," urged jock, perceiving that ethan was not willing to accept the invitation. "we should be glad to have both of you come, and we'll stand treat for the dinners." ethan was about to refuse permission for tom to accompany the boys, but perceiving the look of intense desire upon his son's face, and as jock increased his solicitations, he relented, and together the boys started up the street. it was nearly two hours later when they returned, and as ethan perceived them, he said, "i hope ye got yer money's worth, boys." "it wasn't our fault if we didn't," laughed jock. "now, ethan, we want to look about the place a little. will you come with us?" "i s'pose i'd better, or ye'll git lost," replied the boatman; and soon afterward the little party was walking about the town, which, in its architecture and life, presented many contrasts to that with which they were more familiar. when they approached the public buildings, ethan related the story of the rescue which a party of american soldiers had made there in the war of . it seemed that a considerable body of prisoners had been secured by the british, and confined in the jail at brockville, or elizabethtown, as the place was known in the earlier days. their friends on the other side of the river had assembled for their rescue, and crossed the ice one dark night and fell upon the guard, and at last secured the release of their fellows. ethan told the story with many quaint additions of his own, and we may be sure his young friends were deeply interested. "this _is_ a great country," said ben, when ethan ceased. "it's historic ground from one end of the river to the other." "i s'pose so," remarked ethan, quietly, "though i don't take much interest in such things. folks is queer. they call it hist'ry when a lot o' men git up with guns and shoot at one another; but when they are peaceable like, and just 'tend to their farms an' mind their own business, then it isn't any hist'ry at all. i've seen a crowd gather in a minit up at the bay or clayton around a man what's drunk, but when a man is sober and decent they don't pay no 'tention to him at all. it seems to me this 'hist'ry' you're talkin' about is a good deal like that." "perhaps it is," admitted ben. "i hadn't thought of it before." on their way back to the boat ethan stopped to make a few purchases, and carefully stowed the packages on board when they set sail. "we'll go a bit farther down the river," he said, as he headed the boat down the stream. "we've time enough." "ethan, what have you got in those bundles?" inquired ben. "some things my wife wanted me to git. can buy 'em cheaper over here." "but they'll cost you as much after you've paid the duty, won't they?" "duty? duty? who's a-goin' to pay any duty, i'd like to know?" replied ethan, sharply. "why, i thought everybody had to pay that when they bought things in canada." "well, i'm not goin' to. i'd like to know why i can't buy things in brockville if i take a notion, 'specially when they're cheaper." "but i thought everybody up here believed in a high tariff, and voted for it." "so they do. we ain't a-goin' to have them come over into our country and compete with us! not much!" "how can you buy over there and not pay duty, then?" "hey? what's that ye say? ye act as if ye thought i'd been stealin'. most everybody does it, an' i guess it's all fair enough. did you pay duty for that dinner ye et up to the hotel? ye brought some things away inside o' ye, an' i brought some outside o' me. tell me the difference, will ye?" "ben ought to have paid," laughed bob. "when a man buys food by the wholesale, he ought to pay duty, i'm sure." ethan said no more, and as the boys were not disposed to dispute the strange ethics in which he evidently believed, the party once more became silent. an hour later ethan sighted a steam-yacht coming up the river, and in response to his hail it stopped and took the boat in tow. this made the returning voyage easy, and added to the novelty as well; and just before dusk the line was cast off, and the boat was headed for the camp, where soon after the boys arrived safely. "i'll get ye some supper now," said ethan, as he and tom at once began their preparations for the evening meal. "good for you, ethan!" said ben. "all the 'p'is'n things' you had on board have been long since exhausted." "so i noticed. i wonder sometimes if there's anything that will fill ye up." "your supper will, i'm sure." "i'll try it, though i'm doubtful," replied the boatman, grimly. a little later he left the tent and approached the boys, holding something in his hands. "somebody's been here while we've been gone," he said. "they've left a letter and their tickets." jock received the note and the "tickets," as ethan called the visiting cards, and tearing open the missive he read it and then said: "mr. and mrs. clarke have been here, fellows. they have left an invitation for us. keep still and i'll read it." he read the letter aloud, and in a moment his friends were as interested in the contents as he himself had been. chapter xvi. an alarm in the camp. the note extended a cordial invitation to the boys to dine at "the rocks" on the following day, and mr. clarke offered to send his yacht to convey them to his island. the dinner was to be in the middle of the day, in accordance with the custom of the region, and as that fact left the afternoon practically free, all the party were eager to accept. perhaps it was not merely the expected pleasure of meeting mr. and mrs. clarke, or of enjoying a trip in his yacht, which was acknowledged to be one of the most beautiful and fleet on the entire river, which moved them; but if other inducements, not referred to in the note of invitation, did appear, no one mentioned them. after supper, when ethan prepared to depart from the camp, tom said, "i think i'll wait a little while, pa. i'll come home in a couple of hours." "all right, son," responded ethan. "i think ye'd better take one o' the canoes when ye start, and leave the skiff with the boys. it'll be safer like, ye see, if they take it into their heads to go out on the river." ben made a wry face at the implied slight on their ability to use the canoes, but no one spoke, and the boatman soon departed. "i wanted you to hear me speak my piece again, if you would," said tom, when his father had gone. "i know i don't do it very well, and as you have had so much better advantages than i have, i'd like to have you help me, if you will." before any one could reply, bert made a sudden dart from the camp-fire and was speedily followed by jock. "what's the matter with those boys?" inquired tom, innocently, as he glanced up at the departing lads. "i don't think they feel very well," replied bob, soberly. "they don't? do you want me to go over to the bay and get a doctor? it won't take an hour." "no physician can reach the seat of their trouble," said ben, solemnly. "it's deeper than any human skill can go." "you don't mean it! perhaps i'd better wait and not ask you to hear me speak my piece to-night." "oh, that won't make any difference. ben, here, is perfectly willing to hear you. in fact, he enjoys it; and while you are speaking, i'll go and look up the other fellows, and see what i can do to help them." bob's evident desire to escape was all unnoticed by the unsuspecting tom, and as soon as he was left alone with ben, he began to speak. for a half-hour or more the camp resounded with, "tew be or not tew be-e-e," but no one returned to disturb the orator until the practice had been ended. then, as the three lads came back, tom said, "i'm sorry, boys, that you don't feel well. i told bob i'd go over to the bay for a doctor, but he said you didn't want any." "no physician in alexandria bay could prescribe for those boys when they get an attack of self-abasement. it's a serious matter." "there's one thing about it," said jock, "and that is, that bob, here, isn't likely to catch it." tom, evidently, did not appreciate the point, but he nevertheless accepted jock's invitation to remain, and stretched himself on the grass before the roaring camp-fire with the others. "i was about to remark the other evening, when my irreverent friend interrupted me," began bob, "that cartier came back here." "bob, are you going on with that yarn?" demanded ben. "no yarn about it. i'm going to help you fellows to see the point for once in your lives." "you mean you're going to try to make a point some one can see," retorted ben. "well, wake me up when you come to the point. life's too short to spend it in trying to understand bob's stuff. if he ever comes to a point, let me know;" and ben rolled over upon the grass, and covering his face with his hat, pretended to be sleeping. "go on with your cartier," said bert. "i don't know what we've done to deserve all this, but if we've got to have it, then the sooner it's done the better." "cartier," began bob, giving the name a peculiar emphasis to expose bert's ignorance, "made a great stir when he got back to st. malo,--that was in september, , as i said,--and the king was tickled most of all. he immediately promised to fit out a new expedition, and a lot of the young nobles and swells wanted to join. cartier was the rage, you see, and even the children cried for him; and as for the ladies, why, even brass buttons didn't count along with jakie's commission as 'captain and pilot of the king.' "about the middle of the next may everything was ready, and cartier and his men went up to the cathedral together, and special services were held for them, and the bishop gave them his blessing. having looked after that part of it, cartier then took his men aboard his squadron and set sail. he had three vessels this time, though i don't just recall the names of them." "_la grande hermione_, _la petite hermione_, and _l'emérillon_," suggested tom, who had been listening attentively. "thank you," replied bob, somewhat confused, to the evident delight of his companions. "those were the names. well, they hadn't been out on the ocean sailing very long before they were separated by the storms, but after a rough passage they finally came together in the straits of belle isle." "at the inlet of blanc sablon," suggested tom. a laugh greeted his words; but though tom's face flushed, he soon perceived that he was not the cause of the merriment, and though he could not understand bob's momentary confusion, he, too, joined in the good-natured laughter. "on the last day of july they sailed to the westward and started up the st. lawrence. it was the first day of september when cartier found the mouth of the saguenay, and the fourteenth when he came to a little river about thirty miles from quebec, which he named the sainte croix. the next day an indian came to see him--" "hold on, bob, isn't that enough?" inquired bert, in apparent despair. "the indian was an algonquin chief with a funny name--" "donnacona," suggested tom, mildly. again a loud laugh greeted his word, and the abashed tom subsided. "that's right; that's what it was," said bob, quickly. "thank you, tom. well, cartier had the two indians with him whom he had taken to france, and so he could hold a powwow with this algonquin, but i haven't time to tell you what they talked about." "oh, yes. please tell us," pleaded bert, in mock eagerness. "no, i can't stop--" "you're right. you can't tell, and you can't stop, either, till you're run down." "as a result of the interview, cartier left two of his vessels there, and, taking the _l'emérillon_, he sailed up the river as far as lake st. peter, but he found a bar there--" "what?" exclaimed bert, sitting suddenly erect. "a bar. that's what i said." "was he looking for a bar all this time? didn't they have any farther down the river? i'm ashamed of carter. i didn't believe he was that kind of a man." "this was a sand bar," laughed bob, "and blocked his way, so he left the ship's crew there--" "the ship's screw?" interrupted bert. "now i know you're giving us a fairy tale. ships didn't have any screws then. they hadn't been invented. even side-wheelers weren't known then." "i didn't say ship's screw. i said ship's crew. can't you understand plain english?" "that's what i said, too, the ship's screw. didn't i, fellows?" appealed bert, turning to his companions. "there's a big difference between a ship's screw and a ship's crew." "perhaps you can see it, but i can't. a ship's screw is a ship's screw, and that's all there is to it," protested bert, solemnly. "all right; have it your own way," said bob. "cartier left his behind him, anyway, and with three of his men took a little boat and came on up the river, and on october d arrived at montreal, which he called mount royal." "what did he call it that for? why didn't he call it what the people there called it? i believe in calling things by their right names, i do." "it had an indian name which i don't at this moment recall--" "ask tom," suggested bert. "hochelaga," said tom, in response to the appeal. "what did you say, tom?" inquired bert, soberly. "hochelaga," laughed tom. "oh! then that was the place where the bar you spoke of was, was it, bob? pardon me. pray resume your fascinating disquisition, as improbable as it is flighty. you were about to describe your carter when he and his followers stopped on the bar, a course of action of which i highly disapprove. that's one thing i like about this river, it's all wool and a yard wide. a safe place for children and no temptations to speak of--unless a canoe is one for ben." "a yard wide?" interrupted tom. "the st. lawrence a yard wide! why, it's three-quarters of a mile wide up here at cape vincent, where it leaves the lake, and on the other side of quebec it's ten and twenty and even thirty miles wide, and at cape gaspé it's all of a hundred miles wide." again the boys broke into a hearty laugh, in which tom was compelled to join, although he did not understand just what it was he was laughing at; but the good nature of them all was so apparent that he did not suspect that he was the cause of their enjoyment. "cartier stayed only three days at montreal--" resumed bob. "didn't he like the hochelaga?" interrupted the irrepressible bert. "keep still, bert," pleaded jock, laughingly. "i want to hear about this." "i would i were as this one is!" drawled bert, pointing to ben as he spoke, who was now soundly sleeping and apparently doing his utmost to emphasize the adverb as much as he did the verb. "cartier left after three days," began bob once more, "and went back to the mouth of the sainte croix, and there he passed the winter. and a terrible winter it was, too. the men weren't used to such awful cold, and they suffered from the scurvy so much that when the spring came twenty-five of them were dead, and only a very few of the hundred and ten who were alive were free from disease. his men had been so reduced in numbers that cartier decided to take only two of his vessels back to france with him and so left the _petite hermione_ there." "that's a likely story," said bert. "left the ship behind him?" "yes, that's what he did." "it may be so, my friend, but i don't believe it." "it is true," said tom. "they found the old boat in the mud there in ,--the very ship that cartier left more than three hundred years before." "oh, of course, if _you_ say so i'll believe it," replied bert. "he first took possession of the land," said bob, "by setting up a cross bearing the arms of france and a latin inscription, _franciscus primus, dei gratia francorum rex, regnat_." "i've read about that inscription, but i don't know how to read latin," said tom, eagerly. "what does it mean?" "ask bert," suggested bob. "jock'll tell you," said bert, quickly. "bob knows it, and he'll tell you," protested jock, hastily. "cartier stole donnacona and nine other indian chiefs and sailed away for france, where he arrived about the middle of july, . and that's the end of chapter two," bob added, as he rose from his seat. tom now departed for home, and as the boys began to prepare for the night, bob stopped for a moment before the prostrate figure of ben, who was still sleeping soundly on the ground before the camp-fire. "i was never treated thusly in all my experience as a lecturer," said bob. "i'll fix that fellow. i'll show him he mustn't spoil my speeches with his hilarious snorings." running into the tent bob speedily returned with several short pieces of rope, in each of which he made a slip noose. then he carefully adjusted one to the sleeping lad's right hand, and without disturbing him, made the rope fast to the nearest tree. in a similar manner he treated the other hand and then the two feet, and last of all the head of the still unconscious ben. "now, i'd like to wake him up," said bob, regarding his work with much satisfaction. "he won't go to sleep again when i'm lecturing, i fancy. if he moves his right hand he'll make himself all the more secure, and if he tries to stir his other hand or his feet he'll be still worse off. next time he'll see the point, i'm thinking." the boys were soon ready for bed and still ben slept on. the camp-fire flickered and burned low, the long shadows ceased, and even the waiting boys at last closed their eyes and slept. how long they had been sleeping they did not know, but they were suddenly awakened by a yell that startled them all. quickly sitting up, the boys at first could not determine what it was that had so alarmed them. in a moment, however, the yell was repeated, louder and longer than before. "it's ben," said bob, quickly. "i'll go out and ascertain whether he can see the point." as he turned to rush into the open air, he was startled by the sounds which came from the roof of the tent in which they had been sleeping. something was moving about on it, and to the alarm of the boys it sounded very much like the snarl of a wild beast. evidently it was something large, too, and in a moment all three darted forth from the tent into the darkness, just as there came another yell from the prostrate ben, even more piercing than those which had preceded it. chapter xvii. on guard. bob's first impulse was to run to his prostrate friend, and with a knife he quickly severed the cords by which ben was bound. angry as ben was, he did not speak, but instantly leaped to his feet and stood with his companions peering eagerly at the body which could be seen upon the roof of the tent. the fire had burned low, but still threw out its long shafts of light, and in the shadows the animal seemed to assume fantastic shapes. the boys were all alarmed, and to their distorted vision the visitor was apparently of large size, and every moment they expected to see him spring from the tent. he had not moved since they had rushed out from the tent, and though he uttered no sound he seemed to be crouching as for a spring. "it's a bear," whispered bert. "no, it isn't a bear; it's a panther," replied jock, in a whisper as tremulous as that of his friend had been. the suggestion was in no wise reassuring, and for a few moments the boys stood and watched their strange visitor, ready to dart into the woods at the first sign of new danger. the animal, however, had not stirred, and was still crouching upon the roof. "if i only had my revolver, i'd fix him," said ben. "where is it, ben?" whispered bob, eagerly. "in the tent there. i say, fellows," he continued, "if you will keep his attention off to one side i'll crawl in and get the pistol. can't you throw some sticks or stones at him, or poke him with a long pole? while you're doing that, i'll creep round to the other side and get into the tent. he won't see me if you keep him busy." the suggestion of a pole met with no favor, but sticks and stones were more practical, and selecting a short club as a weapon of defence in case of an attack, the three boys drew off together a little farther into the woods and then began to throw the missiles at the crouching animal. as their aim was poor they added shouts to their other "weapons," and soon the camp was ringing with their calls, though the animal did not move and seemed to be alike fearless of their missiles and wild cries. ben, meanwhile, had crept stealthily around to the farther side of the tent, and when the uproar of his companions rose to its highest point, darted quickly into the tent, secured his revolver and then ran out again with a celerity which his friends might well have envied. possessed of his weapon he called to the boys, and as soon as they had joined him he stepped nearer the spot and cocked his pistol. he could still see their visitor in the same attitude and place where he had been when first discovered. the camp-fire flickered and the trees moaned under the night wind. the wash of the waves upon the pebbly beach was the only other sound to be heard, unless the rapid beatings of the hearts of the boys were audible to others besides their owners. "don't move, fellows," whispered ben, as he slowly raised his revolver and took aim. his warning apparently was not needed, for not one of the boys moved from his place. each was intently watching that crouching form upon the roof, and waiting for the report of the revolver, which should either put an end to their suspense by killing the animal, or bring upon themselves the rush of an angry and perhaps wounded beast. the suspense was not ended when the first report of ben's pistol broke sharply in upon the stillness of the night. from all appearances they thought the animal had not been hit, but as he showed no disposition either to advance or retreat, ben quickly raised his revolver again and two shots rang out in quick succession. "look out, ben, you'll hit the tent," whispered bob, made somewhat bolder by the continued failure of the animal to move. ben then fired the remaining cartridges, and to the delight of his companions, they saw their enemy roll from his place on the tent and fall with a thud upon the ground. there was the sound of a struggle for a moment, and then all became still again. the boys waited anxiously, and at last ben said, "i hit him! i hit him! he's dead, fellows. go on and see what he was." [illustration: "bob took a long stick and poked the motionless form." _page ._] as no one seemed to be quite willing to respond to the appeal, ben himself thrust a long torch or broken limb of a tree into the fire, and then, holding in his hand the blazing branch, at the head of the column advanced to view the fallen foe. they approached carefully and cautiously, ben explaining that "panthers sometimes lived a long time after they were dead," and soon they could see the motionless body before them. holding the torch in one hand and his reloaded revolver in the other, ben stood ready to shoot at the first returning sign of danger, while bob took a long stick and cautiously poked the motionless form. his actions produced no response, and then, concluding that their enemy was indeed dead, they came nearer and soon stood looking down upon their victim. a closer inspection revealed the fact that it was a much smaller animal than they had thought it to be, but none of them had ever seen one like it before. as jock leaned down to touch it with his hand, he suddenly drew back with a cry of pain, and instantly his companions darted from the spot. as they were not pursued, their courage revived, and once more they returned to inspect the body of the strange animal. he was dead now, that was evident; and satisfied as to that fact, bob declared that he was going back to bed. "we ought to keep a guard to-night, though," suggested bert. "perhaps these animals hunt in pairs. i've heard of panthers that do." "that's all right; we'll have a guard," replied bob. "ben's the one to do it." "me? well, i guess not! say, who fixed me that way?" he suddenly inquired, his anger evidently returning at the thought of the wrongs he had suffered. "well, i did," drawled bob, "if you really want to know." "what did you do it for?" "to make you see the point. when i'm lecturing on the early discoverers of the st. lawrence, i don't want you to go to sleep. i'm not doing it for the fun of the thing. it's duty, pure duty; i want to teach my benighted countrymen something about the heroes of this region." "nobody asked you to," replied ben, half laughing, though he was still angry over his wrongs. "if i'd invited you to speak or paid for the privilege that would have been another matter. where did you get the stuff, bob? out of an almanac or the cyclopædia?" "out of my head. by the way, ben, what made you yell so when you woke us up?" "yell? well, perhaps you'd keep quiet when you opened your eyes in the night and saw a wild beast crawling over the roof of the tent and ready to spring upon you and devour you. then when i tried to move i found some one had tied me hand and foot." "your voice was free. your lungs seemed to work all right," suggested bob. "they might not, though, if it hadn't been just as it was. when i tried to raise my head the string choked me, and i couldn't use my hands to help me, either. that was a dangerous thing to do, bob. i don't believe in practical jokes. why, do you know, i thought at first i was having the nightmare; but when i saw that great beast there, i knew i was only too much awake. no, bob, you'll have to be the one to stand guard to-night." "makes no difference to me," drawled bob. "i'm entirely willing." it was evident that the other boys were as willing as he, and after ben had given him his revolver, and all three had bestowed upon him many cautions and much advice, he was left to himself. bob waited until the sounds that came from the tent indicated that all within were asleep, and then he coolly entered, and selecting his own blanket and pillow, returned with them to the fire. before spreading them upon the ground, he stopped for a moment and seemed to be thinking intently upon some matter. the result of his deliberations became apparent, when he placed both blanket and pillow carefully behind one of the trees in a spot where they would not be seen by any one in the camp. then he returned, and, cocking the revolver, advanced to the front of the tent. lifting his arm, as if he was aiming at the distant sky, he suddenly opened his mouth and emitted some screeches that might have made an indian chief envious, and at the same time began to dance about and discharge the revolver. "hi! yi! yi! hi! yi! yi!" he shouted. the din caused by his unearthly cries, punctuated by the rapid discharge of the revolver, brought the startled inmates instantly to the door. "hi! yi! yi! hi! yi! yi!" repeated bob, dancing about with increased vigor, and at the same time discharging the last remaining chamber of the revolver as he beheld his frightened comrades. "what is it? what is it, bob?" exclaimed ben, breathlessly. "did you see anything?" added jock, equally excited. "see anything? no, i didn't see anything," replied bob, slowly. "what! you didn't see anything?" demanded bert. "what did you make all that racket for, then?" "did i make any racket?" inquired bob, in his most innocent manner. "didn't you really see anything?" said jock. "no-o-o. i didn't see anything. but i'll tell you, fellows, i was afraid i might. i thought it might be just as well to scare away any prowling beast that might be near. did i disturb any of you?" he innocently added. "oh, no, you didn't disturb us," said ben, sarcastically. "we just came out to see if you were all safe yet." "it's fearfully lonesome out here, fellows," drawled bob. "don't one of you want to sit up with me awhile?" "not much we don't," replied ben, as he darted into the tent again, followed by the other two boys. "we'll leave you alone in your glory." "well, wait then till i load up again," said bob, as he, too, entered the tent. "where's the cartridge box, ben?" "over there on the table," replied ben, lazily. "help yourself," he added, as he turned over upon his side. bob evidently did "help himself," for he not only filled the empty chambers with cartridges, but he slipped the box also into his pocket. when he returned to the fire, he spread the blanket upon the ground once more and carefully adjusted the pillow. "if i've got to stay on guard i might as well do it in style," he murmured, as he stretched himself upon the blanket, and was soon sleeping as soundly as his friends in the tent. he did not sleep so long, however, for about once in every half hour he rose, and taking his stand in front of the tent he repeated his war dance, punctuating it with the sharp reports of his revolver and his ear-splitting shrieks. in vain the boys begged of him to permit one of them to relieve him of the task, but bob remained obdurate. "no, sir," he declared. "i'm doing my duty! i'm not going to let one of those st. lawrence panthers into this camp to-night if i know myself. i'm going to protect you, no matter at what cost to me." and so there was not much sleep in the camp that night, though it was likely that bob enjoyed as much as any one, for between his efforts to frighten away the "prowling panthers," he slept on his blanket before the fire. perhaps the excitement of the night caused the boys to sleep somewhat later than usual on the following morning, for bob, who was the first to awake, was roused by the voice of ethan. "what ye sleepin' out here for?" demanded the boatman in surprise. "that you, ethan?" drawled bob, as he opened his eyes. "oh, that reminds me," he added, as he hastily leaped to his feet, and grasping the revolver, rushed up to the front of the tent, where he repeated his frequent performance of the night. "what ye doin' that for?" demanded ethan, in astonishment. "keeping the wild beasts away. ethan," he added solemnly, "we've been attacked. a fearful beast leaped on our tent in the night, and tried desperately to tear it into pieces and get at us to devour us." "hey?" demanded ethan, sharply. "yes. that's just what he did," repeated bob, as the boys came out of the tent and joined him. "but we managed to shoot him." "ye did, did ye? well, where is he now? show me yer beast." bob silently led the way to the spot where they had left their victim. ethan looked sharply for a moment at the body, and then with a snort of contempt, said, "pish! nuthin' but a hedgehog!" and tom, for the first time our boys had heard him since their arrival at the camp, laughed aloud. chapter xviii. an unexpected race. the other boys by this time had joined the group, and so crestfallen were they all when they discovered how insignificant was their nocturnal visitor, that ethan quickly said,-- "a hedgehog will make a big scratching sometimes. i've known 'em when i've been logging to git up on the shanty in the night, and from the noise they made, i'd been willing to declare a bear was after us. it was perfectly natural, boys, for ye to be skeered." breakfast provided a speedy diversion, and after securing some of the quills of their victim they cast the body into the river, and turned to their repast. it was decided, in view of the visit they were to make that day at "the rocks," that they would not venture far from camp; but about an hour later jock called the attention of his companions to a spectacle on the river. about a half-mile in front of the camp they beheld a tug moving down the stream, dragging behind it several huge loads, which, although they were not boats, still somehow resembled them. they rested low upon the water, and men could be seen moving about over them. "what's that, ethan?" demanded bert, as he beheld the strange procession. "that?" replied the boatman, pausing in his task and looking in the direction indicated by the lad. "them's logs." "logs? i don't understand. what do you mean?" "i mean what i say. they're rafts made out o' logs. they come from up ottawa way. ye see, the lumbermen cut the logs in the winter and float 'em down the stream, and a good many on 'em is sawed up over there, but not all. they make rafts out of a part, and haul 'em down the river to montreal, or some other town." "but what are those houses or huts i can see on the rafts?" persisted bert. "and there are people there too. yes, i can see women and children," he added, as he lowered the glasses he had been using. "that's what they are," replied ethan. "they're cabins. they have to have a place for their women folks and children, don't they?" "do you mean to tell me they _live_ on board those rafts?" "course they do. why not?" "bert!" exclaimed ben, quickly, "i'm going to take a canoe and go out to visit them. want to go along?" "yes!" exclaimed bert, eagerly, as he ran with ben to the beach, where the canoes were kept. the other boys followed them, and warned bert against intrusting himself to a canoe in which ben was to be pilot and helmsman; but both were too eager now to heed the advice of their friends, and in a few minutes they had launched the canoe, adjusted the mast and, spreading the bat-wing sail, went skimming over the water in the direction of the approaching rafts. whatever bert's fears may have been, and doubtless they were many, ben managed to keep the canoe upright, and in a little while drew near the slow-moving crafts. the sail was then lowered, though the canoe was almost capsized in the attempt, and using their paddles, the boys soon drew alongside one of the rafts and successfully clambered on board, dragging their boat after them. it was a strange spectacle which greeted their eyes. two families evidently were living on board, and the children stood and shyly watched the arrival of their unexpected visitors. two little huts had been erected near the stern of the raft, and the women were then hanging their weekly washing on the lines which had been stretched from side to side. one of the men now approached the boys and respectfully saluted them, and ben explained their purpose in coming. in response to their request they were conducted to one of the huts, and hospitably invited to share in the meal which was soon to be prepared. ben declined the invitation, but curiously observed the places in which the people were dwelling for a time. rude berths or bunks had been built along the sides of the cabin, and a few rough chairs and the various utensils which were necessary for cooking were also seen. on the open raft a fireplace had been made, over which an iron pot could be placed. altogether the scene was as novel as it was interesting, and after remaining to talk with the men and to bestow some small coins upon the bashful children, as the camp on pine tree island had long since disappeared from sight, they soon departed, thanking the people for their kindness in explaining all the details to them. the boys succeeded in embarking safely and then set sail for the island, where they arrived about three-quarters of an hour afterward. ethan and tom had already departed for the day, and the campers were now waiting for the arrival of mr. clarke's steam-yacht, which was to convey them to his cottage. "i'm going down there in a canoe," exclaimed ben. "any of you fellows want to come along with me?" "nay, verily," said jock. "you have a fancy for appearing before the girls in your wet clothes. for my part, i don't enjoy that." "i'll not tip you over," replied ben. "i'm learning about all there is to learn in handling canoes. it's as easy as--as latin, when you once get the notion of it." none of the boys could be persuaded, however, and soon ben departed alone. he placed two paddles in the smaller of the canoes, and then spreading his sail, departed from the camp amidst the cheers of his friends, not one of whom expected to see him in a presentable condition when they should arrive at "the rocks." ben, however, was unmindful of their scepticism and sailed away as if no shadow of possible ill clouded his vision. in spite of his many mishaps he was determined to master the canoe, and no matter how many upsettings he had, they all only strengthened him in his purpose. it was a perfect day for his venture. a gentle breeze slightly ruffled the surface of the river and bore the light little canoe steadily on in its course. the water was so transparent that in places, as ben occasionally glanced over the side of his boat into the river, he could see the rocks upon the bottom, and several times beheld the hungry bass as they darted swiftly away at his approach. the sound of a belated mowing-machine came faintly from the shore where he could see men toiling in the fields. the reflections of the islands were so clear and distinct that he could hardly have determined which part was above and which below the surface as he glided past them. the bold rocks, the deep green of the bordering trees, and the many-colored cottages provided variety in the scene about him, and as ben moved onward before the gentle breeze, at times it almost seemed to him that he was in fairy-land. his first interruption came when a steamer approached, and not yet ready to test his prowess too severely, he turned out of the course far enough as he thought to place him beyond all danger; but he soon discovered that the wash of the steamer reached far that morning, and in a moment his frail craft was being tossed about as if it had been a leaf in the current of the mighty stream. however, he managed to hold his boat, and soon the troubled waters subsided, though he could see that the motion of the waves had extended even to the shores of a far-distant island. at last he came within sight of "the rocks," and beheld the girls on the dock watching one of their number whom he could see in a canoe not far away. the yacht could not anywhere be seen, and concluding that it had gone to the camp for his friends, he gave all his attention to the immediate task of landing in the presence of the girls without capsizing. as he approached he discovered that the beach on one side of the dock was low, and not quite daring to run in alongside the regular landing-place, he sent the canoe straight ashore and succeeded in his attempt with no worse mishap than wetting his feet. he was eagerly greeted by the girls, and as he took his stand on the dock beside them, one of them said:-- "have you given up appearing here as you did the first night you came?" "i hope so," answered ben. "i'm going to keep at it till i have got the better of the thing. i practise every day." "are you practising for the races, mr. dallett?" inquired one of them. "what races?" "why the regular canoe races next month. don't you know about them?" "tell me about them." "they meet down here not very far away, and have a regatta every summer. they have races with double bat-wings and single bat-wings, and one paddle and two paddles, and i don't know what all, only it's perfectly lovely. and the girls wear the colors; and yes, there is a race for the ladies, too. we're urging bessie here to go into that. have you ever seen her in a canoe?" "no, i never have." "well, you ought to. and are you really going to enter the canoe race, mr. dallett? and will you paddle or sail?" "yes," said ben, forming a sudden resolution, "i'm going into the race." "and will you paddle or sail?" "paddle." "how perfectly lovely. i say, girls, wouldn't it be fine sport for bessie and mr. dallett to have a race now? mr. clarke won't be back for a little while yet with the yacht and the boys, and i think it would be fine to have a race right here." "not very fine for me, i fear," replied ben. "miss bessie would beat me." "i'd do my best, you may be sure of that," exclaimed the young lady referred to. "do you want to race with me, mr. dallett?" "i'm afraid--" "oh, never mind, if you are _afraid_," said bessie, quickly, her eyes sparkling as she spoke. "possibly you might tip over." "i'll try it," said ben, doggedly. he knew he would never hear the last of it from his companions if he should refuse, and even the girls would not be averse to referring to the matter. "get your canoe, then," said bessie, quickly. "what's the course to be?" inquired ben. he wished now that he had not consented so readily. if by any chance he should win the race, he could see that his rival would not take her defeat quietly; and, on the other hand, if he should be beaten by a girl, his life in camp would not be lacking in spice. and miss bessie was so confident and eager. yes, he wished that he had not consented, but there was no withdrawal now. "the course will be around the island," explained bessie. "it's about half a mile and clear water. if you lose the race and are beaten by a girl," she exclaimed, "i'll despise you." "and if i win," laughed ben, "you'll never forgive me." "_if_ you _win_? win if you can!" and she quickly took her place in her canoe and began to wield her paddle in a manner that increased ben's misgivings still more. he, too, was soon ready, and as the canoes came alongside in front of the dock, one of the girls counted "one! two! three!" the signal agreed upon for starting, and in an instant the race was begun. whatever ben thought about racing with a girl, he speedily discovered that it was no holiday task before him even to keep up with her canoe, to say nothing of passing it. quick to take advantage of the start, she was fully three yards in advance of him when his paddle struck the water. his long arms gave him a decided advantage, but what his contestant lacked in reach she seemed to supply in quickness, and her dexterity was simply marvellous. in his eagerness not to be outdone, ben drove his paddle so far down into the water, that his canoe was almost upset, and when he tried to right it bessie had increased her lead and called mockingly to him that 'she could tow him around the island.' but he soon had gained his balance, and his long sweeping strokes began to tell. nearer and nearer he came to the canoe in front of him, and, do what she could, she could not increase the distance between them, and when they turned the point and were hidden from the sight of the girls on the dock, she was only a length in advance. almost together they then swept on, and when at last they turned the other point and came in on the home stretch, they were side by side. suddenly their ears were saluted by calls and shouts and the shrill whistle of the yacht which was now approaching with the boys on board. ben did not mean to win now, but he did want to come in even, and was doing his utmost to hold his own. he was paddling in a course parallel to that which miss bessie had taken and about three rods distant, when suddenly he found himself in the wash of the little steamer, and before he was aware of what had befallen him, was struggling in the water. ben's disappearance was greeted with shrieks of laughter, but when several minutes had passed and he did not come to the surface, the laughter suddenly ceased and the onlookers were gazing into one another's faces with consternation and fear. in a moment jock and bert leaped into a skiff and with swift strokes rowed out to the place where ben had capsized. chapter xix. a moonlight sail. the alarm of the boys was in nowise decreased when they were unable to discover a trace of the missing ben. the clear water enabled them to look far down into the depths, but only the rocks upon the bottom of the river could be seen. their alarm had become consternation now, and they glanced into each other's faces with an expression of fear, which was increased by the shouts of the girls on the dock and the calls of those who were still on the yacht. as the boys changed the course of the skiff, bert suddenly exclaimed, "look at that, will you? see that canoe!" the canoe in which ben had capsized had been left to itself and was steadily drifting toward the shore of the island. suddenly it was lifted from the water, and the long form of ben appeared as he carried the little craft upon his shoulders, his head still remaining concealed beneath the boat. not heeding the shout which greeted his welcome appearance, ben waded ashore, and after depositing his burden upon the bank, turned and quietly faced his companions. his solemn manner, his dripping clothing, and above all the relief which all felt at his escape caused the shouts to be renewed; but ben slowly approached the group of girls and said, "miss bessie, i'm ready to try it again. shall we take the same course?" "no, sir!" exclaimed that young lady. "you've frightened us almost to death, and i'll not be responsible for your safety any more." "but i was safe, perfectly safe," replied ben, soberly. "i'm at home in the water, every time." "it's a pity you're not more at home on it, then," replied bessie, with a nervous little laugh. "how did you escape? where were you?" "who, me? why, i swam up under the canoe, it sheltered my delicate face from the sun, you see, and i just pushed it ashore." the others had landed by this time, and although the boys joined in the laughter, ben could see that mr. clarke was annoyed by the trick he had played. "go up to the house," said mr. clarke, quietly, "and i'll get you a change of clothing. but you ought never to play such a prank as that again. it's altogether too serious a matter. this water is so cold that it is very easy for a man to be taken with a cramp in it, and sink before any aid could come to him. don't do it again." ben, somewhat chagrined, made no reply, and followed mr. clarke to the house. when he reappeared he found his friends seated on the broad piazza, and they hailed his coming with shrieks of laughter, for ben once more had been compelled to don the garments of their host, and as they were much too small for him, the sight he presented was ludicrous in the extreme. "i think, mr. dallett," said one of the girls, "that you ought to buy that suit of mr. clarke. you don't know how becoming it is to you." "no, i don't believe i do know," replied ben, ruefully, glancing down at his wrists, which protruded several inches below his sleeves. "i'm not just sure whether i wouldn't have felt better to have stayed out there in the river." "a trifle too short and a shaving too lean, but a _nice_ young man as ever was seen," murmured bob. even ben, and mr. clarke, who had now joined the group, were compelled to join in the laugh which followed, and soon the good nature of all was apparently restored, ben himself adding to the fun by the nonchalance with which he paraded in his "uniform" before the admiring gaze of the assembly. after dinner had been served, the group returned to the piazza and seated themselves in the chairs, evidently at peace among themselves and with all the world. the cottage, as has been said, was situated on a high bluff, and from it a view could be obtained of the majestic river for miles in either direction. the bracing air, the sparkling water, the sight of passing yachts and of swiftly moving canoes, all lent an additional charm to the occasion, and for two hours they remained there, enjoying themselves as only light-hearted young people can. at last mr. clarke proposed that they should take a trip with him in the yacht, and as they eagerly hailed the invitation, all, including mr. and mrs. clarke, were soon seated on board. there they sang songs and told stories and commented upon the constantly changing scene of beauty into which they moved. darting in and out among the islands the fleet little yacht, skilfully handled by the pilot and engineer, daintily seemed to pick its way, as if it too shared in the delight of the company. beautiful cottages, palaces they seemed to the boys, were passed, and quaint little spots, dotted by tents or rude huts, whither some humble family had come for an outing, were frequently seen. fishing parties were discovered among the bays, and parties of campers, living much as did our boys in their camp on pine tree island, were passed; and when at last the yacht turned homeward, all were ready to declare that never before had they had so enjoyable an afternoon. to the proposition of the boys that they should return to their camp, a strong objection was offered by mrs. clarke, who declared that they must remain for supper; and we may be sure no great amount of urging was required to make them yield. "i'll take you back to camp this evening," said mr. clarke, when they all resumed their seats on the piazza. "i thought i'd go back in my canoe," suggested ben, who was clad in his proper garments now. "i want the practice, you see." "no, sir!" said mr. clarke, sharply. "you are to go back with us. i'll not be responsible for your safety in that shell of yours." ben made no reply, and soon was sharing in the enjoyment of the party. the sun was now low in the western sky, and as its departing beams fell across the waters it made them glow like a veritable lake of fire. the wind had all died away, and the surface of the river was almost like glass. a scene of greater beauty or of more indescribable peace and calm they never before had seen. but the laughter which came from the piazza of mr. clarke's cottage, and the enjoyment of the assembly there, were not to be checked even by the solemn stillness of the river. "one would never think," said mr. clarke, when a break of a moment came, "that this peaceful river was ever the scene of bloodshed." "bob, here, knows all about that," said bert. "he puts us to sleep every night with his stories of the early discoverers. we almost feel as if we were on their trail." "so you are, for it's all historic ground," replied mr. clarke; "but i wasn't thinking of the discoveries just then, but rather of the struggle along the border here in the war of , and of the pirates." "pirates?" exclaimed miss bessie, quickly. "why, you never told us there were any pirates here. i shall be afraid to go out in my canoe again--unless i have mr. dallett along to protect me," she added. ignoring the laugh which followed, her father said, "well, there were pirates here, for you can't call them by any other name. there are none here now, of course, but in what was poetically called 'the patriot war,' it wasn't the same peaceful st. lawrence that we see." as all appeared to be interested in his words, mr. clarke continued. "this patriot war, so called, occurred along about - . it really was an attempt to revolutionize canada by a lot of desperadoes, or pirates, as i call them, who were filled with hatred as bitter as it was unreasonable against our sister country, and the worst leader of them all was a william johnston, or bill johnston, as he was more familiarly known by his neighbors along the st. lawrence river. he lived near here, you see. "in december, , a band of disguised men from canada set fire to the steamer caroline out near niagara falls, and aroused great excitement all along the border. the next month congress appropriated $ , for the protection of the northern frontier, and called for volunteers. on the very same day a circular was issued over here at watertown, signed by six prominent men, asking for money and help for the so-called refugees from canada. the signers professed to be law-abiding citizens and all that, and _perhaps_ they were, though there were serious doubts about the matter then and since. "in most of the villages secret organizations had been formed, known as hunter lodges, and they were making plans for raising money and men to invade canada. indeed, they had their preparations all made for crossing on the ice as soon as the river here was frozen over, and falling upon kingston. "one night in february the arsenal at watertown was broken into and four hundred stands of arms were stolen by men who were thought to be engaged in the proposed movement. some of the things were afterward recovered, and a reward was offered for the capture of the men. "matters were made worse by the fact that the arsenals at elizabethtown and batavia were also broken into at about the same time. the very next day after the affair at watertown, men began to arrive at clayton, which used to be called french creek, and it is said that there were four thousand stands of arms there, five hundred long pikes, and twenty barrels of cartridges; but what they lacked was men, for, though nominally there were a good many there, there were few if any real _men_ among them, as you can readily imagine. "there was no discipline, and less order, and when, at last, less than two hundred of the rascals crossed over to wolf island, they were more like a mob than an army. the kingston people were badly frightened, though they had slight cause to be alarmed, and they sent over a force of sixteen hundred soldiers to meet the 'invading army'; but when they arrived at the island, the 'army' had pretty much melted away. still the country was pretty thoroughly stirred up, and forces were stationed at cape vincent, clayton, and other places to maintain order. congress also took further action, and most of the people thought the troubles were ended. "but in the last of may, , the steamer _sir robert peel_ was plundered and burned over here at wells island. she was a large boat, i understand, and some hundred and sixty feet long. she started from brockville, and there were threats made before she set sail that she would have trouble, but no attention was paid to them. the passengers were all asleep when she arrived at wells island, and the crew were taking on wood, when a band of men, disguised as indians, and rejoicing in such fictitious names as tecumseh, judge lynch, bolivar, captain crocket, and i don't know what all, rushed out of the woods, and, yelling, 'remember the _caroline_,' drove away the crew and passengers, and taking the steamer out into the channel, set it on fire. "first they had seized the money on board and such valuables as they could find, you may be sure. "of course there was a great stir then in the country. this bill johnston i mentioned a little while ago was one of the leaders, and both the canadian governments and our own offered big rewards for him and the other men. i believe governor marcy placed the reward for the arrest of johnston at $ and $ was offered for some of the others, while some were thought to be worth only $ each. the earl of durham did better still, for he promised to give £ for the conviction of any of the parties engaged in the outrage. some of them were arrested and tried over at watertown, but it was almost impossible to convict them, and the jury brought in a verdict of 'not guilty.'" "was johnston captured then?" inquired jock. "he was captured, but not then. he was taken later, but not until some other stirring events had occurred, and even then it didn't do much good. but i'll have to reserve the other parts of the story of the st. lawrence pirates until your next visit, for if i'm going to take you back to camp, we must be starting." when the boys went down to the dock they found that the girls also were to accompany them. ben's canoe was taken on board, and then the party started on one of the most enjoyable experiences on the great river--a moonlight sail among the islands. the time passed rapidly, and when they came out into the channel near their camp they discovered one of the great river steamers before them. to the eager request of miss bessie "to take the breakers," mr. clarke reluctantly consented, and the little yacht was headed for the waves which could be seen in the wake of the steamer. the conversation ceased as the yacht approached. ben had taken his seat in the bow, and the girls were huddled together amidships, half dreading and yet eager for the exciting experience. nearer and nearer came the little craft, and soon it was lifted high on the crest of the waves. down it went into the trough of the sea and rose again as the swell lifted it. on the third attempt, however, it failed to respond as promptly as it had done before, and instead of rising on the crest of the billow it struck it fairly in the midst, and in a moment a great flood of water fell upon the yacht and swept over its entire length. chapter xx. the start for the rapids. there was a moment of intense excitement on the yacht and then came a shrill scream as the brave little craft righted itself and came out into the still waters once more. as soon as it was perceived that no one was injured, the reaction came, and shouts of laughter succeeded the cries of alarm. it was speedily found that no one had entirely escaped the sweep of the great wave, but ben had fared worst of all. seated high in the bow as he had been, he had received the full force of the water and was drenched from head to foot. some of the others had not fared so badly, but now that all danger was past, they were disposed to make light of the mishap and to look at it in the light of a joke. "the next time we'd better leave ben at the camp," suggested bob. "he's a regular jonah. if he can't fall into the river, he manages to have the river fall on us. the only safe plan will be to leave him out." "i don't think you need complain," replied ben, as he ruefully surveyed his dripping garments. "i was a regular breakwater for you all. i got the most of the water myself." "we shan't complain," said mr. clarke, quickly. "it was a foolish venture at best. the waves were coming too swiftly for the boat to adjust herself. she took the first two of the breakers all right, but before she could rise for the third it was upon us and there was no escape." the engineer and pilot had not spoken during the conversation, but the broad smiles upon their faces were indicative of their quiet enjoyment of the mishap, and soon they brought the little yacht alongside the dock in front of the camp. the good nights were then spoken, the boys leaped ashore, and as their visitors departed, they discharged the little brass cannon as a parting salute. the shrill whistle of the yacht responded, and soon the fleet boat had disappeared in the darkness, and all was quiet in the camp on pine tree island. the days which followed were filled with their own experiences, interesting, if not novel. every morning ben rose before his friends, and when they came forth from the tent for breakfast they would usually see him returning from the river in his canoe. his mishaps had only served to increase his determination to succeed, and though he was careful not to boast of his success in the presence of his friends, nevertheless his own progress was satisfactory, to himself at least. nor was he the only one to use the canoes. sometimes with the bat-wing sails, and at other times with only a paddle, the boys set forth from the camp, and perhaps their lack of skill in no wise detracted from the zest of their enjoyment. there were trips among the islands on the excursion steamers, visits made to kingston, gananoque, and various other points on the canadian shore, and occasionally the boys donned their evening dress and repaired to the parlors of the hotels at alexandria bay. on sunday mr. clarke had stopped for them with his yacht and they had gone up to thousand island park to attend service there in the huge tabernacle. indeed, the days were all filled with their own interesting experiences, and not one of the boys had found a moment of the time dragging or uneventful. the nearest approach to that experience had occurred when one rainy day had come and compelled them to remain most of the time within their tents. bob had improved the opportunity by perusing a book which he refused to let his companions examine, and thereby greatly increased their curiosity as to its contents; but he had declared they would know what he was doing in due time, and must rest content until he should be willing to explain it all. a decided break in the camp life came one day when ethan said: "i've been makin' arrangements for you boys to go down the longue seaut. i shan't go with ye; but you won't need me, for i've got word from two o' the boatmen down there, and they can do more for ye than i could, 'cause they know every foot o' the ground." "down the longue seaut?" exclaimed jock. "i'd like to go, but i don't know what my father would say to it. i promised him when we came away we wouldn't take any chances." "i wrote him," replied ethan, quietly, "an' he says it's all right." "right it is, then," exclaimed jock, delightedly. "i've been through the rapids there on a steamer when i went to montreal, and it's a great experience, i can tell you, fellows. the water is tossing and boiling all around you, and the boat just shuts off all steam and lets her go it. you feel the boat go bump! bump! and all the time it seems as if the water was just dropping out from under you all. do we really go through the rapids in skiffs, ethan?" "yes, that's jest what ye do, only ye take what they call the little seaut instead o' the big seaut. all the difference the' is, is that one is on one side o' the island an' the other the other. an' the little seaut isn't quite so big as the big seaut, though there isn't a sight o' difference between them." "you think it will be safe for us, do you?" inquired bob, quietly. "safe? yes, or i wouldn't let ye go. 'twouldn't be safe for ye to try it alone, but in the hands o' the men i'm goin' to trust ye to, ye'll be all right enough. an' ye'll find some fishin' there what is fishin', i'm tellin' ye." "i'm sorry you and tom are not to go," said jock. "so be i; but i've got some work to do on my place, an' tom here is goin' to practise his hamlick. they're to have the show next week, ain't they, tom?" "yes," replied tom. "i'd like to go with you, boys, but i can't this trip. perhaps you'll get a muscallonge or a sturgeon, and that will pay you well." "yes," said ethan, "it's 'bout time for muscallonge to begin to run. if ye git one o' them fellows, you'll never forget it all yer born days. they're fish what is fish! an', besides, everything isn't fished out down there. up here the lines is so thick that it's like runnin' through the meshes of a seine for a sizable fish to get up the river." the interest of the boys was keen enough now to satisfy even the old boatman, and in response to jock's request he explained the plans he had made for them. "now yer best way will be to take the steamboat down to ogdensburgh to-morrow mornin', and there ye change to a little boat that'll take ye down to masseny, or rather it'll take you to the landin'. then ye can drive over to the springs [massena springs, ethan meant] an' there's some big taverns there. city folks come up to drink the water, though for my part i'd about as soon drink dish-water or pisin' tea." "do they have 'pi's 'n things' there too?" inquired bert, soberly. "you'll find eout all 'bout that," responded ethan. "then the next mornin', afore it's fairly light, ye'll have to be drove back to the river,--it isn't more'n three or four mile,--an' yer boatman will be there by the landin', all ready and waitin' for ye. then they'll take ye in their boats down through the rapids, and send the team along the shore, so't ye can ride back; an' they'll have a rig to bring back the boats too." "why don't they sail or row back?" inquired ben. "why don't they row back? well, i guess ye won't be askin' no sech question as that after ye git there. ye'll know more'n ye do now. oh, there's another thing," he added; "ye don't want to take yer fish-poles along." "why not?" inquired jock, quickly. "i thought you said there was fine fishing there. i should think we'd want to take our rods with us." "no, ye don't want yer _rods_," said ethan, sharply. "ye might jist as well have pipestems as them poles o' yours. they'll have all the rods ye want. i've got that all fixed for ye." ethan soon afterward departed from the camp, and left the boys to themselves. for a time they talked over the exciting prospect, and at last bob said: "it grieves me, fellows, to see you wasting your time like this. now i feel it my duty to enlighten you as to the third expedition which cartier made--" but bob got no further. with a shout his companions rose from the ground, and ran swiftly to the tent, where they at once prepared to retire. bob soon followed, first piling the logs high upon the camp-fire, and then he too forgot all about cartier's third voyage of exploration. the camp was astir early on the following morning, and as the boys were to go to alexandria bay to take a steamer at an hour which was early even for the early-rising ethan, they hastily ate the breakfast of "pi's 'n things" which the boatman had prepared before his departure on the preceding night. as soon as this had been eaten they closed the tents, which ethan and tom had promised to visit daily in the absence of the boys, and ran down to the dock, where the skiff was in readiness. "that's too big a load," said ben, as he stopped before the boat in which his companions were already seated. "i'll not go in that craft." "oh, come on, ben!" shouted bert. "you won't have to do any of the rowing." "i'm not afraid of that." "well, what are you afraid of, then? come along." "i'm afraid of you. i'll go over to the bay in my 'light canoe.'" as he still refused to listen to the boys, jock said: "let him come in the canoe, fellows. he'd only tip us over if we took him in the skiff." "i'm learning to paddle my own canoe," called ben, as his friends started. "i'm like the little busy bee, which improves each shining hour--" "come on, ben," called bob. "you'll be late, and we'll lose the steamer." ben smiled as he took his place in the canoe, and, grasping his paddle, sent his craft swiftly over the water. soon he had overtaken his companions, and despite the efforts of jock, who was rowing, to keep up with him, speedily passed the skiff, and arrived at the bay long before they did. the boys discovered him seated on the edge of the dock, swinging his long legs over the water, and gazing with an air of abstraction about him. "why, hello, fellows! where'd you come from?" he exclaimed, as the skiff approached. "that's what you've been doing mornings, when you were up so long before us, was it?" said jock, as the boys landed. "i must say you have improved, ben, in your 'canoemanship.' what are you thinking of?" whatever the thoughts in ben's mind may have been he did not give them utterance, and after the boys had left the boat in charge of a man at the bay, they all returned and joined him on the dock. it was not long afterward when the steamer arrived, and they were received on board. taking their seats together on the deck beneath the canopy, they gazed with interest about them as the boat passed down the river. the camps and cottages were stirring now, and again our boys felt the exhilaration of a ride in the early morning on the great river. when they approached "the rocks" they could see the people on the piazza, and waved their handkerchiefs as a morning salute. a returning salute was given, but whether they had been recognized or not they could not determine. the ride to ogdensburgh was enjoyed all the way, and when they arrived there they had their dinner, and soon after embarked on the little steamer which was to carry them to massena. the increasing novelty of the scene kept them interested in spite of the time which had been consumed since they had departed from their camp. the current was much swifter, they perceived, as they went down the river. in places it seemed to rush with a speed that made the efforts of the little boat almost useless. there were great whirling eddies, too; and as the boys gazed at them they were wondering what the longue seaut rapids must be if the place where they were was thought to be comparatively smooth and safe. late in the afternoon they arrived at the "landing," and although they discovered there that they might have made plans different from those which ethan had made for them, they were not inclined to complain when they were seated in the wagon which was to convey them to massena springs. the road led through a prosperous farming country, and though evidently it was somewhat new, as far as the abode of the people who dwelt there was concerned, it still left upon the boys the impression of great age. occasionally, in the distance behind them, they could obtain glimpses of the mighty st. lawrence rushing onward as if already it had heard the call of the rapids. dairy farms, orchards, cheese factories, and various other interesting sights were passed, all of interest to the eager lads. there was almost no time for them to tire, for a ride of a few miles brought them into the little village of massena. then up the long street they rode to massena springs, distant about a mile from the main village, and there their driver stopped before a modest brick hotel. this, then, must be the "tavern" of which ethan had spoken; and glad to have arrived at the end of their journey, the boys leaped out, and at once entered the building. chapter xxi. shooting the longue seaut. that evening the boys visited the "springs" proper, and drank of the waters which were supposed to be of a quality to restore all wasted faculties of mind and body. the taste, however, was anything but agreeable to the lads, which was explained to them by the fact that none of their vital forces had been wasted, and, therefore, there was no craving for that which would supply their deficiencies. they were interested in the stories which were told them of the good old times before the introduction of railroads and similar modern contrivances, when people from far and near used to journey to the springs in pursuit of restored youth and strength, stories which "reminded" bob of the efforts of the early discoverers to find the fountain of youth in the far-off land of florida. he was compelled to postpone his lecture, however, for the boys decided to retire at once, and soon all four were sleeping soundly in the "tavern" which ethan had recommended. only the gray of the dawn had appeared when they were summoned in the morning, and hastily dressing, they made their way to the dining room, where an early breakfast was served them. their carriage was in waiting for them even at that early hour, and soon they were riding back to the landing, where boats and boatmen were to be ready for them, if ethan's plans were fulfilled. the driver explained to them on their way that the day was not to be a very good one for fishing, for it gave promise of being bright and intensely warm. the latter prophecy was the more difficult to believe, for the boys felt the chill of the early morning, although each had brought an overcoat for protection. the impression of the great age of the region seemed to be stronger in the early hours even than it had been in the preceding evening. the stillness was almost oppressive. anything like the bustle and stir of the great city was almost like the memory of a dream. here, at least, were peace and quiet, and even the problems of life itself were all remote and vague. as they drew nearer the river, from some of the farmhouses the occupants came forth and stopped for a moment to gaze at the passing carriage, and then turned to the barnyards where the cattle were waiting to be milked. men and women, boys and girls, all came forth to engage in this occupation, and all alike seemed to have been there for years, and to belong to the very antiquity of the region. keenly as the boys were enjoying the ride, they all seemed to be disinclined to talk, and the first break in the silence came when the flash of the great river was perceived beyond the distant trees. soon they came to a spot from which the swiftly moving waters could be more clearly seen, and then their driver turned into the road which ran along the bank, and the river was all the time within sight. it was a marvellously impressive scene. the glory of the coming day was almost upon them. the fertile farm-lands, the thriving farmers, the cattle huddled together near the barns, or already trailing off for the distant pastures, driven, perhaps, by some barefooted boy; the evidences of life and civilization on all sides, were supplemented by the swiftly moving waters of the mighty river from which they were seldom able to remove their gaze. it was not long afterward when they arrived at the landing, and all other thoughts were forgotten in the eagerness with which they looked before them to discover some trace of their boatmen. these were speedily found, and as they declared that all things were in readiness for the expedition of the day, our boys were soon on board the skiffs, which were as beautiful and shapely as those they had seen and used among the thousand islands. jock and bob were assigned to one skiff, in which their boatman, george, was waiting. he was a young man of quiet manners, and his companions at once had a feeling of implicit confidence in him as he quietly greeted them. ben and bert were in the other skiff, and with their boatman, a much older man than george, were the first to leave the dock, and soon had disappeared from the sight of their friends as they moved swiftly down the river. jock and bob soon followed, and as george rowed out with the current, he said, quietly, "you might as well put out your lines, boys. you never can tell what'll happen." he rested a moment upon his oars, and after baiting the hooks with frogs, cast the lines into the water and, taking up his oars, again held the boat closer to the shore, and prevented it from moving too fast in the swift current. the rods, as ethan had foretold, were very different from those which the boys had previously used. they were short, stout hickory poles, and the reels were several times as large as the ones to which they had been accustomed. indeed, they seemed like small wheels, four or five inches in diameter; but as jock settled back into his chair in the stern and began to pay out his line, he could see that bob, whose chair was on the other side of the boatman, was as content as he, and no questions were asked. for a time the boys gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the morning, after george had declared that they had enough line out. the sun was now to be seen above the eastern horizon, and was flooding the earth with its glory. birds were singing in the bushes on the shore, the sparkling waters were rushing on with unabated speed, and the beautiful skiff seemed to be a part of the scene itself, and almost to belong to the river. george was watching the lines of the boys, though they themselves were unmindful of them, as the boat was carried forward by the stream. suddenly jock felt a gentle tug at his line and turned sharply about. the pull was not repeated, but as he glanced at george questioningly, the boatman nodded his head and jock began to reel in his line. he soon discovered that something was pulling sturdily back, but he reeled steadily, and as he glanced down into the water, he could see a fish fast to his hook. "pike," said george, quietly. "reel him in. be careful! don't give him any slack. there! that's the way," he added, as with a quick movement of his gaff he drew the struggling fish on board. "he's a beauty!" exclaimed jock, delightedly. "what'll he weigh, george?" "oh, four or five pounds, perhaps. you'll see some bigger ones than that if we have any luck to-day. 'tisn't a very good day for fishing, though." he resumed his labors with the oars, but both boys were alert now, and were waiting for the welcome tug which would indicate that the longed for strike had been made. bob was the next to reel in his line, and to his delight he discovered that he too had a pike, though not so large as that of his friend. several fish were caught by each of the boys as they went down the stream, and for the time the thoughts of the rapids were forgotten in the excitement of the present occupation. "this fishing doesn't amount to much," said george, quietly, as he removed jock's latest catch. "when we get below the rapids yonder we'll be more likely to find 'em." at his words the boys glanced up, and the sight before them almost drove the color from their faces. far in advance they could see the tossing waters of the longue seaut rapids. a whirling mass of water seemed to stretch away in the distance as far as they could see. the waves tossed and rose and fell, and the air was filled with clouds of spray. the rocks along the shore were at times almost hidden from sight as the mad river dashed against them. a roaring sound seemed to fill the air, and already the boat appeared to feel the quickened movement of the river, for all about them the st. lawrence was moving forward, swift and silent, as if it, too, had drawn in its breath for that fearful plunge into the tossing, heaving, boiling, boisterous mass before it. not far in advance they could see a great island, which seemed to present a point to the advancing river. at all events the waters divided there, and along each side went rushing on to the calmer regions below. "whew!" said jock, drawing a long breath. "then that's the longue seaut, is it?" "yes," replied george, quietly, as if the awe-inspiring sight produced no impression upon him. "you don't mean to say we're going through that in this skiff?" inquired bob. "yes." "is it safe? can you make it?" "yes." "we go to the right of the island, don't we?" said jock, in a low voice. "yes." "this side is what they call the little seaut, isn't it?" he inquired. "yes." the boys glanced nervously again at the seething waters in the distance. the fact that they were to go through the "little" seaut, instead of the big, did not seem to afford any great amount of comfort; but neither spoke, and their boatman, they had already discovered, was very different from ethan, and not inclined to conversation of any kind. "you'd better reel in your lines, boys," said george, quietly. "i thought you said this was where the fish were," said jock, nevertheless beginning to reel in as the boatman directed. "no. down below the rapids. the fish work up into the bays and lie there for what they want to come down the stream, and then they dart out and get it. i'm going to land here for a moment." he sent the boat ashore, and the boys eagerly watched him as he took a light pole and went out to one of the projecting rocks. there he fished for a few minutes, and after he had secured a half-dozen good-sized "chubs," he returned to the place on the shore where the boys were waiting for him and said,-- [illustration: "on and on moved the swift-flying skiff."--_page ._] "get aboard, now. we'll shoot the rapids, though i haven't as many of the chubs as i wish i had. it's too bright and warm a day." both boys could testify to the latter fact, as they resumed their seats on board, their faces were streaming with perspiration, though as a matter of fact the warm rays of the sun had little to do with that. they could not remove their gaze from that terror-inspiring scene, and as george drew back his sleeves and grasped his oars, they, too, unconsciously grasped the sides of the boat as if they were seeking for some protection. no one spoke now, and soon the little skiff was caught in the current and began to dart forward with ever-increasing speed. george's face was set and hard, and he, too, occasionally glanced behind him as if he was striving to get his bearings. on and on moved the swift-flying skiff, and then, almost before the boys were aware of it, they were caught in the foaming rapids and swept forward with incredible speed. the boatman was not rowing now, only striving, with an occasional use of one oar, to keep the bow of the skiff pointed straight down the river. a moment later and they were in the midst of the roar, and the swiftly moving skiff increased its speed. jock was aware of bob's white countenance, and somehow felt rather than saw that the trees and rocks along the shore were rushing rapidly past them. he had no thought of time. he was too excited even to feel afraid. the boat was darting madly forward, and almost before he was aware of it they had gained the foot of the island, and there he discovered that the two parts of the rapids came together and the loud roaring became deeper and stronger. out into the united channel the frail skiff was swept, and then the current bore them with the speed of a race-horse straight across the river, till it seemed as if nothing could save them from being dashed upon the rocks that lined the opposite shore. george had not spoken since they had entered the rapids, and, indeed, the roar of the rushing waters would probably have drowned the sound of his voice had he tried to speak aloud to his companions. he was, however, constantly alert, and with an occasional quick strong pull upon one of his oars, kept the boat headed aright. just before the skiff came to the shore, and it seemed as if nothing could save them, there was a sharp turn in the current. instantly george drove one oar deep into the water, and putting forth all his strength, brought the skiff aright, and then it dashed forward down the stream. there was a grating sound as the boat touched a rock that came close up to the surface, but as the boys, with still paler faces, glanced over the sides to look at the bottom, they were swept onward, and in a moment the peril was passed. soon the waters were calmer, and though running swiftly, were not so boisterous, and the tossing waves were all behind them. as jock glanced back it seemed to him that they had come down a hill of water; but before him the river apparently had resumed its peaceful aspect, and the danger had been passed. "that was a close call," said jock, with a sigh of relief. "when we struck that rock i thought we were done for. weren't you frightened, george?" "no." "but what would have happened if it had made a hole in the boat?" "we'd have sunk." "we could have swum with the current, i think," said bob. "no, you couldn't," said george. "you'd have been sucked under in a minute." "whew!" whistled bob. "i'm glad we've been through the longue seaut, but i don't believe i care to do it again." "where are the other boys?" inquired jock, quickly. "they were ahead of us. you don't suppose they've had any accident, do you, george?" "no; they're down in that bay you can see ahead of us." "is that where we're going?" "no, we'll stop here," replied george. "if we don't have any luck, then we'll go on down where they are. that's the best place along the river." george turned the skiff, and with a few short, powerful strokes, sent the boat into the quiet waters. almost as if a line had been drawn, across which no waters could pass, the quiet place in the river was separated from the rushing current. it seemed strange and almost unnatural, but the dividing line was plainly to be discerned, and, besides, the skiff was as motionless as if it had been resting on a sheltered pond. to make them still more secure, however, george dropped the anchor overboard, and then baiting the hooks with the large chubs, threw them into the water close to the dividing line, and resuming his seat, waited to test the "luck" which was to be had in still-fishing in this sheltered spot. chapter xxii. the rivals. for a time the boys were busy in the occupation which followed. evidently they had arrived at the right time, and when a half hour had passed, a number of bass and pickerel had been added to the collection already stored in the fish box. after that there was a lull in the sport, and they were more occupied in watching the hurrying waters only a few yards away, than in their own immediate task. george, meanwhile, had taken one of the dead chubs and, placing it on a hook, dropped the line into the water, and though he had no rod, he "played" his bait so well that in a few minutes he felt a savage tug, and quickly yanked his line on board, though he failed to land his trophy. "they're savage this morning," he remarked, as he looked at his hook, on which the head of the chub was still fast, having been cut from the body as if by a knife. "did a fish do that?" inquired jock, eagerly, as he gazed curiously at george's hook. "that's what he did. i've known 'em to do worse things than that. hello," he suddenly added, "the other boy's got something." bob, who was too much engaged to heed his new appellation of "the other boy," certainly did "have" something. his rod was drawn beneath the surface, and when he strove to lift it, it seemed to be fast to the bottom. he was speedily undeceived, however, for his line began to cut swiftly through the water, and he rose from his seat in his eagerness. the others were as deeply interested as he, and it was evident that bob's strike was of no ordinary character. george grasped one oar and brought the boat about, carefully avoiding the current and at the same time favoring the movements of the excited young fisherman. "he must have a monster!" said jock, eagerly. "it's a big one, and no mistake," replied george. "now, be careful with your slack. there, that's right," he added, as bob once more permitted the struggling fish to run with the line. but bob was wary now, and had had sufficient experience to enable him to play his victim well. the struggle continued for several minutes, and at last, with a quick, deft swing of his rod, he brought the wearied fish alongside the boat, and george speedily had it on board with a thrust of his ever-ready gaff-hook. both boys were excited as they viewed the prize, and jock exclaimed,-- "it's a pike, isn't it, george?" "yes." "how much will it weigh?" "oh, twelve or thirteen pound. look there, will you!" he added, as he drew from the mouth of the pike, which had been despatched with a blow from the hickory club, a part of the body of a large chub. "he's the fellow who cut my bait in two." "what savage fellows they are!" said jock, as he examined the bait which george had thrown upon the bottom of the boat. "they are that," replied george. "all these fish are regular tigers, and the bass are about the worst of all. still, they'll take good care of their own young ones. i've seen the bass form a regular patrol in front of some little bay or creek where the little fellows are, and woe be to the fish that dares to come anywhere near them! we'll try it some more," he added, as he placed a fresh bait upon bob's hook and threw it into the water. but with the capture of the huge pike success seemed to have departed, and at last george drew up his anchor, and after bidding the boys to let out their lines, grasped his oars, and sent the boat out into the swiftly running current once more. again they were borne down the stream with almost incredible swiftness, and soon approached the bay where george had declared they would find their friends. and there they discovered them, trolling back and forth in the sheltered spot. their approach was greeted with a hail, and they could see ben seated in the stern of the boat, even then reeling in a fish. as his friends came nearer he held aloft the prize he had taken, and shouted,-- "what luck, fellows?" "great!" responded jock. "what have you had? how many have you got?" "we've sixty or seventy pounds," replied ben, as he resumed his seat. "what does he mean by that?" inquired jock, turning to george as he spoke. "oh, everybody down here measures a catch by its weight. they don't count their fish; they weigh 'em, or guess at the weight." "how much have we got?" "we haven't over fifty pound. hold up that pike, and ask 'em whether they've got anything to match that." jock held aloft bob's prize, and called proudly, "have you anything to match that? isn't that a beauty?" "that's pretty good," replied ben, "but we've one that can go you one better;" and as he spoke he, too, held up a pike which certainly was no smaller than the one in jock's hands, and might be even larger. "dum it!" muttered george, as he began to row again. "what's the trouble, george?" inquired bob. "i don't want to go back and have it said that hank mcbride had a bigger catch than i did. i wish we could get a muscallonge." "isn't it early for them to run?" said jock. "i thought they came later." "'tis a bit early, but then we might strike one. i'd like to have you get the first of the season, for i haven't heard of one being caught yet. there always has to be a first, though, and if we could get it, it would make hank green with envy. he thinks he's the boss boatman on the river." "you don't wish so any more than we do," replied jock, eagerly. "i'd be willing to give a silver dollar for one." "hush!" said george, quickly. "what's wrong?" inquired jock, innocently. "don't let them hear anything about money. if we should happen to get a muscallonge and they should hear you say anything about money, hank would declare we'd bought it. it's the way he always does." the conversation suddenly ceased, for jock had felt the welcome tug at his line, and all his attention was required to land his fish. when it was thrown into the boat it proved to be a pike of fair size; but george was keenly disappointed, as it was evident now that he longed for larger game, both to satisfy his own desires and to show the envious hank that he owned no monopoly of the fish of the st. lawrence. the rivalry between the boatmen was a new and novel feature of the sport, and jock and bob soon found themselves sympathizing with their own boatman. they were almost as eager as he to add to their catch, and every strike was hailed with a fresh delight. the sun was now high in the heavens, and, sheltered as the boats were from every breeze, the boys were soon sweltering in the heat. to add to their discomfort the fish almost ceased to bite, and when another hour had passed and not a further prize had been secured by either party, george rowed his skiff in toward the other boat and hailed his rival. "hank, isn't it about quitting-time?" "yes," responded hank, as tersely as george had spoken. "where shall we have our dinner? isn't barnhart's about as good a place as any?" "barnhart's all right," responded the other boatman. "you go over and start a fire, and we'll join you in a few minutes." "keep your lines out, boys," said george to his companions. "you probably won't get anything, but you might as well be ready if a muscallonge does come along and takes a fancy to your bait." with lusty strokes he turned the skiff about, and once more rowed out into the swift current. then down the stream they darted, but the novelty was mostly gone now, and besides, both boys were ready for the dinner to which george had referred. after the skiff had gone with the current for a half mile or more, its course was changed and, passing through the stiller waters, was sent ashore at a beautiful place on barnhart's island. as the boys leaped out they perceived that the spot selected by their boatman was in the midst of a grove of maple trees, a "sugar bush," george called it, and the cool shade was so inviting that both threw themselves upon the grass, glad of the opportunity to stretch themselves once more. "if you boys want to help you might be getting some wood together," suggested george. "if you're hungry it will hurry up things a bit." both boys quickly responded to the invitation, and soon had a considerable pile of broken branches and driftwood collected in the spot indicated by their boatman. "it's just like hank mcbride to leave me to do all the work and then come in when everything's ready," growled george, as he placed a small iron pot over the wood and started a fire. "what do you do it for, then?" inquired bob, lazily. "hey? oh, i have to. hank's been here longer'n i have, and what he says most generally has to be done." neither of the boys continued the discussion, however, for just then they discovered hank approaching with their friends. in a moment his boat was grounded, and before any one could leap ashore, jock and bob ran hastily toward them. "what did you get? where's your catch?" inquired jock, eagerly. when the fish box was opened before them they could instantly see that the catch was greater than their own; but they made no comments, and returned with their friends to view their own fish. "they aren't all there," declared george, who now joined them for a moment. "i'm cleaning some for dinner, and, besides, we didn't save the little fellows. they'd add to the weight, of course; but it didn't seem fair to keep 'em just for that. my plan is to throw 'em back and let 'em grow up." hank smiled, and, looking for a moment at the catch, said, "pooty fair! pooty good! ye did real well, george, for a beginner." george smiled disdainfully, but the threatened rupture was averted by the necessity of both boatmen joining in the preparations for dinner. it was soon discovered that the intense heat had curdled the milk, which had been brought in glass jars, and that no coffee could be made, but all seemed to consider that a light matter when at last they were summoned by the boatmen. the dinner was not unlike that which ethan had prepared at goose bay, and the appetites of the boys were so keen that they declared it was a repast fit for a king; and indeed it was. the successful sport of the morning provided an added zest, if such an addition was necessary, and as they ate their dinner, seated as they were in the grateful shade of the majestic maples, it seemed to them all that never had they enjoyed anything more. before them was the great river, its waters still rushing forward from the force of the fall at the longue seaut rapids. in the distance on the island they could see barns and farmhouses, and over all was the peace of the perfect summer day. "i suppose this is historic ground, too," suggested jock, as he helped himself to a fourth ear of corn. "i s'pose so," replied hank. "'long in they had considerable many fracases here. leastwise that's what my grandfather used to say to me." "where was the biggest fight?" said jock, quickly, suspecting that bob was about to make inquiries of his own, and desiring to forestall him. "'twas back by chrysler's farm; that's on the canadian side of the river, across from ogdensburgh. general wilkinson had command o' our forces, but he wasn't much good. indeed, from what my grandfather used to tell me i should think the american officers spent more time fightin' among themselves than they did in fightin' the redcoats. neither side could lay claim to vict'ry in the battle o' chrysler's farm, but our men acted so that they left everything open to the british hereabouts, an' you never saw a englishman yet who was slow to use any chance that opened. an' they didn't hereabouts, i'm tellin' you. they were all riled up over our trip to toronto, and paid off old scores. i believe the expedition, which was bound for montreal, was given up by wilkinson after the fight back here. he wasn't much good, though they whitewashed him in their investigations afterward. but if we're goin' to do any more fishin' we'll have to be startin'. i say, george," he added generously, "i don't s'pose you know the grounds as well as i do. if ye want to, you can come along with us." "no, i'm going somewhere else," responded george, quietly, as he rose to assist hank in clearing the table. when at last our boys resumed their places in the skiff, george whispered to them, "i'm after a muscallonge this time. we'll show hank yet." his confidence increased the enthusiasm of jock and bob, and when, after going with the current for a mile or more, george rowed into a broad bay, they were more than ready for the attempt to secure the great fish of the st. lawrence. chapter xxiii. a prize. no great measure of success attended the efforts of the young fishermen in the place first selected by their boatman, and after an hour had passed and only two small pike had been secured, george rowed out into the current and went still farther down the river. whether it was the brightness of the rays of the sun, or the intense heat of the day that worked against them they could not determine, but the fish were wary, and only a few were added to the numbers already taken. george, however, was determined to continue the sport, if the occupation might still be called by that name, and frequently expressed his determination to secure a muscallonge, and thereby gain an advantage over his rival. the enthusiasm of his companions visibly cooled, and by the middle of the afternoon all hopes of securing one of the mammoth prizes was gone. they enjoyed the day none the less, and the frequent swift descents in the current whenever george rowed out into it, the variety of the scenery by which they passed, and the goodly sized catch they had already secured, were all sufficient to make them reasonably content. "george," inquired jock, when the boat passed another island on which a farmhouse could be seen, "what do the people here do in winter?" "about the same as other folks, i suppose." "no; but they must be cut off from shore when the river freezes." "that's just the time when they're not cut off. they can get over to the mainland then just as easy's not." "is the ice strong enough to bear them?" george smiled as he replied, "they most always drive there. the ice will hold anything you can pile on it." as the boys gazed at the rushing waters, the words of the boatman seemed almost incredible. that those angry currents should ever freeze to such an extent that horses and loads could pass over them was almost among the impossible events, but before they could speak, george went on to say,-- "of course there are times when the folks are shut off from the shore. when there are thaws or freshets, or when the ice is forming, they have to stay on the islands. but that isn't for a very long time, and it isn't so hard as you might think. everybody around here loves this river, and it's no hardship to have to stay near by. there was a man from new york up here last summer, and i used to take him fishing almost every day. he was a fine man, too, and when he got ready to go back home he made me a good offer to go back with him, and said he'd give me a good place. but bless you! i couldn't think of leaving the st. lawrence. if i didn't see the heaving waters first thing in the morning i'd be as lonesome as a hen with one chicken. i've lived hereabouts all the twenty-six years of my life, and i'm too old now to learn new tricks." "what's that place ahead, george?" inquired bob, pointing to a town on the canadian side of the river some two or three miles in advance of them. "cornwall. it's quite a sizable town, too." "don't you think we'd better go ashore?" said jock. "we must have a good ten-mile ride, and it'll be night before long." "not just yet," pleaded the boatman. "we haven't got that muscallonge." "and aren't likely to get it, i'm afraid," replied jock. "where are the teams to meet us, george?" "right down here. we've time enough yet," persisted george, as he turned the skiff into another bay. "try it here, boys. we may get a muscallonge before you know it, and then hank mcbride will have to keep still." the boys made no protest, though the sun was already low in the western sky. in a few minutes their desire to return was forgotten, for the fish were striking again, and several pike and pickerel were safely landed. "i think, george, we'd better go back now," said jock, as the boatman turned to resume his course up the bay. "it's getting late." "just one turn more," persisted george. "if you knew how hank will talk after we get back, you'd be willing to keep on a little longer." "all right," agreed jock, good-naturedly. "we'll take one more turn, but then we'll have to go ashore. i don't want to be out here any longer." george made no reply, and began to row with increased deliberation. slowly the skiff was sent up the bay, but not a strike rewarded his efforts. still more slowly he took a wider sweep as he reversed the course, never once speaking or taking his eyes from the long lines which trailed far behind in the water. neither of the boys was expecting anything now, and when two-thirds of the remaining distance had been covered, jock began to reel his line in, satisfied that the day's sport was ended. "one more?" suggested george, pleadingly. jock shook his head and continued his occupation. "you might as well take yours in, too," said george, sadly, to bob. "i wish you weren't in such a hurry. i believe we might get a muscallonge yet." "we haven't been in a hurry," said bob. "you've given us a great day, george; we'll never forget it, or you. hold on a minute. back water a bit; my hook has caught in some of the grass, i guess." george obeyed, but as he rested on his oars, suddenly bob's line began to run out with a rush that almost yanked the rod from his hands. "grass, is it?" exclaimed george, excitedly. "hi! look at that, will you?" he exclaimed a moment later. about a hundred and fifty feet behind them a monstrous fish leaped from the water, and in a graceful curve plunged into the bay again, but all could see that bob's line was fast to him. then began such a contest as neither of the boys had ever witnessed before. with furious rushes the great fish darted first in one direction and then in another, and the reel on bob's rod "sang" as the line was drawn from it. bob was standing erect now, and, grasping the rod tightly in one hand, with the other attended to the reel. at times the strong rod would be drawn beneath the water, and bob was compelled to exert all his strength merely to hold on, while the light boat was drawn swiftly over the bay, and george was doing his best to assist the eager boy with his oars. "look out! look out!" the boatman called, quickly. "he's coming straight for us! reel in! reel in! don't give him an inch of slack or you'll lose him! hadn't you better let me take the rod?" "no," replied bob, decidedly. "i'll get or lose him myself." the line was now loose in the water, and as bob turned the reel in desperate haste, there was a great fear in his heart that the fish had torn himself away; but when at last he had secured all the slack, there was another savage pull and the line went darting through the water once more. five minutes, ten minutes passed, and still the exciting contest continued. bob would draw the powerful fish farther in toward the boat, but every time the muscallonge would dart away again, and sometimes every yard of the line would be drawn from the whirling reel before he would pause in his flight. "tucker him out! tucker him out! it's the only way to get him," said george. "don't you think you'd better let me take the pole now?" but bob was still determined, and the fierce contest was not relaxed. hither and thither, now up and now down the bay, the fish darted in his efforts to free himself, but bob was still master. jock was an interested spectator, but was unable, seated as he was in the stern, to render any assistance to his friend, even if bob had desired any. when a quarter of an hour had passed, it became evident that the fish was becoming tired. the lunges still continued, but not so much of the line was paid out now, and every time bob reeled in he drew his victim nearer the boat. at last there came a time when he could reel steadily, and, to his intense delight, he could feel the heavy fish following the line. nearer and nearer came the muscallonge, and jock, who was leaning over the edge and peering down into the depths of the clear water, suddenly exclaimed,-- "oh, bob! he's as big as the boat! you'll never get him in here in the world!" perhaps the great fish heard his words, or caught sight of his captors at that moment. at all events, he suddenly turned and dashed away again with another burst of speed that made the reel sing merrily. he did not go far, however, and as the line slackened, george said in a loud whisper, "that's his last turn. now look out, and if you don't give him any slack, you can bring him where i can reach him with my gaff. careful, now; careful!" apparently bob needed no advice, for slowly and steadily, although his hands were trembling in his excitement, and his eyes almost seemed to stand out from his head as he peered eagerly down into the water to obtain his first glimpse of his prize, he drew the fish toward the boat. either discouraged or worn out by his struggles, the muscallonge followed the lead now, and with every turn of the reel offered no resistance. both bob and jock were hardly breathing in their excitement, and they could feel, rather than see, that george had taken his gaff and was leaning over the edge ready for the last great effort. suddenly george thrust the cruel hook into the water, the boat dipped dangerously, the boys were almost thrown from their seats, as with one lusty pull the monstrous fish was lifted into the air and then fell upon the bottom of the skiff. for a moment even the excitement of the boys was forgotten in the struggle which followed. with great strokes of his powerful tail the fish struck the sides of the boat until it seemed as if they must be broken into pieces. from side to side he threw himself, and to the eager lads it appeared as if he was everywhere at once. but george was ready for the emergency, for, watching his opportunity, he threw himself upon the struggling muscallonge, and with a few hard blows of his hickory club, put an end to the contest, and then stretched their victim upon the bottom of the boat, as he was much too large to be placed in the fish box. the contest was ended, and bob had been victorious. and what a contest it had been! the great, savage head, the beautifully mottled sides, the immense size of their prize, could be seen now to advantage, and for a moment no one spoke. the feelings of the boys were too keen, however, for them long to remain silent, and in a moment they broke into a cheer which must have awakened the echoes along the shore. "well, i guess you aren't very sorry you followed my advice now," said george, who was the first to speak. "well, i rather guess we're not!" responded bob, eagerly. "it's quitting time now, though," said george, glancing again at the sun, which was just above the western horizon. "the teams will be up there at that farmhouse you can see yonder. we'll get some milk to drink there, too, and that'll help to stay your stomachs till you can get back to the hotel." the boat was speedily sent ashore, and the delighted boys leaped quickly out upon the bank. "you can take the muscallonge, and i'll bring the fish box," said george. securing a stout limb of a tree he thrust it through the gills of the monstrous fish, and then, with one end resting on the shoulder of each boy, and the muscallonge dragging almost to the ground between them, they started for the house, where george soon after arrived with the fish box, which of itself was no mean load. he dropped the box on the grass near which the boys had placed the muscallonge, and said, "i'll get some steelyards in the house, boys, and we'll see how much the fellow weighs." in a moment he returned, but before he proceeded to weigh the fish, he opened its huge jaws and began to thrust into them some of the smaller pickerel and pike they had caught. not satisfied with his efforts, he was about to add some good-sized stones, when jock, who had been watching the actions of the boatman as if he did not understand what he was doing, suddenly exclaimed,-- "here, george, what are you doing?" "getting this fish ready to be weighed," replied george, without pausing in his occupation. "well, then, weigh the muscallonge. we don't want to weigh all of st. lawrence county. the muscallonge will do." george stopped abruptly, and gazed for a moment at the boys as if he had not correctly heard them. their determined manner was not to be changed, however, and as he rose from the ground, he said,-- "well, i must say you beat all the men i ever saw. why, that's the way everybody does down here when they weigh a fish." "it isn't the way we do. we want to know exactly what this fish weighs," said bob. evidently chagrined and disgusted, george nevertheless weighed the great fish, and glancing at the steelyards, said, "humph! he only weighs thirty-eight pounds!" "thirty-eight pounds!" exclaimed jock, in his delight. but even the present elation was forgotten when hank mcbride and the other two boys were seen approaching with their catch, and in a moment jock turned to greet them with a shout of triumph. chapter xxiv. what became of the prize. "you act as if you had caught something you want us to see," said ben, as he ran before his companions. "let's see your fish." the muscallonge had not been placed with the other fish, and as ben glanced down at the row which had been spread in order on the grass, he therefore did not see the prize of which his friends were so justly proud. "you did well, but we've beaten you!" he exclaimed, as bert and hank mcbride now came up to view the victims. "that's pooty good," remarked the elder boatman. "you've done very well for beginners. george is improving every day, and it won't be long afore he'll do 'most as well as men of experience," he added complacently. george made no response except to wink soberly at bob, and then turned with the boys to examine the catch which hank's party had made. they certainly had been very successful, and as the fish were taken from the box and placed in a row upon the grass, both jock and bob were loud in their words of praise. several large pike served to increase the effect, and when at last all the fish had been seen, it was perceived that in numbers and weight hank's party had exceeded that of the other. "come into the house, boys, and get some milk," called george. "you must be hungry by this time." before entering, the boys all went to the barrel, which stood beneath a corner of the eaves, and dipping from the rain-water stored there, washed their faces in the tin basin. refreshed by the act, they then all followed the boatman, and seated themselves before the table, on which the housewife had placed a large pitcher of milk and several earthen cups. the milk speedily disappeared, and the pitcher was again filled before the boys rose from their seats. "how much shall we pay you for the milk?" inquired jock, as he turned to go out into the yard again. "i don' know," replied the woman, hesitatingly. "i don' know jest what it is worth." "it's been worth a good deal to us," said jock, feeling in his pocket for a coin as he spoke. "we want to pay you whatever you say." "i don' know jest what it is worth," repeated the woman. "do ye think five cents would be too much?" "hardly," laughed jock, as he handed the hostess a quarter. "i don't think i've got any change," said the woman, reluctantly. "change? there isn't any change." "do ye mean to say ye're goin' to give me all this money for that milk?" "why, yes. it was good milk, and we haven't been modest in using it." "it's too much to charge!" she said decidedly. "i can't take so much." perceiving that she was in earnest, jock did not press the matter, and finally compromised by inducing her to accept fifteen cents. then as he hastened to rejoin his companions, who now were waiting for him in the yard, and perceiving that the muscallonge had not yet been shown them, he said, eagerly,-- "come over here, fellows; i want to show you something. you come, too, hank," he added; and in a moment he led the way to the place where the monstrous fish had been covered with grass. as he removed the covering and the great head of the muscallonge was seen, ben exclaimed in astonishment, "what! what's that?" "that," replied jock, gently, "is our prize fish, or rather it's bob's, for he caught it out here in this bay." "is it a muscallonge?" inquired bert. "that's what george calls it, i believe. i'm not very familiar with the names of the fish hereabouts, but that'll do as well as any other, i fancy." for a moment the boys all crowded about the place, eagerly examining the prize, and making many comments in their enthusiasm. hank, however, had not spoken, and after his first glimpse of the great fish, turned away his head and pretended to be gazing out over the near-by st. lawrence. george, too, affected an air of indifference, which he was far from feeling, and which an occasional keen glance at his rival boatman betrayed. [illustration: "did you ever catch a bigger one?"--_page ._] "i say, hank," called bob, "did you ever see a bigger fish than that caught here?" "lots o' times," responded the boatman, coldly. "did you ever catch a bigger one?" persisted bob, evidently enjoying the jealous rage of the elder boatman. "ho! lots of times. and when i catch 'em, i catch 'em, too!" he added meaningly. "that's what we do, too," said bob. "when we catch 'em, we catch 'em." "ye never caught that ere fish," retorted hank, disdainfully. "we didn't! how did he get here, then?" demanded jock, quickly. "oh, fish is cheap over in cornwall," replied hank, with a peculiar smile. "when i see ye headed that way, i knew ye weren't goin' for nothin'." "do you mean to say we _bought_ that fish?" demanded jock, aghast. "i'm not makin' no insinuations," said hank. "but i knows what i know." the boatman's suggestion seemed to afford intense delight to ben and bert, and though they joined at once in the banter, it was evident they did not share in the suspicions of hank mcbride. "did you ever hear about the fox who wouldn't be hired to eat the sour grapes?" said george, turning to the boys, and striving to ignore the presence of his rival. "i believe i have heard that story somewhere," replied jock. "did you ever hear it, hank?" he added, turning to the envious boatman. "i knows what i know," retorted hank, adopting a line of argument which is not confined to the region of the st. lawrence. "you'd better be starting, boys," interrupted george. "you've got a long drive before you, and you'll be too late to get any supper at the hotel if you stay around here any longer, wasting your time and words too." the suggestion was at once acted upon. the fish were stored in the carriage which was to convey the boys back to the hotel, and after they had assisted the boatmen in lifting their skiffs from the water and placing them upon the frame wagons which had been sent down to carry the boats to the place from which they had started in the early morning, they all clambered into their seats and were ready to depart. "hold on a minute," called george, as he ran quickly toward them. "who's going to drive you back to the landing to-morrow morning?" "i don't know. we'll find some one," replied jock. "if ye don't mind i'd like to do it myself. i've got a good team and a pretty fair wagon, and i won't charge you any more than you'd pay any one else. i'll come over for you about eight o'clock, if you say so." "all right, george," said jock. "we'll be glad to have you. we'll call it settled, then, and you are to come for us to-morrow morning at eight." "that's the way to do it," said ben. "don't you let these fellows have any chance to explain how they got the muscallonge when you aren't near to put in a word." george made no reply, and the boys at once started. "there'll be a pitched battle between those men before they get home," said bert. "oh, no, the' won't," said the driver; "it's just the way with them. they're as jealous of one another as all possessed, but they're good friends, too. but i guess hank mcbride won't put on quite so many airs as he's been doin' of late. he's a notion he's the only fellow that can take out a party hereabouts." about an hour and a half later the boys drove up in front of their hotel, and, leaving their driver to look after their fish, ran up to their rooms, and speedily prepared for the dinner which was ready for them. when they at last came out of the dining room and appeared on the piazza, they beheld a small crowd assembled about a spot on the lawn. when they joined the group, they discovered that their fish were the objects which had drawn the spectators. many were the exclamations of astonishment at the number and size of the victims, and when at last the people departed, the boys were left to themselves. what to do with their catch then became the question. they had talked of packing the muscallonge in ice and forwarding it to their parents in new york, but the intense heat and the thought of possible delays had seemed to make that impracticable. they had finally decided to give them all to the proprietor of the hotel, and had just turned to enter the office to inform the clerk of their decision, when a man approached and accosted jock. to the lad's surprise he recognized him as a friend of his father's, and, after introducing him to his friends, the man expressed a desire that the huge muscallonge should be given to him if the boys had no other plan of disposing of it; and, wondering at his urgency, and aware that the remainder of their catch would be ample for all the immediate wants of the hotel, they readily consented. it was some three weeks afterward when they learned that the man to whom they had presented their prize had first had a photograph of himself and his two boys taken with fishing-rods in their hands, and the monstrous fish in the foreground, and had then shipped the fish to the editor of the local paper of the village in which his home was. a marked copy of this paper had been sent the boys, in which they read a long account of the struggle this man and his boys had in catching the muscallonge, and how, at last, success had crowned their efforts, and in their generosity they had sent their prize, "which weighed some sixty pounds," to the editor himself. great are the ways of fishermen, and marvellous the increase in weight which some fish attain after they have been drawn from their native waters! all that, however, is an outside matter, and as our boys did not learn of the various uses to which their prize was assigned until weeks had passed, it has no legitimate part in the records of this story. promptly at the appointed hour on the following morning george appeared before the hotel, and the boys took their seats in his wagon to be carried back to the landing. it was evident that george was in no wise downcast over the envious charges of his rival boatman on the preceding day, and as they rode on he explained to them many of the points of interest in the region. as there was an abundance of time before the departure of their boat for ogdensburgh, they were all eager to examine the places he described, and as he had dwelt particularly upon the attractions of a neighboring cemetery,--"graveyard," george called it,--they consented to stop and visit it. it was a quaint little spot, and its humble headstones indicated that the great cloud which hangs low over all mankind was not wanting even in the healthful region of the great river. but what had been of peculiar interest to george was the inscription on some of the headstones, and as he pointed out one after another, his companions were soon as interested as he. "hold on, fellows," said bob, taking out a note-book and pencil as he spoke; "i must have this one." the boys waited while bob made an exact copy of the epitaph, and this is what he found:-- "jimmie dooley is my name, ireland is my nation, brasher is my dwelling place and heaven my expectation. when i am dead and in my grave and all my bones is rotten, this stone will tell my name when i am quite forgotten." "got it all, bob?" inquired ben, soberly. "yes." "verbatim?" "yes." "literatim?" "yes." "punctuatim?" "yes." "spellatim?" "i think so" laughed bob. "why? what makes you so particular?" "i can't stand it any longer. it's too pathetic for me." "i suppose the folks here feel just the same as they do in the city," said george, curtly. "i didn't bring you here to have you poke fun." "i'm not poking fun," said ben, soberly; "but the exquisite pathos of that poem is too much for my tender feelings. poor jimmie! i don't wonder he's dead. do you know the poet, the author of those touching, plaintive lines?" as the boys broke into a laugh, george turned abruptly away and took his seat in the carriage, an example his companions speedily followed. when they arrived at the landing they discovered that there were yet two hours before the little steamer would depart, and in response to george's suggestion, for his good nature seemed to be restored now, they accepted his invitation and went with him to view some "sturgeon pounds." these pounds were pens in the water, near the shore, in which the boys discovered some fish which even put their great muscallonge to shame. these fish were caught, they learned, from a slender pier or framework built out into the rapids. there, men, equipped with long poles, each of which had a hook on the end much like the gaff george had used on the preceding day, took their stand, and as the mighty sturgeon slowly forced their way up the stream and against the current, they were seen by the waiting fishermen, and "hooked." they were then thrown alive into the pens and kept, with others, until a sufficient number had been obtained, when they were all shipped to montreal. interested as the boys were in the sight, they did not long remain there, and soon after their return to the landing went on board the steamer, and were ready to depart. bidding george good-by, and thanking him once more for all the assistance and pleasure he had given them, they were eager, when the boat left the dock, to return to the camp on pine tree island, for which they had now come to cherish almost a feeling of home. chapter xxv. early discoverers. the progress of the little steamer was necessarily much slower now than when the boys had come down the river, moving as she was against the strong current. there was, however, too much of inspiration in the experience to make the young campers feel impatient, and as there were but few passengers besides themselves on board, they took their chairs to a sheltered spot on the upper deck, and the sounds of their merry laughter and shouts soon resounded over the river. they cheered the passing boats, and gave their school cry whenever they approached a camp. after a time even these measures became tame and failed to satisfy the boys, and bob, quick to seize his opportunity, said, "i'll now resume my lectures, with your kind permission." "i don't think our permission will have much to do with it," said ben. "you'll go on just the same." bob scowled, but as he knew the boys really were interested, and wanted to learn something more about the early discoverers, he began:-- "when cartier returned to france after his second voyage, the hardships and losses he had to report were not, of course, very encouraging to the frenchmen, who wanted him to find a country where the streets of the cities were all paved with gold. but francis de la roque, the lord of roberval in picardy, had himself appointed viceroy and lieutenant-general of the new territory, cartier still being called captain-general and chief pilot of the king's ships. "five vessels were then fitted out, and in may, , cartier started with two of them and was soon afterward joined by the others. then all five started across the ocean blue, and three months later landed at sainte croix. he began to cruise about, and finally sent two of his ships back to france, though he kept the other three at the mouth of the red river. "cartier then went up to hochelaga, hoping to be able to come farther up the river, but the winter was a terrible one, and his men were so discouraged that in the spring, his provisions being exhausted, and the indians beginning to cut up, he sailed away for france. on the way over he met roberval, who ordered him to go back again; but cartier did not see it in that light, so he kept on, and finally got back to france, where he lived and died in peace." "oh, more! more!" said ben, mockingly. bob laughed as he replied, "there was no more, so far as cartier was concerned. it was three times and out with him." "then he never came as far up the st. lawrence as we are now?" asked bert. "no. cartier never did. of course others came, and i'll tell you about them." "it's a wonderful river," murmured jock. "and just think of it, fellows. we're sailing over the very same river those old chaps did. just the same, after three hundred years have gone." "no, it isn't the same," replied ben. "why not, i'd like to know?" demanded jock. "oh, the water keeps running away all the time. they call it the same river, but it's never the same for any two minutes. the banks are the same, but the river itself is constantly changing." "you're getting it down too fine for me," said jock. "and that's canada, over there," he added, pointing to the distant shore as he spoke. "i wonder where they got that name. do you know, bob?" "there are two theories," replied bob, quickly. "one is based on the story that stefano gomez, a spaniard, was the first white man to enter the gulf of st. lawrence, and that he came in . he died over here somewhere, i believe, so the story can't be denied. there is an old spanish tradition that he came into the gulf and landed, and when he didn't find any gold, or mines, or any of the things for which he was looking, he exclaimed, 'aca-nada,' which means, i'm told, 'here is nothing.' and canada is said to be derived from that." "what's the other theory? you said there were two, bob," said jock. "oh, the other is that canada is another form of the indian word, ka-na-ta, which means a village. i've given you both, and you can take your choice." "but how did the gulf and the river get their names, professor?" asked ben. "cartier gave it to them in honor of the saint who was supposed to be the patron of the day when he made his discovery--the th of august, you know. i think the saint deserved to have his name given, too, for it is said he was broiled on a gridiron in ." "good time," remarked ben, dryly. "two forty is better, though." "bob," demanded bert, "how do you know all this stuff. i don't see how one small head can contain all you know." "that isn't original, my friend," remarked bob. "you have the idea but not the language of our last text-book in english lit. how do i know so much? oh, it comes natural to some people. i know a heap more than i have told you, though. if you want me to, i'll give you some of it now. we haven't got to ogdensburgh yet." "oh, do! do! lend the charm of your voice to these interesting details you have picked out of some almanac," said ben. "i'll lend you my voice if you'll lend me your ears!" rejoined bob. "never!" shouted ben, clasping those members as he spoke. "well, turn the whole length of them toward me and it'll do just as well. they're more becoming to you than they would be to me." "oh, go on with your yarn," interrupted bert. "we'll listen to you till we get to ogdensburgh. after that, if you dare refer to one of the early discoverers, overboard you go! doesn't he, fellows?" "hear! hear!" shouted ben, sitting quickly erect. "i shan't forget," said bob, laughing. "you fellows seem to think i'm giving you these facts for the fun of the thing." "you are," said ben. "it may be rare sport," said bob, "but i don't see it in just that light. i'm trying to teach you something, so that when you go back to the city you'll be able to make a half-decent appearance." "nonsense!" protested ben. "you've been cramming up, and are just spreading your knowledge before us, the way ethan says his peacock gets into the house and spreads his tail in front of the looking-glass and struts around like all possessed. you can't fool us, bob." "i don't have to," said bob, good-naturedly. "quit your fooling and go on with your story, bob," said jock. "we'll be at ogdensburgh pretty soon, and then you're under bonds not to refer to another discoverer there. and i want to know about these things." "all right," said bob. "well, the french kept sending somebody over here almost every year after cartier stopped coming, but nothing of any consequence was done before . then a calvinist named demonts obtained freedom for himself and his religious sympathizers in the new world, only the catholic religion was to be established among the natives, and finally champlain and pontgrave were sent over here in that year to begin a settlement and look after the trade in furs. they were both sterling men and had had plenty of experience, and no better ones could have been found. "champlain reached tadousac on the d of june, and after a month was at quebec, where cartier had spent the winter almost three-quarters of a century before. he saw what a fine site there was there for a city, and at once selected the spot as the place for a settlement. "the next spring, in april, samuel champlain, along with two of the frenchmen, started up the great river. they got along fairly well, and at last turned to the south and went down and discovered the lake which now bears his name, and then went on into the other lake, which, as you know, is lake george." "yes, i've heard of that lake," murmured ben. "five years afterward," continued bob, ignoring the interruption, "champlain succeeded in having four recollets appointed to begin a mission work among the indians. to get the favor of the red men, champlain himself, and a priest named joseph le cavon, went with them to help whip the iroquois; but the iroquois weren't in a mood to be whipped that time, and drove off their enemies and wounded champlain, just as if he hadn't come on his merciful errand." "hold on, bob," said jock. "you didn't tell us whether champlain found lake george all named when he got there." "it was named," replied bob, "though it wasn't named george. the indians called it horicon, and the frenchmen named it lake st. sacrament. sir william johnson, afterward, for good and sufficient reasons, changed it to lake george. but to resume. when champlain was wounded he had to spend the winter with the indians; but he made good use of his time and learned a lot about them--their language, customs, and all that sort of thing. "it was in when henri de levi, duke de ventadour--he had purchased the vice-royalty of new france, you see, before this time, for they didn't mind such little things as selling a kingdom or two, with a world and a few stars thrown in--sent over here father lallemant and four other jesuit priests and laymen. father lallemant was a good man and very earnest, and the recollets, of course, received him and his companions very kindly. "in the following year three other jesuit priests were also sent over here, along with some settlers and mechanics, and they soon made the little settlement begin to look something like a town. in the english happened to come along, and quietly took the place as their own; but there was a treaty made, and they had to stand by it, so the french owned the town again in ; and the very next year champlain was appointed once more as governor of new france. he'd been governor before, you see, and this was only putting him back into his own place. but he didn't live very long, for, if i recollect aright, he died in december, ." "what for?" inquired ben, soberly. "were the gubernatorial honors too heavy for his shoulders? perhaps he didn't like the political methods of the indians. i wish you'd explain it, bob." "from that time, for a good while, the jesuit missionaries kept coming over here, and the work they did was something marvellous. they went up the river and kept on out along the lakes, and even down other rivers. they dressed as the indians did, and ate and lived with them, just to learn their ways and convince the red men that they were their friends. they were tortured sometimes, horribly, but they never flinched. they just kept right on, and you can well believe it wasn't very long before their priests had a grip on the indians which wasn't very small. every tribe of the iroquois of new york had its own special missionary, and almost every nation out along the lakes and down the mississippi had one too; and they made themselves of so much use, going with the men even into battle, that they're not forgotten yet. "well, of course, where the missionaries went, there business went too; and it wasn't long before fur-trading posts were established wherever the jesuits were. then, to protect the fur traders, and to keep the english from getting any of the business, soldiers had to be sent along; and so, as quebec was the head centre of the whole affair, it wasn't long before there was a regular business all along the st. lawrence, long before any real settlements were made on its borders, or at least along the lakes." "i say, bob," interrupted ben, "did you ever read any of oliver wendell holmes's books?" "yes, i've read the 'autocrat.'" "do you remember about that chap who could talk a lot on some subjects, and didn't know anything about others?" "you mean the one who'd read a volume or two in the cyclopædia, and not much besides?" "pre-e-cisely! now i've found you out. _you've_ been reading a volume of the cyclopædia, and are giving us its contents." "which volume?" asked bob. "the one that has the c's in it. cartier, champlain, canada, cavon, catholic, cortereal--don't you see, fellows?" he added, turning triumphantly to his friends. "we've found him out! he's crammed up on his c's. now, to prove it, let's ask him some questions on other subjects. what was the first settlement above quebec? what soldiers came in here? who was--who was--a--a--" "hello! that's ogdensburgh ahead there!" exclaimed bob, suddenly; and as he spoke he ran quickly to the bow of the steamer, ostensibly to obtain a better view of the town which they were approaching. chapter xxvi. the squall. the little steamer soon afterward arrived at its dock, and the transfer to the large boat was speedily made. then, in the eagerness to be first in the dining room and to satisfy the cravings of their appetites, which were already keen, bob's lectures and the early discoverers were all forgotten. nor did bob seem to grieve at the apparent disregard, though whether it was his hunger, or his unwillingness to hear the suggestion ben had made as to the source of his information, which was the cause of it, he did not feel called upon to explain. at all events, when the boys returned to the deck they were at peace among themselves and with all the world; and as bob was careful not even to hint at the men who had sailed up the river centuries before this time, no occasion arose in which the explanation of ben could be taken up again. apparently, in spite of the fact that the large steamer was moving against the current, there was no less speed displayed than on the voyage down the stream, for greater efforts were put forth. bert solemnly called the attention of his companions to the fact, and with no less solemnity urged them to profit by the lesson that greater obstacles only called forth the greater powers of boats and men. doubtless his moral lesson was not duly appreciated, for the lads were in no mood for sermons. the constantly changing scene about them, the sweep of the great waters, and the saluting of passing vessels, occupied the most of their time and held their undivided attention. it was late in the afternoon when at last they perceived alexandria bay in the distance, and knew that they had almost arrived at the end of their voyage. "it looks as if we might have a storm, fellows," said jock, pointing as he spoke to some heavy black clouds that could be seen in the distance. "if it'll hold off till we get back to camp we shan't care," replied bert, lightly. they were all so eager to land now that they had no disposition to stop and consider even the threatenings of the storm-clouds. "hello! there's ethan!" exclaimed jock, as he obtained a glimpse of their boatman on the dock. "perhaps he has his cat-boat with him. i'm sure i hope he has, for i don't want to row back to camp, especially if it's going to rain." as soon as they landed, ethan greeted them, and without waiting to listen to the story of their experiences in the longue seaut, he said quickly, "git aboard my boat, every one o' ye. it's goin' to rain, an' i want to land ye afore it begins. git yer skiff an' i'll take it in tow, an' we'll start right off." jock ran quickly to the place where his skiff had been left, and as he rowed around the corner of the dock to the cat-boat, bert said, "where's ben? he'll have to get his canoe too." but ben at first could not be found, and the anger of ethan waxed strong. "that pesky boy is always the one to bother us. where do ye s'pose he is?" "there! there he is!" exclaimed bob, pointing as he spoke toward a canoe which could be seen out on the river. the occupant could not be plainly seen, but after watching his movements for a moment they were all satisfied that it was indeed ben, who, probably in his desire to paddle his own canoe, had slipped away unobserved, and was already well on his way back to camp. ethan uttered another exclamation of anger, but as he quickly bade the boys take their places on board his boat, there was no time lost in further investigations, and soon, with the skiff in tow, they were headed down the river. there was, however, but little air stirring, and soon the cat-boat was almost becalmed. the heavy clouds climbed higher and higher in the sky, but the waters of the river were almost as motionless as glass. the sail flapped idly against the mast, and the boat slowly drifted with the current. ethan did not speak now, but his evident air of alarm speedily communicated itself to his companions. they glanced nervously at one another, and then at the great black mass which was almost directly over their heads. "don't you think we'd better take the oars, ethan?" suggested jock. ethan shook his head, but made no other reply. a streak of light gray in the dense blackness of the clouds could now be seen, and as the boatman discovered it, he said, "take in the sail, boys. it'll be--" but ethan did not complete the sentence, for suddenly the deluge was upon them. in a moment the wind began to blow, and like a startled horse the boat suddenly seemed to leap forward. a roaring sound filled the air, and the trees along the distant shore bent and swayed and tossed their branches wildly, as if they, too, shared in the alarm. the river was quickly covered with white-caps, and the rail of the cat-boat was almost beneath the water. "here! here!" shouted ethan suddenly, endeavoring to make his voice heard above the noise of the storm. "two of ye hold the tiller while i take in the sail." bob and jock sprang to do his bidding, but their combined strength was hardly sufficient to hold the boat to its course. ethan worked his way slowly toward the mast, and after a hard struggle succeeded in lowering the sail, a part of which dragged in the water before he could draw it on board. at last, succeeding in a measure in his efforts, he returned to his place in the stern and resumed his labors with the tiller. the fury of the storm had now increased. all on board were soon drenched; but they did not mind the wetting, for a great fear was in their hearts. the roar of the wind was like that of a railway train under full speed. even the outlines of the shores could not now be seen. under bare poles the boat sped swiftly forward. once or twice they caught a glimpse of other luckless men caught as they were in the squall, but they were speedily lost to sight, and the cat-boat darted ahead with ever-increasing speed. suddenly jock discovered that it was no longer rain which was falling upon them, but hail; and even while he looked up in astonishment, the hailstones seemed to increase in size. as they struck the boys in the face or upon the head they produced a sharp pain, and every one speedily covered his face with his cap and drew his coat up more tightly about his neck. "go into the cabin, every one o' ye!" shouted ethan; but his voice was drowned by the storm, and no one heard or heeded his cry of warning. on and on plunged the boat, higher and higher rose the tossing waves, stronger and stronger became the force of the pelting hailstones. in spite of their fear the boys all looked up as they heard a sudden sound of breaking branches and snapping trees. just before them through the blinding storm they could see a shore and tossing waters as they fell in waves upon the rocks. a great tree had just fallen, and the sound of the crash it made as it fell upon the smaller trees about it increased the terror in the boat. they were not more than twenty yards distant now, and it seemed as if no power on earth could save them from being dashed upon the projecting rocks. a great mass of earth had been torn up by the roots of the tree which had fallen, and they could see the wall it presented. nearer and nearer to the shore sped the swift-flying cat-boat. the boys relaxed their hold upon their caps and coats, and grasped the sides of the boat as they waited for the crash which threatened. ethan was struggling desperately with the tiller, and doing his utmost to keep his boat away from the rocks, but his efforts were like those of a little child. no one spoke, but the terror each felt was known by all. then came a moment of breathless suspense; a low cry escaped the lips of jock. the boatman rose and threw himself bodily against the tiller, striving by one last desperate effort to keep his boat off the rocks. there was a grating sound from the keel, and then in a moment they swept past the dangerous point and were out in the river again. they had been so close to the rocky shore that they almost could have leaped upon it, but if any one had had it in mind to make the foolhardy attempt, the opportunity was gone before he could use it. the sense of relief which came at the escape in nowise prevented the boys from knowing that the fury of the squall had not yet spent itself. they could see piles of hailstones on board the boat, and some of them seemed to be almost as large as small eggs. they were pelted upon the head and about the body, and there was no escape or relief. the wind still roared, the seething waters tossed and rose about them, the boat lurched and pitched, and yet all the time was driven swiftly forward under the terrific force of the gale. other perils might lie before them, and with the thought the boys all peered eagerly ahead, though they could see but a short distance through the blinding storm. suddenly a lull came, and as the boys glanced up they could see a broad streak of light in the western sky. the black clouds were scurrying overhead, and the sound of the thunder seemed to be a little farther away. swiftly as the storm had approached, with almost as great swiftness it departed. the flashes of the vivid lightning could still be seen, but they were farther down the river. the outlines of the distant shores became more and more distinct, and almost before the boys were aware of what was occurring, the blaze of the sun broke through, and the wind and the storm subsided. "we're all right now," said ethan; and with a sigh of relief the boys turned to look at him. "them squalls," explained the boatman, "are mighty sudden. ye never know when to expect 'em, or jest what to do when they come. now, ye see why i told ye not to go far from camp with yer canoes." the mention of the canoes instantly recalled their thoughts to the missing ben. he had recklessly ventured forth in his, and doubtless had been caught in the same storm which had so suddenly swept down upon them. for a moment no one spoke, and then jock said tremblingly, "you don't suppose anything has happened to ben, do you, ethan?" "no knowin'. mebbe he ran in to some island when the squall broke." it was evident, however, that the boatman was no less troubled than they by the thoughts of the absent ben; but he at once placed the tiller in the hands of the boys and went forward to hoist his sail once more. the wind had subsided now, and the boisterous waves were rapidly resuming their former state of calm. it was the first experience the boys had had in the sudden squalls which are wont to swoop down upon the st. lawrence, and ofttimes bring sorrow and destruction in their wake. ordinarily they subside as rapidly as they rise, and the present instance proved to be no exception to the rule. the river was soon calm, the low sun was shining clear and strong, and only a gentle breeze ruffled the waters that only a brief time before were tossing like the waves of an angry sea. steadily the cat-boat kept on its way, and as it had not been driven very far out of its course, not a long time had elapsed before the party was landed at the dock in front of their camp. but what a sight met their eyes there! neither of the tents could be seen, and directly across the path which led down to the shore, a huge tree had fallen. broken branches strewed the ground, and the signs of the fierceness of the gale were apparent on every side. slight heed was given to any of these things, however, so alarmed were the boys over the safety of their missing companion. poor ben! was ever a more luckless mortal born into this world? he was ever the one to meet with mishaps, if mishaps befell; but his peril in the present instance far exceeded all he had experienced before. "now, boys," said ethan, "you'd better take the skiff and row back up the river. you may find ben somewhere, and he may need ye, too. while you're gone i'll see where the tents have been blown to and try to set things to rights again." without waiting to reply, the three boys quickly freed the skiff which the cat-boat had been towing, and jock and bob, each taking a pair of oars, began to row swiftly over the river. they had no definite idea as to just where it was best to go, but they kept on their way back toward alexandria bay, hoping that somewhere they would discover ben paddling to meet them in his canoe. their strongest hope was that he had landed somewhere before the storm broke, and now that it was gone, would be on his way back to the camp. they had been gone about a quarter of an hour, when bert, who was seated in the stern, exclaimed, "there's a canoe up ahead, fellows, but there's no one in it." his companions stopped rowing for a moment and glanced eagerly behind them. then with redoubled speed they began to move toward the drifting canoe. soon they had overhauled it, and a low cry escaped jock's lips when he recognized it at once as the one which had belonged to the missing ben. chapter xxvii. the search. the feeling of gloom in the hearts of the boys was reflected in the dusk which now had settled over all. the sun had disappeared, and the blaze in the western sky seemed weird and unnatural. the silence that rested over the river was so intense that it almost seemed as if they could hear it, if such a thing were possible. for a moment the boys looked blankly at one another, but no one seemed willing to give utterance to the fear which evidently possessed them all. jock was the first to speak, and as he reached over and grasped the canoe to make it fast to the skiff, he said in a low voice, "this is the worst yet, fellows. i'm almost afraid to go on." "we'll have to go, whether we're afraid or not," said bob. his decided tone could not conceal his anxiety, but his suggestion was so manifestly practical that the oars were at once taken up, and, with the little canoe in tow, they resumed their way up the river. the waters were calm now, so calm that scarcely a ripple could be seen. lights began to appear in the distant cottages, and the darkness steadily deepened. still the boys rowed swiftly on, unmindful of the long and wearisome day which had gone, and thinking only of their missing friend. bert was keeping a careful lookout, though just what he or his companions expected to see was not evident. "i think, fellows," said bert, at last, "you'd better row farther in toward the shore of the islands. the storm came from the west, and if ben landed anywhere, it would be likely to be on one of the islands. we can go up a mile or two, and then if we don't see or hear anything we can cut across to the bay. he may have been picked up by some boat and carried back there, you know." the direction of the skiff was quickly changed, for the advice seemed good, though no one replied to bert's words, and soon they were skirting the islands. again and again they stopped and shouted together, but only the echoes along the shore or the calls of the night birds responded. the slight hope they had cherished was almost gone now. the empty canoe was a constant reminder of their loss, and the longing in their hearts was fast becoming changed to despair. not even the paddle had been found, and the fear that the canoe had been capsized in the squall, and its occupant thrown into the water, was becoming almost a certainty. "there's one thing, fellows," said bob, at last, striving somehow to keep up their courage, "and that is, that ben, though he is the most unlucky fellow in some ways that ever lived, in others is the most lucky. just think of the scrapes he's been in since we came down here, and yet he got out of every one. if it had been any one of us, we'd have gone straight to the bottom of the st. lawrence, but ben, somehow, manages to come right side up with care, and i'll not give up yet." bob endeavored to speak confidently, but his words failed to cheer his companions. the lights of alexandria bay could now be seen in the distance, and the end of their attempt to discover the missing ben had almost come. failure was to be stamped on them all, they thought; and though they still continued to row, the dejection of all three was becoming more and more apparent. "we might as well strike across for the bay, now," said jock, at last, pausing as he spoke, and looking sadly above him in the twilight. "yes, i think we'd better go over there," replied bob. "of course ben may have gone back to camp long before this, but as we are so near, i suppose we might as well go on and do what we can." they were only about twenty yards from the shore of one of the little islands now, and as they grasped their oars again to carry out jock's suggestion, they were startled by a shout that came from a projecting point in advance of them. they could perceive some one standing there and waving a handkerchief aloft on a stick. the faint sound of his call was sufficient to interest the boys at once, and without uttering a word they began to row swiftly in that direction. bert was peering eagerly at the figure of the man standing on the rock, and as soon as the sound of the hallo became a little more distinct, he said in a low, intense voice, "i believe it's ben, boys. give him the school cheer, and let's see." the boys stopped, and the school cheer rang out, and then they waited a moment in breathless suspense for the response. faintly across the water came the answering cheer, and then, half laughing and half crying, jock said, "did you ever see such a fellow in your lives? it's just as bob here says. ben can get into more scrapes, and get out of them too, than any chap that ever lived." "never mind that part of it now," said bob, quickly. "give way, jock, and let's go for him. of all his scrapes this is the worst." there was no mistaking the reaction now as the boys swept over the river, making every stroke tell. as they approached the point, they perceived ben seated on one of the rocks, and leaning upon his paddle as if he was the most unconcerned spectator of their movements. quickly the skiff was sent ashore, and as bert leaped out, ben, who had not stirred from his seat on the rocks, said,-- "i must say, fellows, you have taken your time. i didn't know but you were going to leave me here all night. i've travelled clear around this island three times since i landed, and i haven't seen a boat or a man. i thought i was robinson crusoe for certain, and done into modern english." "oh, ben," said jock, in a trembling voice, "don't talk that way. you don't know how frightened we were. we started out to search for you just the minute we got back to camp, and when we found that canoe of yours empty and floating down the river, we didn't know what had happened--" "did you find my canoe?" interrupted ben, eagerly. "yes, yes," said jock, laughing in spite of himself. "where is it?" "right here. we took it in tow." "that's good. the thing got away from me, and i didn't expect ever to see it again. you see, the wind drove me straight ashore here, and i was mighty glad to get ashore, too. when i grabbed my paddle and jumped out, and then turned around to pick up my canoe, why, it was like the irishman's flea--when i put my hand on it, it wasn't there." "what did you do, ben?" inquired bert. "do? i didn't do anything. the wind blew so i thought it was going to tear up the very island itself. i hid myself behind the rocks, and waited. when the storm had passed i began to look about to see how i was to get away from my desert island. i travelled around it three times, as i told you, but i couldn't find any way of getting off, and i'd about made up my mind i'd have to spend the night here, when i discovered three men in a boat, and hailed them." "did you know who we were?" "no; and i didn't care. all i wanted was to be taken off." "we'll take you now," said jock. "come along; it's getting dark." "i'll take my canoe, _if_ you please," said ben, glibly. "ben, you're not going to paddle back to camp in that cockle-shell to-night?" exclaimed jock, aghast at the proposal. "i should think you'd had enough of it for one night. come along and be civilized, and take your place at the oars in the skiff, like a little man." "here i take my stand. i can do no other," responded ben, striking an attitude as he spoke. "if i go back to camp, it'll be in my light canoe." "let him go on a raft if he wants to," said bob, glumly. "we've done our part, and it's his own risk now." "ben, you'll keep close to us, won't you?" pleaded jock. "yes, if you'll keep close to me," replied ben. "you'll have to do your best to keep up, though, i can tell that." lighthearted now, the boys resumed their places in the skiff, bert taking jock's place at the oars, and with ben in his canoe, which had not suffered any from the storm, started down the river. ben was as good as his words, and though the two pairs of oars enabled his friends to make excellent time, they were compelled to exert themselves to the utmost to keep the skiff within sight. as a consequence, when they arrived at the camp, as they did soon afterward, they were thoroughly tired, and ready for the supper which ethan and tom had provided. ben's appearance was as welcome to the boatmen as it had been to the boys, and while they were seated at the table he was compelled to relate the story of his adventure again. as jock perceived that the tents had been restored, he turned to ethan and said,-- "did you have any trouble in setting the tents up again?" "just a little," responded ethan. "one o' 'em i found up in the top o' that pine tree over yonder, and t'other one was down on the shore, but we managed to git 'em all right enough. neow then, i'm a-goin' to take that canoe back with me to-night. i jest won't leave it where that ben can get hold of it. the next time he'll not be so lucky." even ben uttered no protest; but when ethan started for the place where the canoe was kept on the bank, it could nowhere be found. ben pretended to search with the others; and when all their efforts proved unavailing, ethan declared testily,-- "the pesky thing's got afloat again. well, there's one comfort, and that is that this boy can't bother with it. i shouldn't sleep a wink to-night thinkin' o' him, if 'twas left here." after the departure of the boatmen ben demurely entered the woods, and soon returned with the treasured canoe in his arms. "that's too bad, ben," said jock. "you know what ethan said." "i'm not going to scare ethan to-night," replied ben, "for i've had enough to satisfy me for one day. but you don't think for a moment that i'm going to give up my work in this thing, do you? well, i'm not. it's just got to come to my turn, and that's all there is to it!" none of the boys were surprised when they came forth from the tent on the following morning to discover ben paddling about the river in his canoe. it was true he did not venture very far from shore, the lesson of the previous day evidently not having been entirely lost, and as the rest of the night had restored the spirits of his companions, they were all inclined to look upon his persistence in a spirit of good nature. ethan, too, displayed no anger when he arrived and discovered ben in his customary morning occupation, and, while the boys were seated at the breakfast table, made many inquiries as to their experiences and success in shooting the longue seaut rapids. his enthusiasm was great when he learned of the capture of the muscallonge, and again and again he referred to his own prophecy concerning the fishing in that part of the st. lawrence river. for several days the life in the camp on pine tree island was uneventful, though every day was filled with its own interesting experiences. ethan contrived to spend more of his time with the boys than he had previously done, and though he did not refer to the perilous experience in the storm, they all understood that that was the motive which controlled him, and, if the truth were known, not one of the boys objected. though the vividness of that fearful ride in the gale had in a measure departed from their minds, still the memory of it was strong, and even the determined bob seemed to have profited by the lesson. one day, in the week which followed, the clarkes came with their yacht and took the boys with them for a picnic on chimney island. the remains of the old french fort were still standing, and as the view of the st. lawrence from the ruins was one which extended for miles up and down the river, they all could readily understand why that spot had been selected by the soldiers of that far-away time. bob offered to explain the early history to his friends, but as ben said quickly, when bob began,-- "there it is again! it's just as i said. bob has been reading up one volume of the cyclopædia. it's the one with the c's in it. cartier, champlain, canada, catholic, cavon, cortereal, and now it's chimney island. for one, i've had enough." the laugh which followed when the meaning of ben's words was explained to the party caused even bob to desist, and changing the subject, he inquired,-- "have any of you young ladies ever seen hamlick?" "seen what?" said miss bessie. "what's hamlick? is it another fish you caught in those wonderful longue seaut rapids?" "no," replied bob. "it's ethan's word for shakespeare's play. the 'young folks' are going to give it to-morrow evening over at the corners for the benefit of the public walks. we're going, all four of us; and i didn't know but you would like to go, too." the proposition was hailed with delight; and when the party broke up in the late afternoon it was agreed that mr. clarke was to stop for the boys on the following evening, and that together they were all to go to the corners and witness the much talked about play of "hamlick." chapter xxviii. hamlick. early in the following evening the yacht stopped at pine tree island, and after our boys had been received on board, proceeded on its way to the corners, where the entire party landed, and at once started up the village street toward the town hall, where "hamlick" was to make his long-expected appearance. it was soon discovered that many others were evidently going to the same place, and along the dusty country roads teams could be seen approaching from almost every direction. "smart" appearing turnouts, along with others which must have done duty for several generations for the busy folk of the region, were seen, and bob demurely pointed out what he declared to be the original of the "wonderful one hoss shay." when our party climbed the rambling stairway which led to the room in the third floor of the town hall where hamlick was to appear, it was an unusual sight upon which they looked. old people and young were entering the room; mothers with little babes in their arms; the ever-present small boy, whose disposition does not vary materially whether he dwells in country or city; bashful young fellows, who apparently were wondering what they should do with those hands of theirs which, somehow, would protrude too far below the short sleeves of their coats; all these and many more were there. in the front of the room the platform was hidden from sight by some blue denim curtains hung on wires, which were to be manipulated by some one behind the scenes. some kerosene lamps were giving a faint light from brackets on the walls, and a huge wood stove stood in one corner of the room where it had done duty for years at the gatherings in the bitter winter days. there was no usher to show our party the way, but as they perceived that no places had been reserved, and that all were free to go where they chose, they at once turned toward the few remaining seats which were well up in the front of the room and quietly seated themselves. these seats were benches, across the backs of which narrow strips of board had been nailed, and forced the occupant to maintain an attitude which was anything but comfortable. the whole scene was so strange and unlike anything which any of them had ever seen before, that the novelty banished even the sense of discomfort, and all gazed about them with an air of interest as keen as doubtless that of the good people of the corners would have been had they been privileged to enter some spacious hall in the great city from which the summer visitors had come. to add to the interest, ethan was discovered seated in the end of one of the pews or benches which our friends appropriated, but his appearance was so markedly different from that to which the boys had been accustomed that they had some difficulty in really persuading themselves that it was their boatman before them. ethan was dressed in a suit of rusty black broadcloth, which evidently had seen other days if it had not seen better, and his bearing was so solemn that at first the boys fancied that he was conducting himself as he would have done in church. "aren't they almost ready to begin, ethan?" inquired jock, after he had presented the sturdy boatman to his friends. "i s'pose so. they were to begin at seven-thirty sharp," replied ethan, solemnly. "tom must be excited," suggested jock, for want of something else to say. "i s'pose so." it was plain that ethan considered the occasion too solemn for such trifling questions, and accordingly jock turned to his other friends, who were not troubled by any such scruples, and was soon talking and laughing with them. the interest in the scene did not decrease as the moments of waiting passed. boys entered and lurched heavily into their seats and began to snap the peanuts, with which their pockets had been well supplied, or industriously began to busy themselves with pieces of spruce gum which the present owners had wrested from the trees by their own efforts. solemn-faced elderly people entered, and frequently a young mother came, bringing with her a baby which was sleeping in her arms or nodding its head sagely, as with wide-open eyes it looked out upon the assembly. the interest in the audience was speedily transferred to the stage, from which the curtains now began to be drawn back. apparently something was wrong in the apparatus, for they "hitched" when about half of the platform appeared in sight, and after a whispered conversation had taken place, in tones so shrill that they could be heard by the entire assembly, a well-grown lad stepped from behind the scenes and adjusted the strings by which the screens were worked. his appearance was greeted with a shout of delight from the small boys in the audience, as they called him familiarly by his name, and bestowed other signs of their approval upon him. the greeting, however, was not received in the spirit in which it had been given, and the "manager," after vainly striving for a moment to adjust the workings, speedily retired in confusion. a yank upon the curtains quickly followed, and though a sound as of tearing cloth was heard, the view of the platform was soon unobstructed, and the audience became silent, waiting for the performance to begin. after a brief interval bernardo appeared, gazing carefully about him for francisco, who, too tender-hearted to disappoint his commanding officer, speedily strode forth upon the platform, prepared to do or die. "who's there?" began bernardo, in a loud stage whisper. "nay, answer me; stand, and unfold yourself!" thundered francisco in reply. "long live the king!" responded the officer, as if he were trying to make the people in alexandria bay aware of his patriotic feeling. "bernardo?" exclaimed francisco, in apparent surprise, though he had been standing within a few feet of the man all the time. the conversation continued until horatio and marcellus joined them, and at once began to speak. horatio was evidently master of the situation, but poor marcellus had an attack of stage fright. when it came his turn to speak he began impulsively,-- "and liegemen to--to--to--to--" but he could go no further. again he began, in lower and more impressive tones: "a--a--and liegemen to--to--" but the desired word would not come. "to the dane," whispered some one behind the scenes in a penetrating voice which reached to the utmost corners of the room. "and liegemen to the dane," responded marcellus, boldly. apparently he had recovered now, and all went well until the time came when the ghost was to enter. whether it was the terrifying dread of the nocturnal visitor, or the evident alarm of the four who were conversing so eagerly upon the stage that produced the trouble which followed, is not known; but no sooner had he glided in with his unearthly tread, and no less unearthly glances, which he cast about the room, than marcellus, in his most awe-inspiring whisper, began, "peace! break thee off; look where it comes again;" and then one of the babies in the room began to scream. bernardo boldly continued, "in the same figure, like the king that's dead." "thou art a scholar," responded marcellus. "speak to it, horatio." but the wailing infant in the front seat was not to be suppressed, and his screams of terror or rage were becoming more and more shrill, and were dividing the attention and sympathy of the audience and even diverting their gaze from the stage. apparently human nature could not endure the strain, and suddenly resuming an upright attitude and speaking in tones marvellously like those of an angry man, the ghost turned to the audience, and said sharply, "excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but we'll have to stop the performance till the mother removes that yelling young 'un from this hall." without a protest the young mother rose, and, despite the increased lamentations of her offspring and his vigorous bodily contortions, departed; and at last, when "the infant with no language but a cry," as bob afterward described the scene, could no longer be heard, the play was resumed. no one had appeared to be surprised at the interruption, and ethan had never once glanced at the boys. dignified and unmoved he sat watching the stage as if such slight deviations from the words of the "immortal shakespeare" were not able to divert his attention, and he had slight sympathy for those who would even look about them to discover whose baby it was that was now creating the disturbance. [illustration: "without a protest the young mother rose."--_page ._] babies were expected to be present on such occasions, and if present they were in duty bound to make themselves heard--that was a matter of course; and which particular baby it was exercising its lungs at the present moment was, in his opinion, too insignificant a matter to interest any one. the interruption seemed, however, to have wrought havoc once more with marcellus, for when the play was resumed he began to falter and hesitate, and like all people who hesitate, was speedily lost. after he had boldly bidden horatio to question the terror-inspiring visitor, and had declared "it was offended," he seemed to lose heart. "'tis gone, and will not--not--will not--not-- 'tis gone and will--will. 'tis will and not gone. no," he added abruptly, apparently as much to the surprise of the ghost himself, who could be seen peering from behind the curtain, as to that of his audience, "no, 'tisn't ''tis will,' it's ''tis gone.' 'tis gone and--and--and--" poor marcellus gazed about him in despair, as if he was looking for help; but no help came, except from the side of the platform, where the prompter tried in a loud whisper to aid the desperate player. horatio, to help his comrade, went back to the last line he had spoken, and repeated, "stay! speak, speak! i charge thee, speak!" "that's what i'm trying to do, but can't," replied marcellus, casting shakespeare and discretion aside at the same time. the words were too much for our boys, who, up to this time, had been striving desperately to remain quiet. jock had stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth, but the explosive force of the last despairing speech of marcellus had proved too much for him to bear, and a prolonged squeal came from his lips which forced even the handkerchief from its place. "he-e-e-e-e-e!" he cried, and in a moment his companions were all clinging to the back of the seat in front of them and shaking with laughter. but few others in the audience seemed to be similarly affected, and ethan turned and gave them a look which greatly aided in restoring their composure. marcellus was thoroughly angry now, however, and glared down upon the offending jock as if he were minded to add other words which shakespeare might perhaps have used, but which he certainly had not incorporated in the tragedy. in a moment he rushed from the stage, seized the book from the hands of the prompter, and, returning to his place, read his part as the play was resumed. then for a time all went well, and the eager boys found themselves looking forward to the time when "hamlick" himself should appear. true to his part, in the second scene the hero appeared, and our boys were soon all listening attentively. tom's first words were uttered in a voice that trembled, but he soon was master of himself and was giving his mother that sage counsel which has done so much to make both her and him remembered. the king stalked about the stage with a crown that fairly glittered with jewels upon his head, and as for the queen, her gorgeous train was sadly in the way of polonius and laertes, and even "hamlick" himself once trod upon it and received a look from her which well might have caused him to pause in his undutiful language. marcellus, too, returned; but this time he was equipped with a book, as well as with a sword, and though he followed the lines with his finger as he read, and seldom glanced at his companions, and once his words, "my good lord," were evidently misunderstood by his audience, still no further interruptions came until the ghost once more joined the group. then a fresh trouble arose. just at the most impressive part, a long-drawn-out sigh seemed to come from ethan, who had remained quietly in his seat at the end of the bench. marcellus had just been strongly warning hamlet not to go with the untimely visitor, and horatio had added, "no, by no means," when the sigh from ethan's corner rose again, louder, longer, and more intense. all in the audience could hear it, and as it came once more our four boys glanced quickly at the boatman. his head was thrown back against the wall, his eyes were closed, and his mouth was wide open. it was evident that ethan was sleeping. "it will not speak; then i will follow it," hamlet was just remarking on the stage. "o-o-o-h-h-h!" responded ethan, in something more pronounced now than a sigh. his voice trembled and quavered, and seemed to gather force as on it went. "wake him up, jock," whispered ben. "stick a pin in him. he'll spoil the play," whispered bert. jock turned to shake the boatman lightly and strive to restore him by gentle means, but his efforts were not required; for one of the small boys seated directly behind ethan acted promptly, and at once produced results as startling as they were unexpected. chapter xxix. after the tragedy. the mischievous lad had been one of those who had been regaling themselves during the performance with peanuts, and the mark which ethan presented was more than his youthful spirit could resist. leaning forward, he quickly dropped into the wide-open mouth of the slumbering boatman one of his choicest bits, and before jock could touch the man, the explosion came. ethan was instantly awake, and coughing, almost strangling, stared wildly about him. for a moment even the somewhat pessimistic views to which hamlick was giving utterance on the stage were ignored by the audience, and the noisy boatman was the observed of all observers. his efforts were so violent that either strangulation or relief was bound to result, and as the latter came, ethan turned sharply and looked behind him. the demure face of the lad who had been the means of his somewhat sudden awakening did not even glance at him, and after a brief pause ethan solemnly resumed his seat, and hamlick proceeded with his misty surmisings. perhaps the play by this time had gained full headway, and nothing could interfere with its progress. at all events, no further interruptions occurred, save those of a minor character, and after a time the end came. the audience then solemnly filed out from the room, and soon few were left besides our party and those who had taken part in the play. in spite of the ludicrous events which had interfered somewhat with the solemnity of the occasion, the boys were impressed with the amount of study which tom and some of his companions had bestowed upon the parts assigned them. as hamlick himself came forth from behind the scenes he was warmly greeted by jock, and complimented upon the success he had attained. "and do you really think we did it all right?" inquired tom, eagerly. "we have had a most enjoyable evening," replied bob, soberly. "i can't understand yet why it was that you selected such a play for a popular audience." "that was the schoolmaster's doings," said tom. "i thought myself it was almost too difficult a piece; but he told us to get something good while we were at it, and something it would pay us to remember, so we chose 'hamlet.' we give something almost every year, you see. last year we gave the trial scene from 'pickwick papers,' but the folks here didn't seem to see the fun in it. they took it all in sober earnest, and never laughed from the beginning to the end. so this year we thought we'd try something in the tragedy line." "where do you get all the books you read, tom?" inquired bob. "some of them are in our school library and some the minister lends to us. we don't have very much besides history. i'm grateful to you," he added, turning to bert as he spoke, "for hearing me speak my part up in the camp. it did me a sight of good." "don't mention it," said bert, hurriedly. tom's reading had become a serious matter with our boys. his attainments had been so unlooked for, and, as far as the solid work was concerned, he had done so much more than they, that no one was inclined to belittle him now, no matter how much the young boatman's lack of familiarity with the manners and customs of "city folks" had impressed them upon their arrival at the camp. "heow was it? pooty fair, i judge," said ethan, who now approached the group, asking and answering his own question at the same time. "the young people are to be congratulated upon the serious study they have given shakespeare's masterpiece," said mr. clarke, before any of the boys could reply. "glad to hear ye say it," responded ethan, who, in spite of his apparent contempt for tom's studies, was nevertheless interested far more deeply than he cared to show. "i don' know much abeout sech things myself," he continued. "i never read one o' dickens's plays, nor shakespeare's neither, for that matter. i had to work fur a livin' in my young days; but tom here, he has lots o' time, and he jist keeps his nose in a book pretty much all winter. what d'ye think o' it? will it do him any harm?" he inquired of mr. clarke, somewhat anxiously. "not a bit, not a bit," replied mr. clarke, cordially. "in fact, i think i know of some young people who might profit by his example." "i never did think there was sech a sight o' difference between city folks and country folks. neow ye've seen this same performance in the place where you live, i take it?" "yes," replied mr. clarke. "an' ye really think the young folks here hev done it abeout as well as the folks down to new york, do ye?" "there were differences, of course. you must expect that." "of course; of course," said ethan, delightedly. "mebbe ye'd like to go over to mis' brown's. the young folks have gone there. they're to have some ice cream, i b'lieve. 'twon't cost ye much, fur it's only eight cents a dish, two fur fifteen." as it was not late, the invitation was eagerly accepted, an added zest being given when it was learned that the profits from the sale of the cream were to be added to those of the play, and that all were to be expended for the improvement of the walks in the little hamlet. the party accordingly made their way down the rough stairway and along the street, tom having previously left them, and soon arrived at "mis' brown's," or the "widow brown's," as she was familiarly called by her neighbors. her establishment was found to be a unique one. a small "store" was in the front of the building, and on the few shelves were seen jars containing some toothsome, though apparently venerable, sticks of candy. slate pencils, a few forlorn articles of "fancy work," spools of thread and such like necessities were the other parts of her stock in trade, but the sounds of revelry which came from an inner room left no doubt in the minds of the visitors as to the place where the ice cream was to be had, or as to the occupation which was then going on at the time. ethan boldly led the way, and as the door was opened, two long tables were seen, upon which were dishes of the famous article for which our party had come, and upon which the "young folks" already there were feasting. the unexpected entrance brought a solemn hush upon the room, and one young fellow who was standing near the head of one of the tables suddenly sank into his seat again. "that's tim wynn," whispered ethan. "he's been cuttin' up for the young folks, i s'pose. he's awfully funny, an' they all like to have him 'round." "there doesn't seem to be any place for us," suggested mr. clarke. "perhaps we'd better not stop to-night." "i'll fix ye out in a minit," said ethan, hastily. "here's the widow, now. mis' brown, can't ye find a place for these folks? they want some o' yer ice cream, an' every one counts neow. mebbe they'll buy enough to get another plank or two for the walks." the hint was not to be lost, and speedily another table was prepared by placing two planks across some "horses," and as soon as chairs had been brought, the party all seated themselves and were speedily served, ethan himself taking one of the chairs upon mr. clarke's invitation. miss bessie whispered to ben, who was seated beside her, that "it wasn't ice cream at all, it was only frozen corn starch;" but whatever the name may have been, the dishes were speedily cleared, ethan's disappearing the most rapidly of all, as with heaping spoonfuls he swallowed the treat, apparently unmindful of its chilling temperature. "i guess ye don't get nothin' better'n that deown to new york," he remarked with satisfaction, as he glanced up at mr. clarke. "we never have anything just like this," replied mr. clarke, kindly. "have some more, ethan?" "thank ye, sir. i don' mind if i do, if it's all the same to you. here!" he suddenly added, as if he had been struck with a sudden thought, "there's some lemingade, too. it's only three cents a cup, and i'll stand treat for the crowd." "permit me," said mr. clarke, quickly; and "lemingade" was at once added to the replenished dishes. "your young people are to be congratulated, ethan," said mr. clarke, when all at last arose from the table. "you have quite a good-sized fund for your village improvements. have you any idea how much they have made?" "i don't s'pose they can tell jest yet. prob'ly fifteen or twenty dollars." "you can add this to the sum, with my compliments, then," said mr. clarke, as he slipped a ten dollar bill into the astonished boatman's hand. almost too surprised by the gift to express his thanks, ethan responded to their "good night," and the party at once departed for their yacht. it was a glorious summer evening they discovered when the boat moved out from the dock and began to speed over the silent river. in the moonlight the rushing waters glimmered like silver, and the low-lying shores cast shadows which were reflected almost as in the light of day. the silent stars twinkled in the clear heavens, and the air of eternal peace seemed to rest over all. the young people were enjoying themselves too keenly to be silent long even amidst such surroundings, and as the experiences of the evening were recounted, in every way so novel and different from anything they had ever seen before, their laughter rang out over the great river, and seemed to be caught up and sent flying by the very rocks and shores which they passed. at last miss bessie started a song: "and every little wave has his night-cap on," and for a time all other things were forgotten; while mr. and mrs. clarke joined in the spirit of the frolic as if they, too, were as young as their young companions. altogether the evening had been such an enjoyable one that it was almost with a feeling of disappointment that the boys at last perceived in the distance the white tents on pine tree island. the songs had ceased now, and bob said:-- "mr. clarke, i meant to have asked you to tell us the rest of that story about the pirate of the st. lawrence." "who? bill johnston?" asked mr. clarke. "yes, i believe that was his name." "oh, well, that story will keep until next time." "yes, but the summer is almost gone now, and there won't be many 'next times.' we'll be going home soon." "not for some weeks yet, i trust. september is the most glorious of all the months on the river. when the leaves begin to turn, and the nights are so cool that you need a fire on the hearth in your cottage, and the air is so bracing that it is a delight just to breathe it, and the ducks begin to come, and you can vary your fishing with gunning, why, that's the best time of all the year. my nearest neighbors have even stayed here all winter, once or twice." "it must be a wild sight here then," suggested jock. "when the ice is so thick you can drive over it with a horse and sleigh, and the wind sweeps down the river at the rate of sixty miles an hour, it must be great fun to be here, and feel that you've got a good warm snug place, and can still see it all." "better to see it than feel it, i fancy," laughed mr. clarke. "i enjoy the river as much as any one, but i know where to draw the line. still, if i could bottle up some of the september air and take it back to town with me, to use when occasion demanded, i should not object." miss bessie and ben had been taking no part in the general conversation, apparently being much more interested in one of their own. "i want to ask you a question," she had said to ben, who was seated next to her. "say on," responded ben. "i'm all ears." "not quite all," replied the girl, glancing at ben's long form as she spoke. "but what i want to know is whether you are really going to enter the canoe races next week?" "why?" "because." "oh, well, i'll have to tell you, you have such good reasons for asking. no one in the world, or at least in the camp, knows it; but i am going in." "aren't you afraid?" "afraid of what?" "oh, of falling into the water, or being beaten, or i don't know what." "that remains to be seen," said ben, sitting suddenly erect. "now one good turn is said to deserve another, so as you've had a turn at me, i'll take mine now." "what do you mean?" "are _you_ going into the races?" "yes," replied miss bessie, after a brief hesitation. "that is, if my father is willing; but i don't want you to tell any one about it, either." "madam, i shall be silent. do you recall the words of the immortal 'hamlick' to-night on that subject?" "no. what were they?" "'let us go in together; and still your fingers on your lips, i pray.'" "agreed," responded miss bessie. "i'll not tell about you, and you're not to tell about me." "oh you'll not tell," retorted ben. "i never saw a girl yet who would do that." the conversation was suddenly interrupted, for the yacht was now approaching the dock. to the surprise of the boys, they discovered that some one was in the camp, and hastily bidding their friends good night, they all turned and ran swiftly toward the tents. chapter xxx. ben's discovery. it is doubtful whether pine tree island, since the days when the red men had dwelt upon its shores, had heard such a shout as went up from our boys when they discovered that the visitor was jock's father. when the lad learned that his mother was at alexandria bay, and that she and his father had come from new york that very day, nothing would satisfy him but to return to the hotel. before they departed, jock's father explained that he had come over to the camp in the early evening with a boatman, but when he discovered that no one was there, he had decided to remain until they returned. as it was now after ten o'clock, he had begun to feel somewhat uneasy; but the fact that all were gone, and that everything about the camp seemed to be in good order, had led him to believe that they could be in no danger, at all events, and so he had waited until the time when his patience had been amply rewarded. after the messages from the other homes had been delivered, and mr. cope had satisfied himself that all were well, he said, "i think we'd better go back to the hotel now, my boy. your mother will be uneasy about me, to say nothing of you." "do you think it will be safe for jock to go?" inquired bob, soberly. "safe? why, yes. why shouldn't it be safe?" "oh, i don't know. we've been living here in primitive style, you know, and whether jock will remember how to behave is a question." "it's time he reviewed his lessons, then," was the reply. "good night, boys," he added, as he started toward the dock. the campers followed jock and his father to the dock, and as they were about to put off, bob called out, "i say, jock, don't forget to use your fork when you go into the dining room to-morrow." "i'll try not to," promised jock. "and if i'm not mistaken they have napkins there, too." "good night, fellows. i'll see you in the morning," called jock; and the skiff soon disappeared in the darkness. few words were spoken by the remaining campers that night as they prepared for bed. perhaps the presence of jock's father, and the eagerness of their friend to see his mother, may have produced similar longings in their own hearts; but if it was so, no one referred to them, and soon the great pile of logs was sending its ruddy glow over the shadows of the silent river, and the sounds which came from the tent indicated that any possible feeling of homesickness had at least been forgotten for the time. when bert awoke early in the following morning, he speedily discovered that he was alone in the tent. as he dressed himself hastily, and ran forth toward the bank of the river, he discovered the long form of ben paddling in his canoe not far away, but bob was nowhere to be seen. it was such an unusual occurrence for bob to be awake so early in the morning that the sturdy bert was at a loss to account for his absence. as a rule, bob was the last to appear for breakfast, and not infrequently a dash of cold water had been required to make him fully aware of the hour; and now to find him gone was, to say the least, surprising. ethan and tom arrived, but still bob did not appear. ben came in from his daily task, but he, too, had not seen the missing bob, and declared that he had left him sleeping in the tent when he himself had departed. the absence certainly was strange, and the boys were just beginning to feel uneasy as to the missing boy's whereabouts, when the lad in question was seen approaching the camp. but he was coming from among the trees, and his eager friends hailed him with the question,-- "where have you been, bob?" "out taking a peep at the rising sun." "you've been taking more than that," exclaimed ben, quickly, as he perceived that bob's garments were all dripping wet. "you've been in the water." "the early dew is heavy here," replied bob, evasively, as he turned to the tent to change his clothing. it was evident that bob did not intend to disclose the purpose of his early rising, and ben's suspicions were at once aroused. he concluded that his friend was practising for the race in which he himself was to enter. he did not refer to his surmise, however, and in a few minutes bob came forth and took his seat at the table with his friends. soon after breakfast, jock, accompanied by his father and mother, returned to the camp, and the greeting which mr. cope gave his old schoolfellow, ethan, was one which warmed the heart of that worthy boatman. "i thought mebbe ye'd forgotten yer old friends since ye've got so rich," said ethan, soberly. "forgotten them? why, man, they're the best part of my life. i've a painting of the old red schoolhouse hanging in my dining room, and i never see it without thinking of the boys and girls who were there years ago, and the good times we used to have." "got a pictur of it? ye don't say so!" exclaimed ethan, in surprise. "well, i never thought nobody'd want a pictur o' that place. it's most gone to rack an' ruin now. i'm afeard we'll have to fix it up purty quick or it'll fall down o' itself." "that's too bad; i should think the district would keep it in repair." "the deestrict hain't got no money. the only folks hereabouts what has any money are mostly those who've gone off deown to new york. seems as if 'most any fool could make money deown there. the' say as how homer perkins's boy has gone deown there, an' is a-gettin' a dollar an' a half a day the whole year through, an' all he has to do is to drive a hoss car." mr. cope laughed as he replied, "i'm telling you the truth, ethan, when i say i never worked so hard in my life as i do now. i used to pick up stones on the old farm, and haul and chop wood, and get up at four o'clock in the morning and milk eight or ten cows before breakfast, and then carry the milk to the factory, and that was before the day's work was supposed to have begun; but all that's as nothing compared with the way i have to work now." ethan was evidently incredulous, and said, "what time do ye get up in the mornin' now?" "about eight o'clock." "and i s'pose ye don't get down to yer store till abeout nine?" "i usually go down to the office about that time." "an' when do ye shut up?" "anywhere from half-past four to six." "an' ye call _that_ workin' harder 'n ye did on the old stone hill farm, do ye?" "yes, a good deal harder. it's true i used to get tired and go to bed some nights feeling as if every bone in my body ached, but i would go to sleep right away and forget it all, and next morning i'd be all ready for another day. now i have to carry my load day and night, and there is no escape. i have hundreds, yes, thousands, of men dependent on me. when hard times come, and it sometimes seems to me that they come pretty often, i carry a good many of these men through just for the sake of their families, and when good times come they seem to forget all about it, and some of them are always ready to make trouble. there are times, ethan, when it seems to me my load is heavier than i can bear. i almost never have a day off, and sometimes i long to return to the old farm, and am hungry for its peace and quiet." "i guess there ain't nuthin' to hinder ye from comin' back if ye want to," grunted ethan. "the old place is for sale, an 'twon't cost over twenty-five or thirty dollars an acre. ye can stand that much, can't ye? yer boy here says he guesses ye're worth more 'n five thousand dollars." mr. cope's cheeks flushed slightly, and he glanced reprovingly at jock; but evidently wishing to change the subject, he said, "i fancy, ethan, that most of the boys and girls who used to go to school with us are gone now." "pretty much." "what's ever become of hiram munsell? hi munsell we called him." "oh, he went out to the state o' milwaukee. he's got rich too, they say." "went where?" "the state o' milwaukee. he's a policeman an' gets a thousan' dollars a year, or leastwise that's what the report is. you know as much as i do about whether it's true or not. i hev my doubts, myself. hi always was one to stretch it pooty good, as you may recommember yerself." mr. cope glanced again reprovingly at the boys, who for some strange reason appeared to be highly delighted at the reference to the "state" to which the wealthy hi had gone, and said quickly,-- "well, ethan, i want to talk over old times with you some more, and i want to go over to the old schoolhouse, too; but i'm to have only a day or two here, and i fancy the boys are more interested in my putting that to good use than they are in our reminiscences, so if you're agreed, we'll try the sport for a time. can you take us fishing now?" ethan responded that he could, and when the two skiffs were made ready it was discovered that bob was not to go with them. ben said nothing, though his suspicions were at once aroused, and at first he, too, was inclined to remain in camp; but jock's evident disappointment was so marked that he hastily recalled his words, and said that he would go, making one proviso, that he should be permitted to take his canoe with him. mrs. cope was to remain in the camp, declaring that she wished to look after some of the belongings of the boys, which she said were in a "sad state," though just what she meant by the expression she did not explain, and that she was not in the least afraid of being lonesome. the party soon set forth in the skiffs, from one of which ben's ever present canoe was towed, and ethan directed the way to a spot where none of them had as yet been. mr. cope apparently was most enthusiastic of all. whatever may have been his inability to cast aside his pressing problems when he was at home, here certainly they were not to be found, and he entered into the sport with all the zest of the boys themselves. their former successes in no way seemed to interfere with the eagerness of the campers in the present experience, and when at last ethan and tom rowed ashore to prepare dinner, they had all had a degree of success which corresponded with their most ardent desires. after dinner the sport was resumed, but about the middle of the afternoon ethan rowed his skiff close in to the other, and mr. cope called out: "boys, we've decided to land over here and go up to the old schoolhouse, which isn't more than a mile and a half from the shore. jock wants to go; and if you would like to go too, we should be glad to have you. what do you say?" ben looked at bert a moment, and then said, "thank you, mr. cope, bert would like to go and so should i, but i ought to go back to the camp." "why? what's wrong?" inquired mr. cope, quickly. "there isn't anything wrong, only i've something i ought to do. i was just thinking that i would take my canoe and go back, and leave you all here anyway. i didn't want to break up your sport." "he wants to write a letter, i guess," said jock. "well, bert, you come along, and let ben go back if he wants to." the proposal was agreed to, and tom was to wait on the shore and guard the skiff while his companions were gone to visit the scene of mr. cope's and ethan's earlier days. ben did not wait, but hoisting his little sail began to speed over the river in the direction of pine tree island. what the urgent duty was which had induced him to depart from his companions became apparent when he approached within a half mile of the camp. he then lowered his sail and carefully scanned the river before him. apparently satisfied with the inspection, he took his paddle and began to send the light canoe swiftly over the water, but instead of making his way to the dock he paddled around to the opposite side of the island. there he landed, and lifting his canoe, bore it up the shore and carefully concealed it among the bushes. satisfied that he had not been seen, he cautiously made his way toward the shore of a sheltered bay not far away. as soon as he had arrived at a place from which the waters of the bay could be seen, he halted for a moment and peered cautiously about him. evidently not satisfied with what he saw, he began to advance again, stepping carefully from tree to tree, and at last arrived at a sheltered spot from which he could see both the shore and bay. instantly he was deeply interested in something he there discovered, for he peered farther out from behind the tree, and watched bob, who now could be seen near the shore. "the rascal! he thought he'd fool us all," muttered ben, as he watched his friend, who plainly was unaware that his actions were observed. "what's that he's doing?" he suddenly added. "if that doesn't beat anything i ever saw before!" so interested was ben that he remained in the secluded spot for more than an hour, watching the movements of bob, who was in sight all the time. occasionally the watching ben almost laughed aloud, and frequently uttered exclamations expressive of his astonishment or pleasure,--any one who might have heard him could hardly have told which,--but at last he retraced his way through the woods to the spot where he had left his canoe. speedily embarking, he paddled back around the island, and soon afterward approached the dock; and the first person he discerned there was bob himself, seated on the edge and lazily swinging his feet out over the water. chapter xxxi. the races. ben did not refer to his discovery, and after he had explained the reasons why he had returned alone to the camp he joined mrs. cope, who was seated in a camp-chair on the high bluff, and delightedly watching the constantly shifting scene which the great river presented. the pleasure jock's mother felt in the marked improvement in her son's appearance was certainly shared by his two friends, and bob demurely remarked that he even had hopes that ben and bert would also "improve," a wish which ben laughingly declared was destined to be blighted. as the shadows of evening began to appear, the return of the absent members of the party at once drew the attention of all to them, and while ethan and tom prepared supper, mr. cope described his visit to the old schoolhouse, and the enjoyment he had experienced in revisiting the scenes of his boyhood. his wife declared that she believed he had regained some of his boyish spirits too, for it had been long since she had seen him so animated and enthusiastic. just as ethan announced that supper was ready, a skiff was seen approaching the dock, and a messenger-boy advanced with several telegrams, which mr. cope had left word at the hotel should be forwarded to the camp. as mr. cope tore open the yellow envelopes, ethan curiously observed his old-time friend, and when the telegrams had been read, said,-- "i hope ye haven't had any bad news, jock?" mr. cope laughed as he replied, "rather bad for me, i fear. i shall have to return to new york to-night. you see, ethan, i can't have more than a day off. i almost envy you your freedom." "did they send ye word in the telegrams?" inquired the boatman. "yes. they are about important business engagements." "bus'ness!" exclaimed ethan. "i didn't s'pose any one ever telegraphed jist about bus'ness. i thought nobody ever telegraphed unless somebody was dead. hi perkins once telegraphed to his ma when he thought he was goin' to die with the pewmony; but it costs four shillin' for ten words, i'm told. must be mighty important business what would make anybody send ye five or six on 'em." "it is important; so important that i shall have to go back to the bay and start for home to-night. i'm sorry, too. but then, if a business man doesn't have very much outside pleasure in life, his wife and children can have it, and he must take his in knowing that." soon after supper mr. cope bade good-by to the boatman and boys, and with mrs. cope and jock departed for alexandria bay. jock was to remain at the hotel for the night, but was to return to the camp in the morning, though his mother was to stay at the hotel until the boys should be ready to break camp and go home with her. apparently jock's mother enjoyed the experience of the days which followed as much as did the boys themselves. every day she was rowed over to pine tree island, and sometimes the boys were persuaded to return with her for a dinner at the hotel, or to be present of an evening when something of special interest was occurring in the parlors. her friends, the clarkes, also did much to add to the pleasure, for with their yacht they made various trips among the islands, or planned for picnics which were a never failing source of delight to all. at last came the great day of the canoe races, and as it had been arranged that all the friends should go on mr. clarke's yacht to the place selected, and take a position on the river from which the races could be seen from beginning to end, the occasion had been looked forward to with great anticipations. when the happy party stopped at the dock for mrs. cope and the boys, the greetings were unusually enthusiastic, for a more perfect day had not been seen since the campers had come to pine tree island. a few masses of silver clouds could be seen in the sky, but the sun was shining clear and strong. a gentle breeze ruffled the surface of the river, and the air was delightfully cool and bracing. life was indeed worth living now, and as the light-hearted members of the party assembled on board the yacht, their laughter and joyous expressions seemed all a part of the day. when ben quietly picked up his canoe and placed that too on board, a shout greeted him; but as all already knew that he was determined to enter the contest, for he previously had entered his name, no one was surprised; but when, a moment later, bob came, bringing with him a dress-suit case, evidently heavily laden, a fresh shout of surprise was given him. "oh, i knew ben would fall into the water," he declared, "so i have brought a change of clothing for him. i'm very tender-hearted. it's my nature, though, and i can't help it, so you needn't bestow any praise on me." "i shouldn't be surprised if you needed a change yourself," rejoined ben, "before you've finished your race." "whom are you talking about?" demanded bob, in surprise. "i haven't had any time to practise. i've been too busy." "i know all about your busy-ness," retorted ben, sharply. bob glanced up quickly, but ben was looking out over the river now, and it was impossible to catch his eye. the yacht was free from the dock by this time, and was speeding swiftly down the river. for a time, apparently, all other things were forgotten in the joy of the morning. other parties could be seen on the river, and it was evident that they too had started for the same destination, and as the voyage continued, the number of the boats steadily increased. canoes, skiffs, steam-yachts, launches, sailboats, all were there, some draped with bright colors, all displaying flags, and every one carrying eager-hearted spectators who were acting as if life never had known a care or sorrow. at last our party arrived at the place where the races were to be held, and bright-colored buoys, indicative of the course, could be seen on the water. patrol boats kept the course free, and mr. clarke soon selected a favorable place and his yacht was anchored. ben now prepared to take his canoe and start for the head of the course, where all those who were to participate were to assemble. as he lowered the canoe into the water, bob approached him, and said soberly,-- "i think i'll go with you, ben. i've got your clothes here, and you'll need some one to look after you. i'm the kind-hearted friend to do that very thing." "i was expecting you to say that," replied ben. "i was wondering why you didn't speak up before. where's your craft, bob?" "my craft! why, i haven't any here, and you know it;" but a peculiar twinkle in ben's eye caused him to approach, and a whispered conversation at once followed. no one of the others could hear what was said, but the result was apparent when ben consented to his friend's going with him, and in a brief time both boys were in the canoe, and ben was ready to push off. "you'll not forget that we have some luncheon on board, boys," called miss bessie. "you'll surely be back in time to have some of that." "don't be alarmed," laughed ben. "i never knew bob to be late for anything of that kind. i trust you have enough; for he'll be hungry, i can promise you." a cheer followed the boys as ben dipped his paddle in the water, and the canoe darted forward under his powerful strokes. his long form was not particularly graceful, but the speed of his canoe promised well, and jock turned to the others and said,-- "i shouldn't be surprised if ben did get a place in the finals to-day. he's improved wonderfully. the way he has kept at it is a lesson for us all. i wish he might win. i wonder what bob really went with him for? do you know i half suspect he's got a scheme of some kind of his own." no one replied, for the sound of a pistol was now heard, and the first of the races was begun. it was a contest between cat-boats, and as the beautiful little crafts swept into sight and dipped low before the strong and favoring breeze, the shrill whistles of the steam-yachts, the waving of handkerchiefs, and the shouts of the people welcomed them. as no one in our party was acquainted with any of the participants in this race, their interest naturally was not as keen as it was to be in some of the contests which were to follow, but they nevertheless were enthusiastic observers of the man[oe]uvres of the skilfully handled boats. on they came, keeping well in line, their white sails and whiter sides glistening in the sunlight, and presenting a wondrously beautiful spectacle as they swept down the river. as mr. clarke now discovered that most of the yachts were not anchored, but were free to follow the contestants outside the buoys, he, too, took his anchor on board and steamed down the river so that they could watch the boats all the way. the shores of the islands were lined with interested spectators, and the waving of bunting, and the cheers of the people, as the fleet boats approached, redoubled. at last the stake was turned, and the boats started on the home stretch. they were not bunched as they had been, but three had gained over their rivals, and, well together, were tacking and striving each to gain an advantage over the others. it could be seen now that one was more skilfully handled than the other two, and soon it was distinctly gaining upon both. on and on they came, and finally the _thistle_, bending gracefully before the breeze, swept first across the line, the men on board swinging their caps and shouting in their delight, while the screams of the whistles and the cheers of the spectators sounded shrilly in response. it certainly was a very inspiring sight, and the party on board mr. clarke's yacht, though they were strangers to the winners, were cheering as lustily in their delight as if it had been one of their own company who had secured the first prize. a race between canoes equipped with double bat-winged sails followed, and the stirring scene was again enacted. the whistles blew and banners were waved, and the winning boat was as lustily cheered as the successful one in the first contest had been. then followed a contest between canoes with a single bat-wing sail, and once more the interest of the spectators voiced itself in the same expressive manner which had been used before. the excitement on the yacht very markedly increased when it was learned that the next race was to be between canoes with one paddler in each. in the row of beautiful little canoes which took their places in line, ben's long form could be easily distinguished. as the party hailed his appearance with a cheer, ben turned and discovered them, and while striving to wave his cap in response, almost destroyed his balance, and was very nearly thrown into the river. there was no disposition among his friends to laugh now, and the girls uttered a little cry of dismay at the threatened mishap; but as ben speedily regained his balance, they all became silent as they watched him intently. his long arms were bare, and his bright red sweater was to be easily distinguished in the line. in a moment the pistol sounded, and the racers were off. there were seven contestants, and their paddles struck the water together. for a few minutes the line was almost unbroken; then it could be seen that three or four were pulling ahead of their rivals, and among the number was ben. faster and faster swept the frail little barks, and the interest of the spectators was evidently much keener than it had been in the other contests. the forms of the paddlers seemed to move like clock-work. the paddles were dipped rapidly and steadily, and the race between the leaders was very close. slowly ben gained upon his nearest rival and passed him, and then, with longer, swifter strokes, strove to gain upon the two who were still in advance of him. inch by inch, foot by foot, the distance decreased. soon only about twenty yards remained between him and the end. once more the determined boy bent to his task. his body swayed back and forth, the paddle was driven deeper into the water, and the light canoe seemed to gain increased speed. people were cheering wildly all about him, and a cloud of banners seemed to be waving on every side. again ben responded, and was striving to use all his remaining power. he was not directly behind his competitors, being several yards to their left, and now he was not more than two feet in their rear. if only the course were a little longer, he thought, he would surely win; but shutting his teeth firmly together, he doggedly resolved to do his best. his eyes were almost closed, and his breath was coming in gasps. suddenly there was a moment of intense silence, as the shouting abruptly ceased, but ben was oblivious of it all. in a moment, however, the shouting redoubled, there was a shrill screech of the whistles, and ben knew that he was across the line and alone. as he turned about he discovered that his competitors had met with a mishap, and that one, in his zeal, had paddled directly into the other, and both canoes had been capsized in the collision. their misfortune had left ben the winner. the yacht speedily approached, and as the girls waved their handkerchiefs and his friends called out their approval, mr. clarke assisted him to come on board. "i can congratulate you on winning the race," said mr. clarke, cordially. "oh, i haven't won it," replied ben, his flushed face beaming with pleasure. "that's only the preliminary. the finals are to come off this afternoon." somewhat disappointed, the party was headed up the river again, and soon approached the starting-place. they all laughed when they learned that a tub race was now to take place, and the astonishment of all except ben was great when they discovered that one of the contestants was none other than their missing friend, bob. chapter xxxii. conclusion. a tub race was a decided novelty to all the members of our party except the young ladies, who had seen one in the preceding summer, but there were special reasons now why they were as interested as their friends in the contest which was to take place. there were tubs large and small, some new and some evidently having seen hard service, and the paddles were of various sizes and ages. there were at least fifteen of the contestants, and bob's sturdy form could be easily distinguished, for he was the fourth from the end nearest our friends. the report of the pistol rang out sharply, and in a moment the race was begun. the scene which followed was one that beggared description. the observant crowd of spectators shouted and cheered and laughed, and it almost seemed as if pandemonium itself reigned supreme. meanwhile the contestants entered into the struggle with apparently all the zeal that had been manifested by their predecessors. the paddles were driven deep into the water and some of the men were making desperate efforts to outstrip their fellows. but the control of the awkward crafts was no simple matter. at times, for some unaccountable reason, the tubs would begin to turn and whirl, and, despite the efforts of the paddlers, would go in a direction apparently opposite to that which was desired. one poor fellow had already been thrown into the water, and as he was speedily drawn forth by his waiting friends, shouts of laughter seemed to be his only reward. bob was moving steadily with the current, and although several tubs were in advance of him, he did not appear to be troubled. he was not exerting himself as were most of the others, his foremost desire being to keep his tub from whirling and within the current. suddenly one of the tubs was seen to be headed directly toward bob. the occupant struggled desperately to prevent a collision, but his efforts only served to increase his helplessness. "look out!" called bob, sharply. "keep off, or you'll hit me!" the man endeavored to change his course, but his increased exertions only deprived him of what little control he still had, and in a moment the twisting, awkward craft came straight toward the alarmed bob. the lad was watchful, however, and as the tub came within reach he gave it a sudden push with his paddle and the peril was averted. the effect almost destroyed bob's own balance, and for a moment it seemed as if he must be capsized, but as he righted himself he glanced at his rival, who was now in a sad state. he had raised his own paddle to return the thrust the anxious bob had given him, but his zeal had not been wisely directed. the tub leaned dangerously to one side and as the boatman strove to right it, he threw himself too far to the other side, and after "wabbling" for an instant, it suddenly capsized and threw its occupant into the water. as he came to the surface he hastily swam to the upturned tub, and was soon rescued by the men who were skirting the racers for that very purpose. bob, however, had no time to waste upon his unfortunate competitor, and was carefully guiding his own treacherous craft. he could see that some of the desperate men about him were going sidewise or backward, and were striking out wildly with their paddles, striving to change the method as well as the direction of the procedure. others were whirling and spinning about in a manner to make even an observer dizzy, to say nothing of the struggling paddler himself. bob was not striving for speed, and was trusting much to the swiftness of the current to bear him on toward the coveted goal, and as he drew near the end, the wisdom of his course became apparent. those who had been in advance of him were losing the advantage they had gained by some unfortunate stroke of their paddles, which sent their unwieldy tubs to whirling madly, and speed and control were soon both lost. on and on moved the few tubs which still were in the race, bobbing up and down, and frequently stopping and whirling madly about as if some sudden and irresistible impulse had seized them. the confusion increased as the goal could be seen, and the first prize lay between bob and two rivals. slowly and carefully bob increased his stroke, and now only ten feet yet remained to be crossed. the three tubs were close together, and bunched for the final effort. suddenly bob drove his paddle far down into the water, and exerting all his strength, sent his tub forward with his final effort; but directly in front of him one of his rivals had drifted, and in a moment they struck together. the other contestant, to save himself, had instantly grasped bob's tub and "wabbling," careening, threatening every moment to capsize, the two crossed the line together, and their mutual rival was a full yard behind them. instantly the whistles and shouts announced the end of the race, and bob's rival turned good-naturedly to him and said,-- "i've got the first prize and you the second, though you wouldn't have had it if i hadn't towed you over the line." "that's for the judges to decide," laughed bob. "i think you fouled me and held me back with your hands, or i'd been first." the boats now swarmed in, and, amidst the laughter of the people, it was decided that the first prize should be divided, for the two tubs had crossed the line after the manner in which the siamese twins had moved through life, together. "it's another case of 'united we stand, divided we fall,'" remarked bob, as the decision was announced. but there was no opportunity for further conversation, for mr. clarke's yacht now steamed close in, and bob and his tub were received on board. "a wise man of gotham who went to sea in a bowl," said miss bessie, as bob quietly took his seat. "i congratulate you." "thank you," replied bob. "did you say you had had your luncheon?" "no, we've been waiting for the victor. we'll have it now." as she departed to look after the various baskets, jock said, "bob, you're the greatest fellow i ever saw. you never seem to be working much, but yet you always come out all right. it's the same way with your studies. you don't work as hard as i do, but you always beat me. i don't understand it." "don't you believe that bob doesn't work," interrupted bert. "i know him better than you do. it's the thing he doesn't do that helps bob, as much as what he does do. now i watched him out there in the race. most of the other fellows were striking out with their paddles in every direction, but bob here just watched the current and let that do most of the work. it's the same way with his studies. most of the fellows spend half their time in fussing around and getting ready, and then breaking in on their work after they've once begun. but you never saw bob do that. he never makes a false move, or an unnecessary one, and when he starts, he just keeps at the necessary things and lets the others go. bob does so well because he makes everything count." "that's the secret of success, young man," said mr. clarke. "the reason why so many men fail in life is because they waste their time and strength in unnecessary things, and don't learn what not to do." "i think our luncheon is ready now," said miss bessie, as she rejoined the group. "i had a basket of fruit i was going to give you," she added, speaking to bob, "but i'm afraid it's spoiled." "never mind. to the victors belong the spoils," said ben. "give it to him just the same." a groan followed ben's pun, but the sight of the welcome baskets speedily banished all other thoughts, and for a time the scene on board the yacht was one in which all who were there certainly rejoiced. the perfect summer day, the sight of the many boats moving about over the river, the bright colors to be seen on every side, the animation and happiness of those on board the yacht, were sufficient to inspire all, and certainly the party in which we are particularly interested was not one that required much beyond the youth and health which were theirs to make them have an enjoyable time. their delight was increased when in the "finals" for the canoe races ben was able to secure third prize. he himself was more than content with the award, for he had been compelled to enter the lists against some who had had the practice and experience of many summers, and he had had but one. his long arms, and, above all, his persistence in the face of all obstacles, had availed; and when our boys returned to camp they were highly delighted with the achievements of the day, as we may be well assured were the other members of the party. on the way home mr. clarke had related the further story of the exploits of the "pirate," bill johnston, but it is doubtful whether any of the party retained a very clear recollection of the dark doings of the aforesaid bill, and even bob himself had only a dim impression that after various brilliant-hued deeds, in the so-called patriot war, he had been captured and taken to albany, but had soon procured a release and returned to the thousand islands, where among his various occupations he had been keeper of one of the lighthouses to the day of his death. miss bessie had not entered the canoe races, as her father had objected, but she had expressed her willingness to race with ben whenever he felt disposed to enter into a contest with her. whether it was her challenge or not, i cannot say, but in the days which followed there were many hours spent by our boys at "the rocks," or in coursing over the river in mr. clarke's fleet yacht. and what days they were! every morning brought its own fresh experiences, and it was the regular thing for the boys to declare at night when they returned to the camp and prepared for bed, that _this_ was the best day yet. but all things are said to have an end, and certainly the camp on pine tree island proved to be no exception to the rule. the september days had come, and though the crowds about the river became decidedly thinned, our boys still remained, and jock's mother was still at the hotel at alexandria bay. only one week remained before the beginning of the fall term in college, and it was at last decided that on the morrow the camp should be broken. it was with special pleasure the last evening in camp that jock broached a subject to ethan and tom in which he had been deeply interested, and concerning which he had had much correspondence with his father, and that was the promise of a position for tom in mr. cope's office in new york. ethan at first was inclined to demur, but at last gave his consent, inasmuch as the position promised to be one which eventually might yield even more than the marvellous "dollar and a half a day," to which he had made such frequent references during the summer. the last visit to the clarkes had been made, the last sail taken in ethan's catboat, the last spin enjoyed in the canoes, and now the boys were seated together for the last time before the roaring camp-fire, which in honor of the occasion had been made even larger than usual. far out over the river the flickering lights cast their shadows. the moaning in the tree tops was more pronounced, as was only fitting in a september evening and before the departure of the boys. the sound of the laughter in the camp was more subdued, and all seemed to feel the sadness of parting, even from such inanimate objects as the rushing river and the green-covered islands. for a time the boys were silent, then ben, who could not long refrain from talking, said, "it's been a great summer, jock. i don't know how we'll ever repay you." "you have done that already," replied jock. "i'm glad you fellows have had a good time. i know i've enjoyed it." "there's been only one drawback," suggested ben. "what's that?" "that volume of c's in the cyclopædia. cartier, champlain, cavon, cortereal, chimney island--" "oh, that's all right, too," replied jock, laughing. "we've been on _the trail of the early discoverers_, haven't we? well, we ought to know something about them. we haven't had enough to spoil us." "i trow not," interrupted bob, solemnly. "i say, fellows," said jock, as a sudden thought seemed to strike him, "wouldn't it be a great thing to keep on with this! we've been on this trail this summer; now, why shouldn't we keep on and follow them into other places next summer?" "a colossal idea," said bert, "if it can be worked out." "i'm going to fix that," said jock, decidedly. "come on now, fellows, it's time we were in bed. let's fire off the cannon for the last time." in a moment the roar of the cannon awoke the echoes, and then silence rested over the camp and the river. * * * * * books by everett t. tomlinson. the war of series [illustration] six volumes cloth illustrated by a. b. shute price per volume reduced to $ . no american writer for boys has ever occupied a higher position than dr. tomlinson, and the "war of series" covers a field attempted by no other juvenile literature in a manner that has secured continued popularity. the search for andrew field the boy soldiers of the boy officers of tecumseh's young braves guarding the border the boys with old hickory st. lawrence series cruising in the st. lawrence being the third volume of the "st. lawrence series" cloth illustrated price $ . our old friends, "bob," "ben," "jock," and "bert," having completed their sophomore year at college, plan to spend the summer vacation cruising on the noble st. lawrence. here they not only visit places of historic interest, but also the indian tribes encamped on the banks of the river, and learn from them their customs, habits, and quaint legends. _previous volumes_ camping on the st. lawrence or, on the trail of the early discoverers cloth illustrated $ . the house-boat on the st. lawrence or, following frontenac cloth illustrated $ . _by the same author_ stories of the american revolution first and second series cloth illustrated $ . each lee & shepard, publishers-boston phillips exeter series by a. t. dudley _illustrated by charles copeland. cloth. price per vol., $ . _ _first volume_ following the ball [illustration] here is an up-to-date story presenting american boarding-school life and modern athletics. the scene will readily be recognized as at exeter. of course football is an important feature, and in tracing the development of the hero from a green player to an expert it might serve as a guide. other branches of athletics are also finely dealt with. but it is far more than a football book. it is a story of character formation told in a most wholesome and manly way. in this development athletics play an important part, to be sure, but are only one feature in carrying the hero, "dick melvin," on to a worthy manhood. "a seasonable school and football story, by a writer who knows the game and knows boys as well. it is of the 'tom brown' type, an uplifting as well as a lively story."--_advance_, chicago, ill. _second volume_ making the nine [illustration] the cordial reception of the great football story, "following the ball," which had the distinction of so fine a spirit in its development of the hero's school life that not only the boys but their elders were enthusiastic over it, has led to this second book, in which baseball is sufficiently prominent to suggest the title. it is a pleasure for a publisher to present such a book as this, in every way worthy to continue the success of the previous volume. the special points of excellence are that the story is lively and worth telling, and the life presented is that of a real school, interesting, diversified, and full of striking incidents, while the characters are true and consistent types of american boyhood and youth. the athletics are technically correct, abounding in helpful suggestions, soundly and wisely given, and the moral tone is high and set by action rather than preaching. lee & shepard, publishers, boston tom winstone, "wide awake" by martha james author of "my friend jim" and "jack tenfield's star" large mo. cloth. illustrated by w. herbert dunton. price $ . [illustration] "another book equally worthy of a place in our sunday-school libraries is tom winstone, 'wide awake,' by martha james. it is a thorough-going boy's book of the right sort,--full of life, bubbling over with high spirits and noble ambition; a most intelligent interpretation of boy life and character. the young hero of this narrative, equally efficient in athletics at school and in the harder school of manly sacrifice, is a character well worth knowing."--_pilgrim teacher, boston._ "the young hero of the story, equally efficient in athletic sports and in noble deeds, is well worth the acquaintance of every healthy boy reader."--_boston transcript._ "any healthy boy will delight in this book."--_living church, milwaukee, wis._ "another excellent story for boys is tom winstone, 'wide awake,' by martha james. here is a recital of adventure, with much account of boyish sport, in a pure tone and with christian teaching."--_fall river news._ "this is a real 'boy's story,' full of incidents and interesting characters drawn to the life, while the tone is wholesome and genuine."--_portland press._ "the author has done a good work for the lads of the generation, and her effort will doubtless meet with the popularity it deserves."--_indianapolis sentinel._ _for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers._ lee & shepard, publishers, boston young heroes of wire and rail by alvah milton kerr illustrated by h. c. edwards, j. c. leyendecker, and others _ mo cloth price $ . _ [illustration] this is a book of wonderfully vivid stories of railroad life, portraying the heroism of trainmen, telegraph operators, and despatchers, each story a complete drama in itself, with thrilling climax, and yet too truthful to be classed as sensational. it is by alvah milton kerr, formerly a train-despatcher of long experience, and now a justly noted writer of railroad stories, who has brought together from many sources the most striking acts of heroism performed during the last quarter of a century of railroad activity, and has cast them in stories of singularly intense interest. most of these stories first appeared in "mcclure's magazine," "the youth's companion," "philadelphia saturday evening post" and "success;" which fact is a very strong guarantee of merit. no one who begins reading these stories in this finely printed, illustrated, and bound book will be likely to allow anything to interfere with their completion. "an ideal book for a young boy is 'young heroes of wire and rail,' and, indeed, the older folks who begin to read will continue to the end."--_episcopal recorder, philadelphia._ "the tone of the work is healthful and inspiring."--_boston herald._ "they teach more bravery, unselfishness and forethought in a page than can be imparted in an hour of 'ethical' instruction in school."--_new york times._ "the tone of the stories is fine, showing unexpected bravery and courage in many of the characters."--_delineator, new york._ "a book that not only yields entertainment and healthy excitement, but reveals some of the possibilities always confronting railroad workers and train despatchers."--_christian register, boston._ "they are calculated to inspire boys to become manly, and incidentally they contain considerable valuable information."--_newark news._ _for sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers._ lee & shepard, publishers, boston [illustration: once he had to paddle like a madman to keep from being sucked into the largest whirlpool along the course. (page )] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- canoe mates in canada or three boys afloat on the saskatchewan by st. george rathborne author of "the house boat boys," "chums in dixie," "the young fur takers," etc. m. a. donohue & co., chicago ----------------------------------------------------------------------- canoe and campfire series four books of woodcraft and adventure in the forest and on the water that every boy scout should have in his library by st. george rathborne canoemates in canada; or, three boys afloat on the saskatchewan. the young fur-takers; or, traps and trails in the wilderness. the house-boat boys; or, drifting down to the sunny south. chums in dixie; or, the strange cruise of a motor boat. camp mates in michigan; or, with pack and paddle in the pine woods. rocky mountain boys; or, camping in the big game country. in these four delightful volumes the author has drawn bountifully from his thirty-five years experience as a true sportsman and lover of nature, to reveal many of the secrets of the woods, such as all boys scouts strive to know. and, besides, each book is replete with stirring adventures among the four-footed denizens of the wilderness; so that a feast of useful knowledge is served up, with just that class of stirring incidents so eagerly welcomed by all boys with red blood in their veins. for sale wherever books are sold, or sent prepaid for cents each by the publishers. copyright, , m. a. donohue & co. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- contents chapter page i. a plunge down the rapids ii. the camp under the hemlocks iii. comrades iv. the three smoke signals v. the false chart of dubois vi. the timber-cruiser vii. owl and timber wolf viii. the call of the wild ix. trapper lore x. magic in the berries xi. a break in the chain xii. on the track of eli xiii. birds of a feather xiv. without authority xv. scents a mystery xvi. a little witch xvii. seen through the open door xviii. owen finds himself a prisoner xix. for so it was written xx. the tent dwellers xxi. at dead of night xxii. conclusion ----------------------------------------------------------------------- canoe mates in canada or afloat on the saskatchewan chapter i. a plunge down the rapids. kneeling in a "bullboat," fashioned from the skin of an animal, and wielding a paddle with the dexterity only to be attained after years of practice in canoeing, a sturdily-built and thoroughly bronzed canadian lad glanced ever and anon back along the course over which he had so recently passed; and then up at the black storm clouds hurrying out of the mysterious north. it was far away in the wilderness of the northwest, where this fierce tributary of the great saskatchewan came pouring down from the timber-clad hills; and all around the lone voyager lay some of the wildest scenery to be met with on the whole continent. here and there in this vast territory one might come across the occasional trading posts of the wide-reaching hudson bay company, at each of which the resident factor ruled with the arbitrary power of a little czar. it might be he would discover the fire of some ishmaelite of the forest, a wandering "timber-cruiser," marking out new and promising fields for those he served, and surveying the scene of possible future bustling logging camps. otherwise the country at this time was a vast unknown land, seldom penetrated by human kind, save the indian fur gatherers. considering that he was in so vast a wilderness this adventurous lad appeared to have scant luggage in his well battered bullboat--indeed, beyond the buskskin jacket, which he had thrown off because of his exertions, there did not seem to be anything at all aboard the craft, not even a gun, by means of which he might provide himself with food while on the journey downstream. this singular fact would seem to indicate that he might have had trouble of some sort back yonder. indeed, the occasional glances which he cast over his shoulder added strength to this possibility; though the look upon his strong face was more in the line of chagrin and anger than fear. now and then he shook his curly head, and muttered something; and once a name passed his lips in anything but a friendly fashion--that of alexander gregory. swifter grew the current, giving plain warning to one so well versed as this lad must be in the vagaries of these mad rivers of the silent land that presently it would be racing furiously down a steep incline, with razoredge rocks on every side, apparently only too eager to rend asunder the frail canoe of the adventurous cruiser. still owen dugdale continued to ply the nimble paddle, weaving it in and out like a shuttle. he kept to the middle of the river when it would seem to at least have been the part of wisdom had he edged his craft closer to either shore, so that he might, in time, make a safe landing in preference to trusting himself to the mercy of the wild rapids, in which his frail bullboat would be but as a chip in the swirl of conflicting waters. already had the vanguard of the storm swept down upon him. an inky pall began to shut out the daylight, and when a sudden flash of lightning cleft the low-hanging clouds overhead the effect was perfectly staggering. the roar of thunder that followed quick upon its heels was like the explosion of a twelve-inch gun as heard in the steel-jacketed turret of a modern battleship. again and again was the rushing river, with its grim forest-clad shores lighted up by the rapid-fire electric flashes. all around crashed the loud-toned thunderclaps, rumbling and roaring until the whole affair became a perfect pandemonium; and brave indeed must be the soul that could gaze upon it without dismay and flinching. it was just then, before the rain had begun to descend, and while the artillery of heaven flashed and roared with all the fury of a gettysburg, that owen dugdale found himself plunging into the dangerous rapids, ten times more to be feared under such conditions than ordinary. possibly he may have regretted his rashness in sticking to the middle of the channel until it was too late to change his course; but apparently the solitary young canuck was at the time in somewhat of a desperate frame of mind, and recked little what might be the result of his mad act of defiance to the combined powers of tempest and boiling rapids. at least he showed no signs of shrinking from the consequences. beyond shifting his weight a trifle, as if to settle himself better for the desperate work that faced him, he remained just as before, on his knees. crouching amidships, lie held his paddle poised as if ready to thrust it into the swirling water at a second's notice, to stay the progress of the canoe as it lunged toward a threatening rock, or glided too near a roaring whirlpool, where disaster was certain to follow. owen dugdale was no novice at shooting rapids, though never before could he have undertaken such a fierce fight as the one in which he was now engaged, for the combination of the elements made it simply appalling. the stirring scene might have appealed to the instinct of an artist; but so far as the lad was concerned he had only eyes for the perils with which he was surrounded, and his whole soul seemed wrapped up in the prompt meeting of each emergency as it flashed before him. a dozen times he would have met with sudden disaster but for the instantaneous manner in which his hand followed the promptings of his brain. even then it was a mighty close shave more than once, for the boat rubbed up against several snags in whirling past, any one of which would have sunk the frail craft had it been a head-on collision. once he had to paddle like a madman to keep from being sucked into the largest whirlpool along the course; which seemed to reach out eager fingers, and strive to the utmost to engulf him in its gluttonous maw. thanks to the almost incessant lightning, owen was enabled to see these perils in time to take action, else he must have been speedily overwhelmed in the fury of the rushing waters. while the time might have seemed an eternity to the brave lad who battled for his very life, in reality it could not have been more than a couple of minutes at most that he was shooting down that foamy descent, dodging hither and thither as the caprice of the rapids or the impetus of his paddle dictated. just below him was the finish of the dangerous fall, and as so often happens, the very last lap proved to be more heavily charged with disaster than any of those above, even though they appeared to be far worse. being a son of the wilderness, owen dugdale had probably never heard of the kindred terrors that used to lie in wait for the bold mariners of ancient greece--the rock and the whirlpool known as scylla and charybdis--if they missed being impaled upon the one they were apt to be engulfed in the other--and yet here in the rapids of this furious saskatchewan feeder he was brought face to face with a proposition exactly similar to that of mythology. he strove valiantly to meet the occasion, and his sturdy sweep of the paddle did send him away from the ugly pointed rock; but the last whirlpool was so close that he was not enabled to fully recover in time to throw his whole power into the second stroke; consequently his canoe was caught in the outer edge of the swirl, and before one could even wink twice it capsized. this was not the first time owen had met with such a disaster while shooting rapids and he had his wits about him for all of the confusion that surrounded him there. his very first act was to clutch hold of the canoe, and throw all his energies into the task of avoiding the deadly suction of the whirlpool, for once he fell into its grip there must be only a question of seconds ere he reached its vortex and went under. fortune, aided by his own violent efforts, favored him, and as a result he managed to swim down the balance of the rapid, and reach the smoother waters below, still hanging on with a desperate clutch to his poor old boat, while his other hand gripped the paddle. the canoe was full of water, but it did not sink, being buoyant enough to keep on the surface; but owen found it as much as he could do to push the unwieldly thing along when he began to make for the nearest shore. exciting as this adventure had been, it was only an episode in a life such as he had spent up in this vast region, where the first lesson a boy learns is to take care of himself, and meet peril in any guise. there was not the least doubt with regard to his ability to gain the nearby shore with his wrecked canoe, even if left to himself. nevertheless, when his ears caught the sound of encouraging shouts, and he realized that his perilous descent of the rapids had been witnessed by sympathetic eyes, it gave mm a thrill to know that friends were near by, and waiting to assist him, if such were necessary. but young dugdale was an independent lad, accustomed to relying altogether upon his own endeavors, as one must always do whose life is spent in the heart of the great lone land of the far northwest. hence, he kept on swimming with his boat until he could wade, and in this way came out of the river dripping, temporarily held in check by his misfortune, but not in the least dismayed. two figures hurried to meet him, though they arrived too late to give him a helping hand in effecting a landing. owen looked at them in amazement--he had at the most anticipated that those whose encouraging shouts had reached his ears while in the water must be some timber-cruisers who chanced to be camping at the foot of the rapids for the fishing to be found there; or it might be several of the halfbreed _voyageurs_ employed by the hudson bay company to carry furs from far distant posts to some station on the railroad; but he found himself gazing upon neither. two boys confronted him, neither of them much older than himself, and utter strangers at that. owen had never had a chum; and indeed, his life had been a lonely one, burdened by responsibilities that had made him much older than his years--his scanty associations had been with hardy lumbermen or _voyageurs_, so that the presence of this twain struck him as the most mysterious and remarkable thing in all his experience. and they seemed so solicitous concerning his welfare, insisting upon taking hold of the boat and pulling the same clear of the water, that he almost began to fancy he must be dreaming. "now," exclaimed the taller of the two, when this job had been finished, "come right up to our tent, where we have a bully fire that will dry you off in a jiffy. and our coffee is just ready, too--i rather guess that'll warm you up some. eli, it's lucky you made an extra supply, after all. looks as if you expected we'd have company drop in on us. i'll carry the paddle--good you hung on to it, for it's a tough job to whittle one out, i know. here we are, old chap, and believe me, you're a thousand times welcome!" chapter ii. the camp under the hemlocks. young owen dugdale's heart thrilled within him. in all his life he could not exactly remember a single time when he had been thus warmly welcomed to any camp. why, it was almost worth shooting the rapids and meeting with disaster to hear such words, and feel that every one was meant. who were these lads, and why were they here in this faraway land? his astonished eyes fell upon the craft that had evidently carried them up the river from some hamlet, scores, perhaps hundreds, of miles away. such a dandy canoe owen dugdale had never dreamed existed in the whole wide world, for it was of varnished cedar, and with its nickeled trimmings, glistened there under the hemlocks in the flash of the lightning, and the glow of the protected campfire. he seemed to feel somehow that this apparent calamity upon the river had been the "open sesame" for him to enter upon a new and perhaps delightful experience; rather a rough introduction perhaps, but then he knew only such in the range of his past. and the delicious odor of that supper was enough to arouse the dormant appetite of one who had foresworn all cookery, one of these modern cranks determined to exist upon nuts and fruit, which our young friend of the bullboat certainly was not. both lads bustled about trying to make him comfortable near the cheery blaze, and then filling a pannikin with the canoeist's stew of corn beef, succotash and left-over potatoes, they invited him to set-to, nor wait for them a second. owen could not have restrained himself, once his nostrils became saturated with those delicious odors, and he started to eat like a starving chap; as indeed, he came very near being, seeing that he had not partaken of a mouthful of food for almost twenty-four hours, and then but scantily. then came a cup of such coffee as he had never before tasted, with condensed milk to mellow the same, and close at his hand was placed a package of crackers into which he was expected to dip as the humor seized him. boys never like to talk while hungry, and no matter how strong the curiosity on both sides might be, nothing was said beyond the usual courtesies necessary in passing things, until one and all declared themselves satisfied. but, although their tongues were silent during this half-hour, their eyes did double duty, and owen found a thousand things at which to wonder. the canoe had been enough to excite his curiosity, but everything he saw about the camp was in keeping with such luxury. the dun-colored tent was a beauty, and doubtless positively waterproof, for the rain that had been beating down ever since they commenced eating had found no inlet; and the fly over the fire sufficed to keep it from being extinguished. he saw several warbags of the same kind of canvas, evidently used for the storage of clothes and provisions; and in addition there were a couple of guns, rubber ponchos, gray blankets that peeped out of two expensive sleeping bags, and a couple of black japanned boxes the contents of which he could not picture, unless they might be something in the way of surveyors' instruments; for owen had once seen a party of these gentry running a line through the forest, and hence his vague application now. these things had been taken in with a few glances around; but the two boys themselves occupied most of his attention, and he found himself trying to study out what they were--the taller one he understood immediately must be in command, for his whole appearance indicated it, while the shorter chap was of the calibre not unlike himself, bronzed from a life in the open, and with a cheery manner that drew the waif toward him from the start. both were dressed for business, with no unnecessary frills; and it was evident that if the leader of the mysterious expedition was possessed of unlimited means he also had enough common sense to deny himself luxuries when upon such a long cruise. when every one declared that not another bite could be taken, eli pulled out a pipe, being evidently addicted to smoking, and his comrade, finding that the newcomer had dried out pretty thoroughly, hunted up a spare jacket from one of the bags, which he insisted upon owen donning, since the storm, now a thing of the past, had been followed by a cool wave that made the fire doubly pleasant. "now," said the tall lad, with one of his winning smiles, that drew owen to him so wonderfully, "let's exchange confidences a bit, just as far as you care to go and no further. first of all my name is cuthbert reynolds, and i'm from across the border, a yankee to the backbone; and this is eli perkins, also an american boy, a native of the lumber regions of michigan, and with his fortunes bound up in mine." "and i'm owen dugdale," said the other, knowing the pause was intended for him to break in with the mention of his name; "a native canuck, and at home in this timber region--my parents were of scotch descent i believe. and the first thing i want to say is that i'm mighty glad to be here with you just now. i was just about as hungry as a bear, and only for you i don't see what i could have done, after that ducking, for my matches must have been wet, and i would have gone to sleep hungry and cold." the tall lad hastened to interrupt him, evidently not fancying being thanked for doing what was apparently the greatest pleasure in the world to him. "hold on, please; we understand all that. you're a thousand times welcome, and i tell you right now nothing could have happened to please me better than meeting up with you. you can bet there's something besides chance in it. now, naturally you're wondering what in the dickens two fellows of our stripe are doing wandering about up here in the far northwest like a couple of nomads. "well, perhaps when you learn the actual truth you'll wonder harder than ever how it is one of us has escaped landing in a lunatic asylum up to this time; but as some of my friends say to me, youthful enthusiasm is responsible for many queer things, and so long as my wonderful ambition is to copy after stanley in the line of exploring, why, they don't worry. "they say i have more money than i know what to do with, anyway, and if it must be blown in somehow, why, this is a harmless way of doing it, dangerous only to myself, and any other foolish chap whom i may influence to accompany me on my mad expeditions," and as he spoke he glanced affectionately in the direction of the homely, freckled but good-humored eli, who returned the look with a grin and an emphatic nod of approval. "now, you see, eli has been with the lumbermen all his life, and is as hardy as they make them. what he doesn't know about the woods isn't worth telling; and so we make a pretty good team, for i've picked up a little knowledge about camp life during my canoeing days in the east, and manage to fill in the gaps in eli's education, along the line of woodcraft. "i might as well make a full confession in the start, for you're bound to get on to my weakness if we see much of each other, and i hope we will. ever, since i was knee-high to a grasshopper i've been inoculated with the exploring bee, read everything ever printed in that line, and pictured myself doing wonderful stunts like livingstone and stanley." it was only to be expected then that when i was left my own master at the death of my father, i would pursue my hobby to the limit; and i rather guess i have been on the jump for two years. haven't made myself famous yet, and a little of my enthusiasm in that line has dribbled away; but i'm just as determined to work in the field of research as ever; only age is beginning to tone down my earlier wild notions, and after this last and crowning folly i think i shall hitch up with some veteran who knows it all, and be content to work up from the ranks. "i started out on this expedition with great notions of making such a trip as no man had ever before attempted, passing up a branch of the saskatchewan, making a portage with the assistance of the crees or chippewas to some convenient branch of the athabasca river, and voyage on to the lake of that name by fall, winter there perhaps at the hudson bay post, and in the spring by means of the chain of lakes and rivers that i understand connect the athabasca lake with hudson bay, arrive at that vast sheet of water in time to be picked up by some whaler and carried home a winner. "makes you smile, i guess--well, it strikes me as funny, now that i've been navigating this country for several months, and only gotten this far; but when i laid out the trip it was a serious business for me, and i couldn't see anything but success ahead of me. i've had my fun, and i'm ready to call the game off. this is a man's work, i understand now, and i'm out of the exploring business for the time, only now that we're up so far eli and myself want to see all we can of the country; and eli has some notions in the line of discovering rich copper ledges that he means to work while wandering about this unknown land, eh, old man?" in this boyish, familiar manner did he address his comrade, and eli as usual laughed good-naturedly and nodded his head--evidently he had a fund of humor in his make-up that could not be disturbed by any amount of "joshing." cuthbert halted in his explanations; he did not hint at such a thing, but evidently it was up to owen to tell something at least in connection with his presence in the neighborhood, and how he came to be rushing down the dangerous rapids at the time the storm broke, when it would appear the part of wisdom for one who knew the peril involved as well as he did, to land and portage around the troubled water. the lad acted a little as though confused, not knowing just how much he should tell in connection with himself; but taking a brace he finally spoke up--eli was adding some wood to the fire from a stock they had laid in dry when the storm was seen approaching, while cuthbert busied himself in making his seat more comfortable, though in reality it was done in order not to appear to be noticing the coloring-up of the guest, about whom he seemed to realize that there was a bit of a mystery. "i told you my name was owen dugdale, and that i had always lived up in this country. well, that is hardly so, for when i was a little chap i remember being in montreal with my parents for a spell; but they came back here and i've never gone out of the woods since. "my mother taught me all i know, for she was a lady, and had been educated in a convent school in that city. my father was used to the life of the woods, and i learned everything connected with that from him. i lost my mother two years ago, and my father later. that's about all there is in connection with me. i--i had some trouble up the river at the post, and was making my way down with the intention of leaving this country forever when this accident happened. i'm glad it did happen, because it's thrown me in with two such good fellows. you'll be surprised when i tell you that i've never had a boy friend in all my life; and--well, it's mighty fine to be sitting here and talking with you both. i wish i could do something to return the favor, that's what." "you can--stay with us a while, and let us have some of the benefit of your knowledge of the country. we'd like nothing better; and if you have no other place to go, why make a third member of the crowd. you have a boat, and as for grub and such, why, we're loaded down with it. don't decide just now, but think it over and tell us in the morning. we won't take no for an answer, remember." owen turned his head away as if to look at something he fancied moved along the edge of the camp; but it was to conceal the tears that came unbidden into his eyes--the genuine warmth of this invitation stirred his heart, and as some resolution sprang into life he gripped his hands and set his teeth hard. chapter iii. comrades. the young canadian sat for a few minutes mute, as though turning over this proposition of cuthbert's in his mind; then suddenly raising his eyes he looked his new friend straight in the face and said: "that's awfully white of you, and i'm going to accept your invitation. i'll be only too glad to stay with you, for a time at least, and serve you as guide. and if you still persist in your determination to ascend the river further, to see all you can while in this country, who should know that region better than myself. let come what will, i am going back!" the impulsive american, after his kind, was bound to seal the bargain with a hearty handshake; and eli, not to be outdone in the matter, also thrust out his broad "paw" as he called it, squeezing that of the other with a strength that made owen wince a bit. at the same time the observing cuthbert could not but note the gritting of owen's teeth when he declared that he was ready to go back into the country from which he had apparently just come; it would appear as though some recent experience up the river did not linger fondly in his memory, and that when he came paddling downstream in his battered old bullboat it might have been with the idea of quitting the country for good. naturally this aroused a little curiosity in the other's mind, though he was not addicted to this failing overly much. what could there be in the depths of the wilderness to bring about this aversion on the part of young dugdale? if cuthbert had allowed himself to ruminate upon this subject all sorts of suspicions might have been aroused; but he was by nature too frank and generous to judge a stranger before he had been given a chance to explain; and the more he looked in the face of the lad, and noted the calm depths of his gray eyes the stronger grew his conviction that owen dugdale, as he called himself, could not descend to anything wrong. some persons carry their character in their faces, and he was of the number. so cuthbert made up his mind to chase all suspicion from his mind; if in his own time the canadian chose to confide in him, well and good; until then he would forget what he had seen of first anxiety and then grim determination, stamped upon that young face. both of the would-be explorers were cast in somewhat of a merry mould, and it was impossible to be in their company long without partaking of their happy-go-lucky spirit. to the sober owen this was about as fine a thing as could ever have happened, for he found it utterly out of the question to ponder gloomily upon the bitter past while these two chaps were whipping jokes back and forth, and insidiously drawing him into the conversation, until greatly to his astonishment he even burst out into a hearty peal of laughter, the first expression of merriment that had sprung from his heart for many a day. perhaps a benign providence had taken pity upon him, and was now bent on sending sunshine where hitherto there had been little save clouds and storm. the more he saw of these cousins from over the line the better he liked them. it was a favorite joke of cuthbert's to compare himself with that wonderfully humorous character of spanish literature, who took himself so solemnly even while he furnished merriment for everybody--don quixote, the knight of la mancha--this wild expedition into the depths of the northwestern unknown land was now, in the originator's mind, about as weird and ridiculous a proposition as any of the adventures of the crazy knight; and he never tired of cracking broad jokes upon the subject. of course, as was natural, honest eli must pose for the faithful squire, sancho panza; and long since he had been told the whole story, so that he was now acquainted with most of the peculiarities of that worthy, and even at times managed to tickle his friend and employer by carrying out the idea in some manner. owen was not ignorant as to the facts, for it chanced that he had read the book, having found an old copy in his cabin home, the property of his mother; so that he was in a condition to enjoy the joke whenever there happened to be a reference made to the ancient couple. the storm had long since passed away down the river, growling in the distance for quite a time; but gradually the stars came peeping out in the broad blue dome overhead, and while the woods dripped with the moisture the prospect for a good day on the morrow seemed propitious. there was room in the tent for three, with a little good-natured crowding; and while owen protested against intruding he was turned down instantly, and compelled to take his place. never in all his life had he been drawn to any one as he was toward these two big-hearted fellows from across the border; and when he lay down finally, after busying himself for half an hour about the fire, he felt like a new boy; such is the confidence generated in the human heart by comradeship. owen had intentionally chosen a position near the exit of the tent, for, seeing that he had spent his life under similar conditions, and it was second nature with him to attend to a fire during the night, he would not hear of either of his new friends attempting it. in spite of his getting up several times between that hour and the breaking of dawn owen slept sounder than he had done for many a day; he seemed to feel a new confidence in himself, as if matters had taken a turn for the better, and in this accidental meeting with his benefactors his fortunes had begun to assume a less gloomy aspect. once, as he was about snuggling down under the extra blanket which had been assigned to him he rested his head upon his hand, his elbow being on the ground, and surveyed the two sleeping lads, for the firelight crept through the opening of the tent, and revealed the interior. it was difficult for him to believe that he had only known these good fellows a comparatively few hours; so strong a hold had they taken upon his heart that it seemed as though he must have met them in his dreams, for they appeared to be occupying a space in his affections that was theirs by right. so the morning found them. when cuthbert awoke he discovered that the new addition to the exploring party was already busily employed in getting things ready for breakfast; whereupon there arose a friendly argument as to whose duty it was to hustle things for the morning meal. this was finally settled by arranging matters so that the three of them could take turns about in the daily duties; and owen chose to begin then. the others were not adverse to letting him have a whack at the culinary department, for they had been going together for a long time now, and both had about exhausted their repertoire in the line of cookery, so that a change would really be a delightful diversion; for almost every camper has his favorite dishes upon which he prides himself, and when two such come together there is always more or less of a friendly rivalry to see which can outdo the other. by degrees such a party comes to recognize the particularly strong points of each member, so that in the end they make a fine team, every one being a star in his favorite line. breakfast was eaten with more or less good natured chaff, such as boys will always indulge in, and older campers as well; for when in the woods it seems as if being brought close back to nature makes children of us all, showing that it is only the care and worry of a strenuous battle for wealth or power that forces men to appear aged and serious. after that came a portage, for the canoes and all the camp duffle had to be transported above the rapids. eli now seemed to notice for the first time that their new friend had virtually nothing but his boat and paddle, and loudly he bewailed the wretched misfortune that had caused everything to be swallowed up in the hungry maw of the swift rapids. at this owen smiled in a curious manner, and openly confessed that the only damage he had sustained besides getting wet, was the loss of his jacket; and he surely had little regret for that missing garment since cuthbert had so kindly clothed him with a spare one of his own. eli may not have been as able to grasp the true significance of this frank declaration as his comrade; but even he realized that the subject must be a sore one with owen, and that it was not wise to ask questions or seem curious, so he immediately turned to other matters. really, he could not be blamed for this wonder, since it was indeed a strange thing to meet with a wanderer in this vast territory so far from the outposts of civilization entirely destitute of the commonest necessities for comfort or the procuring of food--no blanket, cooking utensils, food, and even a gun missing--well, there surely lay back of this a story of unusual interest; and for one eli hoped their new friend would soon take them into his confidence, at least so far that they might be able to help him. after some hard work all the stuff was carried to a point above the rapids, where they could readily launch their craft without being carried down into the hungry maw of the swirling flood. the river had risen somewhat after the rainstorm of the previous night, and evidently there would be no lack of water above; this is always a welcome fact to those who navigate toward the headwaters of rivers, since it is no sport to track canoes over almost dry beds of streams, making "shoes" for the boats in order to prevent their being torn by sharp rocks during the passage. owing to the current, which was particularly swift in the region of the rapids, they had to bend to the paddle with considerable vim when the start was eventually made; but the cruisers were young, and their muscles well seasoned by more or less hard work, so that they gradually drew away from the vicinity of owen's mad voyage among the rocks and sucking whirls of the drop in the river; and the further they went the easier the paddling became. the morning was cool and invigorating after the storm, so that it was not to be wondered at that our young friends felt joyous, and presently eli broke out in a lumberman's "chanty" that he had picked up while in camp--cuthbert joined in the chorus, and unable to withstand the seductive strains, owen found himself also lifting his voice and adding volume to the merry sound. chapter iv. the three smoke signals. cuthbert was delighted when he heard the canadian lad's voice, for he realized that it was one of rare sweetness as well as power; and being fond of singing, and knowing scores of college songs, he promised himself he would in good time teach them to owen, for their voices would blend admirably, while eli's had a certain harshness about it that rather swamped his own baritone. and he was also aware that the _voyageurs_ of the canadian wilds have numerous french boating songs of their own, that are wonderfully adapted to the rhythm and swing of the paddle; possibly owen would know some such, and might be induced to sing them on occasion, all of which would add to the delight of their advance over the waters, onward into further depths of the wilderness where mystery brooded and the unknown abounded, for them, at least. they had managed to make a few miles, but the current was mighty difficult to buck up against, and when finally cuthbert suggested that they take advantage of an alluring point where the trees hung over the water and the situation seemed especially adapted for a campfire, eli greeted the proposal with a grunt of unaffected delight, while even the well seasoned owen felt that something to eat would not come in amiss. to most of us the time to eat is ever a welcome one, especially when we know there are good things in the larder; and with boys this thing of appetite is an ever present reality, and the point of sufficiency seldom reached. soon a cheery fire had been started, and owen persisted in taking charge of the preparations for lunch, giving them a species of flapjack that neither had ever seen before, and which they pronounced fine. owen's eyes alone told that he appreciated their praise, for he uttered no word to betray the fact. he was a singularly quiet lad, and cuthbert, who made it something of a fad to study human nature wherever he found it, felt certain that his past life had been mixed up with considerable of sorrow. all that morning they had not met a solitary human being upon the river, and when eli commented upon this, their new comrade assured them that it was no unusual thing to go for several days thus, especially at this time of year, when the indians and halfbreeds who trapped for the fur company were hunting back in the forests, laying in venison to be "jerked" or dried for consumption during the winter months, when attending to their traps far up the small branches of the saskatchewan, or the athabasca. in the spring the posts of the hudson bay company are busy places, with these various companies of _voyageurs_ and trappers coming in with their loads, for which they are paid, partly in cash and the balance in store goods. it is then that the resident factor has to exercise his wisdom in handling so varied an assortment of characters, and keeping them from getting into fierce fights, since they are bound to get hold of more or less liquor, and the closing of a successful season, with a period of rest before them, is apt to make them hilarious. cuthbert asked many questions along this line, being sincerely desirous of obtaining information at first hands; but while owen answered readily enough, and explained any point that seemed a bit hazy to his listeners, it might have been noted that he did not offer to launch out into a voluntary description of life as it was to be seen at one of these posts--cuthbert even fancied that the subject was not wholly pleasing to the lad, and came to the conclusion that whatever of trouble owen might have met with recently, it must have had some connection with one of these posts. they were delayed for some time after eating, for cuthbert was desirous of attending to some little thing that needed fixing about the canoe; and owen, who had never set eyes on a cedar boat of this delicate character, willingly lent a hand to the accomplishment of the task, satisfied to just handle such a dainty wizard craft, which in his eyes, accustomed to canoes of birch, or even dugouts, and others made of animal skins, assumed the character of something almost too pretty to be touched. they paddled for just about three hours that afternoon, and met one indian in a birch bark canoe, shooting downstream. both cuthbert and eli greeted him heartily; but they noticed that he looked at their new companion in something of a strange manner, though not saying a word to owen, who seemed to pay no attention to the copper-skinned voyager. if the scowl upon the face of the lone paddler was any indication of his feelings, there could not possibly be any love lost between them; and noticing that one of the fellow's eyes seemed swollen, the idea thrust itself into cuthbert's mind, ridiculous as it might seem, that possibly owen might have had something to do with that catastrophe. cuthbert had kept his eyes on the alert for a good spot where they could pass the next night, and it lacked half an hour to sunset when he gave utterance to a shout, and pointed with his paddle at the shore ahead. "there's the very place, boys, and it's no use going any further. just an ideal spot to pitch the tent, and the background will make a dandy picture when i get my camera in focus on it in the morning, for the sun must rise, let's see, over across the river, and shine right on the front of the tent. i've been baffled so often in trying for that same effect that i don't mean to miss this opportunity if i can help it. so here's looking at you, and we'll head in, if you please." owen opened his mouth as if tempted to say something, but caught himself in time, and silently acquiesced, sending his boat shoreward with vigorous dips of the paddle that told how little his energy had been exhausted by the day's work. it was a fine spot, too, and eli was loud in his delight; though, knowing his capacity for stowing away food from long experience, cuthbert was secretly of the opinion that much of his enthusiasm sprang from the fact that a halt just then brought dinner closer, rather than an artistic appreciation of the surroundings. that had always been the "fly in the ointment" with those two strangely assorted companions--one of them was of a romantic disposition, and inclined to seeing the elements in a glorious sunset that appealed to his soul, while with eli, it only meant that the following day would, in all likelihood, be a fine one. and that was one of the reasons why cuthbert welcomed the coming of owen, for somehow he fancied that the young canadian might be built along his own lines, and able to sympathize with him as the good-hearted but crude eli never could, since it was not in his nature to go beyond the substantial and matter-of-fact. nevertheless, he was a "bully good fellow," as cuthbert was wont to declare, and in time of stress and difficulty could be depended on to the utmost, being honest, willing and obliging, three necessary elements in a camping comrade that go far to make amends for any little shortage in artistic temperament. the whole three of the cruisers were soon busily engaged, for there is always plenty for all hands to do when pitching camp, what with the raising of the tent, the making of a fireplace upon which coffee pot and frying pan will rest cozily, the digging of a ditch on the higher ground back of the shelter, if there seems the slightest possible chance of rain before morning--well, every one who has been there knows how the opportunities for doing something open up to a willing campmate, so there is hardly any use in enumerating them here. when darkness finally fell upon them all these things had been taken care of, and they were in fine fettle for the stay, whether it be of long or short duration, even to a pile of firewood close at hand. supper was next in order, but that was a pleasure in which all insisted in taking a share in preparing as well as demolishing; and it was wonderful how speedily things were managed with so many cooks eager to assist the chef. during their afternoon trip upstream they had trolled with a couple of lines back of the boat, and fortune had smiled upon them sufficiently to provide them with fish for the evening meal, which owen cooked in the manner most favored in this region, where trout may be looked on as a common, everyday article of food, and not in the line of luxury. of course, there is no necessity to tell how perfectly delicious that dinner turned out to be, for every one knows that fish are at their best when eaten in the very spot they are taken from their native element; and that being placed on the ice for hours or days takes their delicate flavor away, and renders the flesh soft and crumbly and next to tasteless. and owen confessed that the cup of ceylon tea which he drank was the first he had tasted for a year; and he also gave his companions to understand that he had been brought up by a scotch mother to look upon tea as nectar fit for the gods. after the feast they lay back and took life easy, all of them being actually too surfeited to think of such a thing as cleaning up the pots and pans for the time being, that little task being left until later, when they would possess more energy and ambition. eli apparently had something on his mind, and as he filled his pipe, preparatory to enjoying his customary after-dinner smoke, he opened the subject by remarking: "i say, boys, did either of you notice that line of smoke down the river, just at the time we were heading for the shore? i was going to call your attention to it, but something that was said about the spot for this camp drew my attention, and i clean forgot it till now." "i didn't notice anything--in fact, i was so much taken up with looking for a jolly place to bunk tonight that i reckon i never once glanced back. how about you, owen?" asked cuthbert, turning to the new comrade. he knew the other had seen the smoke even before owen spoke, because something like a flash spread over his swarthy face, though his eyes looked straight at cuthbert without a sign of flinching. "yes, i saw it--in fact, i had turned my head a dozen times in the last half-hour, expecting something of the sort," he remarked, composedly. "it wasn't a forest fire--not near dense enough for that; and yet it looked queer for a campfire--as near as i could make out there were several of 'em, all in a row, and climbing straight up like columns," declared eli, wagging his head mysteriously. "just three," added owen, gloomily, and yet with a gritting of his teeth that excited cuthbert's curiosity more than a little. "three smokes in a row--i declare, that sounds like a signal; the indians down in florida always communicate in that way, and have a regular code, so that they can send long messages across the swamps and pine forests," he remarked. "that's just what it was, a smoke signal; and the cree indian we met on the river sent it to others of his race upstream," observed the young canadian. cuthbert immediately remembered that he had seen the lone paddler turn a look that was a mingling of surprise and displeasure upon owen when the canoes passed in midstream, and his former thought that these two had met before, and that the husky lad might even have had to do with the mournful black eye of the aborigine, came back with added force just now; still, he was not the one to ask questions, and unless the other chose to take his new friends fully into his confidence, whatever the mystery that lay in his past must always remain so. "yes," went on owen, bitterly, "it was meant to give notice to one who is interested in my movements that i had apparently changed my mind, and did not intend to leave the neighborhood as speedily as had been expected--that's all." chapter v. the false chart of dubois. no more was said just then; but naturally enough both cuthbert and eli could not get the matter out of their minds. the duties of the hour had occupied their attention upon first landing--the pitching of the waterproof tent, gathering of fuel, and kindred occupations incident to getting things ready for the coming night, so that now they could take things easy. cuthbert had some sort of rude map of the region, which he had purchased from an old french-canadian _voyageur_ during earlier stages of his trip; he did not know how reliable it might prove to be, though thus far the young explorers had not found it amiss to any very great extent. when he found a chance he meant to drag this document out from its place of hiding among the various charts of the hudson bay country which he carried along, and get owen's opinion as to its trustworthy character. this would give him an opportunity to renew his acquaintance with the lay of the land above, and in some way it might cause their strange new friend to open his heart, and take them more fully into his confidence with relation to his previous connections here. cuthbert was pretty positive that there was some sort of a hudson bay trading post on this same stream, situated in an isolated quarter--most of them went under the name of a fort, and indeed, they were built to resist any attack that might be made upon them by indians or disorderly half breeds; for there were at times vast quantities of valuable plunder held in these posts, in the shape of rare peltries, and the many things the trappers took in part payment for their winter's catch, so that a clean-out of a distant post would mean a serious loss to the great company that for scores of years had carried on this business of gathering the precious skins of silver foxes, lynx, badger, mink, otter, fisher, marten, opossum, beaver, bear, wolves and muskrats. the meal was, as we have seen, soon prepared, and partaken of with that keen relish known only to those who live in the open. as usual the boys had grouped themselves around the fire at the time the question of the smoke signals arose, each bent upon doing some individual task, that had been upon his mind; for it is the natural habit after dining heartily to desire to rest from strenuous exertion, and take up little matters that require possibly only the manipulation of the hands, or the action of the brain. eli seemed deeply interested in some specimens he had picked up close to their noon camp, and which held forth alluring promises of copper--it was the chief fad of his life to run across a lode of the valuable metal in this far-north country; and make his everlasting fortune that way; for in secret the michigan lad hugged certain plans for future worldwide travel to his heart, all of which, while extremely visionary at present, would be easily possible when his "ship came home," and that rich copper deposit cropped up before his eager eyes. few boys there be who fail to have a hobby of some sort--with some it is the pretty general craze for stamp collecting, others go in for coins, autographs, birds' eggs, specimens of birds, weapons of worldwide people, rabbits, pigeons--well, the list is almost inexhaustible, when you come to think of it. cuthbert's weakness, as has already been seen, lay in the line of travel and exploration, and the chances were that as he grew older he would develop into a bona fide livingstone or a stanley, eager to see faraway lands where the feet of a white man had probably never before wandered, and the mystery of which he might be the very first to unearth. with eli it was copper, morning, noon and night; he asked a thousand questions about the ore, where it had been found, what the character of the rocks peculiar to the region, and all such things, making copious notes the while, until as his comrade cuthbert said, he should be about one of the best posted fellows in that line in the country--still, up to this day he had not met with such a measure of success as to turn his head; though eli was a most determined chap, and bound to hold on after the manner of a bulldog, once he had taken a grip. perhaps owen also had his particular hobby; but if so the others had as yet been granted little opportunity of realizing what it was. given time and it would no doubt develop itself. cuthbert had a good deal of patience, and prided himself on his waiting qualities, so that he made little effort to hasten matters. as he had planned, however, while he sat by the glowing fire, which felt very good on this cool night, he drew out the bunch of charts, and began to absorb himself in the maze of lines and figures, anticipating that when owen saw what he had before him he must evince more or less curiosity concerning the same, and offer to pass upon their genuine value. the canadian lad sat for some time staring into the fire, as though lost in self-communion; and cuthbert could easily imagine that affairs connected with his life in this country were engrossing his attention. many a sly look did cuthbert flash over that way, for somehow there seemed to be a wonderful fascination about owen's personality that appealed strongly to him, though he found it utterly impossible to analyze this feeling, in order to make out whether it was pure sympathy toward one who had evidently rubbed up against the hard places of life while to him had been given the "snaps;" or on the other hand if it might be the realization that in this waif of the unknown land his soul had discovered the mate or chum for which he had looked so long and so far--perhaps it might be a commingling of the two. twice had owen risen, and the other imagined he was about to come around to his side of the fire to glance over his shoulder at the charts; but both times young dugdale had simply stepped to the pile of wood and, taking up an armful, tossed it upon the dying blaze. cuthbert was beginning to fancy he would have to make a move himself to draw the other's attention to what he was doing, so wrapped up did owen seem in his own personal affairs; when suddenly he discovered that those wonderfully keen gray eyes of the rover were glued upon the papers he held upon his lap. then it was that owen did come around to his side of the fire, and the disturbed look upon his face gave way to a bright smile as he remarked: "i didn't notice what you had there, before. i was so bound up in my own affairs. i suppose those are maps of this country you have; perhaps i could be useful in telling you whether they are accurate or not, for i rather guess i've picked up considerable information during these years of wandering in the woods here. if you don't mind me looking at them--" "why, to tell the truth that's just what i was wishing you would do, old chap, but i hated to break in on your brown study. here's a supposed-to-be reliable chart of this region, which i paid a man a good sum to get up for me; but already i've found it more or less crooked, and have begun to lose confidence in its accuracy. perhaps you could show up the faults, and set me right, so that if the time ever comes when i have to depend on the thing i won't get astray; for truth to tell it would be no fun to find oneself lost on these upper reaches of the great saskatchewan. sit right down here, and squint your optic over this set of hen-tracks, made by the halfbreed, dubois." "dubois, you say--why, i know the fellow well. he ought to be able to make a decent map of this country, for he's spent many years roaming over it, though i think he was more concerned about stealing some honest trapper's pelts than anything else. why, see here, he's made an awful botch of this thing right around this quarter, where he certainly knows every foot of ground. i suspect that the greasy old rascal had some object in misleading you--i wouldn't put it past him to plan so that you might be lost up here, when he and some companions just as unscrupulous as himself, would come on the scene and demand a big sum to get you out of the scrape. i know of several things he has done as bad as that," remarked owen, with indignation in his voice. so he began to point out the false lines in the map, and at cuthbert's suggestion he erased the pencil lines and made new ones as he went along, so that at the end of an hour that particular chart was entirely changed, presenting so new an aspect that the explorer was aroused to declare that the miserable deceiver, dubois, would hear something not to his liking in case they ever met again. "this hudson bay post which you have marked on the river above us--what is the name it is known by--he did not identify it except as a station?" asked cuthbert, putting a finger on the cross. "fort harmony," replied owen, with a twitch about the corners of his mouth that seemed to be along the sarcastic order, as if deep down in his heart the lad thought the name might be a misnomer, according to his own experience. "i suppose it is something of a store, being so far up in the wilderness; and is in charge of--a factor, i believe they call the boss?" pursued cuthbert. "oh, yes. he is a grizzled old scotchman, alexander gregory by name, who has been in the employ of the company most of his life, and is known as their most trusted agent. he is believed to be very rich; but though he is scrupulously honest and knows how to drive those under him to their best abilities, he is a harsh, cold-blooded man, seeking no companionship, making no warm friends, and apparently bent only on accumulating wealth and doing his full duty to the company he has served so long a time." cuthbert could easily read the strong tinge of bitterness in the other's voice while he was thus talking, and he knew that whatever owen's troubles might be, they were connected in some way with this man of iron, who for years had ruled after the manner of a despot in this distant country along the upper branches of the saskatchewan. he was glad to know even so much about the man gregory, whom he found himself beginning to dislike most cordially, even though he had never as yet set eye on his grim face, just because he believed the other had abused owen in some way. owen seemed to remember himself just there, and would say no more along those lines, though quite willing to talk as long as his friend wished in connection with the country, and the best route for them to follow. another half-hour passed thus in communion, and cuthbert picked up considerable information that was apt to prove of benefit to him in the future--just how valuable he did not then suspect. eli had some time back given up his studies of the specimens he had found, and joined in the general conversation; and his views were usually as shrewd as they seemed quaint, for he possessed many of the traits generally accredited to the yankee from down-east; and a natural keenness had been further sharpened by his constant rubbing up against all manner of men in the great logging camps of the michigan peninsula. it was getting near the time for them to fix the fire for the night, and seek the shelter of their blankets, when owen, whose hearing was phenomenally keen, held up his hand, and remarked, with some show of excitement: "somebody coming this way through the woods--not from the direction of the post, but the other way. perhaps it would be just as well to be prepared, for you never know who to trust up here until he proves himself to be a friend!" chapter vi. the timber-cruiser. neither of the boys whom owen addressed showed any particular signs of alarm at his rather startling words, though cuthbert quietly reached out and drew his faithful ally, the little marlin repeater, somewhat closer, as though he felt safer thus; and eli looked up to where the shotgun, which was his especial charge, leaned against an adjacent tree, within easy reach. both of them had been around considerable, and could not be considered green in the ways of the woods; and it is habit as well as disposition that makes men cool in the face of peril. plainly now the footfalls could be heard, for evidently the party approaching did not want to arouse suspicion on the part of the campers, and be met by a hostile shot. his figure loomed up presently in the semi-gloom beyond the range of the firelight, and cuthbert, when he first saw the tall, bulky form of the pilgrim, was of the opinion that no word could do the newcomer better justice than just the expression "loomed," for he was pretty much of a giant. he was roughly dressed for the work of the woods, and carried a rifle of necessity, for a man would be several sorts of a fool who wandered about these wild parts without that mainstay to back him up, and lacking which he must of necessity starve in the midst of plenty. cuthbert looked keenly at the fellow's face, being, as has been said before, something of a reader of character. he instantly decided that he did not fancy the man--not that he was on the surface other than a rough woods rover, with a laugh like the roar of a bull alligator, and a heartiness that seemed genuine enough; but something about his eyes caused the explorer to believe him double-faced. eli could not see deep enough for that, and was ready to take the fellow for just what he appeared, a big, rough-and-ready woodsman, full of coarse jokes, perhaps, but honest withal, a diamond that had never been chipped. "wall, bless my soul if it ain't three boys in camp here! who'd a suspected sich a thing, away up in this kentry, too. lots o' pluck to come so fur, fellers; how's the huntin' now, and i hopes as how ye ain't settin' up in business as rivals ter me, ha! ha! in course i seen yer blaze jest a ways back, an' thinks i, what's the use in bunkin' alone ternight, stackpole, yer old timber-cruiser, when thar's companionable chaps near by who won't object p'raps ter sharin' ther fire with ye? so i tolddled along a little further, an' here i be. jest say as i'm welcome, an' let me enjoy the hospertality o' the occasion. thunder! but the blaze is mighty fine tonight, fellers. guess it won't be far from frost by mornin' the way it is now. hello! that you, owen--well, who'd a thought i'd run acrost ye here; ain't set eyes on ye this long spell." owen made no reply, but there was a little curl to his upper lip that cuthbert noticed, and he knew that the young canadian held no very good opinion of the giant timber-cruiser. the name stackpole was not entirely unknown to cuthbert, since it had been mentioned by several people when speaking of the far northwest and those who were to be met with there--and if his recollections were correct he was of the impression that the same stackpole had been held up as an example of a somewhat lawless character, who made a pretense of cruising about looking for valuable timber in places where the lumbermen, soon to come, could float the logs down a river to a market; but who was suspected of other practices of a less honest character. at any rate cuthbert scented trouble of some sort, and was greatly disgusted in that the other had discovered their camp, as he had declared, by accident, for as yet there was no reason to suspect he had any design in joining them. he hardly knew what to do in the matter, for it would seem to be the height of foolishness to warn stackpole off, and refuse him the little favor he asked, of spending the night by their fire, to enjoy their company--people who roam the woods have peculiar ideas of hospitality, and it is a serious infraction of the unwritten rules to deny a wanderer the privilege of the camp for a night. surely they could stand his unwelcome presence for that short time; and if they maintained their usual custom of standing watch-and-watch alike, there would seem to be little chance of his doing them an evil turn. accordingly cuthbert allowed his face to appear pleasant, as though he might even be delighted to have this wandering timber spy with them for a space, to enliven things a bit. "sit down and make yourself quite at home. you're right, it is getting sharp and i wouldn't be at all surprised to see signs of frost, the first of the season, in the morning. we're up here knocking about a little, partly to hunt, but mostly because i've a penchant, that is, a weakness for exploring out-of-the-way places. stackpole, did you say your name was?--well, mine's cuthbert reynolds, this is my friend, eli perkins, and, you seem to know owen, so i won't try to introduce him. have you had supper--if not there's something in the pot that wouldn't taste bad if warmed up a bit?" that was the way cuthbert spoke, for he was naturally genial and generous, ready to divide anything he had with one in distress; only in this case he felt that it was along the line of casting pearls before swine, for that ugly little gleam in the corner of stackpole's shifty eye warned him against trusting the fellow too far. "that sounds good, and i'm goin' ter take ye up on the proposition, young feller. i ain't had ary bite since noon, an' then 'twas a snack only. coffee--why, i've plumb forgot how she tastes, fact, it's been so long since i had a cup. an' stew, my, that smells prime. say, it was a mighty lucky streak that made me come along the river here, headin' fur the post. thought i'd keep right along till i got thar, but 'twas tryin' business, an' i'd jest determined ter bunk down till mornin' when i ketched a glimpse o' this yer fire. guess my old luck ain't petered out yit." he was evidently something of a talker, and liked to hear the sound of his own voice; but cuthbert was of the opinion that the presence of owen had rather upset the big chap, and that some of this patter was intended to hide his confusion, and allow him to figure out his standing there. the mystery surrounding owen seemed to be growing deeper all the while, and the more these peculiar things came about the greater the desire on cuthbert's part to help the canadian lad by all means in his power. he awaited his chance to see the other alone, so that he might ask a few pertinent questions concerning stackpole. this came in a little while, when, the coffee and stew having been warmed, the giant timber-cruiser was busily employed in disposing of the same. owen was down by the river's edge, apparently looking after the two boats, so they would be safe for the night--he never missed an opportunity to handle the wonderful cedar canoe, running his hands over its smooth sides, and admiring its beautiful lines, so that this was not a peculiar occupation for him. nevertheless, cuthbert was rather inclined to believe that owen wanted him to saunter over that way, in order that he might say something he could not well communicate in the presence of the unwelcome guest. so he got up, busied himself with a few things for a minute or two, and then walked in the direction of the boats, conscious at the same time that stackpole had his shrewd eyes fastened upon him; and he could imagine the sneer upon the boarded face of the woodsman, betraying how readily he saw through the little game. "i imagine you know what sort of fellow he is, owen. now, i don't just fancy his looks, and even if you weren't here to tell me about him i'd keep an eye on mr. stackpole during his stay in camp," was what cuthbert said in a low tone, as he sat down on the upturned cedar boat alongside his friend. "well, that's the whole thing in a nutshell--it's a wise thing to keep watch of that man when he's near anything valuable, for he's got a reputation for being light-fingered, and i know he's been accused of lots of mean things up in this country. most men are afraid of him, for he can be an ugly customer in a scrap, and under that jolly laugh he has the temper of a devil. and to tell you the truth, he doesn't like me worth a cent. there's a story connected with it which i'll be glad to tell you at the first chance, that is if you care to hear anything concerning my wretched and unhappy past. i think we'd better act as if we didn't suspect anything, only let him see we are here. perhaps he'll go away in the morning, but i don't believe that he's heading for the post, because there's been bad blood between him and the old factor for a long while; and i guess mr. gregory is the only man in all these parts stackpole really has respect for." all of this owen muttered into the ear of his comrade, meanwhile keeping his eyes fastened upon the burly figure squatted in the camp beside the genial fire, and noting how often stackpole's glance wandered suspiciously toward them, as if the fellow wondered what he, owen, might be telling the young fellow, whom he had already decided, if he did not know it before, to be the ruling spirit of the expedition, and who evidently held the purse, a very important consideration in the mind of a man like the said stackpole. "yes, when you get good and ready to tell me i'd consider it a privilege to know something more of your life here, old chap; and if anything i can do will be of benefit, you understand that you're as welcome to it as the sunlight after a week of rain," pursued cuthbert; at which the other, overcome with emotion (for he had led a lonely life and never knew what it was to have the counsel of a genuine friend) and unable to express his feelings in words, simply allowed his hand to creep along the keel of the cedar canoe until it met that of the generous-hearted cuthbert, when his fingers were intertwined with those of his new chum; nor were these latter loth to meet him half-way. there was a whole world of words in that eloquent handgrip, for soul spoke to soul; and the communion of interests that had been slowly drawing them together ever since their strange meeting was cemented then and there. they busied themselves around the boats for a short time, more to make it appear that they had really sought the spot with the intention of fixing things cozily for the night than because there was need of their labor; and during the minutes that elapsed cuthbert managed to ask numerous questions about stackpole, for when he learned from owen that in times past this fellow and the halfbreed dubois, from whom he had secured the unreliable chart, had been boon companions, a disturbing thought was born in his mind that possibly there might have been more of design than accident in the coming of the timber-cruiser on this night. the peace and charm that had up to this period marked the stay of himself and honest eli in the wilderness seemed in a fair way to be dissipated; and who could say what sort of storm and stress lay before them--for one thing, he was glad that owen had crossed his path, nor did he mean that the other should ever go out of his life again--come what would, he was bound to look forward to a future shared in common by both, whether in american wilds or some far-distant country where wonderful things were awaiting discovery. chapter vii. owl and timber wolf. when the two friends returned to the fire stackpole was taking his ease and smoking furiously, eli having possibly supplied him with tobacco of a brand far beyond any to which he may have been accustomed in his wanderings. evidently, no matter what his suspicions may have been, the gaunt timber nomad was resolved to seem quite at his ease; indeed, his was a nature not easily disturbed by possible trouble--he found the vicinity of the fire comfortable, and did not mean to forsake it in a hurry unless there was urgent reason for decamping. eli, in his wild life among the lumberjacks, had met with too many characters just like stackpole, not to size the fellow up for just what he must be; and while he carried on in a seemingly friendly way, he was watching the other, with the idea of guessing his business in this particular region; for he judged that stackpole seldom made a move without some suspicious object back of it. when a lad is thrown upon his own resources at a very early age he soon learns to analyze people and their motives in a manner equal to a sherlock holmes, and eli had always delighted in trying to read the various types to be met with in the wilderness. cuthbert was uneasy. the presence of this hulking rover took away from all the pleasure of the camp, and he was provoked to think they should be compelled to entertain one who was not only a stranger, but possessed of an unsavory reputation. still, he had been in the woods enough to be aware that there is an unwritten law governing hospitality around the campfire; and no matter how unpleasant the presence of this timber-cruiser might be to him, he did not wish to appear in the light of a boor. they were three to one, and having been forewarned they could keep a jealous eye on the said unwelcome guest so long as he remained; but cuthbert vowed to himself that with the break of day, and the morning meal over, their paths must lie in opposite directions. stackpole was no fool, and it did not take him long to discover that each of the three lads kept his gun within reach of his hand all the time; which fact announced as plain as words could have done that they entertained suspicions concerning him, and did not mean to be caught napping in case he tried to make trouble of any sort. now, while stackpole was a fellow equal to two if not three of the boys, with regard to physical abilities, death and the possession of firearms levels all such distinctions, and a bit of lead would sting just as much from one of their guns as if it had come from the weapon of a six-footer; hence, he made up his mind to walk a straight line while among the possessors of all this hardware. his avaricious eyes wandered frequently toward the splendid marlin repeater owned by cuthbert, and the fact was very evident that he envied him the possession of such a dandy gun, compared with which his battered winchester looked like "six cents," as eli remarked to himself when he correctly gauged the meaning of those sly glances. "he'll steal if he can, the skunk," muttered the young logger, shaking his head in his pet peculiar manner, which he always did when angered or puzzled. and then and there eli determined that he would not allow himself a wink of sleep that whole night; and that if stackpole attempted any "funny business" he would round him up with a sharp turn. they talked of many things while sitting there around the campfire; and the man managed to make himself fairly agreeable; for he certainly was mighty well posted in everything connected with the country cuthbert, in his enthusiastic simplicity had come so far to explore; and had he been built upon a different plan, stackpole might have proven a valuable man to tote along--he had penetrated further in the direction of hudson bay and the arctic shores beyond than any other man in the northwest territory, and proved this by describing many of the things encountered by a well known explorer with whose work cuthbert was quite familiar, and whose sole companion stackpole claimed to have been. there is something more than mere knowledge to be desired in a companion on a long tramp, and this is reliance in his fidelity, cheerful disposition, and readiness to shoulder at least half of the labor--without these qualities in a campmate much of the pleasure is missing. finally the boys began to find themselves yawning, for the day's toil had been severe, with a strong current in the river to buck against, and they had been up since peep of day. so they started to make preparations for sleeping. the giant timber-cruiser watched them get their sleeping-bags ready, that is, cuthbert and eli, with more or less curiosity, for evidently he knew little or nothing about such arctic necessities, even though he had accompanied an explorer for many hundred miles into the great unmapped region beyond hudson bay--at least he claimed to have done so. perhaps there was also a bit of envy in the looks he bent upon these evidences of comfort, for he could appreciate the value of such contrivances during a northern winter, especially to a man whose business was apt to take him outdoors, regardless of the weather. he had an apology for a blanket in his pack, and this he proceeded to spread upon the ground, selecting a spot close to the fire, where he could toast his feet while he slumbered, a favorite attitude with such nomads, as our young friends all knew. owen, of course, had his third of the tent, but it had been already arranged between the trio that all through the night one of them should stand guard, not because there appeared to be impending danger from without, but on account of the unwelcome guest they entertained at their fire. not one of them grumbled, being built in a manner to meet such emergencies cheerfully, and wrestle with difficulties in the same spirit as they would accept favors, a splendid combination in woods chums. no doubt stackpole noticed that owen, having made his bed ready, showed no disposition to occupy the same; but if he understood just why, he at least made no comment, in which he displayed his good sense. he turned in "all standing," simply lying down, rolling himself up in his faded blanket, and with his pack-bag for a pillow, losing himself to the world, so far as the boys could tell; though they noticed that he had pulled his slouch hat so far down over his face that it was utterly impossible to see whether his keen eyes were closed or watching every movement of his entertainers. inside the tent our friends found a chance to confer, and thus a plan of campaign for the night was laid down. then cuthbert and eli crawled into their sleeping-bags, for the night was inclined to be frosty, and there is a world of comfort in these modern contrivances, under such conditions; while owen walked down to the canoes, and with an arm thrown caressingly across the keel of the precious cedar craft began his long and lonely vigil. he thought nothing of such a little hardship, having been accustomed to the vicissitudes of the woods from childhood--to him the various sounds of the wilderness, after nightfall had come, were as familiar as the cackling of hens to a farmer's lad, and what was more to the point he read these signs so well that they one and all possessed a significance far beyond any surface indications. but these forests of the silent land bear little comparison with the depths of a tropical jungle, or the dense growth of an african wilderness where a multitude of animals make the air vibrate with their roaring during the entire period of darkness. sometimes in the daytime not a sound can be heard save the moaning of the wind among the tops of the pines, or the gurgle of some meandering stream, all around being absolute silence, deep and profound. at night it? is not quite so bad, for then the hooting of a vagrant owl, or it may be the distant howl of a prowling timber wolf, that gray skulker of the pine lands, is apt to break the monotony; but even in the midst of summer there is lacking the hum of insects and the bustle of woods life--at best one hears the weird call of the whip-poor-will, called by the indians, the "wish-a-wish," or if near a marsh the croaking of gigantic bullfrogs. owen apparently had many things to engage his thoughts as he kept watch and ward over the camp of his new-found friends; and judging from his repeated sighs his self-communion was hardly of a cheerful character, for several times the boy gritted his teeth savagely, and clinched his fist as though rebelling against some decree of fate that had temporarily upset his calculations. once a name escaped his lips, and it was that of the old factor in charge of the hudson bay trading post further up the river; and almost in the same breath he murmured the word "mother," tenderly, as though his thoughts had flown backward to happy scenes so greatly in contrast with his present forlorn conditions. nevertheless, owen did not forget why he was on guard, not for a minute. he had so placed himself when leaning his back against that adored cedar boat that he could keep watch over the camp, and particularly that portion of it where stackpole's elongated frame, rolled up like a mummy in his blanket, was to be seen. so often did the eyes of the lad fall upon the recumbent timber-cruiser that the other could not have moved without attracting his notice. stackpole was apparently sleeping like a log, for ever and anon his stentorian breathing arose into something approaching a snore, that sounded tremulously, like a mysterious note from a harsh eolian harp set in the wind. possibly, upon noting that owen was to have the first watch the shrewd chap had made up his mind there would be nothing doing thus early in the night, his chances being better later on when the "greenhorn," as he erroneously denominated cuthbert on account of his fine name and genteel appearance, had charge. thus time crept along, midnight came and went, with young dugdale still holding the fort, as if he intended remaining there until dawn. once only did he detect a movement on the part of the suspicious party; and then stackpole twisted about as though desirous of assuming a new position, and at the same time he raised his head and took a sweeping glance around, just as any woodsman might during the night, a habit born of eternal watchfulness; yet under the circumstances it was more or less suspicious to see how the fellow completed his hasty survey by a quick look in the direction of the boats, as if quite conscious of the fact that owen was still there on guard. he immediately dropped back, and presently was heard the same pulsating sound of asthmatic breathing, sometimes ending in a snort--if stackpole was still awake and pretending sleep he knew how to imitate the real article right well, owen thought, shaking his head dubiously. if the canadian lad thought to usurp the privilege of the others in extending his watch, he counted without his host, for cuthbert came crawling out of the tent shortly after the time he had set. chapter viii. the call of the wild. first of all the explorer stopped by the fire and tossed several heavy bits of fuel upon the embers, doing this with the air of one who looked upon such an act as second nature. perhaps, if stackpole were watching from under the shade of his hat brim, he might alter his opinion with regard to the novice act, and begin to understand that a fellow need not necessarily be raw to the ways of the woods because he possesses means, and chooses to supply himself with certain comforts that are apt to come in handy--the best of moccasins, a modern quick-firing rifle that carries a small bullet calculated to spread in mushroom shape upon striking the quarry and do the work of a gun of much larger caliber, a sleeping-bag, a compact kerosene stove for the inevitable wet time in camp when the wood will not burn--a veteran is apt to turn up his nose at such innovations, and growl that the simple life suits him as it did his forebears; but, when the rainy spell arrives he is just as willing to cook upon the little stove he derided as the next one; and of a cold night, with the wind howling around like a fiend, give him an opportunity to snuggle down inside that cozy bag which had excited his contempt, and ten to one you will be hardly able to divorce him from it at dawn. cuthbert had tried both ways, and, like the sensible chap he was, decided that a man would be a fool to choose the old method with its lack of comfort when able to afford these modern luxuries. he stalked over to the boats, trailing his gun along, as owen saw with grim pleasure, for it told him cuthbert had not changed his mind with regard to the character of their guest, and would undoubtedly keep a close eye on stackpole while his watch lasted. the other dropped down beside him, with a few words of greeting. owen thought he detected a slight movement of the recumbent form, and believed stackpole must be awake--he made no effort to sit up and look around, which in itself was somewhat suspicious, for a veteran of his caliber must have so educated his faculties that not a movement, however slight, could take place in a camp where he was sleeping without his knowing it. the boys sat there and conversed in low tones for quite a long spell; indeed, cuthbert had to almost drive owen to the tent, so contented did the canadian lad seem to be in his company--lonely enough had his life been since the loss of those he held dear, and there was something infinitely precious to him in the cheery radiance of this optimistic yankee who had crossed his path at a period when he desperately needed a friend. cuthbert settled himself down for a good siege when finally he had seen the other crawl into the tent, for he was not to arouse eli, who slept like a log, until it was after three by his little silver watch. he had made up his mind that if this pilgrim to whom they had given shelter and food as become generous campers, showed any disposition to pilfer he would treat him in a summary manner, and chase him into the woods, just as any rascal should be made to decamp; and the fact of stackpole's gigantic figure made not a particle of difference in his calculations. whatever the fellow may have planned to attempt during the silent watches of the night, his nerve evidently failed him, for he did not venture to make the least move; possibly the combination of these three determined-looking lads awed him more than he could care to admit, or it might be he had other schemes up his sleeve whereby the same end could be accomplished without taking so much risk--at any rate cuthbert sat his watch out, and after fixing the fire again, aroused eli, who in turn sauntered over to the boats, carrying his patron's cherished gun, which he as dearly loved to fondle as a girl might a kitten. and if stackpole saw this, as he evidently must under the shelter of that hat brim, he knew it would be a signal for trouble with a big t if he tried any queer business with these wideawake lads. cuthbert was almost positive he heard him give a disgusted grunt as he settled back for another snooze, and they heard nothing farther from him until morning, when he arose, yawning and stretching his huge bulk, as though he had been dead to the world from the moment he lay down. they treated him decently and gave him an abundance of breakfast, which the big timber-cruiser gulped down with the eagerness of a hungry wolf; for it had been a long day since he tasted such delicious bacon and coffee with flap-jacks to "beat the band," as eli said, made by owen, who had proved to be superior as a cook to either of his new friends, the gift being a legacy from his mother, he confessed. nevertheless, there was an air of restraint about their associations with the woodsman, which he could not but feel, and therefore he made up his bundle soon after, saying he must be on his way, and while they were engaged in stowing the tent he took his departure, grunting some sort of thanks for the many favors he had received at their hands. if what owen told them of the fellow's nature was actually so, this generosity on the part of the young explorer would not count for a row of pins when occasion arose whereby the temptation came to stackpole to appropriate some of the expensive outfit his envious eyes had gloated over during his stay with them. our friends did not hasten their departure, for they wished to let him have a long lead; for he had left the camp going in a direction that, if persisted in, would land him at fort harmony in due time. owen had not changed his mind since the preceding night, when he asserted so positively that it was his opinion, judging from what he knew of the relations existing between this rover of the mighty woods and the chief factor of the region, stackpole would hardly turn up at the post, since there had long been bad blood between these men, and the cruiser was too shrewd to put himself in the power of so strenuous an enemy as the grim old scotch trading master, who ruled affairs in this stretch of country as though he were king. "i think he only started in that direction to blind us; and that after going a mile or less he will break off the trail and head where he was aiming for last night when he saw our fire, and thought there might be something worth picking up here, or else keep watch of our movements," said owen, as he pulled the cords tight around the bag that held the waterproof tent, while the others were doing the same duty for the smaller bags in which food and extra clothes had been thrust. cuthbert chuckled as though greatly tickled. "well, if that was his hope, i'm afraid he was bitterly disappointed in his calculations, that's all. we kept him under cover, all right, and perhaps he's mentally kicking himself now over having wasted so many hours peeping out from under that hat brim when he might just as well have been snoozing." eli professed to be greatly disappointed, for he remarked dejectedly: "thought i might get a chance to try your gun, and i had just made up my mind like which leg i'd pepper if he tried to sneak anything away. well, p'raps we may run across the critter again, and i'll just keep it in mind that it was the left leg i chose--he's got somewhat of a limp in the right one now, and you see that'd sort of even things up. i don't like to see a lopsided feller nowadays." "yes, i believe you're something of a philanthropist, eli, always looking out to do somebody good, even if you have to force it into them with a hypodermic syringe or a shotgun. for my part, i don't care if we never set eyes on old stack again, for i fancy the fellow mighty little. there is something about his eyes that goes against my grain, a shifty look that you see in a wolf. he's welcome to all he stowed away, but i hope he doesn't fancy he has a standing invitation to drop in frequently to supper." chapter ix. trapper lore. while the other two boys were finishing the packing of their stores owen had wandered up the bed of a creek that joined the river at a point just above the site of their late camp. he had evidently noted something that aroused his interest, for the others noticed him peering closely at the banks and examining a number of things. "now what in the world do you imagine he sees?" asked eli, who was possessed of a good lively streak of curiosity in his composition, and could not observe these things without commenting on the same. "i was wondering somewhat along that vein, myself, and had come to the conclusion that owen's trapping instinct has been aroused by certain signs of the furry game for which every man in this region is always on the alert. nothing else i can think of would interest him so," returned cuthbert. "well, here he comes back again, and from the smile on his face i imagine he wants us to take a look, too." "i'd just like to, for i've heard so much about the fur business since striking this wild country that it seems a shame not to be better posted. i know a lynx from a common everyday bobcat, and can tell an otter when i see it; but there are a thousand or two little things connected with the trade of a trapper that are just so much greek to me. you notice i've been pumping him every chance i got, and perhaps he sees an opening to make a demonstration. we're in no big hurry today, and i'd be only too willing to hold over a bit if i could add to my pump of practical knowledge." "me, too," echoed eli, who, although a woods dweller all his life, had never made a practice of taking furs; and unless one goes into this business at first hand the result is always disappointing. one week with an everyday trapper along the lines of his traps will do more toward giving a novice a fair insight into the strange business of outwitting the cunning bearers of fur coats than all the guides ever written. for once cuthbert had made a bullseye guess. when owen reached them he was holding some little object up for observation. "do you know what that is, boys?" he asked. both of them took a good look. "looks like a bunny's paw," said eli, dubiously. at this cuthbert laughed. "down in my section of old virginny the coons like to get rabbit's foot for a charm; it is said to keep the evil spirits away, especially if taken from a graveyard rabbit. can it be possible there are fellows up in this benighted region of the same mind? but that is not a rabbit's foot, i think, owen," he said. "what then?" asked the canadian. "i don't know for certain, but if i made a guess i should say mink." "good enough for a hap-hazard guess. mink it is, and the little animal just gnawed it off himself, last night, for you can see it is quite fresh." "gnawed it off himself, did you say? what in the world would he be fool enough to do that for?" demanded cuthbert looking closely to see whether the other gave any signs of joking, but failing to find any. "well, for one thing, he could not find anybody to do it for him." "oh! and was it so very important that mr. mink should drop one of his little footsie-tootsies in that way? is it the habit up here for these animals to go around cm three legs?" "no; but you see he was silly enough to believe that it was better to go along the balance of his natural life with three feet rather than to give up his nice soft pelt to grace the back of some lady in montreal or new york or london," returned owen, gravely, twirling the little reminder around between his fingers, and looking at it as though he believed it could tell a sad story if only it were gifted with the power of speech. "now i see the reason. the mink had been caught in a trap, and after twisting and turning until it had torn its leg fearfully, as is seen right there, in desperation it finished the amputation itself; not that it was afraid of decorating some high born dame's back, but because it was threatened with starvation if it sat there in the trap indefinitely. how's that, brother?" he declared. "about as near the facts as any one could come, for that is just what happened to our poor little friend here. he'll have to hobble around on three legs for the balance of his natural life; but that's better than knocking under now. and, of course, some trapper, an indian, probably, is out a valuable skin through his carelessness." "but how does it come that more of the little beasts, all of them, in fact, don't do the same thing? i should think it would be necessary to guard against it," remarked the virginian. "that is just it. i said this trapper was out a skin through sheer carelessness, for it is a slovenly way of trapping to let a nice mink like that get away. if you care to step this way with me i'll show you something which perhaps neither of you have ever seen before, and is worth remembering." they were only too willing, for already what owen had said was arousing much curiosity within their minds, and they could not bear to let a chance to have this gratified pass by without taking advantage of the same. he jumped down into the gully through which the little creek ran, coming from the hills far away, and winding in and out through the timber, often being fairly choked with brush, so that an expert would find it difficult to make headway. still, down near its mouth it was more open, and they could wander along for quite some distance without great effort. the banks were sloping in places, and rather inclined to be precipitous in others, but at no place more than half a dozen feet in height. after going up for some little distance owen stopped. "here is where our little friend lost his foot and there is the trap that helped to take it off," he said, pointing to a rusty newhouse no. that was lying in full view, chain and all, by the edge of the water. stooping over cuthbert saw that the jaws were marked with a stain, and bits of fur, proving the truth of owen's assertion. "sure as you live it did, and there was no surgeon's fee for that amputation, either. now go on and tell us why this happened, and what is to prevent it being the rule, rather than the exception," he said eagerly. "first of all, i must explain how mink are located, and something of their habits, or you will not understand. they are nearly always found along the banks of a small stream that empties into a larger, just as in this case. "the female mink have settled places of abode, while the male are rovers, and roam up and down the creek for a distance of about two miles in either direction. now, when a trapper has made up ms mind that a certain stream is the home of a considerable number of mink he comes out in the early fall, some time before the regular trapping months open, and gets things ready for his season. "along the edge of the little bluff near the water line he digs holes about three feet back into the bank and some nine inches across the front, throwing water about the place to kill the scent of his presence, and a little driftwood in and around the hole, so that it will seem natural to the suspicious animal. "these holes are made about a hundred feet apart, and are then left for a couple of weeks, and when you go back to set your traps you will be surprised to discover that almost every hole shows marks of mink having gone in and out, searching for mates. "when they set the traps it is the regular thing to fasten the end of the chain out just so far in the water, where it is deep enough to drown the mink; once the trap snaps upon the leg of the animal its instinct causes it to spring into the creek, and being weighed down by the trap, it is soon drowned; this saves needless suffering, does not injure the fur, and prevents the mink gnawing off its own foot in the mad desire to escape." "say, that's mighty interesting, now," declared eli, bending down to examine the trap again; "i didn't know there was so much to the pesky business--had an idea all you had to do was to find where the animals held out, stick a trap there, and go out the next day and grab your fur." owen laughed heartily at this. "i'm afraid such a trapper would not get enough mink, otter, fox, or even muskrat skins to buy his tobacco in a season. why, these little varmints are just chain lightning when it comes to cleverness, and they can sometimes outwit the smartest old trapper who ever drew breath. there are a thousand secrets connected with the business, and no one man carries them all. many of these have been handed down from some of those old fellows who used to spend their lives trapping for the hudson bay and the northwest fur companies at the time these two were great rivals over the whole of the fur country. you'd find it a most interesting subject if you ever chose to dig into it. of course, i've picked up quite a few of these secrets and can do my share of a season's work, though it never did appeal to me strongly enough to carry it on as a business. if you went along up this stream you'd find a dozen traps or more, some of them perhaps with a mink or, it might be, an otter in their jaws, but always drowned. now, i'm going to leave this foot just where i found it. this man ought to be more careful. in the eyes of a first class worker it's a sign of poor business to find a foot in a trap. perhaps he'll take warning and improve his methods. i hope so, for i don't like the idea of a number of these poor little beasts hopping around on three legs for the balance of their lives." "i can see that nature never intended you for a trapper, owen," remarked cuthbert, sagely; "for you have too much sympathy in your composition. i imagine a man has to harden himself to all such things before he can become a successful fur gatherer; but then it is necessary that there should be some people follow such an occupation, else what would all our lovely girls do for wraps? after all, the taking of furs does not compare in cruelty with the shooting of herons and other birds by the tens of thousands, just to pluck an egret or plume and toss the body away. that is a cruel deed that ought to make every woman blush who ever wears an egret on her hat or bonnet. but what you've been telling us is mighty interesting, do you know? i am determined to learn all i can about this strange business while here on the spot. nothing like getting things at first hand. are other animals taken in the same way?" "to some extent. whenever it is a water animal they are drowned when caught. even beaver have to be treated that way." "but these animals live under the water, don't they? then how can they be so easily drowned?" asked cuthbert; but immediately adding: "of course, i know they have to come to the surface at stated intervals to breathe. i suppose the trap holds them down beyond their allotted time, and then they suffer, just as a fellow might after a minute had passed. now, foxes are caught on the land--are they ever know to gnaw their foot off to get free?" "oh, yes. trappers look more closely to their fox traps, you see, for they are always hoping to catch a silver, and that means a fortune," said owen. "i suppose by that you mean a silver or black fox. i have heard they were worth a big sum of money, and quite rare. what do the pelts bring as a usual thing?" asked cuthbert. "i believe as high as two thousand dollars for one fur, but that must have been a mighty fine one. i knew one man who received eight hundred, and i suppose the fur trader who bought it from him sold it again for a thousand anyway. some men have been lucky enough to take several silvers during the whole of their trapping lives, while others have waited for forty years and never caught a single one. but every fur gatherer lives in hopes, even the crees and ojibwas indulging in these anticipations that may never be realized. it is the highest priced skin to be found ashore. a sea-otter may bring more, but i doubt it." "you've seen the pelts then?" asked eli, whose eyes were sticking out at this intelligence, for it seemed to him just then that a brisk trade in silver foxes was even more to be desired than a copper mine. "oh, yes, often, at a post where they were brought in. some are only seconds or thirds and worth far less than a first class article. i remember one case that was pretty rough. a trapper had a beautiful skin, that would have brought him a little fortune; but when the factor came to examine it he found it almost worthless on account of being torn by a charge of shot at close quarters." "that was a shame," declared cuthbert, who was eagerly listening to all these remarks on the subject of trapping; "but if silver fox pelts are so very valuable i should think some enterprising fellow with an eye to business would start a farm and raise them for the market." "just what i was going to say. there would be big money in the deal if a fellow had the right ground, and bought a pair to begin with," exclaimed eli. "it's easy enough to get the ground. others have succeeded to some extent with red foxes, though at first they lost every one, for the cunning rascals burrowed under the fence; but a way was found to prevent that by digging down a yard, filling it with stones, and running a heavy wire mesh back several feet. of course the foxes kept on burrowing along the fence, but seemed to lack sense enough to start in five feet back so as to avoid the obstruction. their cunning has a limit, and beyond that they're as stupid as any animal." "but how about the silvers--what is the obstacle that stands in the way of making such a fox farm a success? perhaps they refuse to breed in captivity--i've heard of animals acting that way, even skunks at times," said the virginian. "no trouble in that line particularly, i believe. the great obstacle to success lies in the fact that the silver fox is not a distinct type at all, but a freak," smiled owen. "a freak--that is, it can't be depended upon to reproduce its like?" "never does, in fact. from a pair of silvers you will get red foxes, that's all. it's been proven again and again, and yet i've heard of several parties with more money than brains starting a silver fox farm. don't you ever allow yourself to be tempted to put cold cash into such a game, either of you," continued the young canadian, tossing the severed foot of mr. mink down by the cruel trap that had been instrumental in relieving the poor animal of his useful extremity. the trapper would find it there, and understand just what had happened, doubtless profiting by his blunder and setting the trap right next time. all might have been avoided had he staked the end of the chain far enough out in the water, so that the animal when caught would have been drowned by the weight of the steel trap. cuthbert seemed loth to give over questioning the boy who knew about the various ways of circumventing these cunning little varmints of the wilds; he found himself deeply interested in the matter and could not hear enough on the subject. to his mind there must ever be a halo of romance connected with the lives of those old-time french-canadian voyageurs who, in early days, used to paddle all the way from montreal to fort william on the northern shore of the "big water," superior, to collect the great and valuable bundles of pelts brought in to the post in the spring by the many trappers connected with the company, some of them white, but mostly full-blood indians or halfbreeds speaking french. he had read considerable of their doings before making this trip into the region of the mighty saskatchewan, being desirous of posting himself on the subject; but interesting as it may have seemed then, when seated in his luxurious apartment in a new york hotel, it was doubly so now that he was on the ground. why, these very woods must have witnessed many a scene such as those described, and he could easily picture the flotilla of batteaux moving up or down the river, propelled by the muscular arms of the husky voyageurs, while upon the still air rang out their famous canadian boat songs. it thrilled him to even think of it, and the surroundings assumed a new aspect in his eyes; perhaps those days were gone, never to return, and the trappers of today might prove to be merely ordinary indians, or such rascally fellows as stackpole and dubois; but cuthbert did hope that once at the post he might be able to hear some of the songs that have come down from the old days, filled with the romance of the pines, the birches, the larches, and the hemlocks that hung over those early pioneer camps in the wilderness. "i'd like to ask you one thing," said eli, as they slowly walked back in the direction of the camp. "all right. a dozen if you like, and i'll be only too glad to answer them if i can. there are some things that even a fellow who has spent years up here, and kept his eyes and ears open all that time, couldn't answer. go on, eli," said owen promptly. "i've taken a few animals myself over in the peninsula, but not having had any advice i guess i bungled the job somewhat. anyhow, they said down in st. louis, where i sent my bunch, that they were misfits, and i suppose it must have been so, if a fellow was to judge from the size of the check they sent on. since then i've been told that all animals can't be skinned alive. is that so? i just sliced 'em down, and peeled off the jackets in the best way i could. of course i knew enough to have thin boards to fasten the pelts to when drying, and they seemed to be all hunk when i shipped 'em; but somewhere i biffed it. now, what d'ye s'pose was wrong with my work?" owen smiled as if he knew instinctively. "when they said the furs were misfits they meant that you had not taken them off the right way. some skins have to be cased, that is removed entire, or turned inside out, and not cut down the belly first, which injures their sale. all skunk, marten, mink, fox, 'possum, otter, weasel, civet, lynx, fisher and muskrat have to be treated this way. other animals should be cut open, such as the beaver, wolf, coyote, 'coon, badger, bear and wild cat. they cut off the tails only of such chaps as have a rat-like appearance--'possum and muskrat. in all other cases the tail is a part of the fur, and a valuable one, too, as i have found out to my cost. the bone is of course taken out, which can be done with only a small split." "all this is mighty interesting to me," remarked cuthbert. "you can just bet it is. what else, owen? is there any difference about the way skins are fastened to the drying boards? i might have blundered there too, and that would help make a misfit, eh?" ventured eli, grinning. "well, it would, without a doubt. it is just as well for any young trapper to get thoroughly posted on these subjects before he tries to take any fur, or all his work during the winter may go for nothing. i've seen packs of pelts ruined by just that thing--they were cased the wrong side out and could not be remedied. some have to be cased with the fur side out, and others with the pelt exposed to the air. those that are better with the fur out are fox, weasel, lynx, fisher, otter, marten and wolf. the others must have the pelt outward so that the air can get to it in plenty. and then again some trappers spoil their catch in part by drying near a fire or in the sun. the best way is to hang them in the open air in the shade, and let them have plenty of time, making sure to clean them thoroughly of all fat and bits of meat." "there's one thing that strikes me about this business, and the more i hear about it the firmer grows my conviction that after all the taking of furs and curing the same is an art. who'd think there was so much that is interesting in the capture of wild animals, and preparing their skins for the market. then again i suppose these big houses that buy in bulk have ways of handling the furs that increases their value a great deal. the fur we see on the shoulders of our fine ladies has mighty little resemblance to the pelt the poor trapper brings in to the post, and trades for tobacco, powder and shot, tea, sugar, coffee and such indispensables, not to mention whiskey," suggested cuthbert, wisely. at this owen shrugged his shoulders. "there you have me. i have a limit to my knowledge, and it stops with the capture and drying of the pelts. what takes place after they get in the hands of the dealer i know nothing about, only that they have mighty cute ways of dyeing many of the cheaper grades, and calling them something else. a skunk would not sell for as much under its own name as some high sounding one; for you know there is always an unpleasant association connected with the skunk." "you just bet there is," avowed eli, heartily, as with the conviction of one who knows whereof he speaks; "it associated with me for a whole week once, up in a lumber camp, and by ginger, it was the only thing that would associate with me till my new clothes came along and i could bury the old ones. after that my curiosity about the cunning little striped beast that used to slink across the tote road was satisfied, and whenever i saw one i'd give a whoop that could be heard a mile away and run for my life! they got to know that yell, and whenever any of the boys heard it they'd laugh and say: 'there's that fool eli huntin' polecats again.' but i wasn't, not by a jugful; i was giving him a wide berth, and taking off my hat to him in the bargain. oh! ever since that day i've had the greatest respect you ever heard tell of for the ornery little critters." by this time they had arrived at the mouth of the little creek, and climbed out upon the upper level. "i'd think the fur bearing animals would be pretty well cleaned out along here, so close to the post," remarked cuthbert, still harping on the subject. "they are as a rule; but when a place is let alone a few years they increase again; and i guess that's what has happened here. in the last fifty years this creek may have been cleaned out a dozen or two times, and then let alone for a spell to grow up again. this year it's being gone over again, and from certain signs i noticed, the trapper is reaping quite a little harvest. he was an indian, too," said the other. "i suppose you can tell from signs whether a white man or an indian is working along a stream; no doubt they have different ways of doing things. i thought the only way to know was to look at the moccasin tracks, as an indian toes in, while a white man walks with his toes out," pursued cuthbert. owen laughed as though pleased. "that's an old and exploded theory. why should a white man brought up in the wilds toe outward, as though he wore shoes? with moccasins on his feet, and used to them from a baby, he walks just like a red. but there are many ways of telling whether it is a white or indian at work. only long practice will do this. i could not explain it, but if the chance comes i'll promise to show you what i mean." and with this they rested content, having learned considerable about the art of fur gathering and curing in this little talk. chapter x. magic in the berries. the sun was just peeping above the horizon, but the air still remained chilly after the long night; to husky boys this amounted to little, and as soon as the camp was abandoned they would soon warm themselves up with paddle exercise, for it was no childish work battling against that swift current. "anyhow, it was a mighty comfortable camp," remarked cuthbert, as they moved away, and his eyes rested fondly upon the scene of their last night's experience; so it ever is with those who live the life in the open, for the unconscious things appeal to their affections, and a staunch boat, a favorite paddle, a gun, knife, belt hatchet, or even the spot where they found comfort and built their shrine at which they temporarily worshiped, the campfire, arouses emotions in their hearts that cannot be fully appreciated by those not of the mystic guild. owen led the way in his bullboat. he was more than usually silent after his talk over the trap and the poor little mink's foot up the creek, and cuthbert wondered what it might be that affected him--could the coming of stackpole have had anything to do with it--the idea was not impossible, for he had evidently known the gaunt timber-cruiser before, and if the story of the boy's sad past were known the gigantic woodsman might occupy a place in it. still, upon reflection, cuthbert was of the opinion that there must be another reason for his thoughtfulness this morning. he remembered what hints owen had let fall concerning the old factor connected with the hudson bay post, and that there had been trouble between them; many things gave cuthbert the opinion that the other had been fleeing from the region at that time they made his acquaintance so strangely, not in terror, but rather in anger, and he felt sure strange happenings had been taking place at the post on the day preceding the storm. if so, then it was the fact that he must evidently soon face the stern factor again that disquieted owen so; the way in which he tried hard to throw off his morose mood, and answer the sallies of his comrades in a spirit of frolic proved that he was fighting against his nature, and had laid out a course which he was determined to tread, no matter what pain or distress it brought in its train. at any rate, it would soon appear what ailed the lad, and cuthbert, greatly as he wished to know owen's story, had too much delicacy to influence him in the telling; he had promised to open his heart to this new and sympathetic chum, and all would come when the spirit moved. about an hour after leaving camp they suddenly came upon two bullboats that were descending the river swiftly, in each of which a trio of cree indians sat or knelt, wielding the paddles after the deft manner of those with whom the art has become second nature. cuthbert did not anticipate any trouble from these fellows, who were evidently in the employ of the fur company; but he was keen to notice how they took the presence of the young canadian in the company of strangers, realizing that they must in all probability know him, and be acquainted with whatever of trouble had hovered around him of late. just as he expected, they seemed surprised at sight of owen, and hasty words were passed among them; but they made no motion to interfere with the forward progress of the two boats, and answered the civil salutation of cuthbert with a series of "how-hows" until the current had swept them past; but it might have been noticed that not once did their shrewd black eyes leave the figure of the young canadian squatted in his old boat, and sweeping his spruce blade back and forth methodically, as he urged his craft against the stream. "they know him all right, and are more than surprised to see him with a party of strangers, heading upstream. now, i wonder if they were sent out to look for a fellow of his description? gee, but this is a conundrum, all right," whispered cuthbert to his fellow paddler, at which eli grunted and nodded assent. the young canuck guide in the lead did not so much as turn his head after the boats containing the indians had passed, but continued to dip his paddle in and out with the methodical rhythm so characteristic of the voyager who has spent his life amid these scenes. no so cuthbert, whose curiosity had been excited in connection with the untutored sons of the wilderness--ever and anon he twisted his head around so that he could secure a survey of the river below; and on such occasions eli kept his eager eyes on the face of his comrade, knowing full well that should there be anything happening he would discover it reflected there. about the fifth time cuthbert turned thus he gave vent to a little exclamation, whether of satisfaction or annoyance it would have been difficult to say, and immediately whispered to eli: "they're coming all right, just as i expected, old fellow. that proves my idea correct, and that they had been sent out from the post, to find what had become of the youngster. he knows they are coming after us just as well as i do, but he's too proud to give them a single look. i like his grit, and between you and me, he's going to show us something before long. i'm in a fever to set eyes on that same old tartar, alex gregory. already i seem to dislike him immensely, and possibly i'll end by hating him good and hard. he's more than a little to blame for owen's troubles, whatever they may be. say nothing, eli, but keep your eyes open." "what if the copper-skinned critters attack us--i've got my gun handy, and i give you my word there'll be the very old dickens to pay if they start rough-housing it with us," answered the young logger; and it was not in a boastful spirit that he spoke, for eli usually showed a modest disposition; only he, too, had taken a great fancy to the new chum who had been sent to them by such a freak of fortune, and cuthbert's intimation that the other must be the victim of oppression rather riled him. "oh, i have no idea they will try any funny business; they know we are armed, and besides they have their orders from the head boss. you'll find that they only mean to tag after us, keeping on our heels until sure we mean to go to the post. these chaps possibly saw that smoke signal the other cree we met downstream sent up, and they knew owen was somewhere around. you noticed that they just stared at him all the time, and paid little attention to us. well, let it go at that; we'll be apt to know a heap more than we do now when another day comes along. one thing i'll wager a lot on, and that is he's worth sticking to through thick and thin, eh, eli?" ventured the explorer, earnestly. "you bet!" was the laconic but expressive answer he received, and cuthbert, who knew the logger so well, understood all that was implied. eli also glanced back just before they turned a bend, and as there was quite a little stretch of clear water back of them ere the stream twisted its way around a big bunch of birch trees that stood like sentinels on a projecting knoll, he was able to see the two bullboats come around the curve, and follow grimly in their wake, the occupants evidently making no effort at speed, for had they chosen they could have given our youngsters a warm proposition in the way of a race, their muscles being inured to the monotonous labor of the paddle. cuthbert began asking questions of owen, who allowed the other boat to gain a position alongside, so that conversation might be the more easily carried on. thus he learned that, proceeding leisurely they would readily make the hudson bay post ere nightfall; had there been any reason for haste this time might have been shortened by several hours; but it suited all of them to arrive around the sunset hour. having an abundance of time they went ashore at high noon, built a fire and had quite a healthy little lunch, washing it down with a pot of coffee, the delightful aroma of which must have reached the nostrils of the cree paddlers who had drawn their boats ashore just below, for the wind lay in that quarter. cuthbert expected to hear from those who were playing this comical game of tag, and, indeed, he had purposely caused the coffee to boil madly in order that the appetizing scent might be wafted with the breeze; consequently when eli declared one of the indians was advancing toward the fire, the explorer grinned as though he might be patting himself on the back over having accomplished a rather pretty piece of strategy. the fellow came directly up to where they sat finishing their meal. cuthbert did not altogether like his looks, but then he realized that he was hardly capable of judging a good indian from a bad one, since he had only a limited experience with the natives--what appeared to be a scowling phiz to him might seem only the natural expression to be found upon the dusky faces of these saskatchewan dwellers of the woods, when viewed by owen. as he drew near the indian made certain mysterious motions with his hands, which cuthbert understood must be the peace signs, and he began to imitate the other, not wishing to be outdone in politeness. "how," said the copper-colored intruder, with a rising inflection. "how," repeated cuthbert, in just the same tone of voice. "you camp boss?" pursued mr. lo, keenly eyeing the young fellow, as though he might be dubious concerning this fact. "well, perhaps you might call me that, seeing this is my outfit; but just say that i'm an easy boss, and let it go at that. now, what can i do for you?" remarked the explorer, who was as yet unknown to fame, but who had aspirations. "huh, you got um coffee--we smell um good--can stand no more--s'pose you give injun drink, him be glad, much so--no have coffee many moons--set um up in other alley--how?" was what followed, much to the amusement of both cuthbert and eli, for evidently the fellow had seen a bowling alley in winnipeg, or some other city. "well, i like your nerve, my copper-colored friend, which i see you carry with you all the time; but after all i don't know that i can blame you asking, for the smell of good coffee is enough to set any chap wild. what is your name, may i humbly inquire?" ventured cuthbert, keeping a very straight face, though he could hear eli chuckling, and wanted to laugh outright himself; for it was evident that while music is said to have "power to soothe the savage beast," the aroma of the subtle coffee bean in the process of cooking seemed capable of subjugating the savage man himself, and bringing him to "eat humble pie," as eli put it. "name all same springing elk--son of chief wolf-killer, him same head of crees on big river saskatch. you say we have coffee--ugh, much good, and we not forget," and not waiting to receive additional assurance he raised his hand to his mouth and gave vent to a series of sharp barks or yelps that must have been an eagerly awaited signal conveying good news to his mates, for immediately the whole bunch started for the campfire of the three boys. cuthbert, in an aside, asked owen if they need fear any danger from the crees; but the young canuck shook his head in the negative, answering back: "not at all. the only failing they have is a weakness for appropriating anything that strikes their fancy, when they think no one is looking, and i think we can avoid that by being on guard all the time until we embark again. they are crazy about coffee, and would go to great trouble to get a drink of the stuff." nevertheless, eli, though hearing what was said, did not feel disposed to take any great stock in the pacific intentions of the heathen; he had read stories of their treacherous nature, and heard men speaking so derisively about the "only good indian being a dead indian," that he felt it his bounden duty to maintain a watchful eye upon the sextette while they were present, all the while keeping his gun in his clasp, ready to meet any emergency that might arise. but then eli had led a hard life, and there was considerable excuse for his suspicious nature--we are often creatures of circumstances and environment, and his school had been the rough logging camps, where the worst that is in men usually crops out. cuthbert busied himself in making a new pot of coffee, an operation which the group of bucks watched with glistening eyes; and when a little later the steam began to pour out from the nozzle of the pot, and the aroma struck their olfactory nerves, really several of them could not stand it, but had to walk away, those more masterful standing on one foot and snuffing the air, while their expressions in anticipation would have done credit to so many children. they each had two big tin cups of the decoction, steaming hot, and undefiled by either sugar or condensed milk, showing that they possessed the proper taste for the beverage of the gods, according to the ideas of those who grow the royal berry, and know how it should be drunk. cuthbert had accommodated the untutored sons of the forest partly because he had a warm heart, and again with the half-formed idea that possibly his little party might benefit from the act in the future--frequently the old saying of "bread cast upon the waters returning after some days" comes true. still, there was a limit to his indulgence; and he certainly did not intend to allow this thirsty crowd of skin-hunters to become regulation camp-followers; his supply of coffee would not long stand the strain, even if his patience did. so as soon as the last cups were drained of every drop of the delicious fluid the boys captured the same, deposited them in the receptacle where they belonged, thrust this into the cedar canoe, and then cuthbert, as master of ceremonies, cried out: "yo-ho, all aboard!" in another minute the canoes of the expedition began to cleave the waters, headed upstream. the indians also tumbled into their boats, nor were they longer satisfied to hang back one or more hundred yards as formerly--that elixir had quite captured their hearts, and they scrambled to keep in close proximity to the magical "floating coffin," as they denominated the cedar canoe, as if they could scent future feasts along the line of that which they had just enjoyed. cuthbert laughed over the situation more than a few times, and declared that he need fear no evil from the copper-faced denizens of the timber country so long as a shot remained in their locker--a grain of java in their caddy. but the indians after a while struck a faster gait and vanished around a bend above, nor did they see them again for several days, when they arrived at the trading post. they paddled leisurely, with owen leading the way as before, for being familiar with the region he would know how to time matters so that they should reach the vicinity of the post. as the afternoon waned cuthbert could see that the other was struggling with some strong emotion, and he understood that it must be connected with the return trip he was making to the post, which he had evidently abandoned for good at the time of his hasty run down the river. he fancied that owen might take occasion to give them some inkling as to how matters stood with him here, for he had promised to reveal the secret of his lonely life at the first favorable opportunity; but somehow he did not appear to be in the humor just then, being wrapped up in his own gloomy reflections. 'well, it could not long be delayed now, and cuthbert, being built along the lines of a patient and philosophical lad, felt that he could wait. chapter xi. a break in the chain. about the middle of the afternoon cuthbert's eye caught a situation on the shore that seemed to appeal particularly to him as a place where he would like to spend a night in camp. he was subject to these little freaks, and hated to pass an ideal camping spot after a certain hour of the day; indeed, eli could recall many experiences along this order. nor was the virginia lad loth to explain the reason wherefore. it seemed that in cruising down some river in the states on a certain winter, with a single companion, he was playing scullion to the cook of his more experienced comrade; and consequently what the other said generally went. the cook was of a most ambitious disposition, and desirous of making just as much time each day as though their lives depended on reaching a certain city in the southland by a settled date--and yet they had the whole winter before them, with time to kill. many a time and oft, as cuthbert reminiscently remarked, they had come upon a delightful looking spot for a camp an hour or less before dark, and he found the inclination strong within him to go ashore, rest up, get the tent pitched, and be ready for a night's campaign before the curtains were drawn shut. but that sort of thing did not fit in with what the boss of the expedition considered proper; and consequently they must utilize the hour of daylight that remained in pushing forward. as a result, when darkness actually compelled their going ashore they frequently had to put up with mean accommodations and suffer for hours. the lessons that are brought home to us by bitter experience are the ones that remain the longest; and cuthbert had never forgotten the bitterness of spirit that haunted him on that cruise. he had learned his lesson thoroughly, and two things stood out above all others as the right and proper course for an intelligent cruiser to do--never pass a fine site for a camp when the afternoon sun was more than half way down its course; and upon starting out in the morning always manage to get a good breakfast, as there could be no telling when another meal would come along. eli was willing to go ashore, as usual, and owen made no comment. so the boats were drawn up on the shingle, and the little party disembarked. cuthbert had made no mistake about the location, for it was a charming spot, and the view out on the river absolutely unique; since with little effort one could see both up and down for a long distance. and others had in times gone by utilized this same ground as a stopping place; for there was to be seen a fireplace made of stone in just the proper spot, where the prevailing wind would fan the blaze as the meal cooked. in camping there are scores of little wrinkles which come perfectly natural to the experienced hand, but are totally unknown to the novice; the only way to learn is to ask questions just as boldly as though claiming missouri for one's native state. cuthbert had one particularly favorite dish, which every now and then he insisted upon foisting upon his comrades; and from the way eli's eyes glistened whenever he saw the virginia canoeist starting to make preparations looking toward this compound it might be surmised that the infliction was not unbearable and could be endured about every day in the week. he called it the homeric kabab, and claimed that it had been handed down from the days of the old grecian writer and philosopher; which, if true, proved that homer knew a delicious thing when he tasted it. it surely was a thing to conjure with. having made ready a glowing bed of coals, he set up two notched sticks at either end, and across this hung a strong withe of willow or some other wood, strung with inch pieces of meat, whether lamb, beef, venison or rabbit it mattered not, since the state of the larder must decide that matter; but it was of the utmost importance that alternating with each bit of meat there should come a strip of eggplant or onion, or both, if so fortunate as to have them. this withe was to be kept turning, spit-fashion, until its weight of provender was deliciously browned and sending forth an aroma that would make the mouth of a wood nymph water. after that all that was needed was to give thanks and partake. when owen has his first taste of this favorite canoeist's dish his eyes told of the keenest enjoyment. plain fare had been his portion most of his life, and it was a question of quantity more than quality with his folks; appetite made up for a lack of delicacies, and doubtless with that as a background even common corn pone may assume the properties of a delmonico planked steak. eli had seemed to be as hungry as usual when they landed; but having finished his task of erecting the tent he had picked up cuthbert's splendid repeating marlin and said something about taking a little stroll, with a hope that perchance he might sight game worthy of a shot. cuthbert had made no remark, for he knew that it was a weakness on the part of his comrade to get off now and then with that gun, just for the sake of handling it, and feeling for a short period that he owned the whole world. it afforded the virginia lad great pleasure to know that he had it in his power to bring joy to honest eli's heart; and while he valued the gun, even its loss would not have caused a single cloud to cross his brow. he was gifted with a splendid nature, and never so happy as when conferring pleasure upon some one else. by the time supper was all ready cuthbert remembered that the boy from michigan had not yet turned up. "do you remember having heard a shot some time back?" he asked owen. "yes, but it was pretty far away, further than eli could have gone, i think; though now that you speak of it the report did come from up the wind, and that was the direction he took on starting out. are you anxious about him?" replied the other, turning around from the job that had been occupying his attention, and which was connected with placing hemlock browse under the blanket he meant to use when the time to lie down arrived, as well as alongside the sleeping bags of his two companions. "why, no, i don't think there's any reason for that. eli had been accustomed to roaming the woods all his life, for he was brought up in the lumber camps; and it would be funny if he went and lost himself up here, where the forest is so open. i was just thinking how fond he is of my pet dish, and what a disappointment it would be to him if you and i developed such ferocious appetites as to lick the platter clean before he showed up. but i reckon there's plenty all around, and we'll try and keep his share warm. pull up here on this log, owen, and try that platter. the coffee is ready too, ditto the hard-tack." and with keen appetites the two certainly did ample justice to the meal. by hard-tack cuthbert really meant the regular ship biscuit used on all sailing vessels along the seashore and the lakes--there are two brands; one a bit more tasty than the other, and this is supposed to be for the officers' mess; but in a pinch both fill the bill admirably, as myriads of canoeists are willing to testify with upraised hand. when supper had been finished, and both lads were ready to cry out enough, it was dark. and still no eli. even then cuthbert did not worry, for he had the utmost confidence in the woodsman qualities of his stocky chum, and could not believe that anything serious had happened to him. perhaps he had wandered far afield, and chancing upon a deer a mile or more from camp had secured his venison; under such conditions it would require some time to cut the animal up, and then "tote" what he wanted of the meat over the intervening territory. nevertheless, he looked around at every sound as if hoping to see eli stalking into camp, with a proud look on his homely phiz, and a burden of fresh meat upon his shoulder. now it was a playful and venturesome 'coon that prowled around in the vicinity of the camp, hoping to pick up some titbits from the supper of the strange bipeds who periodically occupied this favorite site; then again it might be a mink come up from the river to investigate what all this illumination meant; but as the minutes passed eli remained only conspicuous by his absence. owen had occupied himself in rubbing up several steel traps which the boys had brought along, thinking they might prove useful in some way; but which, having been neglected, were inclined to be very rusty. this was a familiar thing in the hands of the canadian lad, for many a time in the days long gone by he 'tended a line of traps in the country where fur grows longest and best, and mink, otter, muskrat, fisher, marten, skunk and even raccoon and opossum skins bring a good price. cuthbert never lost an opportunity to acquire information, when he could obtain it at first hand, and hence as they sat beside the fire, watching the rosy flames dance and play at tag, he put many more questions to the backwoods boy concerning the secrets of the profession, and learned various new things that up to this time he had never dreamed existed. so it is that in knocking about one may discover how limited a vocabulary has been their portion; and observation with a traveler means a widening of the horizon that broadens the mind. owen was free to explain the numerous methods of capturing the wary wild animals of his native land; and it gave him the keenest pleasure to satisfy this desire for knowledge on the part of the new chum who had been so good to him. he told of the astonishing care that was needed in order to circumvent the wise and sharp-scented mink; how the traps were so arranged, as cuthbert had seen, that the animal upon being caught would jump into the water, where the weight of the trap would drown the captive; otherwise the little fellow in desperation might gnaw his foot off and escape, to be a cripple the rest of his days, like the one whose foot they had handled that morning; what bait was used to attract him to the vicinity of the trap, for an artificial scent has been found marvellously effective in arousing the mating instinct of the animal and causing him to venture in places which otherwise he might avoid--all these and many other things did owen talk about as he handled the rusty traps; and cuthbert sat there entranced, drinking in the mysterious knowledge that trappers have learned through succeeding generations, and handed down to their successors. so the time passed, and yet there was no sign of eli. cuthbert finally sat up straight, and a look of growing concern could be seen upon his fine manly face as he said: "there's no use talking, my boy, i'm really afraid something has happened to eli perkins. he couldn't get lost if he tried, and the fact that he's not here makes me think he's tumbled into trouble with a big t. now, the question is what can we do about it?" chapter xii. on the track of eli. owen tossed the trap aside. evidently he had been expecting some such remark from the other and was not at all surprised at being called on for assistance. "i think that if anything has happened to eli we can lay it to that ungrateful dog, stackpole," he remarked, frowning a trifle, as if his memories of the timber-cruiser were not of the most pleasant character imaginable. "you don't like that fellow one little bit, i can see; and do you know the thought struck me when i saw him curl his lip on seeing you with us that at some time in the past you two must have been at loggerheads," observed cuthbert. "which is true, every word of it. if you had looked closer you might have noticed a little notch in the fellow's left ear. i was the cause of that, and it happened some years ago, when i was much smaller than i am now, and less able to take care of myself. but i was born in the woods, and brought up with a rifle in my hands, so that i learned early in life to shoot straight." "yes," interrupted cuthbert, "i saw that you were a dead shot when you tried my pet marlin and brought down that hawk on the wing. i thought i had some little ability in that line myself, but when i saw you trim that buccaneer of the air so easily as if you were not half trying, i gave up thinking myself in it. but please go on, owen." "where we lived was a lonely section. my father had offended some one high in authority marrying my mother, and he felt this influence more or less all his life; but i did not mean to speak about that just now, only to explain how it was we chanced to be so far removed from other people. "once in a while some wandering timber-cruiser like stackpole would drop in on us, and you can understand that as a general thing they were mighty welcome, for they brought us news of the outer world. "but if there was one man i detested, it was stackpole, and he had often riled me as a kid, by his leering ways, and his sneaking method of hanging around when my father was out looking after his traps. "i don't know what put it into my head, but somehow i seemed to finally believe the fellow had been actually sent up into the wilderness by some one high in authority at the post just to annoy my father and bring him to his knees, which nothing had been able to do in the past. "so i came to follow stackpole when he did not dream i was around, and pretty soon i found that he was trying to steal my father's stock of furs during his absence, having arranged it with a halfbreed cree to pull his chestnuts out of the fire, and avoid responsibility. "i had been afraid that his evil eye had been turned upon my pretty mother, so that, after all, it was something of a relief to find that he only wanted to take the bundle of valuable furs that would mean a living for us during the next summer; but i've never believed anything else than that he was sent there by old alexander gregory to reduce us to a state where my parents would have to knuckle down, swallow their scotch pride, and accept favors at his hands, something father had sworn he would die before doing. "well, i caught the rascal in the act of carrying the furs off, though he always swore that i wronged him, and that he had in reality rescued them from a thief of a cree who had snatched the lot; but i notched his ear with a shot, and put another in his right leg--you remember eli noticed that he had a decided limp on that side. "they had to nurse the old villain all through his spell, and he never forgave me for the double dose i gave him, though pretending it was all right, and that, thinking as i did, i had done the proper thing. stackpole kept shy of our place after that, but i knew he would never forgive me, and if the time ever arrived when he could get even he would take the chance gladly. that was why i kept an eye on him all the time he was with us, and warned you to look out, for the fellow is really a thief, and has a bad reputation all over the region of the saskatchewan." "and you really think he may be the cause of eli staying away? after we treated him so well, too. the skunk has no gratitude in his make-up, then, that's all i can say. catch me giving him another cup of our lovely java; it's like casting pearls before swine," declared the other, disgusted. "of course," continued owen, "there is always a chance that eli may have gotten twisted in his bearings. any fellow might do that under stress of excitement, no matter what his knowledge of woodcraft may be. i've been there myself, and as all my life was spent in the timber i ought to be free from such a trouble if any one might. so, perhaps it would be wise, before we try to sally out and look for signs of our comrade, to shoot off a gun a few times, and see whether he makes any reply. what do you say? "just what i was about to propose myself. three shots is the usual signal, but with eli's shotgun we can only knock out two. nevertheless, here she goes." so saying he blazed away with both barrels, allowing a margin of a few seconds to occur between the shots. then both lads bent their ears and listened carefully. the night breeze was sighing among the pines and hemlocks, but it carried no answering sound to their waiting ears. when several minutes had gone by cuthbert thrust a couple more shells into the barrels of the gun and once more let go. again silence alone repaid their anxious attention. if the missing one heard those signal shots he was in no condition to reply, and that would mean, of course, that he must be in trouble. cuthbert looked at his friend. "it doesn't seem to be of any use. after that i can't doubt but what something uncomfortable has happened to eli. he's a jolly fellow, and i think the world of him. if any harm came to pass i'd feel wretched, for it was my foolish idea that brought him up here," he said disconsolately. "oh, i wouldn't feel that way about it. a fellow like eli must run a certain amount of risk, no matter where he is. if he wasn't here he'd be logging, and taking his life in his hand every hour, with trees falling in the wrong direction, log jams occurring in the spring rise and the lumber jacks risking death in the effort to free the king-pin that holds the jam. oh, no, eli has no fault to find with the way you've treated him; indeed, he's had a snap, and knows it. but we must be doing something, if you feel too anxious to wait until morning." "it must now be ten o'clock, and that would mean many hours. can anything be done in the night? how could we follow his trail without a hound? what wouldn't i give to have a good dog just now, such as my old bunker down home in virginia. you take charge, and order me around as you see fit. i'm ready to do anything." owen smiled, and thought what a fine thing it was to have a chum built along these lines; the conviction that cuthbert would be just as anxious if it had been he who was lost carried with it a thrill of pleasure he had never known in all his life before. "why, of course we can follow his trail slowly by the aid of that hunting jacklight of yours. suppose you get it going, while i attend to some other things. if we abandon the camp even for a while it might be wise to hide the boats, especially yours; for that lovely creation would tempt almost any wanderer to carry it off. and your stores would be very acceptable to some of these chaps who live on roasted navy beans for coffee and hard tack with their venison." so saying the young canadian busied himself. in ten minutes he had thoroughly hidden all their possessions, and in such a clever way it would never be suspected that such things could be lying around loose in the bushes beyond. meanwhile cuthbert had fastened the jack to his hat and lighted the same. on some occasions in the past he had shot deer by means of this same little lantern, though its use is now frowned down on in many states, since what appears to be a mean advantage is taken of the innocent deer when they come down to drink at the lake or stream, and stare at the strange glow upon the water, allowing the sportsman to push close enough to make dead sure of his quarry. now it would not have been carried needlessly all this way into the wilderness if it was destined to prove valuable in following the trail of the missing eli. although cuthbert had not voiced his worst fear, he was thinking that possibly poor eli might be lying somewhere in the vast woods badly injured; for there were various ways in which such a thing could come about. he knew nothing could have happened on account of the rifle, for his faith in that marvel of the gunmaker's craft was unbounded; but eli was inclined to be a bit clumsy, and might have stumbled into some hole, striking his head and rendering himself unconscious; or there was a chance that he had wounded a stag which had thereupon charged vigorously upon him, as wounded bucks are apt to do; so that eli, not being accustomed to working the mechanism of the repeating rifle, might have been caught napping and tossed down. well, they were now off, and would know something about the matter ere long, for the tracks of the young hunter were plainly marked, as seen in the light of the jack. owen must have had considerable experience in this thing of following a trail, for he picked it up in a wonderful fashion; that is, it seemed so in the eyes of his companion, who was quite willing to keep at his side and bring the illuminating qualities of the little lantern to bear. finally, thinking that it would be best that owen had the jack upon his hat, he insisted on turning it over to him, contenting himself from that moment with falling in behind, carrying the shot gun in the hollow of his left arm, and with finger upon a trigger. they walked for an hour in this way, and never once did owen seem to be in doubt. such clever ability to follow tracks in the night time was an education to cuthbert, always ready to learn new things; and he watched the manner in which it was done, wondering if he could ever in the course of years possess the sagacity that seemed to come so naturally to his friend. in and out among the great trees they wound their way, just as eli must have done when wandering along, watching for a sight of game ahead. now they came to where he had evidently struck some sign, for he bent down as he advanced, owen showing the other just how he knew this from the marks; since three times had eli dropped to his knee, only to rise again and go on, eager to get still closer to the quarry. finally owen paused and pointed. "here he fired--only one shot," he declared, and picked up the brass jacket of a long cartridge that had been ejected from the repeater when eli worked the combination. cuthbert looked anxiously about. "i don't see him lying anywhere around, that's one thing that pleases me," he said, in a relieved tone. "no, he rushed forward--see, here are his tracks, and yonder the remains of the deer he shot. but eli is not here. something happened to him. give me five minutes and i'll tell you what it was," declared the woods boy, soberly. chapter xiii birds of a feather. when eli perkins left the camp on that memorable afternoon with cuthbert's fine rifle on his shoulder, he did have a card up his sleeve, so to speak. not that eli was not intent on securing game for the pot, and meant to keep an eye out for anything in the shape of a deer that he could bag; for he had long desired to shoot that dandy gun, the envy of his soul, and as yet the opportunity to use it on a gallant stag had not been forthcoming, though he had often carried it forth when the time seemed propitious. but eli had been looking around ever since they landed, and it was his settled conviction that the country in that section had all the color of a copper region. copper was eli's little god. he eternally dreamed of some day finding a ledge of such incredible richness as would make all previous discoveries sink into utter insignificance; and from his delightful share of the profits from the mine he meant to satisfy that yearning for seeing foreign lands; for long had he looked forward to the time to come when he could visit egypt, turkey, russia, germany and all those countries he had read so much about. his only prospect of ever getting there, in his mind, lay in this discovery of copper, and copper haunted him day and night. cuthbert knew all about his yearning, and in his own mind had long since arranged it so that eli would share his next trip abroad; but the other knew not what luck was awaiting him and so he kept thinking of this happy find, and his eyes were constantly on the watch for "signs." and now more than ever before he was convinced that he must be in a country where there was undiscovered copper veins. that no one has as yet stumbled upon them did not strike the lad as strange, for he knew that those who stalked through this wilderness were, for the most part, ignorant trappers or indians, who would not know the value of a find if they fell over the richest outcropping ever found. eli had studied up the subject in his leisure hours for some years past, and was fully posted on all that pertained to its various branches. so while he was walking ahead and looking with one eye for big game his other optic was on the alert for any signs of an outcropping of the rich metal that had been given the place of honor in his heart. this accounted in some measure for his eccentric advance; for many times he turned aside to bend low over some suspicious spot where his keen eye had detected symptoms of a deposit. although disappointment came again and again eli never despaired, for he was certain he would sooner or later come upon that which he meant to have, and the delay, while aggravating, could not crush his spirits. twice later on he found reason to believe he was getting nearer the object of his ambition, for the signs were certainly growing stronger; and thus he was being lured further and further away from the camp. then came the moment when he sighted the deer through the bushes, and all his hunter instinct was aroused by the sight. he began to creep forward, his finger upon the trigger of the gun, and a sense of delicious uncertainty thrilling his nerves. just as the observant owen later on declared, he did get down on one knee several times, intending to shoot; but finding that the deer had not shown any indication of alarm, he had concluded to advance a bit further, in order to make doubly certain. eli knew that he was sure of that buck, for he had perfect faith in his own abilities as a marksman, when within such short range; and as for the quality of cuthbert's pet rifle, that went unquestioned. finally he took a quick aim and fired. it had been the report of his gun that floated away back to the camp, and was heard by his two comrades about half an hour before dark. eli deliberately pumped another cartridge into the chamber with one speedy movement of his hand, as he had done many times in practice, and then ran forward to where he had last seen the deer. he knew full well that it had gone down in a heap, for he had seen as much while he was in that instant placing the rifle in condition for further work; and hence he was not in the least surprised to find the noble animal kicking its last when he arrived upon the spot. eli was not an enthusiastic hunter; indeed, as a usual thing, he had been pretty well satisfied to let cuthbert do most of the shooting and fishing of the trip; but when it came to disposing of the cooked product while they sat around the camp fire, he was right in the game, for eli's one weakness was his appetite, and he never seemed to have enough. he placed the rifle against a neighboring tree, and, drawing his hunting knife, proceeded first of all to bleed the deer, after which he started to work cutting it up, for it was too heavy by long odds to think of trying to carry the whole carcass to camp, now more than a mile distant. so busily engaged was he in this work that he paid not attention to what was taking place around him, and consequently did not see the shadowy figure that came flitting from tree to tree like a wraith of the great pinelands, finally reaching the oak against which eli had leaned his gun. then a gnarled hand was stretched out and eagerly seized upon the beautiful little marlin, which was quickly withdrawn from view. just then eli was startled to hear a gruff "ahem" from a point in front of him, and glancing up hurriedly from his work he discovered a man standing leaning on a long-barreled rifle and surveying him with a sneer on his face. it was the same fellow who had bunked with them and drank their elegant java with such gusto--stackpole, the timber-cruiser. eli had not liked his looks when he was in camp, and he certainly saw no reason to change his mind concerning the fellow now, for stackpole did have a piratical appearance when he scowled or looked scornful. instinct compelled eli to reach out his hand for his gun, even while not removing his eyes from the interloper with the evil cast of features. when his groping hand failed to connect with the rifle he was compelled to turn his head quickly and saw, to his dismay, that the gun no longer occupied the spot where he had placed it. at the same moment a second man stepped into view, having his own rifle hung over his shoulder with a strap, while the repeater belonging to cuthbert was resting in his grimy hands. eli recognized this worthy immediately, nor was he very much surprised to see him there, since owen had declared it to be his belief that they might run across him sooner or later. he remembered how they had met him some weeks earlier, and also how he had made up that chart for cuthbert, for a consideration, which since that time had proven so very unreliable, and which the canadian lad pronounced utterly worthless. it was dubois, the greasy woods-ranger, fit comrade for the ungainly and grinning stackpole. he stood there looking at the boy and nodding his head. "well, well, if it ain't eli perkins alive and in ther flesh! who'd ever a thort tew see yer up hyer? i allowed thet p'raps yer boys mighter come part way, but it does beat all how some fools air taken keer ov. thank yer kindly fur this yer purty little gun, eli. reckon i kin soon git ther hang o' the way ye work thet pump bizness. anyhow, i'm willin' ter larn. hold on, now, jest keep yer distance, er somethin' not down on ther bill'll happen ter ye, boy!" was the way dubois addressed him. of course, eli felt angry, but he saw that they had him trapped neatly enough, and he was not the fool the other would try to make out. at least he had had considerable experience with just such fellows as these and knew how far one could go in conducting negotiations with their breed. eli had a streak of caution and also a bit of cunning in his make-up; doubtless he had found need of both in his dealings with the huskies to be met with in the michigan lumber camps, where brute strength counts for more than education. it evidently behooved him to play "lame duck," just as the mother mallard does in order to deceive the wandering egg hunter, and lead him away from her nest. so eli simply chose to look foolish, and stood there grinning and saying not a word. he was a good hand at playing the game of "wait," and perhaps in time his chance would come to knock up their hand, and call the deal. "i see yer hev cut up ther deer all hunky-dory, eli. now, sence we old fellers is a bit troubled with rheumertism s'pose ye shoulder ther bag o'game an' come erlong wid us. my ole friend dubois hes got er shack not werry far off, an' we kin hold our hungry feelin's in till we git thar. up she goes, boy, an' don't yer dare ter scowl at me like thet again, less ye wanter feel ther toe o' my moccasin. wy, i've sliced a feller's ears orf fur less'n thet. i'm a holy terror wen i'm riled up, ain't i, dubois?" said stackpole. and this was the man whom they had entertained at their camp and given the best meal of his whole life! eli made a note of the fact for future reference. there would perhaps come a day of reckoning, and the account, however long, could be adjusted. he took up the pack of meat and followed stackpole, while dubois walked along a little distance behind. perhaps it was accidental, this meeting with the two woodsmen, but eli doubted it, preferring to believe that they had been watching him ever since he left the camp, with the idea of effecting his capture should the opportunity arise. with such men this was not a difficult thing to do. what puzzled him, however, was the trouble they were taking on his account. if it was simply that coveted gun they wanted, why not turn him adrift after securing possession of the firearm, rather than make a prisoner of him; surely they could not be doing this for the mere sake of compelling him to "tote" the venison to their camp, for that would be slipping up on a point, since he must know where they held out and could carry the information to cuthbert when released. now had it been the young virginian who was captured, he could readily understand their reason, for cuthbert had money in abundance, and would pay a round sum to be set at liberty; but who under the sun cared whether he, eli perkins, lumber-jack from the michigan pine woods, were free or a prisoner, living or dead? and poor eli was wrestling with these puzzling questions as he trudged wearily after stackpole; nor did he seem to get any nearer a solution, though approaching the matter from all sides. darkness overtook them while they were still tramping through the woods, having covered some miles since leaving the spot where the deer was shot. and then by degrees eli began to guess what they had in view in holding him. it would be only natural for the two worthies to try and hide their trail when thus passing through the woods and bound for the place where according to stackpole the other had some sort of a dugout or shack. to the surprise of eli not only did they fail to take any precautions in this respect but on the contrary actually seemed to leave as plain a trail as possible. it took eli some time to understand the meaning of this, and then it broke upon him like a thunderclap--these fellows were laying a trap, and expected cuthbert to walk into the same just as the fly enters the web of the spider. of course in due time cuthbert and owen would feel it necessary to look him up, and as the latter was a good trailer they would follow the course now being taken by himself and his captors, follow it until the door of the trap was sprung shut, making them also prisoners. eli grunted his disgust when he saw all this spread out before him. eli was so utterly helpless to prevent it. and while he walked he was busying his mind in the endeavor to invent some clever scheme whereby he might get the better of the twin rascals and turn the tables upon them. but eli did not possess a very brilliant mind and suggestions came slowly to him; all his life he had been in the habit of allowing some one else do his thinking for him, and when thrown upon his own resources he found it difficult to fully grasp the situation and conjure up any possible remedy. at the same time he was stubborn by temperament and not given over to despair, no matter how black the circumstances seemed. perhaps presently things might take a turn; all he wanted was to keep his eyes about him, and his wits sharpened, so that if the occasion arose he would be in shape to reap the benefit. stackpole must have been joking when he said the shack was close by, or else they had purposely made a circuit in their walk, for it was a full hour before they arrived at their destination. whoever had originally built the cabin in the wild section where the rocks cropped up amid the stunted trees, it had evidently been abandoned many years, until of late dubois took possession of the same. a light through what seemed to be a window without glass was the first indication they had that they were approaching the end of the trail; eli showed some sign of interest when he saw this, for it meant that there might be another member of the party, and his curiosity was excited. could it be possible that there was a regular league of these lawless rovers of the great timber belt, organized to prey upon their fellows, and eager to milk such prizes as cuthbert reynolds would prove to be, if once he fell into their clutches? if so, this could hardly be their headquarters, for it was too near the hudson bay post; and from what he had heard about the stern old factor, he would never allow such an organization to get a footing within his territory--if he was a martinet and a stickler for fealty to the company, he was also an honest man, with a hatred for rascality that made him the terror of evil doers. stackpole brushed open the door and strode within. "follow yer leader, kid," ordered the man in the rear, and accordingly eli passed over the threshold. once within, the boy was ordered to prepare supper, and knowing the folly of resistance he obeyed. all the time he was on the watch for a chance to do something that would render the guns of the timber cruisers useless. they were both old style rifles of the breech-loading type, and given a chance eli knew how to fix them so that it would require the assistance of a gunsmith to place them in serviceable condition again. once dubois went out and called to stackpole, evidently desirous of conferring with his partner over something he did not wish the boy to overhear. eli saw his chance, and though his heart seemed to be in his mouth, he carried out his hastily formed plan. stackpole had taken the repeating rifle with him, as if not fully trusting the prisoner. but eli could wait. besides, he was hungry, and that was his venison, so he felt entitled to some of it. while they ate the two men occasionally joked the boy in their rough way. but eli only grinned, knowing that his time had almost come. "now git a hustle on and clar up the muss, younker!" said stackpole, as he lighted his pipe. eli coolly snatched up the little marlin repeater. he heard the angry cries of the men as they reached for their own guns. then eli laughed. "the joke is on you, stackpole. couldn't shoot them guns in a week, for i doctored 'em all right. stand back now or take the consequences, you!" they were cowed by the sudden and complete change. neither of them dared move a hand even when eli opened the door of the cabin, having slung some of the venison across his shoulder. "next time, gents, don't leave a timber boy alone in a cabin with your guns," he remarked, and waving his hand mockingly he closed the door. five minutes later one of the men ventured to open the door, when a gun sounded, and the bullet struck so close to him he slammed the barrier shut again. then eli hurried off, having taken his bearings. half an hour later he discovered the glow of the little headlight torch, and to the delight of his chums hailed them. although cuthbert and owen were indignant at the action of the timber cruisers, they thought best to let the incident pass. no doubt the men would leave the country now, since they must fear lest their unlawful act get to the ears of the old factor and cause them trouble. so our three boys returned to the camp and spent the remainder of the night in peace. chapter xiv. without authority. several times during the late afternoon of this day they heard gunshots ahead, and from this judged that they were drawing very near the post; which, like all such important places belonging to the great fur company, must present quite an animated appearance with trappers and hunters, whites, indians and halfbreeds, coming and going. few went downstream, since the points of interest and profit were further up in the wilderness; which accounted for the fact of their having seen only a couple of boats during the whole afternoon, one of these being manned by some _voyageurs_ belonging to the post, for they wore picturesque uniforms, consisting of leather coats lined with flannel, belts of scarlet worsted, breeches of smoked buckskin, and moose moccasins, and carried shawls of scotch plaid, as well as fur caps with ear-flaps for the cold weather that was liable to visit the northwest country at any day now--at the bow of the large boat floated the well-known blue and white flag of the hudson bay company, showing that this craft had undoubtedly carried a load of supplies to the post, and was now taking back to civilization packages of belated furs that had been brought in by trappers from the arctic regions. cuthbert knew considerable about this vast concern which has had almost a monopoly of the fur-gathering business in america for two centuries--really it dates back to , when a license to trade in furs in the hudson bay region was granted to an english company. knowing that he would be likely to come in contact with the agents of this corporation during his travels in the saskatchewan country, cuthbert had taken pains to learn all he could about what history had to say of their doings; and he found that in the far past they had been merciless and unscrupulous in their dealings with their employers; though, of course, much of this high-handed style of conducting business is not tolerated nowadays. the shadows were beginning to gather as the canoes rounded a bend in the stream, and the post stood out before them in the clearing, with the last glow in the western sky as a background. the union jack had been hauled down with the setting of the sun, for at these posts along the distant border something of military discipline has to be maintained, lest those in charge find their rough wards and employes breaking loose from their authority; for they have to deal with reckless spirits at times, and, of course, liquor frequently brings about trouble, just as in logging camps and all similar places. their coming had undoubtedly been signaled long before they arrived within hailing distance of the fort, for there was quite a crowd down at the landing to see them come in, a mixture of whites, natives and halfbreeds, all of them no doubt connected in some manner with the great fur company. some of these gave a noisy greeting to a boat load of indians landing about the same time as our friends, after the custom of their kind, boisterous, but good-natured; but cuthbert noticed that not one had a word to say to his little party; which pleased him very much, since he had worried over what they should do if the crowd proved unruly. he understood from what owen had let fall that the old factor ruled his camp with a rod of iron, and that there was not a man who dared go against his expressed wish--doubtless he had given his followers to understand that they were to keep aloof, and let him do the honors of the occasion. so our young friends shoved their boats upon the shelving beach, sprang out, and pulled the canoes up far enough to keep them safe from the current of the river; owen had already told them that a code of honor existed at the post, and whatever they left in the boat would be perfectly safe, for should so much as a trap be stolen, the vigilant factor would visit the thief with punishment of a drastic nature--his scotch blood would not stand for such a breach of hospitality. they knew that it was their duty to seek an audience with the commander of the post immediately, explain their mission to these wilds, and, if it could be done in a diplomatic manner, ingratiate themselves in his favor by making him some sort of a present--owen had hinted that the factor's one weakness was a love for tea, which he used at every meal with quite as much pleasure as the veriest old maid gossip at a sewing circle; and as luck would have it this happened to coincide with a leaning of his own, for he had made sure to fetch considerable of the very finest that money could purchase in new york--ceylon, young hyson and orange pekoe. hence, when he told eli that it was up to them to make a bee-line for the headquarters of the factor, and announce their arrival, his first act was to gather up a package he had prepared, consisting of a pound each of the several kinds of tea carried by the expedition. thus armed and equipped, he sallied forth, under the belief that he was able to propitiate the powers that be, without a single carnal weapon, and loaded only with a gentle persuader. owen had pointed out the position of the lodge where the factor had his office as well as his habitation; and indeed, even had they not a friend at court, it would have been easy to determine the location of this, since it turned out to be the largest building within the stockade, and in front of which arose the tall pole that had evidently held the union jack up to sunset. no one followed them, but various were the curious glances cast in that direction by the many personages who had a connection with the busy post. at the door stood a man, who appeared to be a guard, for he carried a rifle, and stirred at their approach, as though it might be his business to make inquiries of those who asked for an audience with the "little czar" within. "is the factor, mr. gregory, in?" asked cuthbert, pleasantly. "he is--walk right inside," came the reply, and they obeyed. the office of the trading post was a sight to cuthbert, who had often read of such a place, but never as yet, set eyes on one; a thousand articles seemed to be crowded into the apartment, so that there was little spare room on either side of the passage leading straight up to the great desk, where the factor held his court, flanked by account books that doubtless would have been rich reading to anyone interested in figures connected with the prices paid the indians for furs. through a door cuthbert could see an adjoining room that was evidently used for a general audience chamber in the wintry season, perhaps a bunkroom also, for it had an enormous stove that was well calculated to warm things when started. only a cursory glance did he bestow upon these inanimate things, for his attention was immediately wrapped up in the lone figure sitting back of the big desk, the factor of the whole region, alexander gregory, the mysterious man whose past seemed to be connected in some way with that of their new canadian chum, owen dugdale. cuthbert rather prided himself on his ability to read faces, and it was in this spirit that he approached the scotch resident boss. he saw a bearded face, with the sandy hue thickly sprinkled with gray--a face marked with strong individuality, and passions such as were common in the days of the bruce and the wallace of whom we read; indeed, just such a sturdy character as he had expected to discover in this strange man of the northwest, judging from all the stories he had heard. and yet he quickly discerned a bit of a twinkle in the corners of those cold gray eyes that told cuthbert the other was not wholly a man of iron--there was another vein to his character not often seen by his fellows, but which could be played upon by touching the right chord, if one but knew what that was. in that one moment of time cuthbert knew that here was a man worthy of his best efforts in the line of study, and that perhaps before he quitted this faraway post on the frontier he would be able to see the strong elements constituting alexander gregory's make-up unmasked. cuthbert was something of a diplomat, and he knew just how best to address a man of authority whom he desired to placate; accordingly he gave his name as well as that of his companion, told of the folly that had brought him to the wilderness, and that he desired to see a genuine trading post of the great company, now that he found himself in the neighborhood, and that he was pleased to meet the factor, of whom he had heard so many things in connection with the building up of the company's trade. alexander gregory listened, and it might be noticed that his face seemed to relax a trifle of its grim aspect; when the precious packets of tea were placed before him on the desk he could not refrain from smiling, and thrusting forth his hand, with words of warm welcome that quite tickled the young diplomat, for he knew that he had won a point in the game. chapter xv. scents a mystery. alexander gregory was a scotchman, but he had spent most of his life in the canadian bush, and while there was a distinct "burr" in his manner of speech, he very seldom used any of that broad dialect so characteristic of his race; and then generally when much excited. he seemed particularly amused at the harum-scarum idea that had tempted our young explorer to these distant fields, for few men knew more about the fearful difficulties awaiting the venturesome nomad in those lonely wastes beyond than did the veteran factor, since many a time and oft he had roamed toward the arctic circle in search of new opportunities, and had the humor seized him he could have told thrilling stories of what he had seen and endured there. seldom did he have the chance to interview so fresh and interesting a character as cuthbert, for his work brought him into daily contact with only rough, strenuous men, and in time this had undoubtedly hardened his own nature more or less. he asked many questions and examined the lad's charts with interest. just as owen had done he condemned the map made by the halfbreed, dubois, and declared that the fellow had undoubtedly purposely deceived him, with some object in view that could only be guessed. "that's just what owen said," exclaimed cuthbert, without stopping to think, and no sooner had the impulsive words passed his lips than he remembered that this was supposed to be a tabooed name in the hearing of the old factor, though just why he had no means of understanding. involuntarily he looked up hastily as if to see what effect the mention of owen's name had on his host, but he only discovered a slight start, followed by a flitting frown, and then a grim smile. "oh, he did, eh?" he remarked, quietly; "well, it would seem that the fellow has some sense about him, which i had begun to doubt, after he refused to meet me half way in burying the bitterness of the past. but speaking of this dubois, he is a rascal beyond any doubt, and he appears to have entered into some sort of partnership with stackpole, a fellow of his own stripe, though hardly as bold in his way of doing things. these scoundrels have been playing fast and loose for a long time in this region, but the worst they've been guilty of up to the present has been the robbery of traps. still, they have the spirit in them to attempt almost any unlawful game, once the opportunity offers, and i suppose they thought it had appeared in you. i've about made up my mind that the time has come to drive them out of the region, or hand them over to the mounted police, who will see to it that they are put in jail. in this region we often have to take the law in our own hands, you understand, lad. aye, i've seen some desperate things done in my day, and more often than i like they come up before my mind in the still watches of the night. mine has been a rough life of it, taken altogether, and not an enviable one. it is anything but a paradise up here when the long winter settles down. but it is the only life i know, and has its charms to a man of my nature, though there be times when i have longings for civilization and all that it carries with it." the factor sighed as he spoke in this meditative way, and cuthbert could read between the lines, knowing what a wasted life it must seem to look back upon, with the monotony broken only by scenes of violence, when indians went upon the warpath or halfbreeds became rebellious, as during the great uprising along the saskatchewan, when the ugly front of war made this region its battle ground. eli was awed by the frown of the factor, and hardly spoke a word unless addressed in person; but he, too, felt considerable curiosity concerning the relation of owen to this grim personage, and spent much time in propounding questions to himself with the object of finding out the truth. on the whole cuthbert was impressed rather favorably. he believed that mr. gregory, while appearing to be a forbidding character, was less of an ogre than surface marks would indicate; indeed, cuthbert rather took a fancy to the old chap, and could, in a measure, realize how he must have yearned for the pleasures of that outer life from which his fate barred him. he made up his mind to question owen at the first opportunity and learn what it was that stood between this czar of the wilderness and himself, for the mystery not only piqued his imagination, but he began to feel that his new-found friend might, in some way, be managing his case unwisely, and that the advice of a sympathetic comrade would prove of value in the matter. you see, cuthbert was a bit shrewd and already suspected something of the truth, for he could see through a millstone that had a hole in the center, and it had flashed upon him suddenly that there was more than an accidental resemblance between the young canadian lad and this stern master of the post. now, it chanced that the american, while devoted to his chosen profession of wandering through countries where the foot of a white man had never before trod, had other traits of character, and like most fellows, liked to dabble in a bit of a mystery, especially when he thought he could see a chance to improve the conditions surrounding a friend of his, and accordingly he puckered up his lips as though about to whistle, though no sound escaped him, and inwardly he was saying something after the nature of this: "by george, i believe i have it now--this old martinet, who rules the whole country of the saskatchewan with a rod of iron, and owen are related somehow or other, and in the past there must have been trouble between the two branches of the family--the scotch are famous for such things, and can hate just as hard as they can love. here's a pretty kettle of fish. owen's being knocked out of something that is his by rights, and i'm going to turn my talents to account so as to see that he gets all that's coming to him. what relation could aleck bear a youngster like owen but that of grandpa, eh? why, it promises to be about as good as a play. but i mustn't let on that i've guessed the riddle, for i don't understand why they're at daggers' points--what has owen done--why did he skip down the river without even his gun? h'm, there's lots to unravel even here, and perhaps i'd better get chum owen to confide in me before i go any further." the factor was plainly eager to test the virtues of his new tea, for he put a kettle of cold water on the stove, thereby proving that he was an adept at the art of brewing the fragrant herb, since it requires fresh water, brought to a boil, and not stale stuff, to extract the delightful aroma and flavor. cuthbert took the hint, though mr. gregory asked the lads to stay and drink a cup with him, a common enough invitation across the big pond, though altogether unknown among americans, whose invitations are apt to include something stronger. when they declined he bade them consider themselves asked to dine with him later on that evening, but cuthbert saw an opportunity to put in an entering wedge and reluctantly said that they would have to decline, since they had a comrade and would not feel like leaving him alone. the factor opened his mouth as if to say something and cuthbert expected that he meant to include owen in his invitation, but he simply nodded his head, smiled whimsically, and bent over to look at the fire. so they passed out. eli was completely muddled up with regard to the state of things, for he had not the shrewdness of his companion, and as yet saw no reason to suspect that there was a relationship between those who were so antagonistic. he meant to make friends with some of the halfbreeds who lounged about the post, and by asking questions anticipated getting close to the truth; perhaps his way, while less elevated than the plan of cuthbert, might bring results in a more speedy manner. they found owen where he had promised to await them, which was in a corner of the stockade, just outside the main enclosure--a rather secluded place, which the other evidently knew quite well. he had the tent up, and was arranging things for comfort, just as though unaware how long their stay might be. owen asked no questions, but he looked curiously into cuthbert's face, as if he might discover something there; but the other had decided to wait for a more fitting opportunity ere springing the question he had in mind. some of the loungers gathered around. they were naturally curious concerning the outfit of the young explorer, for he carried things such as they had never in all their lives seen; some of these were apt to excite the ridicule of such old and rough campaigners, accustomed to looking upon the earth as their bed, and the canopy of heaven as their roof; but when in lieu of a cooking fire cuthbert set up his little "juwel" kerosene stove, and in less than ten minutes had water boiling furiously, when he could make a big pot of coffee, the remarks in french patois were almost wholly favorable to the little brass contraption, as both the americans knew; for these fellows recognized how handy such an affair must prove on a wet day when it was almost impossible to find dry wood to burn, and some warm drink was needed to tone up the system. but it was ludicrous when the coffee began to boil to see those chaps elevate their noses and begin to sniff the fragrance as only wretched beings may who have long been strangers to the delicious decoction. evidently they had been told by the three indians how the boys had treated them to a cup of the beverage, and they made bold to hover about in the hope that history would repeat itself. nor were they disappointed. cuthbert was too shrewd a general to miss so good an opportunity to make many friends out of these rough spirits; so, after the campers had enjoyed their cup apiece and eaten some supper, cuthbert deliberately filled the aluminum receptacle, added condensed milk, with sugar, and then gravely presented it to the fellow whom he judged was the boss of the outfit, a big, raw-boned french-canadian _voyageur_, with a beard like a pirate. his eyes almost danced with delight, and he allowed the aromatic compound to gurgle down his capacious throat slowly, while he held back his head to gaze upward toward the first stars that had appeared in the blue arch overhead. twice he stopped and looked at his companions with a smirk, unable to refrain from tantalizing them; and it was ludicrous to see the way in which they scowled and shook their heads ominously--had it been any one but this strapping leader he might have found himself in trouble very soon. however, in good time they one and all had a chance to taste and enjoy the results of cuthbert's brewing; and he realized that his act had been a masterstroke so far as making friends of the gathering was concerned--the insidious coffee bean had proven more mighty than an army in changing the current of their thoughts. and yet cuthbert, who saw everything, could not help but notice that not one of these men of the post said anything to owen, though all of them, from time to time, cast curious glances his way, as though he might be a puzzle they could not solve. chapter xvi. a little witch. after that the post loungers had the good sense to leave our young friends alone, though when they sauntered away most of them either thanked cuthbert in a courteous french manner for his little treat, or else waved a hand to him, with a broad grin that stood for the same thing in the rough ways of their class. still, owen asked no questions concerning what they had seen and heard when at the office of the old factor; it looked as though he were determined to exhibit not a sign of curiosity, no matter how much he would like to hear all. so cuthbert took it upon himself to relate much that had been said, even to the remark made by mr. gregory with relation to owen himself--watching out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other turn rosy red and then grit his teeth firmly, as though repressing his feelings. "evidently he will have to be drawn out, for i can see that nothing tempts him to open up of his own free will; and yet he said a while back that he meant to confide his story to us. now, this thing has gone quite far enough, and if we are to be owen's best friends and chums it's only right that we know who and what he is, and also how he and the big mogul have fallen out. so here goes while the coast is clear, and no stragglers around." so saying, cuthbert turned to the canuck and, smiling, said: "owen, my boy, you promised to tell us something about your troubles when an opportunity came. now, i said then that i didn't want to intrude on your private affairs, but you insisted that we had a right to know; and since we've taken you into the combine as a fellow chum, and you're going to wander with me over a good part of this old planet in time, why, if it's just the same to you, i wouldn't mind hearing all you've got to say now. i confess your coming to this place has excited my curiosity, old chap, because i realize that there's been trouble of some sort between you and aleck over yonder. now, he strikes me as not so bad a tyrant as i had somehow imagined, and perhaps the matter might be patched up between you. remember, we don't want to hear anything that you'd prefer to keep secret--just tell us as much or as little as you think fit. you know we stand ready to give our full sympathy, and back you up to the limit. now, hit it up, my boy." owen drew a big breath, as though he had to nerve himself to speak of these things to strangers; for he had hugged his troubles to his own breast these many years, and they had evidently become sensitive subjects with him. but the ready sympathy which he saw upon the countenances of his comrades was a new sensation to the lonely lad, and he had no further hesitation about opening his heart to them. "don't make any mistake in the start, boys, for the trouble that lies between alexander gregory and myself can never be patched up, though if he had his way it would be. but i can never forget that his iron will embittered the whole of my poor mother's life. i've seen her cry many the time, and under my breath i cursed that hard-hearted old scotchman, who, because his daughter married a man against whom he chanced to have a spite, refused to forgive. he's a cold-blooded monster, that's what he is, and i would tell him so to his face." "i suspected that he bore that relationship to you--grandfather--there's considerable about your faces that gives the secret away," remarked cuthbert. "i may look like him in face, but thank heaven i'm a true dugdale in my feelings. i know you'll forgive me if i make the story short, because it rouses up the old feelings inside, and sad memories always make me hate him more and more. "after my mother and father died, which was less than a year ago, he heard of it somehow, and has tried to make up with me ever since, sending messages with letters, asking me to come and live with him; but his repentance came too late, for she was not here to know that he was sorry; and i utterly refused to even hold any correspondence with the man who would have let his own child go hungry or freeze to death because she would not come and ask his forgiveness, something my father would never hear of. "well, what do you think, finding that i wouldn't come to him of my own free will, this domineering ruler of the saskatchewan sent a party of his halfbreeds up to the region where i was trapping and kidnapped me outright--yes, i was carried a prisoner in their boat to this post, and actually confined in a cabin as if i had been guilty of a crime. he had the nerve to send me word that it had all been done without his knowledge, his men thinking they were doing him a favor, and that he would see me in the morning, when he hoped explanations might bring about an understanding between us--if i persisted in my determination to have nothing to do with him, i would then be at liberty to depart. "i never so much as sent him an answer, i was so furious at being dragged to his post like a wretch who had robbed traps; but during the night i found a way to escape from the cabin, and taking an old canoe, i fled down the river. the rest you know already. that is my story in a nutshell, boys. i could talk for hours, and even then fail to tell you all i've gone through since i was a little shaver, for i soon learned the sad story of my mother, and how she had suffered because her father refused to forgive. "my father was only a timber-cruiser, a man with little education, but an honest man at that. he was never able to make much more than a living, and we have many times gone hungry, while he was storing up treasures year by year, to be lavished upon his one other daughter, who married to please him. but we'd rather died there in the bush than ask a favor of him, my dad was that proud, and hated alexander gregory so for his injustice. "you understand now what i risked in coming back here; but when i reasoned it all out in cold blood i saw that he could not keep me against my will, for he's never been appointed my guardian that i know of; so i determined to come, and stick with you, no matter what happened." "you mentioned another daughter--is she with him still?" asked cuthbert, who had a reason for the question. "no, i understand that she was also taken away several years ago; her husband turned out to be a bad man, and had to get out of the country, because mr. gregory had sworn to shoot him on sight for good reasons. so, you see, that stubborn will of his, that wanted to bend everything his way, has not brought him very much of happiness. still, it's just what he deserves, and i'm not sorry one bit." "did the other daughter have any children?" pursued cuthbert. "i don't know; but what makes you ask?" said owen, raising his eyes quickly, to look his comrade in the face. "because, unless i am very much mistaken, i heard a girl's laugh in that big cabin where he has his home, a merry laugh that somehow made me feel as if i wanted to join in with a ha-ha of my own. if that is so she's your cousin, owen." that was indeed a master stroke on cuthbert's part, and well played, too. owen looked startled. "cousin--a girl--related to me," he muttered, as if unable to quite grasp the immensity of the thing; then a flush crept over his swarthy face, as though the new thought was more or less pleasing to him; for, poor lad, he had of late believed himself to be utterly alone in the big world, saving this hard-hearted grandfather, whom he refused to recognize. this gave him new food for reflection; and the young philosopher who had shot the shaft fancied that the intelligence might have more or less influence in determining his future relations with the factor--the human heart craves sympathy above all things, and this can seldom come so well from strangers as from those of the same family--blood is ever thicker than water. owen went about the preparations for the night, arranging the cots for his two comrades, and his own humble blanket bed; but evidently he was wrapped in deep thought, and cuthbert believed he had set a current in motion that was bound to have much influence over the other's future. if he could only arrange to have owen meet the owner of that merry laugh, he fancied the rest would be easy. with this idea in his mind he sauntered in the direction of the factor's headquarters, half-meaning to secure another interview with the other, at which, perhaps, matters might be threshed out, and light let in where all was darkness now. he changed his mind, however, when he saw that mr. gregory was busy with some of his employes, who had come down the river in a big batteau while the boys were eating their supper, and evidently had brought news of considerable importance, since they immediately sought an interview with the chief; and when cuthbert glanced in through the open door their heads were close together over some sort of a map which one of them was explaining. nevertheless, cuthbert could not refrain from keeping his eyes about, in the hope that by a lucky chance he might discover the one who laughed; and just as he was about to turn back to the camp of his friends he did catch a sound that immediately fastened his attention, only instead of merriment, it was rather a lugubrious little song, sung half under the breath--a song that possibly had the power to bring before the mind of the singer the face of the dear mother who had taught her to sing it, a song that affected even cuthbert as he stood with bowed head and harkened. presently the sound ceased, and he heard a flutter near by, when looking that way he caught a glimpse of a little figure passing into the rear of the cabin; as the door was open he could see what appeared to be a girl of some six or seven, slight of figure, and with the golden hair and the face of an angel. cuthbert laughed to himself as he looked, for he was thinking of his friend owen, and what a change would come over him when he made the acquaintance of this little fairy of the wilderness. he now sauntered over to where some of the trappers and _voyageurs_ had a fire, at which they had evidently cooked their supper earlier in the night and about which they were now reclining, smoking pipes, and exchanging stories connected with the wild life led by all. no one paid any particular attention to the lad, save to give him a place at the fire and offer him a tobacco pouch, which, of course, he declined, saying to the amazement of these inveterate smokers that he had never learned the art of indulging in the weed. he understood enough of the french _patois_ to follow what was said, and felt more or less interest in the weird tales they spun concerning the astonishing wonders of the great lone land, which he, in his audacity, had been tempted to venture into alone, bent on exploration--he realized now that it would surely have proven his tomb had he been allowed to proceed thither, convoyed only by the faithful eli, who was ready to follow him to the uttermost parts of the earth without question. presently, when he had broken the ice by becoming a little familiar with his neighbor on the right, a rather pleasant-faced fellow in the picturesque uniform of the hudson bay company, he ventured to ask about the sweet little singer, whose voice had charmed his ear; and, as he suspected, it turned out that she was a child of the factor's younger daughter, her name, jessie (which was scotch enough to please cuthbert's romantic fancy) and that she had always been at the post, a gleam of sunshine, for whom any of them would willingly have died. cuthbert was more than pleased with his discoveries, for he believed that it would, after all, not be so very difficult to bring about some sort of a reconciliation between the young canadian and his ancestor, the old factor, whose heart had lost much of its flinty nature long since under the ministrations of this little golden-haired witch, and was really hungering to remedy his conduct of the past as far as possible. if he did nothing more than joining these two, cuthbert could congratulate himself that his mission to the great saskatchewan region had not been in vain. he hunted eli up at once, determined to form some sort of plan whereby such a desirable end might be attained. fortunately, eli was alone in their tent, and when the other questioned him before speaking, not wishing owen to hear them discussing his affairs, cuthbert learned that the third member of the party had gone out quite a while before, saying that he would return by the time they were thinking of retiring. cuthbert fancied that it was the mention of the little cousin that had affected him so; perhaps even at that moment owen was hovering about the headquarters of the factor, in the hope of getting a glimpse of the owner of the sweet voice. so eli was placed in possession of all the facts as learned by his chum, and as of old they discussed the situation, for while the boy from the lumber regions lacked the education and polish that were cuthbert's birthright, he did possess a shrewd mind and had homely ideas of what was good and true--this had been the very thing that attracted the virginian to him in the start, and the more he saw of eli the stronger grew his affection, until it bade fair to become another david and jonathan relationship. on his part eli was more excited than usual, because he had made a discovery during his friend's absence, which was to the effect that certain specimens of ore which he had somehow managed to pick up and thrust into his pockets while in the woods were very rich with a greenish mineral which eli knew well enough to be virgin copper, and he felt convinced that he had at last struck the bonanza for which he had so long been searching--a genuine copper lode. when they had partly arranged their intended plan of action and fixed matters so that on the morrow they could open the game, the two young conspirators began to get ready for turning in. there was certainly no need of keeping watch here, for they were in the stockade bounds of the fort and within a biscuit toss of the factor's headquarters; surely no prowler would dare molest them here, and if he did there would always be the chances of his running up against a - from the forceful little marlin repeater that must discourage his sneaking propensities. once they had heard a great disturbance around on the other side of the main building, with many loud excited voices chiming in, but cuthbert, believing that the affair did not concern them and was probably only a dispute among some of the unruly employes of the trading company, restrained the impulsive eli, who was for bolting out and learning the cause of the fracas. where could owen be? surely the boy would not sneak away, after so boldly accompanying them to the hudson bay post--he had as much as promised to stick by them up to the time they expected to return to civilization, and if cuthbert was any judge of human nature owen dugdale was not the one to go back on his word. and it was very unlikely that anything could have happened to him off in the dense forest, where he was so much at home--the men connected with the post were now aware that the factor frowned upon such a thing as kidnapping one who showed the utmost reluctance to visit his relative, and consequently they would leave him severely alone from this time on, and as for the timber cruiser, he knew the bond of blood existing between the lad and the stern old factor, and with the inevitable consequences staring him in the face if he raised his hand again toward owen, he would not dare arouse the ire of alexander gregory for anything. chapter xvii. seen through the open door. owen dugdale had been more deeply affected by what his friend had said about the little witch of the fort than even cuthbert suspected. somehow the lonely lad had never conceived of such a possibility as having a cousin to love, and when he heard of it for the first time he was staggered by the change this seemed to make in affairs. unable to properly ponder over the matter within the tent where eli would naturally be wanting to ask ordinary questions that must disturb his mental scrutiny, he determined to go by himself and spend an hour or so threshing matters out once and for all. this hatred for the old factor had become so much a part of his nature that he was able to only see one side of the case, and for the first time in his life he found himself beginning to entertain a slight suspicion that he had purposely blinded his eyes to facts that might present a different aspect to things. memories of his sainted mother arose to haunt him; perhaps the incident of little sallie and her conception of her "duty" by her brute of a father, just because she had promised the mother who was gone to watch over him, had awakened these thoughts afresh, for owen, too, had promised to try and overcome his hard feelings for the old factor, though as yet without making any progress. still, tonight he seemed to be in a more amiable mood than for a long time. before his mind arose the last scene, when he knelt beside his widowed mother, and heard her whispered prayer that he might grow up to be a noble man, free from the accursed gregory spirit that had helped to make her own life unhappy. had he made an earnest effort that way? owen felt conscience-stricken when he remembered that he never once thought of his angel mother without a feeling of bitter animosity toward the unrelenting parent who had driven her forth when she married against his will. and now a new factor had been sprung upon him in the shape of this cousin! who was she and what could she be like? he knew there had been another daughter, just as he had told cuthbert, who had married the man her father picked out, only to suffer as all ill-used wives do; until matters went too far and alexander gregory had driven him out of the region. this daughter then had enjoyed all that money could secure for her during the few years she lived after her child came, so that the little one must be looked upon as the heiress of all the old factor's wealth; and he was said to have accumulated much of this world's goods during his life on the saskatchewan. but this interested owen not a particle, for he was quite free from any desire to share in the old man's money. whoever this girl might be, she was welcome to all the factor possessed, for he would never touch a penny, he was bound. it made him writhe a little to think, however, that the child of one daughter was rolling in wealth, so to speak, while he, the only issue of the other marriage, was like the foxes and had hardly more than a hole wherein to lay his head. still, she was a girl, while he as a hardy boy felt no need of comfort--given a gun and some provisions and he feared not the desolate places of the great north land; he had wrested many of nature's secrets from her bosom and could hold his own in the blizzard's blast as well as the animals. but he must get by himself to think all this over and fight the battle again, this time for good and all--it might make a difference if there were some one else besides the stern old factor, in whose veins ran the same blood; yes, that was something he had never considered before. so muttering some sort of an excuse to eli he had wandered forth into the night. he, too, had heard of the arrival of the batteau from above, and catching some casual words that were dropped knew there was trouble ahead for the immediate future, since a company of rival fur gatherers had swooped down upon ground that came within the jurisdiction of the fort harmony post, though often in dispute, and refused to leave when threatened by the agents of gregory. that might mean bloody war, for it so happened once in a while; and in times past scenes of violence had marked many a meeting of these rival companies. even this fact did not interest owen to any extent just now. at another time he might have felt his pulses thrill with eagerness, for having spent his whole existence in this region, he was naturally impregnated with the spirit that dominated the lives of those who depended upon the gathering of furs for their living, and owen besides had inherited some of the gregory combativeness. he was thinking of that cousin and feeling an eagerness he could not overcome to set eyes on her for himself. what was she like? if she looked at all a gregory he felt sure he could never care for her, since his feeling of intense dislike toward alexander the factor was too deep-rooted to be easily cast out. what was to hinder his wandering around near the big house used as an office and storeroom as well as the residence of the factor? if cuthbert had done so without attracting attention surely he could, and perhaps he might also be favored with just a little glimpse of the girl. even while allowing himself to be lured into this sort of thing by some strange feeling within, owen was curling his lip sarcastically at the idea of his ever being reconciled to the grandfather who had ruined the lives of his parents, making them so much harder and bitter than would otherwise have been the case. but with all his animosity toward dugdale, the timber cruiser who had won the heart of his favorite child, the factor had not been able to fully mar their lives, and owen knew that true love had reigned in that humble cabin far away beyond the jurisdiction of old gregory up to the time death took the father and husband away. presently he found his footsteps had carried him near the large building and he avoided the office end, as he did not wish it to appear that he was at all curious concerning the grave news brought in by the scouts who had come with the batteau from the upper reaches of the river. it was in the hope of hearing the same voice which had attracted cuthbert that brought him close to the rear of the building, where the wing was used as a home by mr. gregory. lights abounded in various parts of the house, which, being built for the most part of huge logs, weatherbeaten from long years of service, but still substantial, gave evidence of being a comfortable abode; and it was not long ere owen felt a thrill pass through his being as he caught a sudden burst of childish song, which ceased almost as quickly as it had begun, as though the singer just had to give utterance to her buoyant feelings in such little snatches of music. eagerly he waited, hoping that she would again lift up her sweet voice, for it had sounded like the trill of birds in the woodland to his enraptured ear. years had passed since this lad had heard a little child's voice in song; or, indeed, any music, for his mother's sad life had not been conducive to merry feelings, and one has to be at least fairly happy to sing. and when the child again broke forth and caroled a little french lullaby, as though singing to her dolly, owen stood there, nervously opening and closing his hands, as though enthralled beyond measure. when the song had died away he could no longer resist the temptation to feast his eyes upon the singer. this would not be difficult to do, for the door was open, and all that seemed necessary was for him to move still closer and bend forward. he did not fancy being seen in such an act, no matter how honorable his intention, for these rough dwellers in the wilds have a peculiar code of their own, and spying of any kind is severely frowned down upon. nevertheless he could not let the opportunity pass unimproved; and so owen began to move forward, trying to keep beyond the strongest path of light that flowed from the open door. when he thrust his head forward and saw the interior of the room he stood there as if frozen into a pillar of ice. if the spectacle of that little witch with the golden locks had held cuthbert spellbound, imagine how it affected this lad, who knew he was looking on the only close relative he had in the wide world, saving the factor--who did not count, anyway. he felt as though he could not tear himself away, there was something so fascinating about the small maid and her cunning ways, as she rocked her dolly and went through all the necessary operations required to put a real flesh and blood baby to sleep. and what made it all the more entrancing to owen was the unmistakable fact that it seemed to him he must be looking upon the face of his own dearly loved mother when she was a child; for the sister's little one had, as is often the case, resembled the one so much in her anxious mind, rather than herself. looking thus upon such a charming picture, was it strange that owen found himself thinking along certain lines that up to now he would have cast from him with scorn, as an evidence of weakening? cuthbert had made no mistake when he concluded that, sooner or later, through the means of this little peacemaker, must the vendetta existing between owen and his grandfather be brought to a close. when she had laid her doll carefully down and stroked it gently, just as a real mother might do with her sleeping babe, the child tiptoed about the room, casting many an anxious glance toward the crib, as though fearful lest she awaken the inanimate bundle reposing there--it was so natural that owen could not smile, even while he was feeling a sudden yearning to know this charming little relative at closer quarters. in that time he stood there all danger of his wanting to fly once more from the stockade vanished forever; and he even wondered whether his grandfather may not after all have had some such scheme in mind in inviting him to visit him, believing that the presence of this midget, and the fact that she was his own true cousin, would have a wonderfully soothing effect upon the truculent spirit of the boy. now she approached the door, as though either drawn by some subtle spirit, or a desire to glance out at the heavens to see what the weather might be. owen dared not move for fear lest such action must attract the very attention he was seeking to avoid; so he stood there as though he might be a post, and awaited the outcome with mingled feelings of anxiety and delight. it was not long in coming, the discovery. he felt, rather than saw, her gaze fall upon him, and she seemed to stand there in some vague sense of terror at first, as though fearing that the eavesdropper might mean her harm--afterwards owen understood why she should have this feeling better than he did just then, but it pained him to think that his presence should bring fear to her gentle little heart, and so he smiled. although he did not know it himself, when owen smiled, his face took on an expression that must have given confidence to a skeptic, for as is the case with all persons naturally grave, his countenance was lighted up with the sudden burst of radiance that sprang from his very soul. the child saw it and immediately her fear seemed to take flight, and she even smiled back at him. "come in, boy, and see my new dolly," she said, eagerly; and that was an invitation owen dugdale could not have declined under any conditions. so he who had sworn never again to set foot under the roof of the resident factor walked into his house only too willingly. chapter xviii. owen finds himself a prisoner. the little girl, with that wonderful intuition that leads children to know who are in full sympathy with their hearts, seemed to need no other guide than that one look into his smiling face, and she was ready to trust him fully. owen held out his hand impulsively. "i am your cousin, owen dugdale. perhaps you may have heard of me; and i want to say i'm awful glad to make your acquaintance, jessie ferguson. i didn't know i even had a cousin until just a short time ago this night; and i came out on purpose to see what you were like. look! i carry a picture of my mother in this little waterproof case fastened around my neck. that is what she looked like when she was a very little girl; and you are her image. i'm glad i came back here now; something seemed to whisper to me that it was best, and i know it was her dear spirit speaking to my heart." the child took the little locket and glanced at the face it contained, at the same time uttering a cry of delight. "why, it is my picture. but you said it was your mother--that must have been my aunt jessie! and you are my cousin, then? i have heard grandpapa speak of you. but you don't look bad, and he said----" and there she suddenly stopped, while owen's face flushed angrily with a sudden wave of resentment. "what did he say--i want you to tell me?" he asked imperiously. "i wish i hadn't spoken--he said you were a willful, headstrong boy--there; but i think he didn't know you," she answered, clinging to his hand in a confiding way that gave owen the joy of his life. with that he laughed, this time aloud. "i guess he knows the gregory spirit all right. i am headstrong; yes, and willful, too, for i wouldn't be a gregory otherwise. but don't let us talk any more about that. show me your new dolly. i don't know anything about dolls, and never had one in my hands in all my life, for you see we didn't have a little girl in our home, and the neighbors were miles off. but i'd like to know your dolly. i heard you singing her to sleep. ain't you afraid all this talking might wake her up?" he went on. "oh, no. she sleeps so soundly you see. i can do anything with her and she never cries. there, take her for a little while, cousin owen. how funny it is to know a real and true cousin. i never met one before; but i wanted to. i get awful lonely sometimes, for you see it's only me and grandpapa at the table; and he is so busy he can't play much with a little girl like me. won't you stay here and be my real cousin? i don't think i'd mind it much if there was only somebody like you to talk with me. i get so tired being alone; and dolly won't answer me; she lets me do all the talking." this ingenuous manner of speech, perhaps a trifle oldish in its way for a wee lassie of less than eight, acted like magic upon the heart of the desolate boy, who had known no home ever since his mother passed over to the far beyond; he then and there mentally vowed that he would settle this business before he turned in that night; and it was already a foregone conclusion as to what his decision must be--he could not bear the thought that he would never see this little fairy again. "i'll think of it, jessie--you'll let me call you cousin, won't you?" he said. "why, of course; we are cousins, ain't we? and you must be sure to say you'll stay, because i know grandpapa wants you; he told me so. he is getting old, and we worries a lot about me, just as if anybody would want to run away with a poor little child like me; but i heard him say that if owen was only here to be with me he'd feel so much more contented. so you see you must stay, because grandpapa wants you to, and i want you ever so much, and dolly--don't hold dolly that way, boy. all the blood will run to her head, poor thing. i'll show you how you must do it," and like a wise little mother she took the imperiled one in her arms, held her close to her heart and began crooning so sweetly that owen was enraptured more than ever. here was a revelation, and it had come upon him as suddenly as a shooting star bursts upon the vision of the night watcher, and goes swiftly speeding down the heavens amid the spangled hosts of other worlds. owen had not felt so happy in the whole course of his life, for he saw before him a wonderful change in his miserable existence, and a future home amid surroundings so pleasant that he could hardly believe it could be meant for him. having quieted the imaginary disturbed dolly she tucked the object of her anxious care into its crib, as if doubting the expediency of allowing her in the clumsy grip of this newly found cousin until he had been given a few lessons on the way to hold little girls' babies. "now," she said, having patted the clothes that covered the object of her solicitude with a careful hand, "we can talk a little, if you will be sure not to speak too loud. grandpapa often wakes her when he comes in, his voice is so awful gruff; but then he never means to and is always so sorry. he grabs us both up, but he kisses me more than he does my poor dolly." owen thought grandpapa was a very sensible old man, after all, and that given the opportunity he believed, indeed, he knew, that he would show the same partiality. he was not quite ready to face the old factor as yet; before that came about he wanted to be by himself and look the matter calmly in the face, so as to decide once and for all, though deep down in his soul the boy knew that this self-scrutiny must be pretty much of a farce, since he would never be content to go away now and see this cunning little fairy cousin no more. still, he did not want alexander gregory to come in suddenly and find him there, so he considered that, having made the acquaintance of jessie, he had better leave. if she chose she could tell the old man of his visit and that would break the matter gently, so that when it came time for owen to face his grandfather the factor would be prepared to extend the olive branch, if so inclined. "now i must be going, cousin jessie; i'm glad to have made the acquaintance of your wonderful dolly, but more than that to know you, and i hope to see you again tomorrow. kiss your dolly for me when she wakes, won't you?" he said, with another of those smiles that had quite won the heart of the demure little maid. "why, of course, if you give me one for her," she remarked, without the slightest affectation, and as if it were the most natural thing for one cousin to thus salute another on parting. well, he did, with the greatest pleasure he had ever known without any exception, and if the kiss were a bit bunglingly given that could be excused on the plea of lack of experience. and with the pressure of those rosebud lips against his went the last lingering gleam of owen's former resolution to hold resentment against the factor, because of his harsh treatment of the mother whose memory he treasured. so he went out again into the night air, but it was no longer the same owen as of yore who looked up to the star-bedecked sky--many a time and oft he had found sighs welling from his heart as he contemplated the heavens and speculated upon what little of hope the future held for him; but now he was thrilled with joy and peace such as he had never known. he sauntered around for a time trying to collect his thoughts, but there were so many things to distract his attention within the great stockade that he concluded it would be advisable to walk outside, where he could be really alone with his reflections. before doing so, however, he could not resist the temptation to steal back once more for another glimpse of the little fairy under the factor's roof, so that he could carry the picture with him while he settled the momentous question. perhaps he felt a vague sense of its all having been a dream, and wished to thus reassure himself as to the reality. be that as it might, some subtle power took him back to the vicinity of the door through which he had first caught his glimpse of jessie, the flower of fort harmony. for the first time he believed the post to be well named, after all. all seemed to be quiet in that part of the stockade, and as he did not wish any one to see what he was doing, owen carefully made out to avoid contact with such of the habitues of the post who might still be wandering about. thus he came to where he could look through the still open door. the child was there, and seemed to be holding her precious dolly in her arms as she rocked to and fro in a little chair; and owen smiled to see that every now and then the diminutive maid would bend down and kiss the inanimate face with the greatest vigor. perhaps she was keeping her word and giving dolly the salute this new and "awfully nice" cousin had left for her. the picture was something worth while carrying with him as he went out to commune with his thoughts and decide on his future. owen was just about tearing himself away, much against his will, when he became aware of a strange thing. apparently some one else was hovering around that darkened part of the stockade with the express purpose of peeping in at the door and feasting their eyes on the pretty picture disclosed, for he discovered a head between himself and the opening and which certainly did not belong to the old factor by any means. the man wore a skin cap and must belong to the brigade of trappers working for the company, else why should he be here; but what right had he prowling around at the back of the factor's dwelling at this time of night? owen felt indignation taking hold of him, and this was increased tenfold when to his surprise he saw that the individual was actually beginning to glide noiselessly through the doorway. it may be all very right for a _cousin_ to do this, especially when invited by the little lady of the room to enter and make the acquaintance of her new doll, but in another it must appear a crime. so owen stood there, quivering with suspense and indignation, hardly knowing what he ought to do under the circumstances. who was this individual and by what right did he dare to enter here? when the light fell upon his face owen saw that so far as he was concerned the other was a stranger, and a man with gray streaks in his beard; but that put the boy no wiser than before. unconsciously owen began to advance closer to the open door, as if he believed it might devolve upon him to act as the child's protector, although in one sense it seemed ridiculous to suspect that danger could menace her, here in the domain of her grandfather, the factor, whose word was law. the man glided forward and seemed to speak to the child, for owen saw her turn and survey him wonderingly; then it seemed as if she shrank back when the man put out his arms, still speaking in a wheedling tone, and owen could see jessie shaking her little head in a decided negative in answer to his questions--evidently the intruder was well known to her, but at the same time she seemed to have no good opinion of him, and again and again repulsed his advances, each time more decidedly, until the man lost all discretion and proceeded to show a different side to his nature. chapter xix. for so it was written. without warning the man suddenly sprang forward and seized the child in his arms; evidently fearing lest she scream and betray his presence, he instantly clapped one hand over her mouth. she struggled desperately, but was as an infant in his clutch; and turning, he started to leave the room, evidently expecting to be able to get out of the stockade without being seen, since the hour to close the big gates would not arrive for some little time. owen, bursting with indignation and anger, sprang to intercept the man, who up to this very moment had not been aware of the fact that his attempt at kidnapping had been witnessed. when he felt the hands of the boy upon him the fellow uttered a low but venomous oath, and seeing that he could not defend himself against this enemy with both his hands employed in holding the child, who had now swooned in her terror, he dropped little jessie to the floor and turned upon his antagonist like an enraged lynx. owen was only a half-grown lad, but he had lived a strenuous life, and his muscles were developed to a point where he was almost equal to a man in strength, so that it was no weakling the fellow tackled when he thus fiercely tried to tear himself free so that he could escape ere the factor or some of his minions arrived upon the scene, attracted by the sound of the scuffle. he struggled desperately, but owen still clung to him like a leech, bent upon holding him until help came, for he believed this wretch should be punished for his vile attempt to kidnap the sweet child. finding that he was having more trouble to break away than he had expected the man resorted to other means of influencing the boy besides brute strength. "let go of me, you fool! i am that child's father, angus ferguson, d'ye hear? is it a crime for me to want to see my own? let go, or by heaven i'll murder you, boy. i know you--i heard the men talking about you, owen dugdale, and ye should be the last to try and hold me for that devil, alexander gregory. let go, i say! do ye not hear them coming? shall i kill ye here and now?" he cried, hoarsely, as he put forth all his great power to break the other's hold. yes, owen did hear them coming, men on the run, men who were calling out to each other and to the factor to hasten; and he was more than ever determined that this wretch should not escape. what if he were the father of little jessie, she and her mother had long ago repudiated him, and his mission here could not but menace the child with evil. no matter who he was, he must remain to give an account of his intentions to the czar of the region around the saskatchewan. so owen continued to hang on, harkening not to the grumbled threats of the desperate man with whom he wrestled. all the other now considered was escape, and to that end he was exerting every atom of strength he possessed; twice had he brought his clenched fist into contact with the boy's head; but at such close quarters the blow was not nearly so effective as it would have otherwise been, and at any rate, it only caused him to clench his hands the more rigidly, until it seemed that, like the grip of the bulldog, only death could make him let go. and it was thus they were found when several men belonging to the company rushed in at the door, headed by the factor himself. they precipitated themselves upon the struggling couple immediately and tore them apart, the factor staring hard first at owen and then at the other, who was breathing hard from his exertions, yet glaring in rage at the grizzled scotchman. one look gregory took at the figure of little jessie on the floor and he seemed to comprehend the whole of the man's iniquity. "angus ferguson here! and ye would have kidnapped the child given to me by the court's decree, ye villain! it's nae gude ye would have been intendin' to the wee bairn. i thought ye dead ere now, but its scotched and not killed ye must hae been by that forest fire twa year back. but now i'll see to it that ye do no mair harm in this section. i hae got ye whar i want ye at last, ye contemptible dog," exclaimed the factor, unconsciously in his excitement reverting back in some degree to his brogue. "can ye blame the fatherly instinct that urged me to come here, knowing as i did that i took my life in my hand?" growled the other, sullenly. "fatherly instinct be hanged. ye never knew what it was in the past. always hae ye been a rogue, with a double tongue in your head. fatherly instinct, in faith, i hae a gude idea ye meant to carry off the child, if naething more than to stab me, whom ye hate like poison?" said gregory, and his words burned like a scorpion's sting, for the man burst out into a string of oaths. "and i would have succeeded if it hadn't been for this meddling young fool, this son of the daughter you thrust out of your flinty heart. he held me here, curse him! i defy you, gregory! do your worst with me. not another word do you get out of me now," and he shut his teeth hard as if the tortures of the inquisition might not force him to speak. the factor shot one look at owen, a look that was benign, even full of hearty thanksgiving, and it was evident that by his act of that night the lad had fully bridged the gulf that had lain between them; he held the whip hand now, and it would be his grandfather who would be suing for forgiveness ere another sun had gone down. "fatherly love ye say, angus ferguson? i do not believe it. there was another motive that brought ye here the night. my scouts hae told me that ye were with the crowd that camps on our land, and so i know ye are hand and glove with those who are at war with me. it was as a spy ye came here to see what we meant to do. if it were war times ye should meet death for such an act; as it is, the law has a claim on ye, and i'll do my best to see that it is satisfied. ye shall be kept close in the dungeon under this house until i have a chance to send ye to the headquarters of the mounted police. men, take him away and see that he is properly searched before ye leave him. i would not put it past the scoundrel to fire the house and burn us all in our beds if so be he could." while some of the hardly trappers were dragging the prisoner away to confine him according to the directions they had received, gregory bent over the form of the little girl, whom he took tenderly in his arms and kissed with a passion that told of the hold she had upon his heart. jessie was coming to and opened her blue eyes at this moment, shrinking closer to her grandfather and hugging her arms about his neck; then she peeped timidly around as if in search of the bad parent who had tried to get her to desert this precious home she loved so well. owen, seeing that she was unharmed, turned to leave, but her eyes caught sight of him and she called his name. "cousin owen, please get my dolly for me; she's afraid to be alone," she said; and obediently the lad stepped forward to obey, while old gregory smiled to see that the little queen of the post had found another loyal subject who was ready to cater abjectly to her petty whims. "boy," he said, as owen flashed him a glance ere going out; "i must see you in the morning. you must not think of going hence, for here you belong to this little girl and to me! stay with us; let us show by our love what sorrow for the past has done for me. your act this night has bound you to us in chains that must not be lightly broken. owen, lad, you will find that the old iron spirit can be easily bent now. do not leave us; we need you, both jessie and i." owen felt a lump in his throat, and tears in his eyes, which seemed to him such a childish sensation that he could not bear they should notice it; so abruptly wheeling he dashed from the room. but as he went he heard that sweet childish voice calling after him: "cousin owen, say you will stay, please; we want you, dolly and me!" he was shaking with the emotion that had almost overpowered him and yet his boyish heart seemed to be filled with satisfaction and delight over the way all things had come about. that strong and desperate man had not been able to make him yield an inch, and yet here he was ready to fall down and admit himself a prisoner, simply because a child had called him "cousin." he felt that he could not go back to the tent while in such a disturbed state of mind, and accordingly wandered away to where he might be alone, with the quiet stars looking down upon him from above. how many times in the past had he stood under this same starry heavens and wrestled with the problems that beset his way; but never with the tingling sensation of new-found happiness that now filled his whole being. as he stood there in the stillness some distance away from the outer walls of the grim stockade owen seemed to feel that the spirit of his gentle mother was with him again, and he knew she would approve of the resolve he had made since learning about the cousin, of whose existence up to now he had never known. and while he stood there a star swept like a glorious meteor across the wide expanse of the night sky, filling his soul with awe, for it seemed to him as though he had thus been given a sign from heaven that his course met with approval there among the shining ones above. long he stood there and pondered, not that he had need to take himself to task, because his course was already mapped out, but the gates of the past had been opened by these discoveries, and he could in imagination see his mother walking about these scenes she had so often described to him, a fair young girl, with golden hair and blue eyes, so like the cherub who was doubtless still in the loving arms of her doting grandfather, the stern czar of the hudson bay post. so had it all come out right, events being guided by some mysterious power that shaped them to the best end, and owen was satisfied. when he finally turned about, since the hour was getting very late, and started to once more enter through the gates which would soon be closed, he heaved a sigh, but not of anxiety or grief; rather did his spirit rejoice that the long battle with his better nature was over at last and that the right had won out. how wonderful were the ways of providence after all, and how small must the plans of mortal man seem in comparison; he had been brought back to the post really against his will, and yet see what had come of it; already had he been enabled by his presence to save the sweet child from falling into the hands of her unscrupulous father, and thus won the heart of the old factor as he could have done in no other way. and owen had not a single regret as he turned in at the gate, and headed for that corner of the stockade where the tent that was to serve them as a shelter had been erected earlier in the evening. chapter xx. the tent dwellers. somehow cuthbert could not get to sleep. he was constantly thinking of owen and his fortunes, weaving castles in the air that might be fulfilled, providing the sturdy young canuck could be convinced that it was right and proper for him to become reconciled with his grandfather, and let bygones be forgotten. so an hour or two passed. cuthbert finally arose and cast his blanket aside, for he had not made use of his sleeping bag on this night. stepping out of the tent he looked around; the night was fair and not a sign of trouble could be detected in atmosphere or sky, for the heavenly monitors shone overhead with their usual brilliancy, and there was not much of a tang in the drowsy night wind. cuthbert thought it suspiciously quiet, knowing how it often grows calm before a storm. really he was beginning to feel worried a bit about the non-appearance of owen, when he caught the soft sound of footsteps and the object of his solicitude appeared close by. "hello, keeping watch?" he asked, a little surprised to find one of his companions up and looking around. "no, i just happened to wake up, and not finding you in the shack, crept out to take a peep around, and see if there was any sign of your coming. i had begun to fear our mutual friends, stackpole and dubois, might have waylaid you, old fellow; but now i see i was wrong. you've been taking a bit of exercise, no doubt--didn't get enough on our way here, eh? it did me up, all right, and i was glad to drop down and rest. now you're in camp i'll resume my nap," answered cuthbert, leaving it to the other as to whether he wanted to explain. owen seemed a trifle confused, but he was a straightforward fellow and without a trace of guile in his make-up. "to confess the truth, cuthbert, i hung around for a long time to get a glimpse of that little cousin you spoke of, and fortune was kind enough to let me see her several times. just as you say, she looks like a fairy and somehow made me think of a picture i have of my mother when she was young. i had quite a little talk with her, too, which made it very pleasant. and while i'm about it i might as well own up that the sight of her, together with the thoughts swarming into my mind, caused me to finally wander off into the woods, where alone i could fight the whole thing out and come to such a conclusion as the mother i loved would have had me do. it's been a hard tussle, i tell you, but i think i've won out," he said, with a quiver in his voice, and it was easy to see that the lad had been recently racked by emotions that for some time he had succeeded in keeping under restraint. cuthbert understood better than words could have told him what the nature of that battle under the stars must have been, and to show his sympathy for this new but dear chum he impulsively thrust out his hand and gripped that of owen. "i'm awful glad to know it--say no more, old fellow, for i can give a pretty good guess how it turned out. come, tumble into your blankets and get some of your beauty sleep. there's another day coming, when i hope all of these twists and misunderstandings may be smoothed out and everything look bully. now, crawl in and feel for your nest--it's on the side to the right, first blanket." "wait a bit," said owen, "there's something else you ought to know. perhaps you heard all that racket awhile ago. well, i was partly the cause of that," and then he went on to tell the wondering cuthbert what a strange thing had occurred while he was still lingering near the room that held jessie ferguson. the virginia lad was also pleased, because he knew the reconciliation could not be much longer delayed, and presently he lay down once more to sleep. owen was accustomed to turning in all standing, as a sailor would say--that is, with simply pulling off his boots or moccasins, whichever he chanced to be wearing, for a life in the woods does not allow of the customary preparations for bed; even the other two boys only removed their outer garments, though when the weather had been milder cuthbert had indulged in the delight of pajamas; but the first frost had chilled his ardor in that line, and he had gradually come to copying eli, who had the habits of the loggers of the great michigan woods and waived all ceremony. when ten minutes had passed cuthbert fancied from the regular breathing that came from the spot where the canadian lad lay that he was far along the road to the land of nod, and giving a satisfied grunt, he himself turned over, to let himself slip away on the tide. those who spend much time in the woods, in camps are restless during the night, and rarely sleep through without once or twice arousing, lifting their head to listen through habit or caution, or even crawling out to renew the fire. true, there was no need of these things now with our boys, but nevertheless cuthbert seemed to rest under the impression that it would not be a good thing to break a settled habit, and so along about one o'clock in the morning he poked his head out of the tent to take a perfunctory look around, just as an old and tarry sailor, from habit, jerks his head up while passing along the street of a city, not so much to survey the skyscrapers that tower above him, but from sheer habit of glancing aloft at the shivering sails of the old hooker upon which he labors twenty hours of the day. he found that the sky was covered with clouds, and there was beginning to be quite some wind--indeed, it may have been a corner of the tent which was whipping monotonously in each rising gust that had aroused him. anyhow, he bent down and secured the flapping end, so that it would not awaken the others with its antics, after which he took another survey of the situation and again crawled under cover, convinced that by the dawn they might anticipate a storm of some kind. it was a bit pleasant to know that they were now in such a decent sort of shelter and could keep quite dry, no matter how the rain came down, and if it so happened that the first real touch of winter was sprung upon them, why surely it would not be hard to keep cozy, with plenty of wood to burn and a storehouse so close at hand, from which any amount of provisions could be obtained, since he possessed the "open sesame" in the way of cash. he thought he heard owen move as he crawled back into the tent again, but was not quite positive, and he did not want to arouse both of the others, in case they were asleep, by asking questions. the last he remembered after that for some time was of lying there and listening to the increasing moan of the wind among the tops of the great hemlocks that stood close by the corner of the stockade; it seemed after a time like a lullaby soothing him to sleep, for cuthbert was too old a hand at this sort of game to allow himself to grow nervous over the coming of a little whirl, such as this no doubt would prove to be. then he lost consciousness and slept heavily, unmindful of the wind, the mournful hoot of a great northern owl in the dead tree nearby, or even the howls of big gray timber wolves grown bold with the nearness of winter. chapter xxi at dead of night. some one, violently shaking him, brought cuthbert once more to his senses, and he aroused to the fact that it was eli, who kept shouting in his ear: "wake up--wake up, there's the dickens to pay--pile out and help, old man--they need us bad--get up, i say, get up!" that was certainly quite sufficient to thoroughly arouse any one, no matter if he had been a sluggard, and surely cuthbert could never be called that; so, with a toss of the blankets, he scrambled to his feet; then, remembering that he was in his socks, he hastened to snatch up his boots and pull them on. all this only took a few seconds of time, but during the brief period cuthbert was dazed with the awful clamor that was making the welkin ring without, for it seemed as though every known sound had been accumulated to help carry out the idea that gabriel was blowing his last trumpet, with the end of the world close at hand. he knew men were shouting madly, and from the voices it was plain that those who thus gave tongue were both cree indians and canadian _voyageurs_, for the latter had gone back to their french tongue with the advent of excitement--then it struck the virginia lad that another sound which he had heard was very much along the line of the roaring flames, and immediately the conviction forced itself upon him that in some manner the forest close by had been fired, perhaps by some enemy of the factor, such as dubois or stackpole, and that there was danger of the conflagration leaping the barrier and attacking the houses within the compound. no sooner had he thrust his nose outside the tent than he gave utterance to an exclamation of mingled surprise and consternation. it was a fire all right, but not of the species he had suspected--the roaring sound was produced by the wind whipping the flames into the angry flood, but it was hewn timber, not erect trees, that were ablaze, one of the houses, in fact, with an end a seething mass of flames. cuthbert knew not what to think, save that possibly some enemy had done this; but he was quick to lend his aid to save whatever the contents might be. accordingly he hastened in that quarter. already he had discovered that while he slept a storm had swept down upon the region of the saskatchewan, and was howling through the forest and over the waters with demoniac glee, though as yet not a drop of rain had fallen, or a flake of snow descended, though one or the other must come in time. but that mad breeze was a bad thing for a fire, since it would whip the flames until they tore loose from all human control, to carry ruin in their train. cuthbert was not alone in his rush toward the burning building, since from various directions human figures were to be seen centering in that quarter, for the employes of the fur company were certainly loyal and willing to do all that men might in order to save property or lives. at first cuthbert imagined that it was the storehouse, and while the burning of its contents might cause some inconvenience, there was still time to replenish the stock before winter set in fully, so that it seemed to be only a question of a money loss at the most. but as he advanced, his eyes trying to pierce the cloud of smoke that hung all about the burning building, he began to sense the import of the wild cries that were being uttered about him, a cree shouting to a _voyageur_, or it might be one of the french halfbreeds to a fellow, and as the nature of their shouts broke in upon his intelligence, he felt a new thrill of alarm. it was not the store building, but the residence portion that was afire, and cuthbert remembered like a flash that the little cousin of owen had her quarters there, as well as the old factor. he looked around hurriedly, expecting to see both close by, but to his horror failed to do so. what could it mean--where was the sturdy head of the post, the scotchman, who, despite his age, had seemed to the boys so like an oak--was it possible, after all, there could be something fiendish back of this conflagration, and that alexander gregory had been first of all stricken in his house before the match was applied? it was an awful thought, enough to make cuthbert's blood run cold, but before he could communicate his fears to any one he heard a roar as of a lion, and saw the factor come tumbling through smoke and flame--he rolled over upon the earth once or twice, while the virginia lad fairly held his breath in suspense, fearing that the valiant old chap might have received his death wound while battling with the flames; then, to the delight of cuthbert, the factor struggled to his feet and began to hobble around as if he had a broken leg, meanwhile shouting out orders in that foghorn voice that made men spring to obey. but the little one. where was she? the factor evidently believed jessie must have come forth some time back, for he was not ordering the men to _try_ and save the stricken building, but to devote their energies toward keeping the flames away from the storehouse. even as cuthbert watched as in a dream he saw the factor try to walk, but immediately fall down, to be assisted to his feet again by a couple of the men. then came a flying figure up to his side--it was owen, who had once vowed never to speak to this relative again so long as he lived, but whom cuthbert knew had just recently repented of this resolution and was ready to meet his grandfather half way in the morning. he seemed to seize upon the old man and shout something at him--just what it was cuthbert could not hear, so furious was the whoop of the wind and the roar of the sweeping flames; but he guessed it to the dot, for he knew beyond a doubt that the canadian lad was demanding to be told where the girl slept, for she had not been seen since the fire broke out. old gregory became a frantic man on the spot, for his whole life was wrapped up in the little fairy; he tried to rush forward himself, but went down in a heap, struggled to his knees, with owen gripping his arm fiercely and continuing to shrill that question into his ear, until at last in despair the old factor thrust out his hand and with quivering finger pointed at the end of the burning domicil, being utterly unable to frame a single word, speech failing him. it was quite enough for owen. like an arrow shot from the bow he sped straight into the smoke and flame. cuthbert gave a gasp and feared he had seen the last of his new chum, but he felt a thrill of admiration because of the daring act--it was worth while to realize that his first estimation of the canadian lad had been correct, and that when the occasion called for an exhibition of valor owen had risen to meet it in a way that must excite admiration among all men who honored true bravery. the picture was one that would never fade from the mind of cuthbert--leaning up against one of the palisades alexander gregory seemed turned into stone, as he watched the spot where the lad had vanished, wringing his hands in the intensity of his anxiety--twice he made a spasmodic movement as though intending to hobble forward and plunge into that vortex of fierce flame himself, but each time a groan was forced from his lips when he discovered that his leg was really useless, the sprain being serious. cuthbert wished he knew of something that he could do to assist, but since the other had vanished there was no sign, and to simply follow after him would mean a triple tragedy, an altogether useless sacrifice. eli was at his elbow and together they pushed as close to the burning walls as possible, eagerly scanning the windows above for the first sign of owen and meanwhile shouting at some halfbreeds, who were staggering under the weight of a ladder which they had found close by and guessed might be useful in some sort of an emergency. cuthbert held his breath. he really had very little hope of ever seeing his new friend again, for there did not seem to be one chance in a dozen for any one to issue forth from that fiery furnace alive, since this was not the day of miracles. it was like an age to him, though in all probability but a minute had really crept by since owen vanished through the doorway, and yet during that interval the fire had gained more headway, despite all efforts of the gathered employes of the hudson bay company to smother it with water, pumped through a hose and by means of an old hand engine kept against just such an emergency. a hand gripped cuthbert's arm and turning his head quickly he found that it was eli who had thus unconsciously caught hold of him--possibly the tremendous excitement had weakened the backwoods lad, so that he clutched at support; but he was staring upward toward one of the windows, as though some movement might have caught his attention there. his campmate naturally enough cast his eyes in the same quarter, as if sudden hope had sprung into existence; but it was to see the flames shoot out of the window in a manner that must have utterly precluded the possibility of owen making an exit there. cuthbert groaned aloud, filled with dismay--it was a horrible thought thus thrust upon his mind, for there is something unusually agonizing in a death by fire; and it seemed as though the last chance had gone when the demon of the flames thrust his grinning visage out of that window. then eli gave vent to a sudden shout close to his ear, so that he heard what was said even above the frightful roar of the wind and crackle of flames: "the roof--look up yonder over the eaves--hurra, he's got her--bully for owen, i say!" was what eli shrieked. wonderful to say, the brave canadian lad had indeed pushed out through some sort of trap or scuttle in the sloping roof, the presence of which seemed to be unknown to him; and just as eli had declared, he was carrying a little limp figure in his stout and willing arms, none other than his cousin jessie, the darling of the old factor's heart. cuthbert was stricken dumb for the moment, it all seemed so like the hand of providence directing things so that the wandering boy might come into his own. gregory gave out a cry that was more like a roar of exultation, for he had been down in the depths of despair, and the sight of his lissome lassie still in the land of the living acted like a spur upon him--he stretched out his arms in the direction of those upon the roof, and again endeavored to hasten toward them, only to fall over once more helpless upon the ground. then cuthbert awoke to the fact that while his chum had done a bold thing, and for the moment cheated the flames of their intended sacrifice, he was not yet safe, for all around the flashing tongues of fire gathered for a last effort at accomplishing the dread work, so that the twain above seemed hemmed in. so cuthbert shouted to those who carried the hose, and forced them to turn the stream of water upon one spot where the fire was weakest; rushing at those who were staggering forward bearing the ladder, he seized hold of the blessed thing and urged them to raise it against the wall at that particular point. chapter xxii. conclusion. eli was determined to be in the game, too, and while his chum was thus engaged in creating a chance for the escape of the two upon the roof, the boy from the timber region hustled several men forward, bearing armfuls of pelts that others had just drawn from the lower floor of the house--they were especially costly skins, and the lot might be worth a duke's ransom; but at the moment, with those two precious lives in peril, to the anxious factor they were as dross, and he would only too willingly have stood the loss of the whole kit could he by this means have saved the one so dear to his old heart. with these eli meant to fashion some sort of buffer, that would break the fall should the couple above find themselves compelled to jump; and it was a splendid scheme to be formed on the spur of that dreadful moment, one that cuthbert never could forget, or cease to praise. meanwhile, he was pretty busily employed at his own affair, placing the ladder against the building, and directing those who had held the hose to keep the stream of water chasing up and down that particular quarter. owen could not see everything that was being tried; but he knew fairly well what they intended he should do, and once assured of the presence of the ladder, he did not hesitate about using the same. what if the fiery fingers did snatch after him as if furious at being cheated of their prey--the blessed stream of water, cold with the frosty breath of the approaching winter, showered about him, and saved them both from even a serious burn. cuthbert was waiting at the foot of the ladder, ready to spring up and render quick assistance if it was necessary; but owen still remained in possession of his powers, and gripped the little girl securely in his arms. it was as if a new life had suddenly opened up to the lonely lad--this one whom he had saved from the deadly gas and fire was his own kith and kin, daughter of his mother's sister; and the very touch of the girl's senseless form was able to send a thrill of exultation through him. cuthbert did not attempt to take the burden from him, for he understood just what it meant for owen to bring the girl to her grandfather by himself; so he fell in behind, calling to the men to desist with their stream, to turn it upon the storehouse, while others gathered up the costly skins that had been thrown down with such good intent. alexander gregory had struggled to his feet again--little did he heed the pains that accompanied his sprain, even though the misadventure crippled him for the time being, and rendered it difficult to stand without help; for his attention was wholly taken up with that still little form that owen was hugging in his stalwart and affectionate arms. jessie had been almost smothered by the smoke; but her rescuer, knowing how perilous such a thing might be, had been careful to wrap something around her head, so that after that the atmosphere reached her less permeated by noxious gases; and when owen gained the ground she had so far recovered as to struggle enough to free her head from this enveloping mantle, and make a movement as though desirous of being released. but owen, partly overcome himself by the smoke he had taken into his lungs, did not fully understand, and staggering up to the old factor he held out his burden, gasping: "here she is, grandfather, safe and sound!" cuthbert held his breath, and then suddenly gave vent to a shout of joy; for just as he hoped, even if he did not wholly expect it to occur, the factor, wild with delight and thankfulness, simply stretched his arms and gathered into his embrace both girl and lad. owen was a wanderer no more; but had found his own in the heart of his grandsire. it was a splendid ending to the little forest drama, and cuthbert was the happiest fellow on the face of the earth at that moment; for he had in the short time he had known owen grown to feel very warmly toward the manly young canadian, and nothing that could have happened to himself might have given him one-half the pleasure that this final scene did. eli was a demonstrative chap, and he just squatted down on the spot and cried for very joy; while he did not know the satisfaction of a home himself, still he could rejoice over the fact that his friend had ceased to belong to the grand order of nomads. there was still considerable to do, in order to keep the fire within bounds, for while the living quarters of the factor had gone too far to be saved, there remained other buildings, some containing stores of great value, and unless the employes of the company were smart the post would be practically wiped out. so cuthbert led them to the assault, and fought fire as valiantly as ever any member of an engine company in a crack tournament could have done in order that his town might win the grand prize offered. the hose proved valuable enough; but only for the assistance of the wind possibly there might have been another story to tell when the fire finally ceased its mad antics through lack of fuel--it chanced that the breeze was blowing away from the other buildings, and while the stockade caught, it could be easily extinguished. of course the factor had met with quite a serious loss; but he seemed to care mighty little about this, since his precious darling had been spared; as far as the other things went they could be easily duplicated before the rigor of winter had fully settled down upon the saskatchewan country, and he was well able to stand the penalty in dollars and cents. then there was the pride he took in the valiant rescue work of owen; his eyes were continually turning toward the lad with a softened light in their depths, and it was evident that his heart had become exceedingly tender with respect to this wandering son of his daughter. he several times called owen to him to ask if he were certain that he had not received serious burns while within the blazing house; to cuthbert it was plain that this was in part a subterfuge to have the other near him, since his sprained ankle prevented him from moving about. when morning came he would have a heart-to-heart talk with the lad, and never again must there be a cloud allowed to rise between them--these three were all that were left of the family, now, and they must stick together. the factor told cuthbert what might be done to insure them some degree of comfort during the remainder of the night, and with the assistance of the other lads he saw that it was carried out. an hour later the excitement had all died away; the spot where the house of the factor had stood only contained a pile of ruins, still smouldering, with an occasional tongue of fire shooting upward; but ere dawn this was fully extinguished by a fall of rain. they never fully settled how the fire had caught; it may have been an accident, but there were those who believed that the prisoner had taken a hint from alexander gregory's bitter words and really fired the house; at any rate he had disappeared utterly, whether finding safety in flight or meeting death in the flames none could say. mr. gregory was well enough inside of a week to accompany the boys down the big saskatchewan to the nearest town where he could obtain those supplies which were needed to replace what the fire had devoured; they had a fine time of it swinging along with a couple of great batteaus, manned by the french-canadian _voyageurs_, who sang their boat songs as they rowed, and made things merry around the fire at night time. cuthbert and eli hated to part from the chum who had so quickly won his way to their hearts, and they readily promised to come back again to this charming country, when another year rolled around--eli had his mind set upon working that copper mine, and cuthbert had promised to see that the necessary capital was secured with which to provide all the paraphernalia such as is used to advantage--if his chum was of the same mind after he had roamed around the world with him. owen's little cousin had accompanied grandpa to town, since a "woman's judgment" was considered essential in choosing some of the household effects; and the last glimpse our twain had of dear old owen, the erstwhile lad, was standing with his arm about jessie, while the proud factor beamed upon them both, and waved his hat with just as much enthusiasm as the youngsters. eli after all never found a chance to develop his copper mine, but with such a chum as cuthbert ever with him there promised to be small need of his looking to that source as a means of travel; together they have seen nearly all the countries on the map of the world, and at present are doing south america. stackpole and dubois had sense enough to cruise in other timber than that surrounding the trading post. so cuthbert after all had found much pleasure in the great saskatchewan region, even though he failed to map out a new route to alaska, or learn any of the wonderful secrets hidden in the wide stretches of barrens between the country of the crees and the chippewas, and the lonely hudson bay. many times would his memory go back to the scenes that embraced owen, the stern old factor, and sweet little jessie; and again he would live over those days and nights when they were "canoemates in canada." the end. [illustration: cover] frederick d. macy if thou art borrowed by a friend, right welcome shall he be to read, to study,--not to lend, but to return to me. not that imparted knowledge doth diminish learning's store, but books, i find, when often lent, return to me no more. would readers all this rule obey, for good requite not ill, these hints need not be penn'd that they its dictates should fulfill. * * * * * read slowly,--pause frequently,-- think seriously.-- keep cleanly,--return duly, with the corner of the leaves not turn'd down. nathaniel h. bishop's books. four months in a sneak box: a boat voyage of twenty-six hundred miles down the ohio and mississippi rivers, and along the gulf of mexico. with numerous maps and illustrations. $ . . voyage of the paper canoe: a geographical journey of twenty-five hundred miles from quebec to the gulf of mexico. with numerous illustrations and maps, specially prepared for this work crown vo. $ . . a thousand miles' walk across south america, over the pampas and the andes. illustrated. a new edition. _in press._ lee and shepard, publishers, boston. [illustration: home of the alligator.] voyage of the paper canoe: a geographical journey of miles, from quebec to the gulf of mexico, during the years - . by nathaniel h. bishop, author of "one thousand miles' walk across south america," and corresponding member of the boston society of natural history, and of the new york academy of sciences. boston: lee and shepard, publishers. new york: charles t. dillingham. edinburgh: david douglas. . copyright , by n. h. bishop. university press: john wilson & son cambridge. to the superintendent, assistants, aids, and all employÉs of the united states coast survey bureau, the "voyage of the paper canoe" is respectfully dedicated, as a slight evidence of the appreciation by its author for their intelligent efforts and self-denying labors in the service of their country, so patiently and skilfully performed, under many difficulties and dangers. introduction. the author left quebec, dominion of canada, july , , with a single assistant, in a wooden canoe eighteen feet in length, bound for the gulf of mexico. it was his intention to follow the natural and artificial connecting watercourses of the continent in the most direct line southward to the gulf coast of florida, making portages as seldom as possible, to show how few were the interruptions to a continuous water-way for vessels of light draught, from the chilly, foggy, and rocky regions of the gulf of st. lawrence in the north, to the semi-tropical waters of the great southern sea, the waves of which beat upon the sandy shores of the southernmost united states. having proceeded about four hundred miles upon his voyage, the author reached troy, on the hudson river, new york state, where for several years e. waters & sons had been perfecting the construction of paper boats. the advantages in using a boat of only fifty-eight pounds weight, the strength and durability of which had been well and satisfactorily tested, could not be questioned, and the author dismissed his assistant, and "paddled his own canoe" about two thousand miles to the end of the journey. though frequently lost in the labyrinth of creeks and marshes which skirt the southern coast of his country, the author's difficulties were greatly lessened by the use of the valuable and elaborate charts of the united states coast survey bureau, to the faithful executers of which he desires to give unqualified and grateful praise. to an unknown wanderer among the creeks, rivers, and sounds of the coast, the courteous treatment of the southern people was most gratifying. the author can only add to this expression an extract from his reply to the address of the mayor of st. mary's, georgia, which city honored him with an ovation and presentation of flags after the completion of his voyage: "since my little paper canoe entered southern waters upon her geographical errand,--from the capes of the delaware to your beautiful st. mary's,--i have been deeply sensible of the value of southern hospitality. the oystermen and fishermen living along the lonely beaches of the eastern shore of maryland and virginia; the surfmen and light-house keepers of albemarle, pamplico, and core sounds, in north carolina; the ground-nut planters who inhabit the uplands that skirt the network of creeks, marshes, ponds, and sounds from bogue inlet to cape fear; the piny-woods people, lumbermen, and turpentine distillers on the little bluffs that jut into the fastnesses of the great swamps of the crooked waccamaw river; the representatives of the once powerful rice-planting aristocracy of the santee and peedee rivers; the colored men of the beautiful sea-islands along the coast of georgia; the floridians living between the st. mary's river and the suwanee--the wild river of song; the islanders on the gulf of mexico where i terminated my long journey;--all have contributed to make the 'voyage of the paper canoe' a success." after returning from this paper-canoe voyage, the author embarked alone, december , , in a cedar duck-boat twelve feet in length, from the head of the ohio river, at pittsburgh, pennsylvania, and followed the ohio and mississippi rivers over two thousand miles to new orleans, where he made a portage through that city eastwardly to lake pontchartrain, and rowed along the shores of the gulf of mexico six or seven hundred miles, to cedar keys, florida, the terminus of his paper-canoe voyage. while on these two voyages, the author rowed over five thousand miles, meeting with but one accident, the overturning of his canoe in delaware bay. he returned to his home with his boats in good condition, and his note-books, charts, &c., in an excellent state of preservation. at the request of the "board on behalf of the united states executive department" of the centennial exhibition at philadelphia, the paper canoe "maria theresa," and the cedar duck-boat "centennial republic," were deposited in the smithsonian department of the united states government building, during the summer and fall of . the maps, which show the route followed by the paper canoe, have been drawn and engraved by contract at the united states coast survey bureau, and are on a scale of / . , . as the work is based on the results of actual surveys, these maps may be considered, for their size, the most complete of the united states coast ever presented to the public. much credit is due to messrs. waud and merrill for the artistic results of their pencils, and to messrs. john andrew & son for their skill in engraving the illustrations. to the readers of the author's first book of travels, "the pampas and andes: a thousand miles' walk across south america," which journey was undertaken when he was but seventeen years of age, the writer would say that their many kind and appreciative letters have prompted him to send forth this second book of travels--the "voyage of the paper canoe." lake george, warren county, n. y., january , . contents. chapter i. the approaches to the water-way of the continent. island of st. paul.--the portals of the gulf of st. lawrence.--the extinct auk.--anticosti island.--icebergs.--sailors' superstitions.--the estuary of the st. lawrence.--tadousac.--the saguenay river.--white whales.--quebec. chapter ii. from quebec to sorel. the water-way into the continent.--the western and the southern route to the gulf of mexico.--the mayeta.--commencement of the voyage.--ascent of the river st. lawrence.--lake of st. peter.--acadian town of sorel. chapter iii. from the st. lawrence river to ticonderoga, lake champlain. the richelieu river.--acadian scenes.--st. ours.--st. antoine.--st. marks.--beloeil.--chambly canal.--st. johns.--lake champlain.--the great ship canal.--david bodfish's camp.--the adirondack survey.--a canvas boat.--dimensions of lake champlain.--port kent.--ausable chasm.--arrival at ticonderoga. chapter iv. from lakes george and champlain to the hudson river. the discovery of lake george by father jogues.--a pedestrian journey.--the hermit of the narrows.--convent of st. mary's of the lake.--the paulist fathers.--canal route from lake champlain to albany.--bodfish returns to the jersey.--the little fleet in its haven of rest. chapter v. the american paper boat and english canoes. the peculiar character of the paper boat.--the history of the adoption of paper for boats.--a boy's ingenuity.--the process of building paper boats described.--college clubs adopting them.--the great victories won by paper over wooden shells in . chapter vi. from troy to philadelphia. paper canoe maria theresa.--the start.--the descent of the hudson river.--crossing the upper bay of new york.--passage of the kills.--raritan river.--the canal route from new brunswick to the delaware river.--from bordentown to philadelphia. chapter vii. from philadelphia to cape henlopen. descent of delaware river.--my first camp.--bombay hook.--murderkill creek.--a storm in delaware bay.--capsizing of the canoe.--a swim for life.--the persimmon grove.--willow grove inn.--the lights of capes may and henlopen. chapter viii. from cape henlopen to norfolk, virginia. the portage to love creek.--the delaware whipping-post.--rehoboth and indian river bays.--a portage to little assawaman bay.--isle of wight bay.--winchester plantation.--chincoteague.--watchapreague inlet.--cobb's island.--cherrystone.--arrival at norfolk.--the "landmark's" enterprise. chapter ix. from norfolk to cape hatteras. the elizabeth river.--the canal.--north landing river.--currituck sound.--roanoke island.--visit to body island light-house.--a romance of history.--pamplico sound.--the paper canoe arrives at cape hatteras. chapter x. from cape hatteras to cape fear, north carolina. cape hatteras light.--habits of birds.--storm at hatteras inlet.--miles of wrecks.--the yacht julia searching for the paper canoe.--chased by porpoises.--marsh tackies.--ocracoke inlet.--a graveyard being swallowed up by the sea.--core sound.--three weddings at hunting quarters.--morehead city.--newbern.--swansboro.--a pea-nut plantation.--the route to cape fear. chapter xi. from cape fear to charleston, south carolina. a portage to lake waccamaw.--submerged swamps.--night at a turpentine distillery.--a dismal wilderness.--owls and mistletoe.--crackers and negroes.--across the south carolina line.--a cracker's idea of hospitality.--pot bluff.--peedee river.--georgetown.--winyah bay.--the rice plantations of the santee rivers.--a night with the santee negroes.--arrival at charleston. chapter xii. from charleston to savannah, georgia. the interior water route to jehossee island.--governor aiken's model rice plantation.--lost in the horns.--st. helena sound.--lost in the night.--the phantom ship.--the finlander's welcome.--a night on the emperor's old yacht.--the phosphate mines.--coosaw and broad rivers--port royal sound and calibogue sound.--cuffy's home.--arrival in georgia.--receptions at greenwich shooting-park. chapter xiii. from the savannah river to florida. route to the sea islands of georgia.--storm-bound on green island.--ossabaw island.--st. catherine's sound.--sapelo island.--the mud of mud river.--night in a negro cabin.--"de shoutings" on doboy island.--broughton island.--st. simon's and jekyl islands.--interview with an alligator.--a night in jointer hammock.--cumberland island and st. mary's river.--farewell to the sea. chapter xiv. st. mary's river and the suwanee wilderness. a portage to dutton.--descent of the st. mary's river.--fÊte given by the citizens to the paper canoe.--the proposed canal route across florida.--a portage to the suwanee river.--a negro speaks on electricity and the telegraph.--a freedman's sermon. chapter xv. down upon the suwanee river. the rich foliage of the river.--columbus.--rolins' bluff.--old town hammock.--a hunter killed by a panther.--dangerous serpents.--clay landing.--the marshes of the coast.--bradford's island.--my last camp.--the voyage ended. list of maps drawn and engraved at the united states coast survey bureau for the "voyage of the paper canoe." page . general map of routes followed by the author during two voyages made to the gulf of mexico, opposite * * * * * guide maps of canoe route. . from quebec, canada, to plattsburgh, new york state, . from plattsburgh to albany, . from albany to new york city, . from new york city to cape henlopen, delaware, . from cape henlopen, delaware, to norfolk, virginia, . from norfolk, virginia, to bogue inlet, north carolina, . from bogue inlet, north carolina, to bull's bay, south carolina, . from bull's bay, south carolina, to st. simon's sound, georgia, . from st. simon's sound, georgia, to cedar keys, florida, illustrations. engraved by john andrew & son. page home of the alligator. (frontispiece.) great auk (_alca impennis_). extinct. anchored at last, a full-rigged nautilus canoe, the rob roy canoe, the aboriginal type, * * * * * photographed at disco, greenland. the improved type.--paper canoe maria theresa, a capsize in delaware bay, delaware whipping-post and pillory, body island light house, crossing hatteras inlet, reception at charleston post-office, the panther's leap, the voyage ended, [illustration: general map of routes followed by the author during two voyages made to the gulf of mexico. map of routes followed by n. h. bishop in paper canoe "maria theresa" and duck boat "centennial republic" - _copyright, by lee & shepard_] voyage of the paper canoe. * * * * * chapter i. the approaches to the water-way of the continent. island of st. paul.--the portals of the gulf of st. lawrence.--the extinct auk.--anticosti island.--icebergs.--sailors' superstitions.--the estuary of the st. lawrence.--tadousac.--the saguenay river.--white whales.--quebec. while on his passage to the ports of the st. lawrence river, the mariner first sights the little island of st. paul, situated in the waste of waters between cape ray, the southwestern point of newfoundland on the north, and cape north, the northeastern projection of cape breton island on the south. across this entrance to the gulf of st. lawrence from cape to cape is a distance of fifty-four nautical miles; and about twelve miles east-northeast from cape north the island of st. paul, with its three hills and two light-towers, rises from the sea with deep waters on every side. this wide inlet into the gulf may be called the middle portal, for at the northern end of newfoundland, between the great island and the coast of labrador, another entrance exists, which is known as the straits of belle isle, and is sometimes called "the shorter passage from england." still to the south of the middle entrance is another and a very narrow one, known as the gut of canso, which separates the island of cape breton from nova scotia. through this contracted thoroughfare the tides run with great force. one hundred years ago, as the seaman approached the dangerous entrance of st. paul, now brightened at night by its light-towers, his heart was cheered by the sight of immense flocks of a peculiar sea-fowl, now extinct. when he saw upon the water the great auk (_alca impennis_), which he ignorantly called "a pengwin," he knew that land was near at hand, for while he met other species far out upon the broad atlantic, the great auk, his "pengwin," kept near the coast. not only was this now extinct bird his indicator of proximity to the land, but so strange were its habits, and so innocent was its nature, that it permitted itself to be captured by boat-loads; and thus were the ships re-victualled at little cost or trouble. without any market-value a century ago, the great auk now, as a stuffed skin, represents a value of fifteen hundred dollars in gold. there are but seventy-two specimens of this bird in the museums of europe and america, besides a few skeletons, and sixty-five of its eggs. it was called in ancient days gare-fowl, and was the _geirfugl_ of the icelander. captain whitbourne, who wrote in the reign of james the first, quaintly said: "these pengwins are as bigge as geese, and flye not, for they have but a little short wing, and they multiply so infinitely upon a certain flat island that men drive them from thence upon a board into their boats by hundreds at a time, as if god had made the innocency of so poor a creature to become such an admerable instrument for the sustenation of man." in a copy of the english pilot, "fourth book," published in , which i presented to the library of the united states coast survey, is found this early description of this now extinct american bird: "they never go beyond the bank [newfoundland] as others do, for they are always on it, or in it, several of them together, sometimes more but never less than two together. they are large fowls, about the size of a goose, a coal-black head and back, with a white belly and a milk-white spot under one of their eyes, which nature has ordered to be under their right eye." thus has the greed of the sailor and pot-hunter swept from the face of the earth an old pilot--a trusty aid to navigation. now the light-house, the fog-gun, and the improved chart have taken the place of the extinct auk as aids to navigation, and the sailor of to-day sees the bright flashes of st. paul's lights when nearly twenty miles at sea. having passed the little isle, the ship enters the great gulf of st. lawrence, and passes the magdalen islands, shaping its course as wind and weather permit towards the dreaded, rocky coast of anticosti. from the entrance of the gulf to the island of anticosti the course to be followed is northwesterly about one hundred and thirty-five nautical miles. the island which divides an upper arm of the gulf into two wide channels is one hundred and twenty-three miles long, and from ten to thirty miles wide. across the entrance of this great arm, or estuary, from the high cape of gaspé on the southern shore of the mainland to anticosti in the narrowest place, is a distance of about forty miles, and is called the south channel. from the north side of the island and near its west end to the coast of labrador the north channel is fifteen miles wide. the passage from st. paul to anticosti is at times dangerous. here is an area of strong currents, tempestuous winds, and dense fogs. when the wind is fair for an upward run, it is _the_ wind which usually brings misty weather. then, from the icy regions of the arctic circle, from the land of desolation, come floating through the straits of belle isle the dangerous bergs and ice-fields. early in the spring these ice rafts are covered with colonies of seals which resort to them for the purpose of giving birth to their young. on these icy cradles, rocked by the restless waves, tens of thousands of young seals are nursed for a few days; then, answering the loud calls of their mothers, they accompany them into the briny deep, there to follow the promptings of their instincts. the loud roarings of the old seals on these ice rafts can be heard in a quiet night for several miles, and strike terror into the heart of the superstitious sailor who is ignorant of the origin of the tumult. frequently dense fogs cover the water, and while slowly moving along, guided only by the needle, a warning sound alarms the watchful master. through the heavy mists comes the roar of breaking waters. he listens. the dull, swashy noise of waves meeting with resistance is now plainly heard. the atmosphere becomes suddenly chilled: it is the breath of the iceberg! then the shrill cry of "all hands on deck!" startles the watch below from the bunks. anxiously now does the whole ship's company lean upon the weather-rail and peer out into the thick air with an earnestness born of terror. "surely," says the master to his mate, "i am past the magdalens, and still far from anticosti, yet we have breakers; which way can we turn?" the riddle solves itself, for out of the gloom come whitened walls, beautiful but terrible to behold. those terror-stricken sailors watch the slowly moving berg as it drifts past their vessel, fearing that their own ship will be drawn towards it from the peculiar power of attraction they believe the iceberg to possess. and as they watch, against the icy base of the mountain in the sea the waves beat and break as if expending their forces upon a rocky shore. down the furrowed sides of the disintegrating berg streamlets trickle, and miniature cascades leap, mingling their waters with the briny sea. the intruder slowly drifts out of sight, disappearing in the gloom, while the sailor thanks his lucky stars that he has rid himself of another danger. the ill-omened anticosti, the graveyard of many seamen, is yet to be passed. the ship skirts along its southern shore, a coast destitute of bays or harbors of any kind, rock-bound and inhospitable. wrecks of vessels strew the rocky shores, and four light-houses warn the mariner of danger. once past the island the ship is well within the estuary of the gulf into which the st. lawrence river flows, contributing the waters of the great lakes of the continent to the sea. as the north coast is approached the superstitious sailor is again alarmed if, perchance, the compass-needle shows sympathy with some disturbing element, the cause of which he believes to exist in the mountains which rise along the shore. he repeats the stories of ancient skippers, of vessels having been lured out of their course by the deviation of the guiding-needle, which succumbed to the potent influence exerted in those hills of iron ore; heeding not the fact that the disturbing agent is the iron on board of his own ship, and not the magnetic oxide of the distant mines. the ship being now within the estuary of the st. lawrence river, must encounter many risks before she reaches the true mouth of the river, at the bic islands. the shores along this arm of the gulf are wild and sombre. rocky precipices frown upon the swift tidal current that rushes past their bases. a few small settlements of fishermen and pilots, like metis, father point, and rimousky, are discovered at long intervals along the coast. in these st. lawrence hamlets, and throughout lower canada, a patois is spoken which is unintelligible to the londoner or parisian; and these villagers, the descendants of the french colonists, may be said to be a people destitute of a written language, and strangers to a literature. while holding a commission from francis the first, king of france, jacques cartier discovered the gulf of st. lawrence, during his first voyage of exploration in the new world. he entered the gulf on st. lawrence's day, in the spring of , and named it in honor of the event. cartier explored no farther to the west than about the mouth of the estuary which is divided by the island of anticosti. it was during his second voyage, in the following year, that he discovered and explored the great river. of the desolate shores of labrador, on the north coast, he said, "it might as well as not be taken for the country assigned by god to cain." the distance from quebec to cape gaspé, measured upon a course which a steamer would be compelled to take, is four hundred and seven statute miles. the ship first enters the current of the river st. lawrence at the two bic islands, where it has a width of about twenty miles. by consulting most maps the reader will find that geographers carry the _river_ nearly two hundred miles beyond its usual current. in fact, they appropriate the whole estuary, which, in places, is nearly one hundred miles in width, and call it a river--a river which lacks the characteristics of a river, the currents of which vary with the winds and tidal influences, and the waters of which are as salt as those of the briny deep. here, in the mouth of the river, at the bics, secure anchorage for vessels may be found; but below, in the estuary, for a distance of more than two hundred and forty-five miles, to gaspé, there is but one port of refuge, that of seven islands, on the north coast. as the ship ascends the river from bic islands, a passage of about one hundred and sixty statute miles to quebec, she struggles against a strong current. picturesque islands and little villages, such as st. andré, st. anne, st. rogue, st. jean, and st. thomas, relieve the monotony. but very different is the winter aspect of this river, when closed to navigation by ice from november until spring. of the many tributaries which give strength to the current of the st. lawrence and contribute to its glory, the saguenay river with its remarkable scenery is counted one of the wonders of our continent. it joins the great river from the north shore, about one hundred and thirty-four statute miles below quebec. upon the left bank, at its mouth, nestles the little village of tadousac, the summer retreat of the governor-general of the dominion of canada. american history claims for the roman catholic church of this settlement an age second only to that of the old spanish cathedral at st. augustine, florida. for three hundred years the storms of winter have beaten upon its walls, but it stands a silent yet eloquent monument of the pious zeal of the ancient fathers, who came to conquer satan in the wilderness of a new world. the saguenay has become the "mecca" of northern tourists, ever attracting them with its wild and fascinating scenery. capes eternity and trinity guard the entrance to eternity bay. the first towers sublimely to a height of eighteen hundred feet, the other is only a little lower. a visit to this mysterious river, with its deep, dark waters and picturesque views, will repay the traveller for the discomforts of a long and expensive journey. where the turbulent current of the saguenay mingles angrily with that of the st. lawrence, there may be seen disporting in the waves the white whale of aquariums, which is not a whale at all, but a true porpoise (_delphinopterus catodon_, as he is now called by naturalists), having teeth in the jaws, and being destitute of the fringed bone of the whalebone whales. this interesting creature is very abundant in the arctic ocean on both the atlantic and pacific sides, and has its southern limits in the gulf of st. lawrence, although one is occasionally seen in the bay of fundy, and it is reported to have been observed about cape cod, on the massachusetts coast. as the ship nears the first great port of the st. lawrence river, the large and well cultivated island of orleans is passed, and the bold fortifications of quebec, high up on the face of point diamond, and flanked by the houses of the french city, break upon the vision of the mariner. to the right, and below the city, which champlain founded, and in which his unknown ashes repose, are the beautiful falls of montmorency, gleaming in all the whiteness of their falling waters and mists, like the bridal veil of a giantess. the vessel has safely made her passage, and now comes to anchor in the basin of quebec. the sails are furled, and the heart of the sailor is merry, for the many dangers which beset the ship while approaching and entering the great water-way of the continent are now over. [illustration: great auk.] chapter ii. from quebec to sorel. the water-way into the continent.--the western and the southern route to the gulf of mexico.--the mayeta.--commencement of the voyage.--ascent of the river st. lawrence.--lake of st. peter.--acadian town of sorel. [illustration: from quebec, canada, to plattsburgh, new york state. route of canoe mayeta from quebec canada to plattsburgh n.y. via st. lawrence and richelieu rivers followed by n. h. bishop in _copyright, by lee & shepard_] the canoe traveller can ascend the st. lawrence river to lake ontario, avoiding the rapids and shoals by making use of seven canals of a total length of forty-seven miles. he may then skirt the shores of lake ontario, and enter lake erie by the canal which passes around the celebrated falls of niagara. from the last great inland sea he can visit lakes huron, michigan, and, with the assistance of a short canal, the grandest of all, superior. when he has reached the town of duluth, at the southwestern end of superior, which is the terminus of the northern pacific railroad, our traveller will have paddled (following the contours of the land) over two thousand miles from salt water into the american continent without having been compelled to make a portage with his little craft. let him now make his first portage westward, over the railroad one hundred and fifteen miles from duluth, to the crossing of the mississippi river at brainerd, and launch his boat on the father of waters, which he may descend with but few interruptions to below the falls of st. anthony, at minneapolis; or, if he will take his boat by rail from duluth, one hundred and fifty-five miles, to st. paul, he can launch his canoe, and follow the steamboat to the gulf of mexico. this is the longest, and may be called the canoeist's western route to the great southern sea. in st. louis county, minnesota, the water from "seven beaver lakes" flows south-southwest, and joins the flood-wood river; there taking an easterly course towards duluth, it empties into lake superior. this is the st. louis river, the first tributary of the mighty st. lawrence system. from the head waters of the st. louis to the mouth of the st. lawrence at bic islands, where it enters the great estuary, the length of this great water system, including the great lakes, is about two thousand miles. the area thus drained by the st. lawrence river is nearly six millions of square miles. the largest craft can ascend it to quebec, and smaller ones to montreal; above which city, navigation being impeded by rapids, the seven canals before mentioned have been constructed that vessels may avoid this danger while voyaging to lake ontario. the southern and shorter coast route to the gulf leaves the great river at the acadian town of sorel, where the quiet richelieu flows into the st. lawrence river. of the two long routes offered me i selected the southern, leaving the other to be traversed at some future time. to follow the contours of rivers, bays, and sounds, a voyage of at least twenty-five hundred miles was before me. it was my intention to explore the connecting watercourses southward, without making a single portage, as far as cape henlopen, a sandy headland at the entrance of delaware bay; there, by making short portages from one watercourse to another, to navigate along the interior of the atlantic coast to the st. mary's river, which is a dividing line between georgia and florida. from the atlantic coast of southern georgia, i proposed to cross the peninsula of florida by way of the st. mary's river, to okefenokee swamp; thence, by portage, to the suwanee river, and by descending that stream (the boundary line of a geographical division--eastern and middle florida), to reach the coast of the gulf of mexico, which was to be the terminal point of my canoe journey. charts, maps, and sea-faring men had informed me that about twenty-three hundred miles of the trip could be made upon land-locked waters, but about two hundred miles of voyaging must be done upon the open atlantic ocean. as i now write, i smilingly remember how erroneous were my advisers; for, while prosecuting my voyage, i was but once upon the open sea, and then through mistake and for only a few minutes. had i then known that i could have followed the whole route in a small boat upon strictly interior waters, i should have paddled from the basin of quebec in the light paper canoe which i afterwards adopted at troy, and which carried me alone in safety two thousand miles to the warm regions of the gulf of mexico. the counsels of old seamen had influenced me to adopt a large wooden clinker-built, decked canoe, eighteen feet long, forty-five inches beam, and twenty-four inches depth of hold, which weighed, with oars, rudder, mast and sail, above three hundred pounds. the mayeta was built by an excellent workman, mr. j. s. lamson, at bordentown, new jersey. the boat was sharp at each end, and the lines from amidships to stem, and from amidships to sternpost, were alike. she possessed that essential characteristic of seaworthiness, abundant sheer. the deck was pierced for a cockpit in the centre, which was six feet long and surrounded by a high combing to keep out water. the builder had done his best to make the mayeta serve for rowing and sailing--a most difficult combination, and one not usually successful. on the morning of july , , i entered the basin of quebec with my wooden canoe and my waterman, one david bodfish, a "shoreman" of new jersey. after weeks of preparation and weary travel by rail and by water, we had steamed up the gulf and the river of st. lawrence to this our most northern point of departure. we viewed the frowning heights upon which was perched the city of quebec with unalloyed pleasure, and eagerly scrambled up the high banks to see the interesting old city. the tide, which rises at the city piers eighteen feet in the spring, during the neaps reaches only thirteen feet. late in the afternoon the incoming tide promised to assist us in ascending the river, the downward current of which runs with torrent-like velocity, and with a depth abreast the city of from sixteen to twenty fathoms. against this current powerful steamers run one hundred and eighty miles up the river to montreal in eighteen hours, and descend in fourteen hours, including two hours' stoppages at sorel and three rivers. at six o'clock p. m. we pushed off into the river, which is about two-thirds of a mile wide at this point, and commenced our voyage; but fierce gusts of wind arose and drove us to the shelter of mr. hamilton's lumber-yard on the opposite shore, where we passed the night, sleeping comfortably upon cushions which we spread on the narrow floor of the boat. sunday was to be spent in camp; but when dawn appeared we were not allowed to build a fire on the lumber pier, and were forced to ascend the st. lawrence in quest of a retired spot above the landing of st. croix, on the right bank of the river. the tide had been a high one when we beached our boat at the foot of a bluff. two hours later the receding tide left us a quarter of a mile from the current. the river was fully two miles wide at this point, and so powerful was its current that steamers anchored in it were obliged to keep their wheels slowly revolving to ease the strain on their anchors. early on monday morning we beheld with consternation that the tide did not reach our boat, and by dint of hard labor we constructed a railroad from a neighboring fence, and moved the mayeta on rollers upon it over the mud and the projecting reef of rocks some five hundred feet to the water, then embarking, rowed close along the shore to avoid the current. a deep fog settled down upon us, and we were driven to camp again on the left bank, where a cataract tumbled over the rocks fifty or more feet. tuesday was a sunny day, but the usual head wind greeted us. the water would rise along-shore on the flood three hours before the downward current was checked in the channel of the river. we could not place any dependence in the regularity of the tides, as strong winds and freshets in the tributaries influence them. earlier in the season, as a writer remarks, "until the upland waters have all run down, and the great rivers have discharged the freshets caused by thawing of the snows in the spring of the year, this current, in spite of tides, will always run down." to the uninitiated the spectacle is a curious one, of the flood tide rising and swelling the waters of a great river some eight to ten feet, while the current at the surface is rapidly descending the course of the stream. finding that the wind usually rose and fell with the sun, we now made it a rule to anchor our boat during most of the day and pull against the current at night. the moon and the bright auroral lights made this task an agreeable one. then, too, we had coggia's comet speeding through the northern heavens, awakening many an odd conjecture in the mind of my old salt. in this high latitude day dawned before three o'clock, and the twilight lingered so long that we could read the fine print of a newspaper without effort at a quarter to nine o'clock p. m. the lofty shores that surrounded us at quebec gradually decreased in elevation, and the tides affected the river less and less as we approached three rivers, where they seemed to cease altogether. we reached the great lumber station of three rivers, which is located on the left bank of the st. lawrence, on friday evening, and moved our canoe into quiet waters near the entrance of lake of st. peter. rain squalls kept us close under our hatch-cloth till eleven o'clock a. m. on saturday, when, the wind being fair, we determined to make an attempt to reach sorel, which would afford us a pleasant camping-ground for sunday. lake of st. peter is a shoal sheet of water twenty-two miles long and nearly eight miles wide, a bad place to cross in a small boat in windy weather. we set our sail and sped merrily on, but the tempest pressed us sorely, compelling us to take in our sail and scud under bare poles until one o'clock, when we double-reefed and set the sail. we now flew over the short and swashy seas as blast after blast struck our little craft. at three o'clock the wind slackened, permitting us to shake out our reefs and crowd on all sail. a labyrinth of islands closed the lake at its western end, and we looked with anxiety to find among them an opening through which we might pass into the river st. lawrence again. at five o'clock the wind veered to the north, with squalls increasing in intensity. we steered for a low, grassy island, which seemed to separate us from the river. the wind was not free enough to permit us to weather it, so we decided to beach the boat and escape the furious tempest. but when we struck the marshy island we kept moving on through the rushes that covered it, and fairly sailed over its submerged soil into the broad water on the other side. bodfish earnestly advised the propriety of anchoring here for the night, saying, "it is too rough to go on;" but the temptation held out by the proximity to sorel determined me to take the risk and drive on. again we bounded out upon rough water, with the screeching tempest upon us. david took the tiller, while i sat upon the weather-rail to steady the boat. the mayeta was now to be put to a severe test; she was to cross seas that could easily trip a boat of her size; but the wooden canoe was worthy of her builder, and flew like an affrighted bird over the foaming waves across the broad water, to the shelter of a wooded, half submerged island, out of which rose, on piles, a little light-house. under this lee we crept along in safety. the sail was furled, never to be used in storm again. the wind went down with the sinking sun, and a delightful calm favored us for our row up the narrowing river, eight miles to the place of destination. soon after nine o'clock we came upon the acadian town, sorel, with its bright lights cheerily flashing out upon us as we rowed past its river front. the prow of our canoe was now pointed southward toward the goal of our ambition, the great mexican gulf; and we were about to ascend that historic stream, the lovely richelieu, upon whose gentle current, two hundred and sixty-six years before, champlain had ascended to the noble lake which bears his name, and up which the missionary jogues had been carried an unwilling captive to bondage and to torture. we ascended the richelieu, threading our way among steam-tugs, canal-boats, and rafts, to a fringe of rushes growing out of a shallow flat on the left bank of the river, just above the town. there, firmly staking the mayeta upon her soft bed of mud, secure from danger, we enjoyed a peaceful rest through the calm night which followed; and thus ended the rough passage of one week's duration--from quebec to sorel. chapter iii. from the st. lawrence river to ticonderoga, lake champlain. the richelieu river.--acadian scenes.--st. ours.--st. antoine.--st. marks.--beloeil.--chambly canal.--st. johns.--lake champlain.--the great ship-canal.--david bodfish's camp.--the adirondack survey.--a canvas boat.--dimensions of lake champlain.--port kent.--ausable chasm.--arrival at ticonderoga. quebec was founded by champlain, july , . during his first warlike expedition into the land of the iroquois the following year, escorted by algonquin and montagnais indian allies, he ascended a river to which was afterwards given the name of cardinal richelieu, prime minister of louis xiii. of france. this stream, which is about eighty miles long, connects the lake (which champlain discovered and named after himself) with the st. lawrence river at a point one hundred and forty miles above quebec, and forty miles below montreal. the waters of lakes george and champlain flow northward, through the richelieu river into the st. lawrence. the former stream flows through a cultivated country, and upon its banks, after leaving sorel, are situate the little towns of st. ours, st. rock, st. denis, st. antoine, st. marks, beloeil, chambly, and st. johns. small steamers, tug-boats, and rafts pass from the st. lawrence to lake champlain (which lies almost wholly within the united states), following the richelieu to chambly, where it is necessary, to avoid rapids and shoals, to take the canal that follows the river's bank twelve miles to st. johns, where the canadian custom-house is located. sorel is called william henry by the anglo-saxon canadians. the paper published in this town of seven thousand inhabitants is _la gazette de sorel_. the river which flows past the town is called, without authority, by some geographers, sorel river, and by others st. johns, because the town nearest its source is st. johns, and another town at its mouth is sorel. there are about one hundred english-speaking families in sorel. the american waterhouse machinery supplies the town with water pumped from the river at a cost of one ton of coal per day. at ten o'clock on monday morning we resumed our journey up the richelieu, the current of which was nothing compared with that of the great river we had left. the average width of the stream was about a quarter of a mile, and the grassy shores were made picturesque by groves of trees and quaintly constructed farm-houses. it was a rich, pastoral land, abounding in fine herds of cattle. the country reminded me of the acadian region of grand pré, which i had visited during the earlier part of the season. here, as there, were delightful pastoral scenes and rich verdure; but here we still had the acadian peasants, while in the land of beautiful evangeline no longer were they to be found. the new englander now holds the titles to those deserted old farms of the scattered colonists. our rowing was frequently interrupted by heavy showers, which drove us under our hatch-cloth for protection. the same large, two-steepled stone churches, with their unpainted tin roofs glistening like silver in the sunlight, marked out here, as on the high banks of the st. lawrence river, the site of a village. twelve miles of rowing brought us to st. ours, where we rested for the night, after wandering through its shaded and quaint streets. the village boys and girls came down to see us off the next morning, waving their kerchiefs, and shouting "_bon voyage!_" two miles above the town we encountered a dam three feet high, which deepened the water on a shoal above it. we passed through a single lock in company with rafts of pine logs which were on the way to new york, to be used for spars. a lockage fee of twenty-five cents for our boat the lock-master told us would be collected at chambly basin. it was a pull of nearly six miles to st. denis, where the same scene of comfort and plenty prevailed. women were washing clothes in large iron pots at the river's edge, and the hum of the spinning-wheels issued from the doorways of the farm-houses. beehives in the well-stocked gardens were filled with honey, and the straw-thatched barns had their doors thrown wide open, as though waiting to receive the harvest. at intervals along the highway, over the grassy hills, tall, white wooden crosses were erected; for this people, like the acadians of old, are very religious. down the current floated "pin-flats," a curious scow-like boat, which carries a square sail, and makes good time only when running before the wind. st. antoine and st. marks were passed, and the isolated peak of st. hilaire loomed up grandly twelve hundred feet on the right bank of the richelieu, opposite the town of beloeil. one mile above beloeil the grand trunk railroad crosses the stream, and here we passed the night. strong winds and rain squalls interrupted our progress. at chambly basin we tarried until the evening of july , before entering the canal. chambly is a watering-place for montreal people, who come here to enjoy the fishing, which is said to be fair. we had ascended one water-step at st. ours. here we had eight steps to ascend within the distance of one mile. by means of eight locks, each one hundred and ten feet long by twenty-two wide, the mayeta was lifted seventy-five feet and one inch in height to the upper level of the canal. the lock-masters were courteous, and wished us the usual "_bon voyage!_" this canal was built thirty-four years prior to my visit. by ten o'clock p. m. we had passed the last lock, and went into camp in a depression in the bank of the canal. the journey was resumed at half past three o'clock the following morning, and the row of twelve miles to st. johns was a delightful one. the last lock (the only one at st. johns) was passed, and we had a full clearance at the dominion custom-house before noon. we were again on the richelieu, with about twenty-three miles between us and the boundary line of the united states and canada, and with very little current to impede us. as dusk approached we passed a dismantled old fort, situated upon an island called ile aux noix, and entered a region inhabited by the large bull-frog, where we camped for the night, amid the dolorous voices of these choristers. on saturday, the th, at an early hour, we were pulling for the united states, which was about six miles from our camping-ground. the richelieu widened, and we entered lake champlain, passing fort montgomery, which is about one thousand feet south of the boundary line. champlain has a width of three fourths of a mile at fort montgomery, and at rouse's point expands to two miles and three quarters. the erection of the fort was commenced soon after , but in the work was suspended, as some one discovered that the site was in canada, and the cognomen of fort blunder was applied. in the webster treaty of , england ceded the ground to the united states, and fort montgomery was finished at a cost of over half a million of dollars. at rouse's point, which lies on the west shore of lake champlain about one and one-half miles south of its confluence with the richelieu, the mayeta was inspected by the united states custom-house officer, and nothing contraband being discovered, the little craft was permitted to continue her voyage. at the northern end of the harbor of rouse's point is the terminus of the ogdensburg and the champlain and st. lawrence railroads. the vermont central railroad connects with the above by means of a bridge twenty-two hundred feet in length, which crosses the lake. before proceeding further it may interest the reader of practical mind to know that a very important movement is on foot to facilitate the navigation of vessels between the great lakes, st. lawrence river, and champlain, by the construction of a ship-canal. the caughnawaga ship canal company, "incorporated by special act of the dominion of parliament of canada, th may, ," (capital, three million dollars; shares, one hundred dollars each,) with a board of directors composed of citizens of the united states and canada, has issued its prospectus, from which i extract the following: "the commissioners of public works, in their report of , approved by government, finally settled the question of route, by declaring that, 'after a patient and mature consideration of all the surveys and reports, we are of opinion that the line following the chambly canal and then crossing to lake st. louis near caughnawaga, is that which combines and affords in the greatest degree all the advantages contemplated by this improvement, and which has been approved by messrs. mills, swift, and gamble.' "the company's act of incorporation is in every respect complete and comprehensive in its details. it empowers the company to survey, to take, appropriate, have and hold, to and for the use of them and their successors, the line and boundaries of a canal between the st. lawrence and lake champlain, to build and erect the same, to select such sites as may be necessary for basins and docks, as may be considered expedient by the directors, and to purchase and dispose of same, with any water-power, as may be deemed best by the directors for the use and profit of the company. "it also empowers the company to cause their canal to enter into the chambly canal, and to widen, deepen, and enlarge the same, not less in size than the present st. lawrence canals; also the company may take, hold, and use any portion of the chambly canal, and the works therewith connected, and all the tolls, receipts, and revenues thereof, upon terms to be settled and agreed upon between the company and the governor in council. "the cost of the canal, with locks of three hundred feet by forty-five, and with ten feet six inches the mitre-sill, is now estimated at two million five hundred thousand dollars, and the time for its construction may not exceed two years after breaking ground. "probably no question is of more vital importance to canada and the western and eastern united states than the subject of transportation. the increasing commerce of the great west, the rapidity with which the population has of late flowed into that vast tract of country to the west and northwest of lakes erie, michigan, huron, and superior, have served to convince all well-informed commercial men that the means of transit between that country and the seaboard are far too limited even for the present necessities of trade; hence it becomes a question of universal interest how the products of the field, the mine, and the forest can be most cheaply forwarded to the consumer. near the geographical centre of north america is a vast plateau two thousand feet above the level of the sea, drained by the mississippi to the south, by the st. lawrence to the east, and by the saskatchewan and mckenzie to the north. this vast territory would have been valueless but for the water lines which afford cheap transport between it and the great markets of the world. "canada has improved the st. lawrence by canals round the rapids of the st. lawrence, and by the welland canal, connecting lakes erie and ontario, twenty-eight miles in length with a fall of two hundred and sixty feet, capable of passing vessels of four hundred tons. the st. lawrence, from the east end of lake ontario, has a fall of two hundred and twenty feet, overcome by seven short canals of an aggregate length of forty-seven miles, capable of passing vessels of six hundred and fifty tons. the richelieu river is connected with lake champlain by a canal of twelve miles from chambly. a canal of one mile in length, at the outlet of lake superior, connects that lake with lake huron, and has two locks, which will pass vessels of two thousand tons. new york has built a canal from buffalo, on lake erie, and from oswego, on lake ontario, to albany, on the hudson river, of three hundred and sixty and of two hundred and nine miles, capable of passing boats of two hundred and ten tons; and she has also constructed a canal from the hudson river into lake champlain of sixty-five miles, which can pass boats of eighty tons. "such is the nature of the navigation between tide-water on the hudson and st. lawrence and the upper lakes. the magnitude of the commerce of the northwest has compelled the enlargement of the erie and oswego canals from boats of seventy-eight to two hundred and ten tons, while the st. lawrence and welland canals have also been enlarged since their first construction. a further enlargement of the erie and champlain canals is now strongly urged in consequence of the want of the necessary facilities of transport for the ever increasing western trade. the object of the caughnawaga ship-canal is to connect lake champlain with the st. lawrence by the least possible distance, and with the smallest amount of lockage. when built, it will enable the vessel or propeller to sail from the head of lakes superior or michigan without breaking bulk, and will enable such vessels to land and receive cargo at burlington and whitehall, from whence western freights can be carried to and from boston, and throughout new england, by railway cheaper than by any other route. "it will possess the advantage, when the welland canal is enlarged and the locks of the st. lawrence canal lengthened, of passing vessels of eight hundred and fifty tons' burden, and with that size of vessel (impossible on any other route) of improved model, with facilities for loading and discharging cargoes at both ends of the route, in the length of the voyage without transshipment, in having the least distance between any of the lake ports and a seaport, and in having the shortest length of taxed canal navigation. the construction of the caughnawaga canal, when carried out, will remedy the difficulties which now exist and stand in the way of an uninterrupted water communication between the western states and the atlantic seaboard." from rouse's point we proceeded to a picturesque point which jutted into the lake below chazy landing, and was sheltered by a grove of trees into which we hauled the mayeta. bodfish's woodcraft enabled him to construct a wigwam out of rails and rubber blankets, where we quietly resided until monday morning. the owner of the point, mr. trombly, invited us to dinner on sunday, and exhibited samples of a ton of maple sugar which he had made from the sap of one thousand trees. on monday, july th, we rowed southward. our route now skirted the western shore of lake champlain, which is the eastern boundary of the great adirondack wilderness. several of the tributaries of the lake take their rise in this region, which is being more and more visited by the hunter, the fisherman, the artist, and the tourist, as its natural attractions are becoming known to the public. the geodetical survey of the northern wilderness of new york state, known as the adirondack country, under the efficient and energetic labors of mr. verplanck colvin, will cover an area of nearly five thousand square miles. in his report of the great work he eloquently says: "the adirondack wilderness may be considered the wonder and the glory of new york. it is a vast _natural_ park, one immense and silent forest, curiously and beautifully broken by the gleaming waters of a myriad of lakes, between which rugged mountain-ranges rise as a sea of granite billows. at the northeast the mountains culminate within an area of some hundreds of square miles; and here savage, treeless peaks, towering above the timber line, crowd one another, and, standing gloomily shoulder to shoulder, rear their rocky crests amid the frosty clouds. the wild beasts may look forth from the ledges on the mountain-sides over unbroken woodlands stretching beyond the reach of sight--beyond the blue, hazy ridges at the horizon. the voyager by the canoe beholds lakes in which these mountains and wild forests are reflected like inverted reality; now wondrous in their dark grandeur and solemnity, now glorious in resplendent autumn color of pearly beauty. here--thrilling sound to huntsman--echoes the wild melody of the hound, awakening the solitude with deep-mouthed bay as he pursues the swift career of deer. the quavering note of the loon on the lake, the mournful hoot of the owl at night, with rarer forest voices, have also to the lover of nature their peculiar charm, and form the wild language of this forest. "it is this region of lakes and mountains--whose mountain core is well shown by the illustration, 'the heart of the adirondacks'--that our citizens desire to reserve forever as a public forest park, not only as a resort of rest for themselves and for posterity, but for weighty reasons of political economy. for reservoirs of water for the canals and rivers; for the amelioration of spring floods by the preservation of the forests sheltering the deep winter snows; for the salvation of the timber,--our only cheap source of lumber supply should the canadian and western markets be ruined by fires, or otherwise lost to us,--its preservation as a state forest is urgently demanded. to the number of those chilly peaks amid which our principal rivers take their rise, i have added by measurement a dozen or more over four thousand feet in height, which were before either nameless, or only vaguely known by the names given them by hunters and trappers. "it is well to note that the final hypsometrical computations fully affirm my discovery that in mount haystack we have another mountain of five thousand feet altitude. it may not be uninteresting also to remark that the difference between the altitudes of mount marcy and mount washington of the white mountains of new hampshire is found to be quite eight hundred feet. mount marcy, mount macintyre, and mount haystack are to be remembered as the three royal summits of the state. "the four prominent peaks are-- mount marcy {mount _tahawus_--"i cleave} { the clouds," } , . mount haystack, , . mount macintyre, , . mount skylight, , . ." if the general reader will pardon a seeming digression to gratify the curiosity of some of my boating friends, i will give from the report of the adirondack survey mr. colvin's account of his singular boat,--one of the lightest yet constructed, and weighing only as much as a hunter's double-barrelled gun. mr. colvin says: "i also had constructed a canvas boat, of my own invention, for use in the interior of the wilderness on such of the mountain lakes as were inaccessible to boats, and which it would be necessary to map. this boat was peculiar; no more frame being needed than could be readily cut in thirty minutes in the first thicket. it was twelve feet long, with thin sheet brass prows, riveted on, and so fitted as to receive the keelson, prow pieces, and ribs (of boughs), when required; the canoe being made water-proof with pure rubber gum, dissolved in naphtha, rubbed into it." page of mr. colvin's report informs the reader how well this novel craft served the purpose for which it was built. "september was devoted to levelling and topographical work at ampersand pond, a solitary lake locked in by mountains, and seldom visited. there was no boat upon its surface, and in order to complete the hydrographical work we had now, of necessity, to try my portable canvas boat, which had hitherto done service as bed or tent. cutting green rods for ribs, we unrolled the boat and tied them in, lashing poles for gunwales at the sides, and in a short time our canvas canoe, buoyant as a cork, was floating on the water. the guides, who had been unable to believe that the flimsy bag they carried could be used as a boat, were in ecstasies. rude but efficient paddles were hastily hewn from the nearest tree, and soon we were all gliding in our ten-pound boat over the waves of ampersand, which glittered in the morning sunlight. to the guides the boat was something astonishing; they could not refrain from laughter to find that they were really afloat in it, and pointed with surprise at the waves, which could be seen _through_ the boat, rippling against its sides. with the aid of the boat, with prismatic compass and sextant, i was able to secure an excellent map of the lake; and we almost succeeded in catching a deer, which was driven into the lake by a strange hound. the dog lost the trail at the water, and desiring to put him on the track, we paddled to him. he scrambled into the boat with an air of satisfaction, as if he had always travelled in just such a thing. soon we had regained the trail, and making the mountains echo to his voice, he again pursued the deer on into the trackless forest. "continuing our work, we passed down into the outlet, where, in trying to effect a landing, we suddenly came face to face with a large panther, which had evidently been watching us. he fled at our approach. "our baggage was quickly packed, and the temporary frame of the canoe having been taken out and thrown away, we rolled up our boat and put it in the bottom of a knapsack.... the same day by noon we reached cold brook again, here navigable. in an hour and a half we had re-framed the canvas, cut out two paddles from a dry cedar-tree, had dinner, loaded the boat, and were off, easily gliding down stream to the saranac river. three men, the heaped baggage in the centre, and the solemn hound, who seemed to consider himself part of the company, sitting upright near the prow, forming in all a burden of about one third of a ton, was a severe test of the green boughs of which we had made the frame. "ascending the saranac river, we struck out into the broad saranac lake, some six miles in length, and though the winds and the waves buffeted us, the canvas sides of the boat responding elastically to each beat of the waves, we got safely along till near the sister islands, when, the wind blowing very fresh, the white-capped rollers began to pitch into the boat. the exertions of the guides brought us under the lee shore, and at evening we disembarked at martin's." geographies, guide-books, and historical works frequently give the length of lake champlain as one hundred and fifty, or at the least one hundred and forty miles. these distances are not correct. the lake proper begins at a point near ticonderoga and ends not far from the boundary line of the united states and canada. champlain is not less than one hundred nor more than one hundred and twelve miles long. the champlain canal, which connects the river that flows from whitehall into the lake with the hudson river, is sixty-four miles long, ending at the erie canal at junction lock, near troy. from junction lock to albany, along the erie canal, it is six miles: or seventy miles from whitehall to albany by canal route. this distance has frequently been given as fifty-one miles. from the united states boundary line southward it is a distance of seven miles to isle la motte, which island is five and a half miles long by one and three quarters wide, with a light-house upon its northwest point. from the new york shore of monti bay, across the end of isle la motte to st. albans, vermont, is a distance of thirteen and a half miles. two miles south of the island, on the west shore, is point au roche light; and two miles and three quarters south of it is rocky point, the terminus of long point. next comes treadwell bay, three miles across; then two miles further on is cumberland head and its light-house. west from cumberland, three miles across a large bay, is plattsburgh, at the mouth of the saranac river, a town of five thousand inhabitants. in this vicinity commodore macdonough fought the british fleet in . these are historic waters, which have witnessed the scene of many a bloody struggle between french, english, and indian adversaries. off cumberland head, and dividing the lake, is grand isle, twelve miles in length and from three to four in width. the village of port kent is near the mouth of the ausable river, which flows out of the northern adirondack country. a few miles from the lake is the natural wonder, the ausable chasm, which is nearly two miles in length. the river has worn a channel in the potsdam sandstone formation to a depth, in places, of two hundred feet. between high walls of rock the river is compressed in one place to ten feet in breadth, and dashes wildly over falls and rapids on its way to lake champlain. it is said to rival the famous swiss gorge du triant. schuyler's island, upon the shore of which we passed tuesday night, is nearly in the latitude of burlington, vermont. the distance from port douglass on the west, to burlington on the east side of champlain, over an open expanse of water, is nine miles and three quarters. we breakfasted by starlight, and passed ligonier's point early in the day. one mile and a half east of it is the group of little islands called four brothers. the lake grew narrower as we rowed southward, until, after passing port henry iron works, and the high promontory of crown point, upon which are the ruins of the french fort frederic, built in , it has a width of only two miles. at eight o'clock p. m. we dropped anchor under the banks of ticonderoga, not far from the outlet of lake george. it is four miles by road between the two lakes. the stream which connects them can be ascended from champlain about two miles to the iron works, the remainder of the river being filled with rapids. a railroad now ( ) connects lakes george and champlain, over which an easy portage can be made. the ruined walls of fort ticonderoga are near the railroad landing. a little south of this the lake grows so narrow as to resemble a river. at its southern end, twenty-four miles from ticonderoga, is situated the town of whitehall, where the champlain and hudson river canal forms a junction with lake champlain. this long river-like termination of champlain gave to the indians the fancy of calling it _tisinondrosa_--"the tail of the lake;" which in mouths inexperienced with the savage tongue became corrupted into ticonderoga. wednesday broke upon us a glorious day. proceeding three miles to patterson's landing, into the "tail of the lake," i left the mayeta to explore on foot the shores of lake george, promising bodfish to join him at whitehall when my work should be finished. chapter iv. from lakes george and champlain to the hudson river. the discovery of lake george by father jogues.--a pedestrian journey.--the hermit of the narrows.--convent of st. mary's of the lake.--the paulist fathers.--canal-route from lake champlain to albany.--bodfish returns to new jersey.--the little fleet in its haven of rest. in the last chapter i gave, from seemingly good authority, the appellation of the narrow terminal water of the southern end of lake champlain, "the tail of the lake." another authority, in describing lake george, says: "the indians named the lake, on account of the purity of its waters, _horican_, or 'silvery water;' they also called it _canderi-oit_, or 'the tail of the lake,' on account of its connecting with lake champlain." cooper, in his "last of the mohicans," says: "it occurred to me that the french name of the lake was too complicated, the american too commonplace, and the indian too unpronounceable for either to be used familiarly in a work of fiction." so _he_ called it horican. [illustration: from plattsburgh to albany. route of canoe mayeta from plattsburgh to albany via lake champlain and champlain canal followed by n. h. bishop in _copyright, by lee & shepard_] history furnishes us with the following facts in regard to the discovery of the lake. while journeying up the st. lawrence in a fleet of twelve canoes, on a mission to the friendly huron aborigines, father isaac jogues and his two friends, _donnés_ of the mission, rené goupil and guillaume couture, with another frenchman, were captured at the western end of lake of st. peter by a band of iroquois, which was on a marauding expedition from the mohawk river country, near what is now the city of troy. in the panic caused by the sudden onslaught of the iroquois, the unconverted portion of the thirty-six huron allies of the frenchmen fled into the woods, while the christianized portion defended the white men for a while. a reinforcement of the enemy soon scattered these also, but not until the frenchmen and a few of the hurons were made captive. this was on the d of august, . according to francis parkman, the author of "the jesuits in north america," the savages tortured jogues and his white companions, stripping off their clothing, tearing out their finger-nails with their teeth, and gnawing their fingers with the fury of beasts. the seventy iroquois returned southward, following the river richelieu, lake champlain, and lake george, _en route_ for the mohawk towns. meeting a war party of two hundred of their own nation on one of the islands of champlain, the indians formed two parallel lines between which the captives were forced to run for their lives, while the savages struck at them with thorny sticks and clubs. father jogues fell exhausted to the ground, bathed in his own blood, when fire was applied to his body. at night the young warriors tormented the poor captives by opening their wounds and tearing out their hair and beards. the day following this night of torture the indians and their mangled captives reached the promontory of ticonderoga, along the base of which flowed the limpid waters, the outlet of lake george. here the party made a portage through the primeval forests, carrying their canoes and cargoes on their backs, when suddenly there broke upon their view the dark blue waters of a beautiful lake, which mr. parkman thus eloquently describes: "like a fair naiad of the wilderness it slumbered between the guardian mountains that breathe from crag and forest the stern poetry of war. but all then was solitude; and the clang of trumpets, the roar of cannon, and the deadly crack of the rifle had never as yet awakened their angry echoes. again the canoes were launched and the wild flotilla glided on its way, now in the shadow of the heights, now on the broad expanse, now among the devious channels of the narrows, beset with woody islets where the hot air was redolent of the pine, the spruce, and the cedar,--till they neared that tragic shore where, in the following century, new england rustics baffled the soldiers of dieskau, where montcalm planted his batteries, where the red cross waved so long amid the smoke, and where, at length, the summer night was hideous with carnage, and an honored name was stained with a memory of blood. the indians landed at or near the future site of fort william henry, left their canoes, and with their prisoners began their march for the nearest mohawk town." father jogues lived among his captors until the fall of , when he escaped in a vessel from the dutch settlement of rensselaerswyck (albany), to which place the iroquois had gone to trade with the inhabitants. he arrived at the jesuit college of rennes, france, in a most destitute condition, on the th of january, , where he was joyfully received and kindly cared for. when he appeared before queen anne of austria, the woman who wore a diadem thought it a privilege to kiss his mutilated hands. in the roman catholic church a deformed or mutilated priest cannot say mass; he must be a perfect man in body and mind before the lord. father jogues wished to return to his old missionary field; so, to restore to him his lost right of saying mass, the pope granted his prayer by a special dispensation. in the spring of he returned to the st. lawrence country to found a new mission, to be called the mission of martyrs. his superior at montreal ordered him to proceed to the country of the mohawks, and in company with sieur bourdon, a government engineer, and six indians, he followed the richelieu and champlain, which the savages called "the doorway of the country," until the little party stood on the northern end of lake george, on the evening of corpus christi; and with the catholic spirit of the jesuit missionary he christened it lac st. sacrement, and this name it bore for a whole century. on the th of october, , the tomahawk of the savage ended the life of father jogues, who, after suffering many tortures and indignities from his iroquois captors, died in their midst while working for their salvation in his field of christian labor. the right of a discoverer to name new lakes and rivers is old and unquestioned. a missionary of the cross penetrated an unexplored wilderness and found this noblest gem of the lower adirondacks, unknown to civilized man. impressed with this sublime work of his creator, the martyred priest christened it st. sacrement. one hundred years later came troops of soldiers with mouths filled with strange oaths, cursing their enemies. what respect had _they_ for the rights of discoverers or martyred missionaries? so general johnson, "an ambitious irishman," discarded the christian name of the lake and replaced it with the english one of george. he did not name it after st. george, the patron saint of england, of whom history asserts that he "was identical with a native of either cappadocia or cilicia, who raised himself by flattery of the great from the meanest circumstances to be purveyor of bacon for the army, and who was put to death with two of his ministers by a mob, for peculations, a. d. ;" but he took that of a sensual king, george of england, in order to advance his own interests with that monarch. for more than a century lake george was the highway between canada and the hudson river. its pure waters were so much esteemed as to be taken regularly to canada to be consecrated and used in the roman catholic churches in baptismal and other sacred rites. the lake was frequently occupied by armies, and the forts george and william henry, at the southern end, possess most interesting historical associations. the novelist cooper made lake george a region of romance. to the young generation of americans who yearly visit its shores it is an el dorado, and the very air breathes love as they glide in their light boats over its pellucid waters, adding to the picturesqueness of the scene, and supplying that need ever felt, no matter what the natural beauty,--the presence of man. i believe even the garden of eden itself could not have been perfect till among its shady groves fell the shadows of our first parents. the cool retreats, the jutting promontories, the moss-covered rocks against which the waves softly break,--if these had tongues, they would, like tennyson's brook, "go on forever," for surely they would never have done telling the tender tales they have heard. nor would it be possible to find a more fitting spot for the cultivation of love and sentiment than this charming lake affords; for nature seems to have created lake george in one of her happiest moments. this lake is about thirty-four miles long, and varies in width from one to four miles. its greatest depth is about the same as that of champlain. it possesses (like all the american lakes when used as fashionable watering-places) the usual three hundred and sixty-five islands. when i left the mayeta i followed a narrow footpath to a rough mountain road, which in turn led me through the forests towards lake george. in an isolated dell i found the home of one levi smith, who piloted me through the woods to the lake, and ferried me in a skiff across to hague, when i dined at the hotel, and resumed my journey along the shores to sabbath day point, where at four o'clock p. m. a steamer on its trip from ticonderoga to the south end of the lake stopped and took me on board. we steamed southward to where high mountains shut in the lake, and for several miles threaded the "narrows" with its many pretty islands, upon one of which mr. j. henry hill, the hermit-artist, had erected his modest home, and where he toiled at his studies early and late, summer and winter. three goats and a squirrel were his only companions in this lonely but romantic spot. during one cold winter, when the lake was frozen over to a depth of two feet, and the forests were mantled in snow, mr. hill's brother, a civil engineer, made a visit to this icy region, and the two brothers surveyed the narrows, making a correct map of that portion of the lake, with all its islands carefully located. mr. hill afterwards made an etching of this map, surrounding it with an artistic border representing objects of interest in the locality. late in the afternoon the steamer landed me at crosbyside, on the east shore, about a mile from the head of the lake, resting beneath the shady groves of which i beheld one of the most charming views of lake george. early the following morning i took up my abode with a farmer, one william lockhart, a genial and eccentric gentleman, and a relation of sir walter scott's son-in-law. mr. lockhart's little cottage is half a mile north of crosbyside, and near the high bluff which mr. charles o'conor, the distinguished lawyer of new york city, presented to the paulist fathers, whose establishment is on fifty-ninth street in that metropolis. here the members of the new order come to pass their summer vacations, bringing with them their theological students. the paulists are hard workers, visiting and holding "missions" in minnesota, california, and other parts of the united states. they seem to feel forcibly the truth expressed in these lines, which are to be found in "aspirations of nature," a work written by the founder of their order, father hecker: "existence is not a dream, but a solemn reality. life was not given to be thrown away on miserable sophisms, but to be employed in earnest search after truth." mr. lockhart kindly offered to escort me to the convent of st. mary's of the lake; and after following the mountain road for a quarter of a mile to the north of the cottage of my companion, we entered the shady grounds of the convent and were kindly received on the long piazza by the father superior, rev. a. f. hewit, who introduced me to several of his co-laborers, a party of them having just returned from an excursion to the harbor islands at the northern end of the narrows, which property is owned by the order. i was told that the members of this new religious establishment numbered about thirty, and that all but four were converts from our protestant faith. their property in new york city is probably worth half a million of dollars, and the sunday schools under their charge contain about fifteen hundred scholars. here, among others, i saw father d----, who gave up his distinguished position as instructor of the art of war at the military academy of west point, to become a soldier of the cross, preferring to serve his master by preaching the gospel of peace to mankind. under an overhanging rock at a little distance were conversing, most happily, two young priests, who a few years before had fought on opposite sides during the civil strife which resulted in the preservation of the great republic. a mathematician and astronomer from the cambridge and also from a government observatory, who had donned the cassock, gave me much valuable information in regard to the mountain peaks of lake george,[a] which he had carefully studied and accurately measured. through his courtesy and generosity i am enabled to give on the preceding page the results of his labors. the interesting conversation was here interrupted by the tolling of the convent bell. a deep silence prevailed, as, with uncovered heads and upon bended knees, the whole company most devoutly crossed themselves while repeating a prayer. i felt much drawn towards a young priest with delicate and refined features, who now engaged me in conversation. he was an adept in all that related to boats. he loved the beautiful lake, and was never happier than when upon its mirrored surface, except when laboring at his duties among the poor of the ninth district of new york. the son of a distinguished general, he inherited rare talents, which were placed at his saviour's service. his christianity was so liberal, his aspirations so noble, his sympathies so strong, that i became much interested in him; and when i left the lake, shortly after, he quietly said, "when you return next summer to build your cottage, let me help you plan the boat-house." but when i returned to the shores of lake george, after the completion of my voyage to the gulf of mexico, no helping hand was there, and i built my boat-house unassisted; for the gentle spirit of the missionary paulist had gone to god who gave it, and father rosencranz was receiving his reward. when i joined my travelling companion, david bodfish, he grievously inveighed against the community of whitehall because some dishonest boatmen from the canal had appropriated the stock of pipes and tobacco he had laid in for his three or four days' voyage to albany. "sixty cents' worth of new pipes and tobacco," said david, in injured tones, "is a great loss, and a bodfish never was worth anything at work without his tobacco. i used to pour _speerits_ down to keep my speerits up, but of late years i have depended on tobacco, as the speerits one gets nowadays isn't the same kind we got when i was a boy and worked in old hawkin swamp." canal voyaging, after one has experienced the sweet influences of lakes george and champlain, is indeed monotonous. but to follow connecting watercourses it was necessary for the mayeta to traverse the champlain canal (sixty-four) and the erie canal (six miles) from whitehall to albany on the hudson river, a total distance of seventy miles. there was nothing of sufficient interest in the passage of the canal to be worthy of record save the giving way of a lock-gate, near troy, and the precipitating of a canal-boat into the vortex of waters that followed. by this accident my boat was detained one day on the banks of the canal. on the fourth day the mayeta ended her services by arriving at albany, where, after a journey of four hundred miles, experience had taught me that i could travel more quickly in a lighter boat, and more conveniently and economically without a companion. it was now about the first week in august, and the delay which would attend the building of a new boat especially adapted for the journey of two thousand miles yet to be travelled would not be lost, as by waiting a few weeks, time would be given for the malaria on the rivers of new jersey, delaware, and maryland, and even farther south, to be eradicated by the fall frosts. david returned to his new jersey home a happy man, invested with the importance which attaches itself to a great traveller. i had unfortunately contributed to mr. bodfish's thirst for the marvellous by reading to him at night, in our lonely camp, jules verne's imaginative "journey to the centre of the earth." david was in ecstasies over this wonderful contribution to fiction. he preferred fiction to truth at any time. once, while reading to him a chapter of the above work, his credulity was so challenged that he became excited, and broke forth with, "say, boss, how do these big book-men larn to lie so well? does it come nat'ral to them, or is it got by edication?" i have since heard that when mr. bodfish arrived in the pine-wood regions of new jersey he related to his friends his adventures "in furrin parts," as he styled the dominion of canada, and so interlaced the _facts_ of the cruise of the mayeta with the _fancies_ of the "journey to the centre of the earth," that to his neighbors the region of the st. lawrence has become a country of awful and mysterious associations, while the more knowing members of the community which david honors with his presence are firmly convinced that there never existed such a boat as the mayeta save in the wild imagination of david bodfish. mr. bodfish's fictitious adventures, as related by him, covered many thousand miles of canoe voyaging. he had penetrated the region of ice beyond labrador, and had viewed with complacency the north pole, which he found to be a pitch-pine spar that had been erected by the coast survey "to measure pints from." he roundly censured the crews of whale-ships which had mutilated this noble government work by splitting much of it into kindling-wood. fortunately about two-thirds of mr. bodfish's audience had no very clear conceptions of the character of the north pole, some of them having ignored its very existence. so they accepted this portion of his narrative, while they rejected the most reasonable part of his story. the mayeta was sent to lake george, and afterwards became a permanent resident. two years later her successor, the paper canoe, one of the most happy efforts of the messrs. waters, of troy, was quietly moored beside her; and soon after there was added to the little fleet a cedar duck-boat, which had carried me on a second voyage to the great southern sea. here, anchored safely under the high cliffs, rocked gently by the loving waters of lake george, rest these faithful friends. they carried me over five thousand miles, through peaceful rivers and surging seas. they have shared my dangers; they now share my peace. [illustration: anchored at last.] footnotes: [a] heights of mountains of lake george, new york state, obtained by rev. george m. searle, c. s. p. _finch_, between buck and spruce, feet. _cat-head_, near bolton, feet. _prospect mountain_, west of lake george village, feet. _spruce_, near buck mountain, feet. _buck_, east shore, south of narrows, feet. _bear_, between buck and black, feet. _black_, the monarch of lake george, feet. from another authority i find that lake champlain is ninety-three feet above the atlantic tide-level, and that lake george is two hundred and forty feet above lake champlain, or three hundred and thirty-three feet above the sea. chapter v. the american paper boat and english canoes. the peculiar character of the paper boat.--the history of the adoption of paper for boats.--a boy's ingenuity.--the process of building paper boats described.--college clubs adopting them.--the great victories won by paper over wooden shells in . inquiries regarding the history and durability of paper boats occasionally reach me through the medium of the post-office. after all the uses to which paper has been put during the last twenty years, the public is yet hardly convinced that the flimsy material, paper, can successfully take the place of wood in the construction of light pleasure-boats, canoes, and racing shells. yet the idea has become an accomplished fact. the success of the victorious paper shells of the cornell college navy, which were enlisted in the struggles of two seasons at saratoga, against no mean antagonists,--the college crews of the united states,--surely proves that in strength, stiffness, speed, and fineness of model, the paper boat is without a rival. [illustration: a full-rigged nautilus canoe.] when used in its own peculiar sphere, the improved paper boat will be found to possess the following merits: less weight, greater strength, stiffness, durability, and speed than a wooden boat of the same size and model; and the moulded paper shell will retain the delicate lines so essential to speed, while the brittle wooden shell yields more or less to the warping influences of sun and moisture. a comparison of the strength of wood and paper for boats has been made by a writer in the cornell times, a journal published by the students of that celebrated new york college: "let us take a piece of wood and a piece of paper of the same thickness, and experiment with, use, and abuse them both to the same extent. let the wood be of one-eighth of an inch in thickness--the usual thickness of shell-boats, and the paper heavy pasteboard, both one foot square. holding them up by one side, strike them with a hammer, and observe the result. the wood will be cracked, to say the least; the pasteboard, whirled out of your hand, will only be dented, at most. take hold and bend them: the wood bends to a certain degree, and then splits; the pasteboard, bent to the same degree, is not affected in the least. take a knife and strike them: the wood is again split, the pasteboard only pierced. place them on the water: the wood floats for an indefinite time; the pasteboard, after a time, soaks, and finally sinks, as was to be expected. but suppose we soak the pasteboard in marine glue before the experiment, then we find the pasteboard equally as impervious to the water as wood, and as buoyant, if of the same weight; but, to be of the same weight, it must be thinner than the wood, yet even then it stands the before-mentioned tests as well as when thicker; and it will be found to stand all tests much better than wood, even when it weighs considerably less. "now, enlarging our pieces, and moulding them into boats of the same weight, we find the following differences: wood, being stiff and liable to split, can only be moulded into comparative form. paper, since it can be rendered perfectly pliable, can be pressed into any shape desirable; hence, any wished-for fineness of lines can be given to the model, and the paper will assume the identical shape, after which it can be water-proofed, hardened, and polished. paper neither swells, nor shrinks, nor cracks, hence it does not leak, is always ready for use, always serviceable. as to cost, there is very little difference between the two; the cost being within twenty-five dollars, more or less, the same for both. those who use paper boats think them very near perfection; and surely those who have the most to do with boats ought to know, prejudice aside, which is the best." an injury to a paper boat is easily repaired by a patch of strong paper and a coating of shellac put on with a hot iron. as the paper boat is a novelty with many people, a sketch of its early history may prove interesting to the reader. mr. george a. waters, the son of the senior member of the firm of e. waters & sons, of troy, new york, was invited some years since to a masquerade party. the boy repaired to a toy shop to purchase a counterfeit face; but, thinking the price (eight dollars) was more than he could afford for a single evening's sport, he borrowed the mask for a model, from which he produced a duplicate as perfect as was the original. while engaged upon his novel work, an idea impressed itself upon his ingenious brain. "cannot," he queried, "a paper shell be made upon the wooden model of a boat? and will not a shell thus produced, after being treated to a coat of varnish, float as well, and be lighter than a wooden boat?" this was in march, , while the youth was engaged in the manufacture of paper boxes. having repaired a wooden shell-boat by covering the cracks with sheets of stout paper cemented to the wood, the result satisfied him; and he immediately applied his attention to the further development of his bright idea. assisted by his father, mr. elisha waters, the enterprise was commenced "by taking a wooden shell, thirteen inches wide and thirty feet long, as a mould, and covering the entire surface of its bottom and sides with small sheets of strong manila paper, glued together, and superposed on each other, so that the joints of one layer were covered by the middle of the sheet immediately above, until a sheet of paper had been formed one-sixteenth of an inch in thickness. the fabric thus constructed, after being carefully dried, was removed from the mould and fitted up with a suitable frame, consisting of a lower keelson, two inwales, the bulkhead; in short, all the usual parts of the frame of a wooden shell, except the timbers, or ribs, of which none were used--the extreme stiffness of the skin rendering them unnecessary. its surface was then carefully water-proofed with suitable varnishes, and the work was completed. trials proved that, rude as was this first attempt compared with the elegant craft now turned out from paper, it had marked merits, among which were, its remarkable stiffness, the symmetry of the hull with respect to its long axis, and the smoothness of the water-surface." a gentleman, who possesses excellent judgment and long experience in all that relates to paper boats, furnishes me with the following valuable information, which i feel sure will interest the reader. "the process of building the paper shell-boat is as follows: the dimensions of the boat having been determined upon, the first step is to construct a wooden model, or form, an exact fac-simile of the desired boat, on which to mould the paper skin. for this purpose the lines of the boat are carefully drawn out of the full size, and from the drawings thus made the model is prepared. it is built of layers of well-seasoned pine, securely fastened together to form one solid mass; which, after having been laid up of the general outline required, is carefully worked off, until its surface, which is made perfectly smooth, exactly conforms to the selected lines, and its beam, depth, and length are those of the given boat. during the process of its construction, suitable rabbets are cut to receive the lower keelson, the two inwales, and the bow and stern deadwoods, which, being put in position, are worked off so that their surfaces are flush with that of the model, and forming, as it were, an integral part of it. it being important that these parts should, in the completed boat, be firmly attached to the skin, their surface is, at this part of the process, covered with a suitable adhesive preparation. "the model is now ready to be covered with paper. two kinds are used: that made from the best manila, and that prepared from pure unbleached linen stock; the sheets being the full length of the model, no matter what that may be. if manila paper is used, the first sheet is dampened, laid smoothly on the model, and securely fastened in place by tacking it to certain rough strips attached to its upper face. other sheets are now superposed on this and on each other, and suitably cemented together; the number depending upon the size of the boat and the stiffness required. if linen paper is used, but one sheet is employed, of such weight and dimensions that, when dry, it will give just the thickness of skin necessary. should the surface of the model be concave in parts, as in the run of boats with square sterns for instance, the paper is made to conform to these surfaces by suitable convex moulds, which also hold the paper in place until, by drying, it has taken and will retain the desired form. the model, with its enveloping coat of paper, is now removed to the dry-room. as the paper skin dries, all wrinkles disappear, and it gradually assumes the desired shape. finally, when all moisture has been evaporated, it is taken from the mould an exact fac-simile of the model desired, exceedingly stiff, perfectly symmetrical, and seamless. "the paper is now subjected to the water-proof process, and the skin, with its keelson, inwales, and deadwoods attached, is then placed in the carpenter's hands, where the frame is completed in the usual manner, as described for wooden boats. the paper decks being put on, it is then ready for the brass, iron, and varnish work. as the skins of these boats (racing-shells) vary from one-sixteenth of an inch in the singles, to one-twelfth of an inch in the six-oared outriggers, the wooden frame becomes necessary to support and keep them in shape. in applying this invention to gigs, dingys, canoes, and skiffs, a somewhat different method is adopted. since these boats are subjected to much hard service, and must be so constructed as to permit the occupant to move about in them as is usual in such craft, a light and strong frame of wood is prepared, composed of a suitable number of pairs of ribs, with stem and stern pieces cut from the natural crooks of hackmatack roots. these are firmly framed to two gunwales and a keelson, extending the length of the boat; the whole forming the skeleton shape of the desired model. the forms for these boats having been prepared, as already described for the racing-shells, and the frame being let into this form, so that the outer surface of the ribs, stem and stern pieces will conform with its outer surface, the paper skin is next laid upon it. the skin, manufactured from new, unbleached linen stock, is carefully stretched in place, and when perfectly dry is from one-tenth to three-sixteenths of an inch thick. removed from the model, it is water-proofed, the frame and fittings completed, and the boat varnished. in short, in this class of boats, the shape, style, and finish are precisely that of wooden ones, of corresponding dimensions and class, except that for the usual wooden sheathing is substituted the paper skin as described. "the advantages possessed by these boats over those of wood are: "by the use of this material for the skins of racing-shells, where experience has demonstrated the smooth bottom to be the best, under-water lines of any degree of fineness can be developed, which cannot successfully be produced in those of wood, even where the streaks are so reduced in thickness that strength, stiffness, and durability are either wholly sacrificed or greatly impaired. in the finer varieties of 'dug-outs' equally fine lines can be obtained; but so delicate are such boats, if the sides are reduced to three-sixteenths of an inch or less in thickness, that it is found practically impossible to preserve their original forms for any length of time. hence, so far as this point is concerned, it only remains for the builder to select those models which science, guided by experience, points out as the best. "the paper skin, after being water-proofed, is finished with hard varnishes, and then presents a solid, perfectly smooth, and horny surface to the action of the water, unbroken by _joint_, _lap_, or _seam_. this surface admits of being polished as smooth as a coach-panel or a mirror. unlike wood, _it has no grain to be cracked or split, it never shrinks_, and, paper being one of the best of non-conductors, no ordinary degree of heat or cold affects its shape or hardness, and hence these boats are admirably adapted for use in all climates. as the skin absorbs no moisture, _these boats gain no weight by use_, and, having no moisture to give off when out of the water, they do not, like wooden boats, show the effect of exposure to the air by leaking. they are, therefore, in this respect always prepared for service. "the strength and stiffness of the paper shells are most remarkable. to demonstrate it, a single shell of twelve inch beam and twenty-eight feet long, fitted complete with its outriggers, the hull weighing twenty-two pounds, was placed on two trestles eight feet apart, in such a manner that the trestles were each the same distance from the centre of the cockpit, which was thus entirely unsupported. a man weighing one hundred and forty pounds then seated himself in it, and remained in this position three minutes. the deflection caused by this strain, being accurately measured, was found to be one-sixteenth of an inch at a point midway between the supports. if this load, applied under such abnormal conditions, produced so little effect, we can safely assume that, when thus loaded and resting on the water, supported throughout her whole length, and the load far more equally distributed over the whole frame, there would be no deflection whatever. "lightness, when combined with a proper, stiffness and strength, being a very desirable quality, it is here that the paper boats far excel their wooden rivals. if two shells are selected, the one of wood and the other with a paper skin and deck, as has been described, _of the same dimensions and equally stiff_, careful experiment proves that the wooden one will be _thirty per cent. the heaviest_. if those of the _same dimensions and equal weight_ are compared, the paper one will be found to exceed the wooden one in stiffness and in capacity to resist torsional strains in the same proportion. frequent boasts are made that wooden shells can be and are built much lighter than paper ones; and if the quality of lightness _alone_ is considered, this is true; yet when the practical test of _use_ is applied, such extremely light wooden boats have always proved, and will continue to prove, failures, as here this quality is only _one_ of a number which combine to make the boat serviceable. a wooden shell whose hull weighs twenty-two pounds, honest weight, is a very fragile, short-lived affair. a paper shell of the same dimensions, and of the same weight, will last as long, and do as much work, as a wooden one whose hull turns the beam at thirty pounds. "an instance of their remarkable strength is shown in the following case. in the summer of , a single shell, while being rowed at full speed, with the current, on one of our principal rivers, was run into the stone abutment of a bridge. the bow struck squarely on the obstacle, and such was the momentum of the mass that the oarsman was thrown directly through the flaring bow of the cockpit into the river. witnesses of the accident who were familiar with wooden shells declared that the boat was ruined; but, after a careful examination, only the bow-tip was found to be twisted in a spiral form, and the washboard broken at the point by the oarsman as he passed between the sides. two dollars covered the cost of repair. had it been a wooden shell the shock would have crushed its stem and splintered the skin from the bow to the waist." [illustration: rob roy canoe.] old and cautious seamen tried to dissuade me from contracting with the messrs. waters for the building of a stout paper canoe for my journey. harvard college had not adopted this "new-fangled notion" at that time, and cornell had only begun to think of attempting to out-row other colleges at saratoga by using paper boats. the centennial year of the independence of the united states, , settled all doubts as to the value of the result of the years of toil of the inventors of the paper boat. during the same year the incendiary completed his revengeful work by burning the paper-boat manufactory at troy. the loss was a heavy one; but a few weeks later these unflinching men were able to record the following victories achieved that single season by their boats. the races won by the paper boats were: the intercollegiate championship: freshmen and university. the international championship at saratoga: singles, doubles, and fours. the national championship, n. a. of a. o.: singles, doubles, and fours. the world's championship at centennial exhibition: singles, doubles, and fours. the professional championship of the united states. and every other important race of the season, besides receiving the highest honors at the centennial exhibition. the right to make boats of paper in canada and in the united states is exclusively held by the messrs. waters, and they are the only manufacturers of paper boats in the world. it is not many years since mr. macgregor, of london, built the little rob roy canoe, and in it made the tour of interesting european waters. his example was followed by an army of tourists, and it is now a common thing to meet canoe voyagers in miniature flotillas upon the watercourses of our own and foreign lands. mr. w. baden-powell, also an englishman, perfected the model of the nautilus type of canoe, which possesses a great deal of sheer with fullness of bow, and is therefore a better boat for rough water than the rob roy. the new york canoe club, in , had the nautilus for their model. we still need a distinctive american type for our waters, more like the best indian canoe than the european models here presented. these modern yacht-like canoes are really improved _kyaks_, and in their construction we are much indebted to the experience of the inhabitants of the arctic circle. very few of the so-called rob roy canoes, built in the united states, resemble the original perfected boat of mr. macgregor--the father of modern canoe travelling. the illustrations given of english canoes are from imported models, and are perfect of their type. chapter vi. troy to philadelphia. paper canoe maria theresa.--the start.--the descent of the hudson river.--crossing the upper bay of new york.--passage of the kills.--raritan river.--the canal route from new brunswick to the delaware river.--from bordentown to philadelphia. [illustration: from albany to new york city. route of paper canoe maria theresa from albany to new york city via hudson river followed by n. h. bishop in _copyright, by lee & shepard_] my canoe of the english "nautilus" type was completed by the middle of october; and on the cold, drizzly morning of the st of the same month i embarked in my little fifty-eight pound craft from the landing of the paper-boat manufactory on the river hudson, two miles above troy. mr. george a. waters put his own canoe into the water, and proposed to escort me a few miles down the river. if i had any misgivings as to the stability of my paper canoe upon entering her for the first time, they were quickly dispelled as i passed the stately club-house of the laureates, which contained nearly forty shells, _all_ of paper. the dimensions of the maria theresa were: length, fourteen feet; beam, twenty-eight inches; depth, amidships, nine inches; height of bow from horizontal line, twenty-three inches; height of stern, twenty inches. the canoe was one-eighth of an inch in thickness, and weighed fifty-eight pounds. she was fitted with a pair of steel outriggers, which could be easily unshipped and stowed away. the oars[b] were of spruce, seven feet eight inches long, and weighed three pounds and a quarter each. the double paddle, which was seven feet six inches in length, weighed two pounds and a half. the mast and sail--which are of no service on such a miniature vessel, and were soon discarded--weighed six pounds. when i took on board at philadelphia the canvas deck-cover and the rubber strap which secured it in position, and the outfit,--the cushion, sponge, provision-basket, and a fifteen-pound case of charts,--i found that, with my own weight included (one hundred and thirty pounds), the boat and her cargo, all told, provisioned for a long cruise, fell considerably short of the weight of three saratoga trunks containing a very modest wardrobe for a lady's four weeks' visit at a fashionable watering-place. the rain ceased, the mists ascended, and the sunlight broke upon us as we swiftly descended upon the current of the hudson to albany. the city was reached in an hour and a half. mr. waters, pointing his canoe northward, wished me _bon voyage_, and returned to the scene of the triumphs of his patient labors, while i settled down to a steady row southward. at albany, the capital of the state, which is said to be one hundred and fifty miles distant from new york city, there is a tidal rise and fall of one foot. a feeling of buoyancy and independence came over me as i glided on the current of this noble stream, with the consciousness that i now possessed the right boat for my enterprise. it had been a dream of my youth to become acquainted with the charms of this most romantic river of the american continent. its sources are in the clouds of the adirondacks, among the cold peaks of the northern wilderness; its ending may be said to be in the briny waters of the atlantic, for its channel-way has been sounded outside of the sandy beaches of new york harbor in the bosom of the restless ocean. the highest types of civilized life are nurtured upon its banks. noble edifices, which contain and preserve the works of genius and of mechanical art, rear their proud roofs from among these hills on the lofty sites of the picturesque hudson. the wealth of the great city at its mouth, the metropolis of the young nation, has been lavished upon the soil of the river's borders to make it even more beautiful and more fruitful. what river in america, along the same length of coast-lines as from troy to new york (one hundred and fifty-six miles), can rival in natural beauty and artificial applications of wealth the lovely hudson? "the hudson river," says its genial historian, mr. lossing, "from its birth among the mountains to its marriage with the ocean, measures a distance of full three hundred miles." [illustration: the aboriginal type (kayak.)] [illustration: the improved type (maria theresa canoe.)] captain john smith's friend, the englishman henry hudson, while in the employ of the dutch east india company, in his vessel of ninety tons, the half-moon, being in search of a northwest passage south of virginia, cast anchor outside of sandy hook, september , , and on the th passed up through the narrows into the present bay of new york. under the firm conviction that he was on his way to the long-sought cathay, a day later he entered the hudson river, where now stands the proud metropolis of america. as the half-moon ascended the river the water lost its saltness, and by the time they were anchored where the city of albany now stands all hopes of cathay faded from the heart of the mariner. englishmen called this river in honor of its discoverer, but the dutch gave it the name of north river, after the delaware had been discovered and named south river. thus, while in samuel champlain was exploring the lake which bears his name, hudson was ascending his river upon the southern water-shed. the historian tells us that these bold explorers penetrated the wilderness, one from the north and the other from the south, to within one hundred miles of each other. the same historian (dr. lossing) says: "the most remote source of the extreme western branch of our noble river is hendricks spring, so named in honor of hendricks hudson. we found hendricks spring in the edge of a swamp, cold, shallow, about five feet in diameter,--shaded by trees, shrubbery, and vines, and fringed with the delicate brake and fern. its waters, rising within half a mile of long lake, and upon the same summit-level, flow southward to the atlantic more than three hundred miles; while those of the latter flow to the st. lawrence, and reach the same atlantic a thousand miles away to the far northeast." since dr. lossing visited the western head of the hudson river, the true and highest source of the stream has probably been settled by a gentleman possessing scientific acquirements and inflexible purpose. on the plateau south of mount marcy, state-surveyor colvin found the little lake tear-of-the-clouds to be the loftiest sheet of water in the state,--four thousand three hundred and twenty-six feet above the sea,--and proved it to be the lake-head of the great river hudson. a second little pond in a marsh on a high plateau, at the foot of mount redfield, was also discovered,--"margined and embanked with luxuriant and deep sphagnous moss,"--which was named by the party moss lake. it was found to flow into the hudson. a beautiful little bivalve shell, three-sixteenths of an inch in diameter, of an undescribed species, was found in the pellucid water, and thus a new shell was handed over to conchology, and a new river source to geography, in the same hour. this pool is four thousand three hundred and twelve feet above tide-water, and only a few feet lower than its sister, tear-of-the-clouds--the highest source of the hudson. should the state of new york adopt mr. colvin's suggestion, to reserve six hundred square miles of the adirondack region for a public park, the pool tear-of-the-clouds will be within the reservation. the waters of these baby fountains are swollen by contributions from the streams, ponds, and lakes of the adirondack wilderness, until along the banks of fishing brook, a tributary of the hudson, the water is utilized at the first saw-mill. a few miles lower down the forests are vexed by the axe of the lumbermen, and logs are floated down the river one hundred miles to glens falls, where the state dam and great boom are located. half a million logs have been gathered there in a single spring. it was upon the hudson that the first successful steamboat, built by robert fulton, made its voyage to albany, the engine having been built by watt & bolton, in england. from mr. lossing we obtain the following. "the clermont was one hundred feet long, twelve feet wide, and seven feet deep. the following advertisement appeared in the albany gazette on the st of september, : "the north river steamboat will leave paulus hook (jersey city) on friday, the th of september, at in the morning, and arrive at albany on saturday at in the afternoon. provisions, good berths, and accommodations are provided. the charge to each passenger is as follows: to newburgh, dollars time, hours. " poughkeepsie, " " " " esopus, " " " " hudson, - / " " " " albany, " " " ." the trip, which was made against a strong head wind, was entirely successful. the large steamers can now make the trip from new york to albany in about twelve hours. * * * * * as i pulled easily along the banks of the river, my eyes feasted upon the gorgeous coloring of the autumnal foliage, which formed a scene of beauty never to be forgotten. the rapid absorption of oxygen by the leaves in the fall months produces, in northern america, these vivid tints which give to the country the appearance of a land covered with a varied and brilliant garment, "a coat of many colors." a soft, hazy light pervaded the atmosphere, while at the same time the october air was gently exhilarating to the nervous system. at six o'clock p. m. the canoe arrived at hudson city, which is on the east bank of the river, and i completed a row of thirty-eight statute miles, according to local authority; but in reality forty-nine miles by the correct charts of the united states coast survey. after storing the maria theresa in a shed, i repaired to a dismal hotel for the night. at seven o'clock the next morning the river was mantled in a dense fog, but i pushed off and guided myself by the sounds of the running trains on the hudson river railroad. this corporation does such an immense amount of freighting that, if their freight trains were connected, a continuous line of eighty miles would be constructed, of which sixteen miles are always in transit day and night. steamboats and tugs with canal-boats in tow were groping about the river in the misty darkness, blowing whistles every few minutes to let people know that the pilot was not sleeping at the wheel. there was a grand clearing up at noon; and as the sun broke through the mist, the beautiful shores came into view like a vivid flame of scarlet, yellow, brown, and green. it was the death-song of summer, and her dying notes the tinted leaves, each one giving to the wind a sad strain as it softly dropped to the earth, or was quickly hurled into space. a few miles south of hudson city, on the west bank, the catskill stream enters the river. from this point the traveller may penetrate the picturesque country of the appalachian range, where its wild elevations were called _onti ora_, or "mountains of the sky," by the aborigines. rondout, on the right bank of the hudson, is the terminus of the delaware and hudson canal, which connects it with port jervis on the delaware, a distance of fifty-four miles. this town, the outlet of the coal regions, i passed after meridian. as i left hudson on the first of the flood-tide, i had to combat it for several hours; but i easily reached hyde park landing (which is on the left bank of the stream and, by local authority, thirty-five miles from hudson city) at five o'clock p. m. the wharf-house sheltered the canoe, and a hotel in the village, half a mile distant on the high plains, its owner. i was upon the river by seven o'clock the next morning. the day was varied by strong gusts of wind succeeded by calms. six miles south of hyde park is the beautiful city of poughkeepsie with its eighteen thousand inhabitants, and the celebrated vassar female college. eight miles down the river, and on the same side, is a small village called new hamburg. the rocky promontory at the foot of which the town is built is covered with the finest arbor vitæ forest probably in existence. six miles below, on the west bank, is the important city of newburg, one of the termini of the new york and erie railroad. four miles below, the river narrows and presents a grand view of the north entrance of the highlands, with the storm king mountain rising fully one thousand five hundred feet above the tide. the early dutch navigators gave to this peak the name of _boter-burg_ (butter-hill), but it was rechristened storm king by the author n. p. willis, whose late residence, idlewild, commands a fine view of newburg bay. when past the storm king, the crow-nest and the almost perpendicular front of kidd's plug cliff tower aloft, and mark the spot where kidd (as usual) was supposed to have buried a portion of that immense sum of money with which popular belief invests hundreds of localities along the watercourses of the continent. now the narrows above west point were entered, and the current against a head-wind made the passage unusually exciting. the paper canoe danced over the boiling expanse of water, and neared the west shore about a mile above the united states military academy, when a shell, from a gun on the grounds of that institution, burst in the water within a few feet of the boat. i now observed a target set upon a little flat at the foot of a gravelly hill close to the beach. as a second, and finally a third shell exploded near me, i rowed into the rough water, much disgusted with cadet-practice and military etiquette. after dark the canoe was landed on the deck of a schooner which was discharging slag or cinder at fort montgomery landing. i scrambled up the hill to the only shelter that could be found, a small country store owned by a captain conk who kept entertainment for the traveller. rough fellows and old crones came in to talk about the spooks that had been seen in the neighboring hills. it was veritable "sleepy hollow" talk. the physician of the place, they said, had been "skert clean off a bridge the other night." embarking the following morning from this weird and hilly country, that prominent natural feature, anthony's nose, which was located on the opposite shore, strongly appealed to my imagination and somewhat excited my mirth. one needs a powerful imagination, i thought, to live in these regions where the native element, the hill-folk, dwell so fondly and earnestly upon the ghostly and mysterious. three miles down the river, dunderberg, "the thundering mountain," on the west bank, with the town of peekskill on the opposite shore, was passed, and i entered haverstraw bay, the widest part of the river. "here," says the historian, "the fresh and salt water usually contend, most equally, for the mastery; and here the porpoise is often seen in large numbers sporting in the summer sun. here in the spring vast numbers of shad are caught while on their way to spawning-beds in fresh-water coves." haverstraw bay was crossed, and tarrytown passed, when i came to the picturesque little cottage of a great man now gone from among us. many pleasant memories of his tales rose in my mind as i looked upon sunnyside, the home of washington irving, nestled in the grove of living green, its white stuccoed walls glistening in the bright sunlight, and its background of grand villas looming up on every side. at irvington landing, a little further down the river, i went ashore to pass sunday with friends; and on the monday following, in a dense fog, proceeded on my route to new york. below irvington the far-famed "palisades," bold-faced precipices of trap-rock, offer their grandest appearance on the west side of the hudson. these singular bluffs, near hoboken, present a perpendicular front of three hundred or four hundred feet in height. piles of broken rock rest against their base: the contribution of the cliffs above from the effects of frost and sun. while approaching the great city of new york, strong squalls of wind, blowing against the ebb-tide, sent swashy waves into my open canoe, the sides of which, amidships, were only five or six inches above water; but the great buoyancy of the light craft and its very smooth exterior created but little friction in the water and made her very seaworthy, when carefully watched and handled, even without a deck of canvas or wood. while the canoe forged ahead through the troubled waters, and the breezes loaded with the saltness of the sea now near at hand struck my back, i confess that a longing to reach philadelphia, where i could complete my outfit and increase the safety of my little craft, gave renewed vigor to my stroke as i exchanged the quiet atmosphere of the country for the smoke and noise of the city. every instinct was now challenged, and every muscle brought into action, as i dodged tug-boats, steamers, yachts, and vessels, while running the thoroughfare along the crowded wharves between new york on one side and jersey city on the other. i found the slips between the piers most excellent ports of refuge at times, when the ferry-boats, following each other in quick succession, made the river with its angry tide boil like a vortex. the task soon ended, and i left the hudson at castle garden and entered the upper bay of new york harbor. as it was dark, i would gladly have gone ashore for the night, but a great city offers no inducement for a canoeist to land as a stranger at its wharves. a much more pleasant reception awaited me down on staten island, a gentleman having notified me by mail that he would welcome the canoe and its owner. the ebb had ceased, and the incoming tide was being already felt close in shore; so with tide and wind against me, and the darkness of night settling down gloomily upon the wide bay, i pulled a strong oar for five miles to the entrance of kill van kull strait, which separates staten island from new jersey and connects the upper bay with raritan bay. the bright beams from the light-house on robbin's reef, which is one mile and a quarter off the entrance of the strait, guided me on my course. the head-sea, in little, splashy waves, began to fill my canoe. the water soon reached the foot-rest; but there was no time to stop to bale out the boat, for a friendly current was near, and if once reached, my little craft would enter smoother waters. the flood which poured into the mouth of kill van kull soon caught my boat, and the head-tide was changed to a favorable current which carried me in its strong arms far into the salt-water strait, and i reached west new brighton, along the high banks of which i found my haven of rest. against the sky i traced the outlines of my landmark, three poplars, standing sentinel-like before the house of the gentleman who had so kindly offered me his hospitality. the canoe was emptied of its shifting liquid ballast and carefully sponged dry. my host and his son carried it into the main hall of the mansion and placed it upon the floor, where the entire household gathered, an admiring group. proud, indeed, might my dainty craft have been of the appreciation of so lovely a company. her master fully appreciated the generous board of his kind host, and in present comfort soon forgot past trials and his wet pull across the upper bay of new york harbor. my work for the next day, october th, was the navigation of the interesting strait of the old dutch settlers and the raritan river, of new jersey, as far as new brunswick. the average width of kill van kull is three-eighths of a mile. from its entrance, at constable's point, to the mouth of newark bay, which enters it on the jersey side, it is three miles, and nearly two miles across the bay to elizabethport. bergen point is on the east and elizabethport on the west entrance of the bay, while on staten island, new brighton, factoryville, and north shore, furnish homes for many new york business men. at elizabethport the strait narrows to one eighth of a mile, and as the mouth of the rahway is approached it widens. it now runs through marshes for most of the way, a distance of twelve miles to raritan bay, which is an arm of the lower bay of new york harbor. the strait, from elizabethport to its mouth, is called arthur kill; the whole distance through the kills, from constable's point to raritan bay, is about seventeen statute miles. at the mouth of arthur kill the raritan river opens to the bay, and the city of perth amboy rests on the point of high land between the river and the strait. roseville and tottenville are on the staten island shores of arthur kill, the former six miles, the latter ten miles from elizabethport. the tide runs swiftly through the kills. leaving mr. campbell's residence at nine a. m., with a tide in my favor as far as newark bay, i soon had the tide against me from the other kill until i passed the rahway river, when it commenced to ebb towards raritan bay. the marshy shores of the kills were submerged in places by the high tide, but their monotony was relieved by the farms upon the hills back of the flats. at one o'clock my canoe rounded the heights upon which perth amboy is perched, with its snug cottages, the homes of many oystermen whose fleet of boats was anchored in front of the town. curious yard-like pens constructed of poles rose out of the water, in which boats could find shelter from the rough sea. the entrance to the raritan river is wide, and above its mouth it is crossed by a long railroad bridge. the pull up the crooked river (sixteen miles) against a strong ebb-tide, through extensive reedy marshes, was uninteresting. i came upon the entrance of the canal which connects the rivers raritan and delaware after six o'clock p. m., which at this season of the year was after dark. hiding the canoe in a secure place i went to visit an old friend, professor george cook, of the new jersey state geological survey, who resides at new brunswick. in the morning the professor kindly assisted me, and we climbed the high bank of the canal with the canoe upon our shoulders, putting it into the water below the first two locks. i now commenced an unexciting row of forty-two miles to bordentown, on the delaware, where this artificial watercourse ends. this canal is much travelled by steam tugs towing schooners of two hundred tons, and by barges and canal-boats of all sizes drawing not above seven feet and a half of water. the boats are drawn through the locks by stationary steam-engines, the use of which is discontinued when the business becomes slack; then the boatmen use their mules for the same purpose. to tow an average-sized canal-boat, loaded, requires four mules, while an empty one is easily drawn by two. it proved most expeditious as well as convenient not to trouble the lock-master to open the gates, but to secure his assistance in carrying the canoe along the tow-path to the end of the lock, which service occupied less than five minutes. in this way the canoe was carried around seven locks the first day, and when dusk approached she was sheltered beside a paper shell in the boat-house of princeton college club, which is located on the banks of the canal about one mile and a half from the city of princeton. in this narrow watercourse these indefatigable collegians, under great disadvantages, drill their crews for the annual intercollegiate struggle for championship. one noah reed provided entertainment for man and beast at his country inn half a mile from the boat-house, and thither i repaired for the night. this day's row of twenty-six miles and a half had been through a hilly country, abounding in rich farm lands which were well cultivated. the next morning an officer of the princeton bank awaited my coming on the banks of the sluggish canal. he had taken an early walk from the town to see the canoe. at baker's basin the bridge-tender, a one-legged man, pressed me to tarry till he could summon the methodist minister, who had charged him to notify him of the approach of a paper canoe. through all my boat journeys i have remarked that professional men take more interest in canoe journeys than professional oarsmen; and nearly all the canoeists of my acquaintance are ministers of the gospel. it is an innocent way of obtaining relaxation; and opportunities thus offered the weary clergyman of studying nature in her ever-changing but always restful moods, must indeed be grateful after being for months in daily contact with the world, the flesh, and the devil. the tendency of the present age to liberal ideas permits clergymen in large towns and cities to drive fast horses, and spend an hour of each day at a harmless game of billiards, without giving rise to remarks from _his own_ congregation, but let the overworked rector of a _country_ village seek in his friendly canoe that relief which nature offers to the tired brain, let him go into the wilderness and live close to his creator by studying his works, and a whole community vex him on his return with "the appearance of the thing." these self-constituted critics, who are generally ignorant of the laws which god has made to secure health and give contentment to his creatures, would poison the sick man's body with drugs and nostrums when he might have the delightful and generally successful services of dr. camp cure without the after dose of a bill. these hard-worked and miserably paid country clergymen, who are rarely, nowadays, treated as the head of the congregation or the shepherd of the flock they are supposed to lead, but rather as victims of the whims of influential members of the church, tell me that to own a canoe is indeed a cross, and that if they spend a vacation in the grand old forests of the adirondacks, the brethren are sorely exercised over the time wasted in such unusual and unministerial conduct. everywhere along the route the peculiar character of the paper canoe attracted many remarks from the bystanders. the first impression given was that i had engaged in this rowing enterprise under the stimulus of a bet; and when the curious were informed that it was a voyage of study, the next question was, "how much are you going to make out of it?" upon learning that there was neither a bet nor money in it, a shade of disappointment and incredulity rested upon the features of the bystanders, and the canoeist was often rated as a "blockhead" for risking his life without being paid for it. at trenton the canal passes through the city, and here it was necessary to carry the boat around two locks. at noon the canoe ended her voyage of forty-two miles by reaching the last lock, on the delaware river, at bordentown, new jersey, where friendly arms received the maria theresa and placed her on the trestles which had supported her sister craft, the mayeta, in the shop of the builder, mr. j. s. lamson, situated under the high cliffs along the crests of which an ex-king of spain, in times gone by, was wont to walk and sadly ponder on his exile from _la belle france_. the rev. john h. brakeley, proprietor as well as principal of the bordentown female seminary, took me to his ancient mansion, where thomas paine, of old revolutionary war times, had lodged. not the least attraction in the home of my friend was the group of fifty young ladies, who were kind enough to gather upon a high bluff when i left the town, and wave a graceful farewell to the paper canoe as she entered the tidal current of the river delaware _en route_ for the quaker city. during my short stay in bordentown mr. isaac gabel kindly acted as my guide, and we explored the bonaparte park, which is on the outskirts of the town. the grounds are beautifully laid out. some of the old houses of the ex-king's friends and attendants still remain in a fair state of preservation. the elegant residence of joseph bonaparte, or the count de surveilliers, which was always open to american visitors of all classes, was torn down by mr. henry beckett, an englishman in the diplomatic service of the british government, who purchased this property some years after the count returned to europe, and erected a more elaborate mansion near the old site. the old citizens of bordentown hold in grateful remembrance the favors showered upon them by joseph bonaparte and his family, who seem to have lived a democratic life in the grand old park. the count returned to france in , and never visited the united states again. new jersey had welcomed the exiled monarch, and had given him certain legal privileges in property rights which new york had refused him; so he settled upon the lovely shores of the fair delaware, and lavished his wealth upon the people of the state which had so kindly received him. the citizens of neighboring states becoming somewhat jealous of the good luck that had befallen new jersey in her capture of the spanish king, applied to the state the cognomen of "new spain," and called the inhabitants thereof "spaniards." the delaware river, the makeriskitton of the savage, upon whose noble waters my paper canoe was now to carry me southward, has its sources in the western declivity of the catskill mountains, in the state of new york. it is fed by two tributary streams, the oquago (or coquago) and the popacton, which unite their waters at the boundary line of pennsylvania, at the northeast end of the state, from which it flows southward seventy miles, separating the empire and keystone states. when near port jervis, which town is connected with rondout, on the hudson river, by the hudson and delaware canal, the delaware turns sharply to the southwest, and becomes the boundary line between the states of new jersey and pennsylvania. below easton the river again takes a southeasterly course, and flowing past trenton, bristol, bordentown, burlington, philadelphia, camden, newcastle, and delaware city, empties its waters into delaware bay about forty miles below philadelphia. this river has about the same length as the hudson--three hundred miles. the tide reaches one hundred and thirty-two miles from the sea at cape may and cape henlopen. philadelphia is the head of navigation for vessels of the heaviest tonnage; trenton for light-draught steamboats. at bordentown the river is less than half a mile wide; at philadelphia it is three-fourths of a mile in width; while at delaware city it widens to two miles and a half. delaware bay is twenty-six miles across in the widest part, which is some miles within the entrance of the capes. october st was cool and gusty. the river route to philadelphia is twenty-nine statute miles. the passage was made against a strong head-wind, with swashy waves, which made me again regret that i did not have my canoe-decking made at troy, instead of at philadelphia. the highly-cultivated farms and beautiful country-seats along both the pennsylvania and new jersey sides of the river spoke highly of the rich character of the soil and the thrift of the inhabitants. these river counties of two states may be called a land of plenty, blessed with bountiful harvests. quaker industry and wise economy in managing the agricultural affairs of this section in the early epochs of our country's settlement have borne good fruit. all praise to the memory of william penn of pennsylvania and his worthy descendants. the old towns of bristol on the right, and burlington on the left bank, embowered in vernal shades, have a most comfortable and home-like appearance. at five o'clock p. m. i arrived at the city pier opposite the warehouse of messrs. c. p. knight & brother, no. south delaware avenue, where, after a struggle with wind and wave for eight hours, the canoe was landed and deposited with the above firm, the gentlemen of which kindly offered to care for it while i tarried in the "city of brotherly love." among the many interesting spots hallowed by memories of the past in which philadelphia abounds, and which are rarely sought out by visitors, two especially claim the attention of the naturalist. one is the old home of william bartram, on the banks of the schuylkill at grey's ferry; the other, the grave of alexander wilson, friends and co-laborers in nature's extended field;--the first a botanist, the second the father of american ornithology. william bartram, son of the john bartram who was the founder of the botanic garden on the west bank of the schuylkill, was born at that interesting spot in . all botanists are familiar with the results of his patient labors and his pioneer travels in those early days, through the wilderness of what now constitutes the southeastern states. one who visited him at his home says: "arrived at the botanist's garden, we approached an old man who, with a rake in his hand, was breaking the clods of earth in a tulip-bed. his hat was old, and flapped over his face; his coarse shirt was seen near his neck, as he wore no cravat nor kerchief; his waistcoat and breeches were both of leather, and his shoes were tied with leather strings. we approached and accosted him. he ceased his work, and entered into conversation with the ease and politeness of nature's nobleman. his countenance was expressive of benignity and happiness. this was the botanist, traveller and philosopher we had come to see." william bartram gave important assistance and encouragement to the friendless scotch pedagogue, alexander wilson, while the latter was preparing his american ornithology for the press. this industrious and peaceable botanist died within the walls of his dearly-loved home a few minutes after he had penned a description of a plant. he died in , in the eighty-fifth year of his age. the old house of john and william bartram remains nearly the same as when the last bartram died, but the grounds have been occupied and improved by the present proprietor, whose fine mansion is near the old residence of the two botanists. without ample funds to enable him to carry out his bold design, alexander wilson labored and suffered in body and mind for several years, until his patient and persistent efforts achieved the success they so richly merited. all but the last volume of his american ornithology were completed when the overworked naturalist died. the old swedes' church is the most ancient religious edifice in philadelphia, and is located near the wharves in the vicinity of christian and swanson streets, in the old district of southwark. the swedes had settlements on the delaware before penn visited america. they built a wooden edifice for worship in , on the spot where the brick "swedes' church" now stands, and which was erected in . threading narrow streets, with the stenographic reporter of the courts, mr. r. a. west, for my guide, we came into a quiet locality where the ancient landmark reared its steeple, like the finger of faith pointing heavenward. few indeed must be the fashionable christians who worship under its unpretentious roof, but there is an air of antiquity surrounding it which interests every visitor who enters its venerable doorway. the church-yard is very contracted in area, yet there is room for trees to grow within its sacred precincts, and birds sometimes rest there while pursuing their flight from the schuylkill to the delaware. among the crowded graves is a square brick structure, covered with an horizontal slab of white marble, upon which i read: "this monument covers the remains of alexander wilson, author of the american ornithology. he was born in renfrewshire, scotland, on the july, ; emigrated to the united states in the year ; and died in philadelphia, of the dysentery, on the august, , aged . _ingenio stat sine morte decus._" philadelphia has been called the "city of homes," and well does she merit that comfortably sounding title, for it is not a misnomer. unlike some other large american cities, the artisan and laborer can here own a home by becoming a member of a building association and paying the moderate periodical dues. miles upon miles of these cosy little houses, of five or six rooms each, may be found, the inmates of which are a good and useful class of citizens, adding strength to the city's discipline and government. the grand park of three thousand acres, one of, if not _the_ largest in the world, is near at hand, where the poor as well as the rich can resort at pleasure. i took leave of the beautiful and well laid-out city with a pang of regret not usual with canoeists, who find it best for their comfort and peace of mind to keep with their dainty crafts away from the heterogeneous and not over-civil population which gathers along the water-fronts of a port. footnotes: [b] note to page .--the author has been criticised by technical canoeists for using oars on a canoe. on this cruise, experience proved that the paddle could be used effectively only two miles out of every three. head winds and seas frequently drive the paddler into camp, while the adaptive cruiser pushes on with oar and outrigger, and avoids the loss of many hours. many canoeists exploring our broad watercourses have adopted the oar as an auxiliary,--the paddle properly taking the precedence. we are progressing. the canoeist of may follow the teachings of common-sense _vs._ unauthorized technical criticisms. oars on a light paddling canoe are out of place; but are a most effective power on a heavy cruising canoe, insuring a successful voyage. chapter vii. philadelphia to cape henlopen. descent of delaware river.--my first camp.--bombay hook.--murderkill creek.--a storm in delaware bay.--capsizing of the canoe.--a swim for life.--the persimmon grove.--willow grove inn.--the lights of capes may and henlopen. monday, november , was a cold, wet day. mr. knight and the old, enthusiastic gunsmith-naturalist of the city, mr. john krider, assisted me to embark in my now decked, provisioned, and loaded canoe. the stock of condensed food would easily last me a month, while the blankets and other parts of the outfit were good for the hard usage of four or five months. my friends shouted adieu as the little craft shot out from the pier and rapidly descended the river with the strong ebb-tide which for two hours was in her favor. the anchorage of the iron monitor fleet at league island was soon passed, and the great city sank into the gloom of its smoke and the clouds of rainy mist which enveloped it. [illustration: from new york city to cape henlopen, delaware. route of paper canoe maria theresa from new york city to lewes, del. via arthur kill, del. & raritan canal followed by n. h. bishop in _copyright, by lee & shepard_] this pull was an exceedingly dreary one. the storms of winter were at hand, and even along the watercourses between philadelphia and norfolk, virginia, thin ice would soon be forming in the shallow coves and creeks. it would be necessary to exert all my energies to get south of hatteras, which is located on the north carolina coast in a region of storms and local disturbances. the canoe, though heavily laden, behaved well. i now enjoyed the advantages resulting from the possession of the new canvas deck-cover, which, being fastened by buttons along each gunwale of the canoe, securely covered the boat, so that the occasional swash sent aboard by wicked tug-boats and large schooners did not annoy me or wet my precious cargo. by two o'clock p. m. the rain and wind caused me to seek shelter at mr. j. c. beach's cottage, at markus hook, some twenty miles below philadelphia, and on the same side of the river. while mr. beach was varnishing the little craft, crowds of people came to _feel_ of the canoe, giving it the usual punching with their finger-nails, "to see if it were truly paper." a young methodist minister with his pretty wife came also to satisfy their curiosity on the _paper_ question, but the dominie offered me not a word of encouragement in my undertaking. he shook his head and whispered to his wife: "a wild, wild enterprise indeed." markus hook derived its name from markee, an indian chief, who sold it to the civilized white man for four barrels of whiskey. the next morning, in a dense fog, i followed the shores of the river, crossing the pennsylvania and delaware boundary line half a mile below the "hook," and entered delaware, the little state of three counties. thirty-five miles below, the water becomes salt. reaching new castle, which contained half its present number of inhabitants before philadelphia was founded, i pulled across to the new jersey side of the river and skirted the marshy shore past the little pea patch island, upon which rises in sullen dreariness fort delaware. west of the island is delaware city, where the chesapeake and delaware canal, fourteen miles in length, has one of its termini, the other being on a river which empties into chesapeake bay. philadelphia and baltimore steamboat lines utilize this canal in the passage of their boats from one city to the other. after crossing salem cove, and passing its southern point, elsinborough, five miles and a half below fort delaware, the inhospitable marshes became wide and desolate, warning me to secure a timely shelter for the night. nearly two miles below point elsinborough the high reeds were divided by a little creek, into which i ran my canoe, for upon the muddy bank could be seen a deserted, doorless fish-cabin, into which i moved my blankets and provisions, after cutting with my pocket-knife an ample supply of dry reeds for a bed. drift-wood, which a friendly tide had deposited around the shanty, furnished the material for my fire, which lighted up the dismal hovel most cheerfully. and thus i kept house in a comfortable manner till morning, being well satisfied with the progress i had made that day in traversing the shores of three states. the booming of the guns of wild-fowl shooters out upon the water roused me before dawn, and i had ample time before the sun arose to prepare breakfast from the remnant of canned ox-tail soup left over from last night's supper. i was now in delaware bay, which was assuming noble proportions. from my camp i crossed to the west shore below reedy island, and, filling my water-bottles at a farm-house, kept upon that shore all day. the wind arose, stirring up a rough sea as i approached bombay hook, where the bay is eight miles wide. i tried to land upon the salt marshes, over the edges of which the long, low seas were breaking, but failed in several attempts. at last roller after roller, following in quick succession, carried the little craft on their crests to the land, and packed her in a thicket of high reeds. i quickly disembarked, believing it useless to attempt to go further that day. about an eighth of a mile from the water, rising out of the salt grass and reeds, was a little mound, covered by trees and bushes, into which i conveyed my cargo by the back-load, and then easily drew the light canoe over the level marsh to the camp. a bed of reeds was soon cut, into which the canoe was settled to prevent her from being strained by the occupant at night, for i was determined to test the strength of the boat as sleeping-quarters. canoes built for one person are generally too light for such occupancy when out of water. the tall fringe of reeds which encircled the boat formed an excellent substitute for chamber walls, giving me all the starry blue heavens for a ceiling, and most effectually screening me from the strong wind which was blowing. as it was early when the boat was driven ashore, i had time to wander down to the brook, which was a mile distant, and replenish my scanty stock of water. with the canvas deck-cover and rubber blanket to keep off the heavy dews, the first night passed in such contracted lodgings was endurable, if not wholly convenient and agreeable. the river mists were not dispelled the next day until nine o'clock, when i quitted my warm nest in the reeds and rowed down the bay, which seemed to grow broader as i advanced. the bay was still bordered by extensive marshes, with here and there the habitation of man located upon some slight elevation of the surface. having rowed twenty-six miles, and being off the mouth of murderkill creek, a squall struck the canoe and forced it on to an oyster reef, upon the sharp shells of which she was rocked for several minutes by the shallow breakers. fearing that the paper shell was badly cut, though it was still early in the afternoon, i ascended the creek of ominous name and associations to the landing of an inn kept by jacob lavey, where i expected to overhaul my injured craft. to my surprise and great relief of mind there were found only a few superficial scratches upon the horn-like shellacked surface of the paper shell. to apply shellac with a heated iron to the wounds made by the oyster-shells was the work of a few minutes, and my craft was as sound as ever. the gunner's resort, "bower's beach hotel," furnished an excellent supper of oyster fritters, pan-fish, and fried pork-scrapple. mine host, before a blazing wood fire, told me of the origin of the name of murderkill creek. "in the early settlement of the country," began the innkeeper, "the white settlers did all they could to civilize the indians, but the cussed savages wouldn't take to it kindly, but worried the life out of the new-comers. at last a great landed proprietor, who held a big grant of land in these parts, thought he'd settle the troubles. so he planted a brass cannon near the creek, and invited all the indians of the neighborhood to come and hear the white man's great spirit talk. the crafty man got the savages before the mouth of the cannon, and said, 'now look into the hole there, for it is the mouth of the white man's great spirit, which will soon speak in tones of thunder.' the fellow then touched off the gun, and knocked half the devils into splinters. the others were so skeerd at the big voice they had heard that they were afraid to move, and were soon all killed by one charge after another from the cannon: so the creek has been called murderkill ever since." i afterwards discovered that there were other places on the coast which had the same legend as the one told me by the innkeeper. holders of small farms lived in the vicinity of this tavern, but the post-office was at frederica, five miles inland. embarking the next day, i felt sure of ending my cruise on delaware bay before night, as the quiet morning exhibited no signs of rising winds. the little pilot town of lewes, near cape delaware, and behind the breakwater, is a port of refuge for storm-bound vessels. from this village i expected to make a portage of six miles to love creek, a tributary of rehoboth sound. the frosty nights were now exerting a sanitary influence over the malarial districts which i had entered, and the unacclimated canoeist of northern birth could safely pursue his journey, and sleep at night in the swamps along the fresh-water streams if protected from the dews by a rubber or canvas covering. my hopes of reaching the open sea that night were to be drowned, and in cold water too; for that day, which opened so calmly and with such smiling promises, was destined to prove a season of trial, and before its evening shadows closed around me, to witness a severe struggle for life in the cold waters of delaware bay. an hour after leaving murderkill creek the wind came from the north in strong squalls. my little boat taking the blasts on her quarter, kept herself free of the swashy seas hour after hour. i kept as close to the sandy beach of the great marshes as possible, so as to be near the land in case an accident should happen. mispillion creek and a light-house on the north of its mouth were passed, when the wind and seas struck my boat on the port beam, and continually crowded her ashore. the water breaking on the hard, sandy beach of the marshy coast made it too much of a risk to attempt a landing, as the canoe would be smothered in the swashy seas if her headway was checked for a moment. amidships the canoe was only a few inches out of water, but her great sheer, full bow, and smoothness of hull, with watchful management, kept her from swamping. i had struggled along for fourteen miles since morning, and was fatigued by the strain consequent upon the continued manoeuvring of my boat through the rough waves. i reached a point on slaughter beach, where the bay has a width of nearly nineteen miles, when the tempest rose to such a pitch that the great raging seas threatened every moment to wash over my canoe, and to force me by their violence close into the beach. to my alarm, as the boat rose and fell on the waves, the heads of sharp-pointed stakes appeared and disappeared in the broken waters. they were the stakes of fishermen to which they attach their nets in the season of trout-fishing. the danger of being impaled on one of these forced me off shore again. there was no undertow; the seas being driven over shoals were irregular and broken. at last _my_ sea came. it rolled up without a crest, square and formidable. i could not calculate where it would break, but i pulled for life away from it towards the beach upon which the sea was breaking with deafening sound. it was only for a moment that i beheld the great brown wave, which bore with it the mud of the shoal, bearing down upon me; for the next, it broke astern, sweeping completely over the canoe from stern to stem, filling it through the opening of the canvas round my body. then for a while the watery area was almost smooth, so completely had the great wave levelled it. the canoe being water-logged, settled below the surface, the high points of the ends occasionally emerging from the water. other heavy seas followed the first, one of which striking me as high as my head and shoulders, turned both the canoe and canoeist upside-down. kicking myself free of the canvas deck, i struck out from under the shell, and quickly rose to the surface. it was then that the words of an author of a european canoe manual came to my mind: "when you capsize, first right the canoe and get astride it over one end, keeping your legs in the water; when you have crawled to the well or cockpit, bale out the boat with your hat." comforting as these instructions from an experienced canoe traveller seemed when reading them in my hermitage ashore, the present application of them (so important a principle in captain jack bunsby's log of life) was in this emergency an impossibility; for my hat had disappeared with the seat-cushion and one iron outrigger, while the oars were floating to leeward with the canoe. the boat having turned keel up, her great sheer would have righted her had it not been for the cargo, which settled itself on the canvas deck-cloth, and ballasted the craft in that position. so smooth were her polished sides that it was impossible to hold on to her, for she rolled about like a slippery porpoise in a tideway. having tested and proved futile the kind suggestions of writers on marine disasters, and feeling very stiff in the icy water, i struck out in an almost exhausted condition for the shore. now a new experience taught me an interesting lesson. the seas rolled over my head and shoulders in such rapid succession, that i found i could not get my head above water to breathe, while the sharp sand kept in suspension by the agitated water scratched my face, and filled my eyes, nostrils, and ears. while i felt this pressing down and burying tendency of the seas, as they broke upon my head and shoulders, i understood the reason why so many good swimmers are drowned in attempting to reach the shore from a wreck on a shoal, when the wind, though blowing heavily, is in the victim's favor. the land was not over an eighth of a mile away, and from it came the sullen roar of the breakers, pounding their heavy weight upon the sandy shingle. as its booming thunders or its angry, swashing sound increased, i knew i was rapidly nearing it, but, blinded by the boiling waters, i could see nothing. [illustration: a capsize in delaware bay.] at such a moment do not stop to make vows as to how you will treat your neighbor in future if once safely landed, but strike out, fight as you never fought before, swallowing as little water as possible, and never relaxing an energy or yielding a hope. the water shoaled; my feet felt the bottom, and i stood up, but a roller laid me flat on my face. up again and down again, swimming and crawling, i emerged from the sea, bearing, i fear, a closer resemblance to jonah (being at last pitched on shore) than to cabnel's venus, who was borne gracefully upon the rosy crests of the sky-reflecting waves to the soft bed of sparkling foam awaiting her. wearily dragging myself up the hard shingle, i stood and contemplated the little streams of water pouring from my woollen clothes. a new danger awaited me as the cold wind whistled down the barren beach and across the desolate marshes. i danced about to keep warm, and for a moment thought that my canoe voyage had come to an unfortunate termination. then a buoyant feeling succeeded the moment's depression, and i felt that this was only the first of many trials which were necessary to prepare me for the successful completion of my undertaking. but where was the canoe, with its provisions that were to sustain me, and the charts which were to point out my way through the labyrinth of waters she was yet to traverse? she had drifted near the shore, but would not land. there was no time to consider the propriety of again entering the water. the struggle was a short though severe one, and i dragged my boat ashore. everything was wet excepting what was most needed,--a flannel suit, carefully rolled in a water-proof cloth. i knew that i must change my wet clothes for dry ones, or perish. this was no easy task to perform, with hands benumbed and limbs paralyzed with the cold. o shade of benjamin franklin, did not one of thy kinsmen, in his wide experience as a traveller, foresee this very disaster, and did he not, when i left the "city of brotherly love," force upon me an antidote, a sort of spiritual fire, which my new england temperance principles made me refuse to accept? "it is old, _very_ old," he whispered, as he slipped the flask into my coat-pocket, "and it may save your life. don't be foolish. i have kept it well bottled. it is a pure article, and cost sixteen dollars per gallon. _i use it only for medicine._" i found the flask; the _water_ had not injured it. a small quantity was taken, when a most favorable change came over my entire system, mental as well as physical, and i was able to throw off one suit and put on another in the icy wind, that might, without the stimulant, have ended my voyage of life. i had doctored myself homoeopathically under the _old practice_. filled with feelings of gratitude to the great giver of good, i reflected, as i carried my wet cargo into the marsh, upon the wonderful effects of my friend's medicine when taken _only as medicine_. standing upon the cold beach and gazing into the sea, now lashed by the wild frenzy of the wind, i determined never again to do so mean a thing as to say a _bad_ word against _good_ brandy. having relieved my conscience by this just resolve, i transported the whole of my wet but still precious cargo to a persimmon grove, on a spot of firm land that rose out of the marsh, where i made a convenient wind-break by stretching rubber blankets between trees. on this knoll i built a fire, obtaining the matches to kindle it from a water-proof safe presented to me by mr. epes sargent, of boston, some years before, when i was ascending the st. johns river, florida. before dusk, all things not spoiled by the water were dried and secreted in the tall sedge of the marshes. the elevation which had given me friendly shelter is known as "hog island." the few persimmon-trees that grew upon it furnished an ample lunch, for the frosts had mellowed the plum-like fruit, making it sweet and edible. the persimmon (_diospyrus virginiana_) is a small tree usually found in the middle and southern states. coons and other animals feast upon its fruit. the deepening gloom warned me to seek comfortable quarters for the night. two miles up the strand was an old gunners' inn, to which i bent my steps along slaughter beach, praying that one more day's effort would take me out of this bleak region of ominous names. a pleasant old gentleman, mr. charles todd, kept the tavern, known as willow grove hotel, more for amusement than for profit. i said nothing to him about the peculiar manner in which i had landed on slaughter beach; but to his inquiry as to where my boat was, and what kind of a boat it was to live in such a blow, i replied that i found it too wet and cold on the bay to remain there, and too rough to proceed to cape henlopen, and there being no alternative, i was obliged to land much against my inclination, and in doing so was drenched to the skin, but had managed to get dry before a fire in the marshes. so the kind old man piled small logs in the great kitchen fireplace, and told me tale upon tale of his life as a school-master out west; of the death of his wife there, and of his desire to return, after long years of absence, to his native delaware, where he could be comfortable, and have all the clams, oysters, fish, and bay truck generally that a man could wish for. "now," he added, "i shall spend my last days here in peace." he furnished an excellent supper of weak-fish or sea trout (_otolithus regalio_), fried oysters, sweet potatoes, &c. this locality offers a place of retirement for men of small means and limited ambition. the broad bay is a good sailing and fishing ground, while the great marshes are the resort of many birds. the light, warm soil responds generously to little cultivation. after a day of hunting and fishing, the new-comer can smoke his pipe in peace, to the music of crackling flames in the wide old fireplace. here he may be _comfortable_, and spend his last days quietly vegetating, with no criticisms on his deterioration, knowing that he is running to seed no faster than his neighbors. the wind had gone to rest with the sun, and the sharp frost that followed left its congealed breath upon the shallow pools of water nearly half an inch in thickness by morning. from my bed i could see through the window the bright flashes from cape may and cape henlopen lights. had not misfortune beset me, a four-hours' pull would have landed me at lewes. there was much to be thankful for, however. through a merciful providence it was my privilege to enjoy a soft bed at the willow grove inn, and not a cold one on the sands of slaughter beach. so ended my last day on delaware bay. chapter viii. from cape henlopen to norfolk, virginia. the portage to love creek.--the delaware whipping-post.--rehoboth and indian river bays.--a portage to little assawaman bay.--isle of wight bay.--winchester plantation.--chincoteague.--watchapreague inlet.--cobb's island.--cherrystone.--arrival at norfolk.--the "landmark's" enterprise. [illustration: from cape henlopen, delaware, to norfolk, virginia. route of paper canoe maria theresa from lewes, del. to norfolk, va. followed by n. h. bishop in _copyright, by lee & shepard_] my first thought the next morning was of the lost outrigger, and how i should replace it. my host soon solved the problem for me. i was to drive to the scene of the late disaster in his light, covered wagon, load it with the canoe and cargo, and take the shortest route to love creek, six miles from lewes, stopping on the way at a blacksmith's for a new outrigger. we drove over sandy roads, through forests of pine and oak, to the village of milton, where a curious crowd gathered round us and facetiously asked if we had "brought the canoe all the way from troy in that 'ere wagon." the village smith, without removing the paper boat from her snug quarters, made a fair outrigger in an hour's time, when we continued our monotonous ride through dreary woods to a clearing upon the banks of a cedar swamp, where in a cottage lived mr. george webb, to whom bob hazzle, my driver, presented me. having now reached love creek, i deposited my canoe with mr. webb, and started off for lewes to view the town and the ocean. across the entrance of delaware bay, from cape henlopen light to cape may light on the southern end of new jersey, is a distance of twelve statute miles. saturday night and sunday were passed in lewes, which is situated inside of cape henlopen, and behind the celebrated stone breakwater which was constructed by the government. this port of refuge is much frequented by coasters, as many as two or three hundred sails collecting here during a severe gale. the government is building a remarkable pier of _solid_ iron spiles, three abreast, which, when completed, will run out seventeen hundred feet into the bay, and reach a depth of twenty-three feet of water. captain brown, of the engineers, was in charge of the work. by the application of a jet of water, forced by an hydraulic pump through a tube down the outside of the spile while it is being screwed into the sand, a puddling of the same is kept up, which relieves the strain upon the screw-flanges, and saves fourteen-fifteenths of the time and labor usually expended by the old method of inserting the screw spile. this invention was a happy thought of captain brown. the government has purchased a piece of land at lewes for the site of a fort. some time in the future there will be a railroad terminating on the pier, and coal will be brought directly from the mines to supply the fleets which will gather within the walls of the breakwater. here, free from all danger of an ice blockade, this port will become a safe and convenient harbor and coaling-station during the winter time for government and other vessels. at dusk on sunday evening the collector of the port, captain lyons, and his friends, took me in their carriage back to love creek, where mr. webb insisted upon making me the recipient of his hospitality for the night. a little crowd of women from the vicinity of the swamp were awaiting my arrival to see the canoe. one ancient dame, catching sight of the alcohol-stove which i took from my vest-pocket, clapped her thin hands and enthusiastically exclaimed, "what a nice thing for a sick-room--the best nuss-lamp i ever seed!" having satisfied the curiosity of these people, and been much amused by their quaint remarks, i was quietly smuggled into mr. webb's "best room," where, if my spirit did not make feathery flights, it was not the fault of the downy bed in whose unfathomable depths i now lost myself. before leaving delaware i feel it an imperative duty to the public to refer to one of her time-honored institutions. persons unacquainted with the fact will find it difficult to believe that one state of the great american republic still holds to the practice of lashing men and women, white and black. delaware--one of the smallest states of the union, the citizens of which are proverbially generous and hospitable, a state which has produced a bayard--is, to her shame we regret to say, the culprit which sins against the spirit of civilization in this nineteenth century, one hundred years after the fathers of the republic declared equal rights for all men. in treating of so delicate a subject, i desire to do no one injustice; therefore i will let a native of delaware speak for his community. "dover, delaware, august , . "editor camden spy: according to promise, i now write you a little about delaware. persons in your vicinity look upon the 'little diamond state' as a mere bog, or marsh, and mud and water they suppose are its chief productions; but, in my opinion, it is one of the finest little states in the union. although small, in proportion to the size it produces more grain and fruit than any other state in the country, and they are unexcelled as regards quality and flavor. crime is kept in awe by that best of institutions, the _whipping-post and pillory_! these are the bugbear of all the northern newspapers, and they can say nothing too harsh or severe against them. the whipping-post in kent county is situated in the yard of the jail, and is about six feet in height and three feet in circumference; the prisoner is fastened to it by means of bracelets, or arms, on the wrist; and the sheriff executes the sentence of the law by baring the convict to the waist, and on the bare back lashing him twenty, forty, or sixty times, according to the sentence. but the blood does not run in streams from the prisoner's back, nor is he thrown into a barrel of brine, and salt sprinkled over the lashes. on the contrary, i have seen them laugh, and coolly remark that 'it's good exercise, and gives us an appetite.' but there are others who raise the devil's own row with their yells and horrible cries of pain. the whipping is public, and is witnessed each time by large numbers of people who come from miles around to see the culprit disgraced. "a public whipping occurred not very long ago, and the day was very stormy, yet there were fully three hundred spectators on the ground to witness this wholesome punishment! a person who has been lashed at the whipping-post cannot vote again in this state; thus, most of the criminals who are whipped leave the state in order to regain their citizenship. the newspapers can blow until they are tired about this 'horrible, barbaric, and unchristian punishment,' but if their own states would adopt this form of punishment, they would find crime continually on the decrease. what is imprisonment for a few months or years? it is soon over with; and then they are again let out upon the community, to beg, borrow, and steal. but to be publicly whipped is an everlasting disgrace, and deters men from committing wrong. women are whipped in the same manner, and they take it very hard; but, to my recollection, there has not been a female prisoner for some time. i did not intend to comment so long upon the whipping-posts in the state of delaware. "the pillory next claims our attention. this is a long piece of board that runs through the whipping-post at the top, and has holes [as per engraving] for the neck and arms to rest in a very constrained position. the prisoner is compelled to stand on his toes for an hour with his neck and arms in the holes, and if he sinks from exhaustion, as it sometimes happens, the neck is instantly broken. josiah ward, the villain who escaped punishment for the murder of the man wady in your county, came into delaware, broke into a shoe-store, succeeded in stealing one pair of shoes,--was arrested, got sixty lashes at the post, was made to stand in the pillory one hour, is now serving out a term of two years' imprisonment,--and _he never got the shoes_! the pillory is certainly a terrible and cruel punishment, and, while i heartily favor the whipping-post, i think this savage punishment should be abolished. "since writing the above, i have heard that a colored woman was convicted of murder in the second degree last may, and on saturday the th of that month received sixty lashes on her bare back, and stood in the pillory one hour. "what do you think of delaware law, after what i have written? i have written enough for the present, so i will close, ever remaining, "yours very truly, p. p." for twenty years past, delaware and maryland farmers have given much attention to peach culture, which has gradually declined in new jersey and states further north. there are said to be over sixty thousand acres of land on the peninsula planted with peach-trees, which are estimated to be worth fifty dollars per acre, or three million dollars. to harvest this crop requires at least twenty-five thousand men, women, and children. the planting of an acre of peach-trees, and its cultivation to maturity, costs from thirty to forty dollars. the canners take a large portion of the best peaches, which are shipped to foreign as well as to domestic markets. the low lands and river-shores of the peninsula exhale malaria which attacks the inhabitants in a mild form of ague. during the spring, summer, and early fall months, a prudent man will not expose himself to the air until after the sun has risen and dispelled the mists of morning. the same caution should be observed all through the low regions of the south, both as to morning and evening exercise. chills and fever are the bane of the southern and middle states, as this disease affects the health and elastic vigor of the constitution, and also produces great mental depression. yet those who suffer, even on every alternate day, from chills, seem to accept the malaria as nothing of much importance; though it is a well-known fact that this form of intermittent fever so reduces the strength, that the system is unable to cope with other and more dangerous diseases for which it paves the way. upon a little creek, tributary to st. martin's river, and near its confluence with the isle of wight bay, a long day's pull from the swamp of love creek, was the old plantation home of a friend of my boyhood, mr. taylor, who about this time was looking out for the arrival of the paper canoe. it was a question whether i could descend love creek three miles, cross rehoboth and indian river sounds, ascend white's creek, make a portage to little assawaman bay, thread the thoroughfare west of fenwick's island light, cross the isle of wight bay, ascend and cross st. martin's river to turval's creek, and reach the home of my friend, all in one day. but i determined to attempt the task. mr. webb roused his family at an early hour, and i rowed down love creek and crossed the shallow waters of rehoboth bay in the early part of the day. from cape henlopen, following the general contour of the coast, to cape charles at the northern entrance of chesapeake bay, is a distance of one hundred and thirty-six miles; from cape charles across the mouth of chesapeake bay to cape henry is thirteen miles; from henlopen south, the state of delaware occupies about twenty miles of the coast; the eastern shore of maryland holds between thirty and forty miles, while the eastern shore of virginia, represented by the counties of accomac and northampton, covers the peninsula to cape charles. commencing at rehoboth bay, a small boat may follow the interior waters to the chesapeake bay. the watercourses of this coast are protected from the rough waves of the ocean by long, narrow, sandy islands, known as beaches, between which the tides enter. these passages from the sea to the interior waters are called inlets, and most of them are navigable for coasting vessels of light draught. these inlets are so influenced by the action of storms, and their shores and locations are so changed by them, that the cattle may graze to-day in tranquil happiness where only a generation ago the old skipper navigated his craft. during june of the year a fierce gale opened sandy point inlet with a foot depth of water, but it closed in . green point inlet was cut through the beach during a gale in , and was closed up seven years later. old sinepuxent inlet, which was forced open by the sea more than sixty years ago, closed in . these three inlets were within a space of three miles, and were all north of chincoteague village. green run inlet, which had a depth of about six feet of water for nearly ten years, also closed after shifting half a mile to the south of its original location. the tendency of inlets on this coast is to shift to the southward, as do the inlets on the coast of new jersey. oystermen, fishermen, and farmers live along the upland, and in some cases on the island beaches. from these bays, timber, fire-wood, grain, and oysters are shipped to northern ports. the people are everywhere kind and hospitable to strangers. a mild climate, cheap and easily worked soils, wild-fowl shooting, fine oysters and fishing privileges, offer inducements to northerners and europeans to settle in this country; the mild form of ague which exists in most of its localities being the only objection. while debating this point with a native, he attacked my argument by saying: "law sakes! don't folks die of _something_, any way? if you don't have fever 'n' ague round massachusetts, you've got an awful lot of things we hain't got here--a tarnashun sight wuss ones, too; sich as cumsempsun, brown-critters, mental spinageetis, lung-disease, and all sorts of brown-kill disorders. besides, you have such awful cold winters that a farmer has to stay holed four months out of the year, while we folks in the south can work most of the time out of doors. i'll be dog-goned if i hadn't ruther live here in poverty than die up north a-rolling in riches. now, stranger, as to what you said about sickness, why we aren't no circumstance to you fellows up north. why, your hull country is chuck-full of pizenous remedies. when i was a-coasting along yankeedom and went ashore, i found all the rocks along the road were jist kivered with quack-medicine notices, and all the farmers hired out the outsides of their barns to advertise doctor's stuff on." in no portion of america do the people seem to feel the burden of earning a livelihood more lightly. they get a great deal of social enjoyment out of life at very little cost, and place much less value on the "mighty dollar" than do their brother farmers of the northern section of the states. the interesting inquiry of "who was his father?" commences at philadelphia, and its importance intensifies as you travel southward. old family associations have great weight among all classes. it was six miles from the mouth of love creek across the little sound to burton's marshy island at the entrance of indian river sound. indian river supplies its bay with much of its fresh water, and the small inlet in the beach of the same name with the salt water of the ocean. large flocks of geese and ducks were seen upon the quiet waters of the sound. pursuing my southward course across indian river sound three miles, i entered a small creek with a wide mouth, which flows north from the cedar swamp, known as white's creek, which i ascended until the stream became so narrow that it seemed almost lost in the wilderness, when suddenly an opening in the forest showed me a clearing with the little buildings of a farm scattered around. it was the home of a methodist exhorter, mr. silas j. betts. i told him how anxious i was to make a quick portage to the nearest southern water, little assawaman bay, not much more than three miles distant by road. after calmly examining my boat, he said: "it is now half-past eleven o'clock. wife has dinner about ready. i'll hurry her up a little, and while she is putting it on the table we will get the cart ready." the cart was soon loaded with pine needles as a bed for the canoe. we lashed her into a firm position with cords, and went in to dinner. in a short time after, we were rattling over a level, wooded country diversified here and there by a little farm. the shallow bay, the east side of which was separated from the ocean by sandy hills, was bounded by marshes. we drove close to the water and put the maria theresa once more into her true element. a friendly shake of the hand as i paid the conscientious man his charge of one dollar for his services, with many thanks for his hospitality, for which he would accept nothing--and the canoe was off, threading the narrow and very shallow channel-way of this grassy-bottomed bay. the tall tower of fenwick's island light, located on the boundary line of delaware and maryland, was now my landmark. it rises out of the low land that forms a barrier against which the sea breaks. the people on the coast pronounce fenwick "phoenix." phoenix island, they say, was once a part of the mainland, but a woman, wishing to keep her cattle from straying, gave a man a shirt for digging a narrow ditch between little and great assawaman bays. the tide ebbed and flowed so strongly through this new channel-way that it was worn to more than a hundred feet in width, and has at high tide a depth in places of from ten to fifteen feet of water. the opening of this new thoroughfare so diminished the flow of water through the little assawaman inlet to the sea, that it became closed. the water was almost fresh here, as the nearest inlet which admits salt water at high tide is at chincoteague island, some fifty miles distant. passing to the west of the light-house through this passage, i thought of what a woman could do, and almost expected to hear from the rippling waters the "song of the shirt," which would have been in this case a much more cheerful one than hood's. i now entered great assawaman bay, the waters of which lay like a mirror before me; and nearly five miles away, to the southwestern end, the tall forests of the isle of wight loomed up against the setting sun. ducks rose in flocks from the quiet waters as my canoe glided into their close vicinity. if i could have taken less cargo, i should have carried a light gun; but this being impossible, a pocket revolver was my only fire-arm: so the ducks and other wild-fowl along my route had reason to hold the paper canoe in grateful remembrance. upon reaching the shores of the isle of wight i entered the mouth of st. martin's river, which is, at its confluence with isle of wight bay, more than two miles wide. i did not then possess the fine coast chart no. , or the general chart of the coast, no. , with the topography of the land clearly delineated, and showing every man's farm-buildings, fields, landings, &c., so plainly located as to make it easy for even a novice to navigate these bays. now, being chartless so far as these waters were concerned, i peered about in the deepening twilight for my friend's plantation buildings, which i knew were not far off; but the gloomy forests of pine upon the upland opened not the desired vista i so longed to find. crossing the wide river, i came upon a long point of salt-marsh, which i hoped might be keyser's point, for i knew that to the west of this point i should find turval's creek. while rowing along the marsh i came upon two duck-shooters in their punt, but so enveloped were they in the mist that it was impossible to do more than define their forms. i, however, ventured a question as to my locality, when, to my utter astonishment, there came back to me in clear accents my own name. never before had it sounded so sweet to my ears. it was the voice of my friend, who with a companion was occupied in removing from the water the flock of decoys which they had been guarding since sunrise. joyful was the unexpected meeting. we rowed around keyser's point, and up turval's creek, a couple of miles to the plantation landing. here, upon the old estate in the little family burial-ground, slept, "each in his narrow cell," the children of four generations. our conversation before the blazing wood-fire that night related to the ground travelled over during the day, a course of about thirty-five miles. mr. taylor's father mentioned that a friend, during one week in the previous september, had taken upon his hook, while fishing from the marshes of rehoboth bay, five hundred rock-fish, some of which weighed twenty pounds. the oysters in rehoboth and indian river bays had died out, probably from the decrease in the amount of salt water now entering them. a delightful week was spent with my friends at winchester plantation, when the falling of the mercury warned me to hurry southward. on wednesday, november , i descended the plantation creek and rowed out of st. martin's river into the bay. my course southward led me past "the hommack," an indian mound of oyster-shells, which rises about seven feet above the marsh on the west side of the entrance to sinepuxent bay, and where the mainland approaches to within eight hundred feet of the beach. this point, which divides the isle of wight bay from sinepuxent, is the terminus of the wicomico and pocomoke railroad, which has been extended from berlin eastwardly seven miles. a short ferry conveys the passengers across the water to a narrow island beach, which is considered by bayard taylor, the author, the finest beach he has ever visited. this new watering-place is called ocean city; and my friend, b. jones taylor, was treasurer of the company which was engaged in making the much-desired improvements. the shallow bays in the vicinity of ocean city offer safe and pleasant sailing-grounds. the summer fishing consists chiefly of white perch, striped bass, sheep's-head, weak-fish, and drum. in the fall, blue-fish are caught. all of these, with oysters, soft crabs, and diamond-backed terrapin, offer tempting dishes to the epicure. this recently isolated shore is now within direct railroad communication with philadelphia and new york, and can be reached in nine hours from the former, and in twelve hours from the latter city. from the hommack to south point is included the length of sinepuxent bay, according to coast survey authority. from south point to below the middle of chincoteague island the bay is put down as "assateague," though the oystermen do not call it by that name. the celebrated oyster-beds of the people of chincoteague commence about twenty miles south of the hommack. there are two kinds of oysters shipped from chincoteague inlet to new york and other markets. one is the long native plant; the other, that transplanted from chesapeake bay: this bivalve is rounded in form, and the most prized of the two. the average width of sinepuxent was only a mile. when i turned westwardly around south point, and entered assateague bay, the watery expanse widened, between the marshes on the west and the sandy-beach island on the east, to over four miles. the debouchure of newport creek is to the west of south point. the marshes here are very wide. i ascended it in the afternoon to visit dr. f. j. purnell, whose attempts to introduce the pinnated grouse and california partridges on his plantation had attracted the attention of mr. charles hallock, editor of "forest and stream"; and i had promised him, if possible, to investigate the matter. this south point of sinepuxent neck is a place of historical interest, it being now asserted that it is the burial-place of edward whalley, the regicide. early in , mr. robert p. robins found in a bundle of old family documents a paper containing interesting statements written by his great-great-grandfather, thomas robins, d, of south point, worcester county, maryland, and dated july , . we gather from this reliable source that edward whalley left connecticut and arrived in virginia in --, and was there met by a portion of his family. from virginia he travelled to the "province of maryland, and settled first at ye mouth of ye pokemoke river; and finding yt too publick a place he came to sinepuxent, a neck of land open to ye atlantic ocean, where colonel stephen was surveying and bought a tract of land from him and called it genezar; it contained two thousand two hundred acres, south end of sinepuxent; and made a settlement on ye southern extremity, and called it south point; to ye which place he brought his family about , in ye name of edward middleton. his own name he made not publick until after this date, after ye revolution in england, (in ye year of our lord ,) when he let his name be seen in publick papers, and had ye lands patented in his own name." the writer of the above quotation was the great-grandson of edward whalley (alias edward middleton), the celebrated regicide. four miles from south point i struck the marshes which skirted dr. purnell's large plantation, and pushing the canoe up a narrow branch of the creek, i waded through the partially submerged herbage to the firm ground, where the doctor was awaiting me. his house was close at hand, within the hospitable walls of which i passed the night. dr. purnell has an estate of one thousand five hundred acres, lying along the banks of newport creek. since the civil war it has been worked by tenants. much of it is woodland and salt-marshes. five years before my visit, a philadelphian sent the doctor a few pairs of prairie-chickens, and a covey of both the valley and the mountain partridge. i am now using popular terms. the grouse were from a western state; the partridges had been obtained from california. the partridges were kept caged for several weeks and were then set at liberty. they soon disappeared in the woods, with the exception of a single pair, which returned daily to the kitchen-door of a farm tenant to obtain food. these two birds nested in the garden close to the house, and reared a fine brood of young; but the whole covey wandered away, and were afterwards heard from but once. they had crossed to the opposite side of newport creek, and were probably shot by gunners. the prairie-chickens adapted themselves to their new home in a satisfactory manner, and became very tame. their nests, well filled with eggs, were found along the rail-fences of the fields in the close vicinity of the marshes, for which level tracts they seemed to have strong attachment. they multiplied rapidly, and visited the cattle-pens and barn-yards of the plantation. the maryland legislature passed a law to protect all grouse introduced into the state; but a new danger threatened these unfortunate birds. a crew of new jersey terrapin-hunters entered chincoteague inlet, and searched the ditches and little creeks of the salt-marshes for the "diamond-backs." while thus engaged, the gentle grouse, feeding quietly in the vicinity, attracted their attention, and they at once bagged most of them. a tenant on the estate informed me that he had seen eighteen birds in a cornfield a few days before--the remnant of the stock. the ruffled grouse (_bonasa umbellus_), so abundant in new jersey, is not a resident of the peninsula. dr. purnell's first experiment with the pinnated grouse (_cupidonia cupido_) has encouraged others to bring the ruffled grouse to the eastern shore of maryland. that unapproachable songster of the south, the american mocking-bird (_mimus polyglottus_), is becoming scarce in this region, from the inroads made by bird-catchers who ship the young to northern cities. this delightful chorister is only an accidental visitor in the new england states. indeed, as far south as ocean county, new jersey, i saw but one of these birds, in a residence of nine years on my cranberry plantations; though i have heard that their nests are occasionally found about cape may, at the extreme southern end of new jersey. my time being limited, i could enjoy the doctor's hospitality for but one night. the next morning the whole family, with tenants both black and white, assisted me to embark. by dusk i had crossed the division line of two states, and had entered virginia near the head of chincoteague island, a locality of peculiar interest to the student of american character. the ebb-tide had left but little water around the rough pier abreast of the town, and heaps of oyster-shells rose from the mud flats and threatened the safety of my canoe. i looked up through the darkness to the light pier-head above me, and called for assistance. two men leaned over to inquire, "what's the row now, stranger?" to which i replied, "i wish to land a light boat on your pier; and as it is made of paper, it should be carefully handled." for a moment the oystermen observed a silence, and then, without one word of explanation, disappeared. i heard their heavy boots tramping up the quay towards the tavern. soon a low murmur arose on the night air, then hoarse shouts, and there came thundering down the wharf an army of men and boys. "pass her up, stranger!" they cried. "here, give us your bow and starn painters, and jest step overboard yourself, and we'll hist her up." some of the motley crew caught me by the shoulders, others "histed away," and the canoe and its captain were laid roughly upon the ground. there was a rush to _feel_ of the paper shell. many were convinced that there was no humbug about it; so, with a great shout, some of the men tossed it upon their shoulders, while the rest seized upon the miscellaneous cargo, and a rush was made for the hotel, leaving me to follow at discretion and alone. the procession burst open the doors of the tavern, and poured through the entrance to a court-yard, where they laid the boat upon a long table under a shed, and thought they had earned "drinks." this was the spontaneous way in which the chincoteague people welcomed me. "if you don't drink, stranger, up your way, what on airth keeps your buddies and soulds together?" queried a tall oysterman. a lady had kindly presented me with a peck of fine apples that very morning; so, in lieu of "drinks," i distributed the fruit among them. they joked and questioned me, and all were merry save one bilious-looking individual, not dressed, like the others, in an oysterman's garb, but wearing, to use a term of the place, "store clothes." after the crowd had settled in the bar-room, at cards, &c., this doubting thomas remained beside the boat, carefully examining her. soon he was scraping her hull below the gunwale, where the muddy water of the bay had left a thin coat of sediment which was now dry. the man's countenance lighted up as he pulled the bartender aside and said, "look ahere; didn't i tell you that boat looked as if she was made to carry on a deck of a vessel, and to be a-shoved off into the water at night jest abreast of a town to make fools of folks, and git them to believe that that fellow had a-rowed _all_ the way ahere? now see, here is _dust, dry dust_, on her hull. she ahain't ben in the water mor'n ten minutes, i sware." it required but a moment's investigation of my chincoteague audience to discover that the dust was mud from the tide, and the doubter brought down the ridicule of his more discriminating neighbors upon him, and slunk away amid their jeers. of all this community of watermen but one could be found that night who had threaded the interior watercourses as far as cape charles, and he was the youngest of the lot. taking out my note-book, i jotted down his amusing directions. "look out for cat creek below four mouths," he said; "you'll catch it round there." "yes," broke in several voices, "cat creek's an awful place unless you run through on a full ebb-tide. oyster boats always has a time a-shoving through cat creek," &c. after the council with my chincoteague friends had ended, the route to be travelled the next day was in my mental vision "as clear as mud." the inhabitants of this island are not all oystermen, for many find occupation and profit in raising ponies upon the beach of assateague, where the wild, coarse grass furnishes them a livelihood. these hardy little animals are called "marsh tackies," and are found at intervals along the beaches down to the sea-islands of the carolinas. they hold at chincoteague an annual fair, to which all the "pony-penners," as they are called, bring their surplus animals to sell. the average price is about ninety dollars for a good beast, though some have sold for two hundred and fifty dollars. all these horses are sold in a semi-wild and unbroken state. the following morning mr. j. l. caulk, ex-collector of the oyster port, and about fifty persons, escorted me to the landing, and sent me away with a hearty "good luck to ye." it was three miles and three quarters to the southern end of the island, which has an inlet from the ocean upon each side of that end--the northern one being assateague, the southern one chincoteague inlet. fortunately, i crossed the latter in smooth water to ballast narrows in the marshes, and soon reached four mouths, where i found _five_ mouths of thoroughfares, and became perplexed, for had not the pilots of chincoteague called this interesting display of mouths "four mouths"? i clung to the authority of local knowledge, however, and was soon in a labyrinth of creeks which ended in the marshes near the beach. returning over the course, i once more faced the four, or _five_ mouths rather, and taking a new departure by entering the next mouth to the one i had so unsatisfactorily explored, soon entered rogue's bay, across which could be seen the entrance to cat creek, where i was to experience the difficulties predicted by my chincoteague friends. cat creek furnished at half tide sufficient water for my canoe, and not the slightest difficulty was experienced in getting through it. the oystermen had in their minds their own sloop-rigged oyster-boats when they discoursed to me about the hard passage of cat creek. they had not considered the fact that my craft drew only five inches of water. cat creek took me quite down to the beach, where, through an inlet, the dark-blue ocean, sparkling in its white caps, came pleasantly into view. another inlet was to be crossed, and again i was favored with smooth water. this was assawaman inlet, which divided the beach into two islands--wallops on the north, and assawaman on the south. it seemed a singular fact that the two assawaman bays are forty-five miles to the north of an inlet of the same name. in following the creeks through the marshes between assawaman island and the mainland, i crossed another shoal bay, and another inlet opened in the beach, through which the ocean was again seen. this last was gargathy inlet. before reaching it, as night was coming on, i turned up a thoroughfare and rowed some distance to the mainland, where i found lodgings with a hospitable farmer, mr. martin r. kelly. at daybreak i crossed gargathy inlet. it was now saturday, november ; and being encouraged by the successful crossing of the inlets in my tiny craft, i pushed on to try the less inviting one at the end of matomkin island. fine weather favored me, and i pushed across the strong tide that swept through this inlet without shipping a sea. assawaman and gargathy are constantly shifting their channels. at times there will be six feet of water, and again they will shoal to two feet. matomkin, also, is not to be relied on. every northeaster will shift a buoy placed in the channels of these three inlets, so they are not buoyed. watchapreague inlet, to the south of the three last named, is less changeable in character, and is also a much more dangerous inlet to cross in rough weather. from matomkin inlet the interior thoroughfares were followed inside of cedar island, when darkness forced me to seek shelter with captain william f. burton, whose comfortable home was on the shore of the mainland, about five miles from watchapreague inlet. here i was kindly invited to spend sunday. captain burton told me much of interest, and among other things mentioned the fact that during one august, a few years before my visit, a large lobster was taken on a fish-hook in watchapreague inlet, and that a smaller one was captured in the same manner during the summer of . monday was a gusty day. my canoe scraped its keel upon the shoals as i dodged the broken oyster reefs, called here "oyster rocks," while on the passage down to watchapreague inlet. the tide was very low, but the water deepened as the beach was approached. a northeaster was blowing freshly, and i was looking for a lee under the beach, when suddenly the canoe shot around a sandy point, and was tugging for life in the rough waters of the inlet. the tide was running in from the sea with the force of a rapid, and the short, quick puffs of wind tossed the waves wildly. it was useless to attempt to turn the canoe back to the beach in such rough water, but, intent on keeping the boat above the caps, i gave her all the momentum that muscular power could exert, as she was headed for the southern point of the beach, across the dangerous inlet. though it was only half a mile across, the passage of watchapreague taxed me severely. waves washed over my canoe, but the gallant little craft after each rebuff rose like a bird to the surface of the water, answering the slightest touch of my oar better than the best-trained steed. after entering the south-side swash, the wind struck me on the back, and seas came tumbling over and around the boat, fairly forcing me on to the beach. as we flew along, the tumultuous waters made my head swim; so, to prevent mental confusion, i kept my eyes only upon the oars, which, strange to say, never betrayed me into a false stroke. as a heavy blast beat down the raging sea for a moment, i looked over my shoulder and beheld the low, sandy dunes of the southern shore of the inlet close at hand, and with a severe jolt the canoe grounded high on the strand. i leaped out and drew my precious craft away from the tide, breathing a prayer of thankfulness for my escape from danger, and mentally vowing that the canoe should cross all other treacherous inlets in a fisherman's sloop. i went into camp in a hollow of the beach, where the sand-hills protected me from the piercing wind. all that afternoon i watched from my burrow in the ground the raging of the elements, and towards evening was pleased to note a general subsidence of wind and sea. the canoe was again put into the water and the thoroughfare followed southward for a mile or two, when the short day ended, leaving me beside a marshy island, which was fringed with an oyster-bed of sharp-beaked bivalves. stepping overboard in the mud and water, the oars and paddle were laid upon the shell reef to protect the canoe, which was dragged on to the marsh. it grew colder as the wind died out. the marsh was wet, and no fire-wood could be found. the canvas cover was removed, the cargo was piled up on a platform of oars and shells to secure it from the next tide, and then i slowly and laboriously packed myself away in the narrow shell for the night. the canvas deck-cover was buttoned in its place, a rubber blanket covered the cockpit, and i tried to sleep and dream that i was not a sardine, nor securely confined in some inhospitable vault. it was impossible to turn over without unbuttoning one side of the deck-cover and going through contortions that would have done credit to a first-class acrobat. for the first time in my life i found it necessary to get _out_ of bed in order to turn over _in_ it. at midnight, mallards (_anas boschas_) came close to the marsh. the soft _whagh_ of the drake, which is not in this species blessed with the loud quack of the female bird, sufficiently established the identity of the duck. then muskrats, and the oyster-eating coon, came round, no doubt scenting my provisions. brisk raps from my knuckles on the inside shell of the canoe astonished these animals and aroused their curiosity, for they annoyed me until daybreak. when i emerged from my narrow bed, the frosty air struck my cheeks, and the cold, wet marsh chilled my feet. it was the delay at watchapreague inlet that had lodged me on this inhospitable marsh; so, trying to exercise my poor stock of patience, i completed my toilet, shaking in my wet shoes. the icy water, into which i stepped ankle-deep in order to launch my canoe, reminded me that this wintry morning was in fact the first day of december, and that stormy hatteras, south of which was to be found a milder climate, was still a long way off. the brisk row along paramore's island (called palmer's by the natives) to the wide, bay-like entrance of little machipongo inlet, restored warmth to my benumbed limbs. this wide doorway of the ocean permitted me to cross its west portal in peace, for the day was calm. from little to great machipongo inlet the beach is called hog island. the inside thoroughfare is bounded on the west by rogue's island, out of the flats of which rose a solitary house. at the southern end of hog island there is a small store on a creek, and near the beach a light-house, while a little inland is located, within a forest of pines, a small settlement. at noon, great machipongo inlet was crossed without danger, and cobb's island was skirted several miles to sand shoal inlet, near which the hotel of the three cobb brothers rose cheerfully out of the dreary waste of sands and marshes. the father of the present proprietors came to this island more than thirty years ago, and took possession of this domain, which had been thrown up by the action of the ocean's waves. he refused an offer of one hundred thousand dollars for the island. the locality is one of the best on this coast for wild-fowl shooting. sand shoal inlet, at the southern end of cobb's island, has a depth of twelve feet of water on its bar at low tide. in company with the regular row-boat ferry i crossed, the next day, the broad bay to the mainland eight miles distant, where the canoe was put upon a cart and taken across the peninsula five miles to cherrystone, the only point near cape charles at which a norfolk steamer stopped for passengers. it was fully forty miles across chesapeake bay from cherrystone landing to norfolk, and it was imperative to make the portage from this place instead of from cape charles, which, though more than fifteen miles further south, and nearer to my starting-point on the other side, did not possess facilities for transportation. the slow one-horse conveyance arrived at cherrystone half an hour _after_ the steamer n. p. banks had left the landing, though i heard that the kind-hearted captain, being told i was coming, waited and whistled for me till his patience was exhausted. the only house at the head of the pier was owned by mr. j. p. powers, and fortunately offered hotel accommodations. here i remained until the next trip of the boat, december . arriving in norfolk at dusk of the same day, i stored my canoe in the warehouse of the old dominion steamship company, and quietly retired to an hotel which promised an early meal in the morning, congratulating myself the while that i had avoided the usual show of curiosity tendered to canoeists at city piers, and above all had escaped the inevitable reporter. alas! my thankfulness came too soon; for when about to retire, my name was called, and a veritable reporter from the norfolk landmark cut off my retreat. "only a few words," he pleadingly whispered. "i've been hunting for you all over the city since seven o'clock, and it is near midnight now." he gently took my arm and politely furnished me with a chair. then placing his own directly before me, he insinuatingly worked upon me until he derived a knowledge of the log of the paper canoe, when leaning back in his chair he leisurely surveyed me and exclaimed: "mr. bishop, you are a man of _snap_. we like men of snap; we admire men of snap; in fact, i may say we _cotton_ to men of snap, and i am proud to make your acquaintance. now if you will stop over a day we will have the whole city out to see your boat." this _kind_ offer i firmly refused, and we were about to part, when he said in a softly rebuking manner: "you thought, mr. bishop, you would give us the slip--did you not? i assure you that would be quite impossible. eternal vigilance is our motto. no, you could not escape us. good evening, sir, and the 'landmark's' welcome to you." six hours later, as i entered the restaurant of the hotel with my eyes half open, a newsboy bawled out in the darkness: "'ere's the 'landmark.' full account of the paper canoe," &c. and before the sun was up i had read a column and a half of "the arrival of the solitary voyager in norfolk." so much for the zeal of mr. perkins of the "landmark," a worthy example of american newspaper enterprise. dreading further attentions, i now prepared to beat a hasty retreat from the city. [illustration: delaware whipping-post and pillory.] chapter ix. from norfolk to cape hatteras. the elizabeth river.--the canal.--north landing river.--currituck sound.--roanoke island.--visit to body island light-house.--a romance of history.--pamplico sound.--the paper canoe arrives at cape hatteras. [illustration: from norfolk, virginia, to bogue inlet, north carolina. route of paper canoe maria theresa from norfolk, va. to bogue inlet, n.c. followed by n. h. bishop in _copyright, by lee & shepard_] on saturday morning, december , i left the pier of the old dominion steamship company, at norfolk, virginia, and, rowing across the water towards portsmouth, commenced ascending elizabeth river, which is here wide and affected by tidal change. the old navy yard, with its dismantled hulks lying at anchor in the stream, occupies both banks of the river. about six miles from norfolk the entrance to the dismal swamp canal is reached, on the left bank of the river. this old canal runs through the great dismal swamp, and affords passage for steamers and light-draught vessels to elizabeth city, on the pasquotank river, which empties into albemarle sound to the southward. the great cypress and juniper timber is penetrated by this canal, and schooners are towed into the swamp to landings where their cargoes are delivered. in the interior of the dismal swamp is drummond's lake, named after its discoverer. it is seven miles long by five miles wide, and is the feeder of the canal. a branch canal connects it with the main canal; and small vessels may traverse the lake in search of timber and shingles. voyagers tell me that during heavy gales of wind a terrible sea is set in motion upon this shoal sheet of water, making it dangerous to navigate. bears are found in the fastnesses of the swamp. the dismal swamp canal was dug in the old days of the wheelbarrow and spade. the albemarle and chesapeake canal, the entrance to which is sixteen miles from norfolk, on the right or east bank of the elizabeth river, and generally known as the "new canal," was commenced about the year , and finished in . it is eight miles and a half in length, and connects the elizabeth and north landing rivers. this canal was dug by dredging-machines. it is kept in a much better state for navigation, so far as the depth of water is concerned, than the old canal, which from inattention is gradually shoaling in places; consequently the regular steam-packets which ply between elizabeth city and norfolk, as well as steamers whose destinations are further north, have given up the use of the dismal swamp canal, and now go round through albemarle sound up the north river, thence by a six-mile cut into currituck sound, up north landing river, and through the new canal to the elizabeth river and into chesapeake bay. the shores of the elizabeth are low and are fringed by sedgy marshes, while forests of second-growth pine present a green background to the eye. a few miles above norfolk the cultivation of land ceases, and the canoeist traverses a wilderness. about noon i arrived at the locks of the albemarle and chesapeake canal. the telegraph operator greeted me with the news that the company's agent in norfolk had telegraphed to the lock-master to pass the paper canoe through with the freedom of the canal--the first honor of the kind that had fallen to my lot. the tide rises and falls at the locks in the river about three feet and a half. when i passed through, the difference in the level between the ends of the locks did not reach two feet. the old lock-master urged me to give up the journey at once, as i never could "get through the sounds with that little boat." when i told him i was on my second thousand miles of canoe navigation since leaving quebec, he drew a long breath and gave a low groan. when once through the canal-gates, you are in a heavy cypress swamp. the dredgings thrown upon the banks have raised the edge of the swamp to seven feet above the water. little pines grow along these shores, and among them the small birds, now on their southern migrations, sported and sang. whenever a steamer or tugboat passed me, it crowded the canoe close to the bank; but these vessels travel along the canal at so slow a rate, that no trouble is experienced by the canoeist from the disturbance caused by their revolving screws. freedmen, poling flats loaded with shingles or frame stuff, roared out their merry songs as they passed. the canal entered the north landing river without any lockage; just beyond was north landing, from which the river takes its name. a store and evidences of a settlement meet the eye at a little distance. the river is tortuous, and soon leaves the swamp behind. the pine forest is succeeded by marshes on both sides of the slow-flowing current. three miles from north landing a single miniature house is seen; then for nearly five miles along the river not a trace of the presence of man is to be met, until pungo ferry and landing loom up out of the low marshes on the east side of the river. this ferry, with a store three-quarters of a mile from the landing, and a farm of nearly two hundred acres, is the property of mr. charles n. dudley, a southern gentleman, who offers every inducement in his power to northern men to settle in his vicinity. many of the property-holders in the uplands are willing to sell portions of their estates to induce northern men to come among them. it was almost dark when i reached the storehouse at pungo ferry; and as sunday is a sacred day with me, i determined to camp there until monday. a deformed negro held a lease of the ferry, and pulled a flat back and forth across the river by means of a chain and windlass. he was very civil, and placed his quarters at my disposal until i should be ready to start southward to currituck sound. we lifted the canoe and pushed it through an open window into the little store-room, where it rested upon an unoccupied counter. the negro went up to the loft above, and threw down two large bundles of flags for a bed, upon which i spread my blankets. an old stove in a corner was soon aglow with burning light wood. while i was cooking my supper, the little propeller cygnet, which runs between norfolk and van slyck's landing, at currituck narrows, touched at pungo ferry, and put off an old woman who had been on a two years' visit to her relatives. she kindly accosted the dwarfed black with, "charles, have you got a match for my pipe?" "yes, missus," civilly responded the negro, handing her a light. "well, this _is good_!" soliloquized the ancient dame, as she seated herself on a box and puffed away at the short-stemmed pipe. "ah, good indeed to get away from city folks, with their stuck-up manners and queer ways, a-fault-finding when you stick your knife in your mouth in place of your fork, and a-feeding you on _china_ tea in place of dear old yaupon. charles, you can't reckon how i longs to get a cup of good yaupon." as the reader is about entering a country where the laboring classes draw largely upon nature for their supply of "the cup that cheers but not inebriates," i will describe the shrub which produces it. this substitute for the tea of china is a holly (_ilex_), and is called by the natives "yaupon" (_i. cassine, linn._). it is a handsome shrub, growing a few feet in height, with alternate, perennial, shining leaves, and bearing small scarlet berries. it is found in the vicinity of salt water, in the light soils of virginia and the carolinas. the leaves and twigs are dried by the women, and when ready for market are sold at one dollar per bushel. it is not to be compared in excellence with the tea of china, nor does it approach in taste or good qualities the well-known _yerba-maté_, another species of holly, which is found in paraguay, and is the common drink of the people of south america. the old woman having gone on her way, and we being again alone in the rude little shanty, the good-natured freedman told me his history, ending with,-- "o that was a glorious day for me, when massa lincoln set me free." he had too much ambition, he said, deformed as he was, to be supported as a pauper by the public. "i can make just about twelve dollars a month by dis here ferry," he exclaimed. "i don't want for nuffin'; i'se got no wife--no woman will hab me. i want to support myself and live an honest man." about seven o'clock he left me to waddle up the road nearly a mile to a little house. "i an' another cullo'd man live in partnership," he said. he could not account for the fact that i had no fear of sleeping alone in the shanty on the marshes. he went home for the company of his partner, as he "didn't like to sleep alone noways." though the cold wind entered through broken window-lights and under the rudely constructed door, i slept comfortably until morning. before charles had returned, my breakfast was cooked and eaten. with the sunshine of the morning came a new visitor. i had made the acquaintance of the late slave; now i received a call from the late master. my visitor was a pleasant, gentlemanly personage, the owner of the surrounding acres. his large white house could be seen from the landing, a quarter of a mile up the road. "i learned that a stranger from the north was camped here, and was expecting that he would come up and take breakfast with me," was his kindly way of introducing himself. i told him i was comfortably established in dry quarters, and did not feel justified in forcing myself upon his hospitality while i had so many good things of this life in my provision-basket. mr. dudley would take no excuse, but conducted me to his house, where i remained that day, attending the religious services in a little church in the vicinity. my kind host introduced me to his neighbors, several of whom returned with us to dinner. i found the people about pungo ferry, like those i had met along the sounds of the eastern shore of maryland and virginia, very piously inclined,--the same kind-hearted, hospitable people. my host entertained me the next day, which was rainy, with his life in the confederate army, in which he served as a lieutenant. he was a prisoner at johnson's island for twenty-two months. he bore no malice towards northern men who came south to join with the natives in working for the true interests of the country. the people of the south had become weary of political sufferings inflicted by a floating population from the north; they needed actual settlers, not politicians. this sentiment i found everywhere expressed. on tuesday i bade farewell to my new friends, and rowed down the north landing river towards currituck sound. the north carolina line is only a few miles south of the ferry. the river enters the head of the sound six or eight miles below pungo ferry. a stiff northerly breeze was blowing, and as the river widened, on reaching the head of the sound, to a mile or more, and bays were to be crossed from point to point, it required the exercise of considerable patience and muscular exertion to keep the sea from boarding the little craft amidship. as i was endeavoring to weather a point, the swivel of one of the outriggers parted at its junction with the row-lock, and it became necessary to get under the south point of the marshes for shelter. the lee side offered a smooth bay. it was but a few minutes' work to unload and haul the canoe into the tall rushes, which afforded ample protection against the cold wind. it was three hours before the wind went down, when the canoe was launched, and, propelled by the double paddle, (always kept in reserve against accidents to oars and row-locks,) i continued over the waters of currituck sound. swans could now be seen in flocks of twenties and fifties. they were exceedingly wary, not permitting the canoe to approach within rifle range. clouds of ducks, and some canada geese, as well as brant, kept up a continuous flutter as they rose from the surface of the water. away to the southeast extended the glimmering bosom of the sound, with a few islands relieving its monotony. the three or four houses and two small storehouses at the landing of currituck court house, which, with the brick court-house, comprise the whole village, are situated on the west bank; and opposite, eight miles to the eastward, is the narrow beach island that serves as a barrier to the ingress of the ocean. at sunset i started the last flock of white swans, and grounded in the shoal waters at the landing. there is no regular hotel here, but a kind lady, mrs. simmons, accommodates the necessities of the occasional traveller. the canoe was soon locked up in the landing-house. fortunately a blacksmith was found outside the village, who promised to repair the broken row-lock early upon the following morning. before a pleasant wood fire giving out its heat from a grand old fireplace, with an agreeable visitor,--the physician of the place,--the tediousness of the three-hours' camp on the marshes was soon forgotten, while the country and its resources were fully discussed until a late hour. dr. baxter had experimented in grape culture, and gave me many interesting details in regard to the native wine. in , lawson described six varieties of native grapes found in north carolina. our three finest varieties of native grapes were taken from north carolina. they are the scuppernong, the catawba, and the isabella. the scuppernong was found upon the banks of the stream bearing that name, the mouth of which is near the eastern end of albemarle sound. the catawba was originally obtained on the catawba river, near its head-waters in buncombe county. the long island stock of the isabella grape was brought to new york by mrs. isabella gibbs: hence the derivation of the name. of the six varieties of north carolina grapes, five were found in tyrrel county by amadas and barlow. tradition relates that these travellers carried one small vine to roanoke island, which still lives and covers an immense area of ground. there are five varieties of the grape growing wild on the shores of albemarle sound, all of which are called scuppernong,--the legitimate scuppernong being a white grape, sweet and large, and producing a wine said to resemble somewhat in its luscious flavor the malmsey made on mount ida, in candia. the repairing of the outrigger detained me until nearly noon of the next day, when the canoe was got under way; but upon rowing off the mouth of coanjock bay, only four miles from currituck court house, a strong tempest arose from the south, and observing an old gentleman standing upon bell island point, near his cottage, beckoning me to come ashore, i obeyed, and took refuge with my new acquaintance, captain peter l. tatum, proprietor of bell island. "the war has left us without servants," said the captain, as he presented me to his wife, "so we make the best of it, and if you will accept our hospitality we will make you comfortable." captain tatum drew my attention to the flocks of swans which dotted the waters in the offing, and said: "it is hard work to get hold of a swan, though they are a large bird, and abundant in currituck sound. you must use a good rifle to bring one down. after a strong norther has been blowing, and the birds have worked well into the bight of the bay, near goose castle point, if the wind shifts to the south suddenly, gunners approach from the outside, and the birds becoming cramped in the cove are shot as they rise against the wind." more than forty years ago old currituck inlet closed, and the oysters on the natural beds, which extended up north landing river to green point, were killed by the freshening of the water. now winds influence the tides which enter at oregon inlet, about fifty-five miles south of the court house. the difference between the highest and lowest tide at currituck court house is three feet. the sound is filled with sandy shoals, with here and there spots of mud. the shells of the defunct oysters are everywhere found mixed with the debris of the bottom of the sound. this is a favorite locality with northern sportsmen. the best "gunning points," as is the case in chesapeake bay, are owned by private parties, and cannot be used by the public. thursday, the th of december, was cold, and proved as tempestuous as the previous day; but the wind had changed to the north, and i embarked amid a swashy beam-sea, with the hope of reaching van slyck's landing at currituck narrows. the norther, however, proved too much for my safety. my course would be easterly until i had passed the mouth of coanjock bay and goose castle point, then following the trend of the west shore southerly down the sound; but the wind raised such a rough sea that i was obliged to turn southward into coanjock bay, ascend it five miles, and seek for a crossing-place overland to the sound again, which i found near the entrance of the lockless canal that is used by steamers to pass from north landing river to north river and albemarle sound. a fire was soon built, upon which i placed long, light poles taken from the drift-wood, and burning them in pieces of the required lengths, (no axe being at hand,) i was prepared to make the portage. laying these pieces of wood on the ground, i drew my canoe over them to the shore of currituck sound; then, by making up back-loads of the cargo, transported everything to the point of embarkation, which was just inside the mouth of a little creek. the row to currituck narrows was not difficult, as the north wind was a fair one. along the west shore of the sound there were many little houses upon the high banks, and a wind-mill supplied the place of a water-power for grinding corn. the improvements made by mr. van slyck, of new york, were in cheering contrast to what had been seen since leaving norfolk. here a comfortable hotel welcomes the northern sportsmen, few of whom, for lack of accommodations and travelling conveniences, go much south of this locality, in this state, to shoot wild-fowl. currituck sound has an average width of four miles. its length is about thirty-five miles. at the narrows, a group of marshy islands divides it into two sections, the northern one being the longest. the keen, cold air of the next day made rowing a pleasant exercise. after passing through the tortuous channel, i should have crossed to the beach and followed it; but this part of the bay is very shallow, and deeper water was found on the west side. it was an enjoyable morning, for gunners were passed, secreted behind their "blinds," or pens, of pine brush, which looked like little groves of conifera growing out of the shoal water. geese were honking and ducks were quacking, while the deep booming of guns was heard every few minutes. decoy-birds were anchored in many places near the marshes. every sportsman gave me a cheering word as the canoe glided over the smooth water, while here and there the violet-backed swallow darted about over the marshes as though it were summer. when opposite dew's quarter island, several men hailed me from a newly constructed shanty. when the oldest man in the company, who had never seen a shell like the paper canoe, had examined it, he shook his head ominously; and when i told him nag's head must be reached that day, he grew excited, exclaiming, "then be off now! now! git across the bay under bald beach as soon as ye can, and hug the shore, _hug_ it well clean down to collington's, and git across the sound afore the wind rises. sich a boat as that aren't fit for these here waters." taking this kindly meant advice, i pulled to the east side, where there was now a good depth of water for the canoe. on this high beach the hills were well covered with yellow pines, many of which were noble old trees. on a narrow point of the shore was the comfortable house of hodges gallup, the baptist minister, a generous old gentleman, who seemed to be loved by all the watermen along the sound. he was described as being "full of fun and hospitality." his domain extended for several miles along the beach, and, with deer quietly browsing in his grand old woods, formed a pretty picture. the beach shore now became more thickly settled, while out in the water, a few rods from each little house, arose the duck-blind, with the gunner and his boat inside, anxiously watching for birds, while their decoys floated quietly on the surface of the water. a few miles below mr. gallup's estate the canoe entered upon the broad waters of albemarle sound, and at dusk i approached roanoke island. the large buildings of the hotels of nag's head on the beach rose up as boldly to the eye as a fortification. the little sound between roanoke island and the beach was traversed at dusk as far as the first long pier of nag's head, upon which with great difficulty i landed, and was soon joined by the keeper of the now deserted summer watering-place, mr. c. d. rutter, who helped me to carry my property into a room of the old hotel. nag's head beach is a most desolate locality, with its high sand-hills, composed of fine sand, the forms of which are constantly changing with the action of the dry, hard, varying winds. a new and very large hotel was located south of the first one, and was inhabited by the family of captain jasper toler, who furnished me with lodgings. a few fishermen have their homes on this dreary beach, but the village, with its one store, is a forlorn place. the bright flashes of body island light, ten miles distant, on the north side of oregon inlet, showed me my next abiding-place. the beach from nag's head to oregon inlet is destitute of trees, and the wind sweeps across it, from the ocean to the sound, with great violence, forcing the shallow waters to retire, and leaving the bottom dry as far out as three miles. the next day was very windy, and the long, finger-like, sandy shoals, which extended one or two miles out into the sound, were covered with only from three to eight inches of water. i could not hug the beach for protection, but was forced to keep far out in the sound. frequently it became necessary to get overboard and wade, pushing my boat before me. then a deep channel between the shoals would be crossed; so, by _walking and rowing_ in roanoke sound, with the wind blowing the water over the canoe and drenching its captain, the roundabout twelve miles' passage to oregon inlet was at last accomplished, and a most trying one it was. body island light house was erected in , on the north side of oregon inlet, to take the place of the old tower on the south shore. it is in latitude ° ', and longitude ° '. captain william f. hatzel, a loyal north carolinian, is the principal keeper, and a most efficient one he is. the temperature was falling rapidly when i crawled into the high rushes of the wet marsh near the light-house to seek shelter from the strong wind that was blowing. as this treeless beach was destitute of fire-wood, or natural shelter of any kind, necessity compelled me to have recourse to other means for procuring them. i carried in my pocket a talisman which must open any light-keeper's door; from maine to the rio grande, from southern california to alaska, even to the vicinity of the arctic circle, wherever the light-house establishment of the united states has planted a tower or erected a light. while shivering in wet clothes on this desolate beach, most thankfully did i remember that kind and thoughtful friend, who through his potent influence had supplied me with this open sesame to light-keepers. there resides in washington, when not engaged elsewhere in the important duties of the commission of fisheries, a genial gentleman, an ardent naturalist, a great scientist. to him the young naturalists of america turn for information and advice, and to the humblest applicant professor spencer f. baird never turns a deaf ear. how this distinguished author can attend to so many and such varied duties with his laborious investigations, and can so successfully keep up a large correspondence with perhaps one thousand scientific associations of nearly every nation of the universe, is a difficult thing to imagine; but the popular and much beloved assistant secretary of the smithsonian institution, seemingly ubiquitous in his busy life, does all this and much more. america may well feel proud of this man of noble nature, shedding light and truth wheresoever he moves, encouraging alike old and young with his kindly sympathy;--now taking his precious moments to answer with his own busy hand the question in the letter of some boy naturalist about beasts, birds, reptiles, or fishes, with which epistles his desk is always covered; now stimulating to further effort the old man of science as he struggles with the cares of this world, striving, sometimes vainly, save for this ever ready aid, to work out patiently theories which are soon to blaze forth as substantial facts. the young generation of naturalists, which is soon to fill the place of their predecessors, have in this man the type of all they need ever strive to attain. how many, alas, will fall far short of it! since boyhood the counsels of this friend had guided me on many a journey of exploration. he had not deserted me even in this experiment, which my friends called "your wildest and most foolish undertaking." he had obtained from the light house board a general letter to the light-keepers of the united states, signed by the naval secretary, mr. walker, in which the keepers were authorized to grant me shelter, &c., when necessary. i did not have occasion to use this letter more than twice during my journey. having secreted my canoe in the coarse grass of the lowland, i trudged, with my letter in hand, over the sands to the house of the light-keeper, captain hatzel, who received me cordially; and after recording in his log-book the circumstances and date of my arrival, conducted me into a comfortable room, which was warmed by a cheerful fire, and lighted up by the smiles of his most orderly wife. everything showed discipline and neatness, both in the house and the light-tower. the whitest of cloths was spread upon the table, and covered with a well-cooked meal; then the father, mother, and two sons, with the stranger within their gates, thanked the giver of good gifts for his mercies. joining the night-watch of the chief light-keeper, i also joined in the good man's enthusiasm for his wonderful "fixed white light," the bright beams of which poured out upon the surrounding waters a flood of brilliancy, gladdening hearts far out at sea, even though twenty miles away, and plainly saying, "this is body island beach: keep off!" how grand it was to walk out on this gallery in the sky! looking eastward, a limitless expanse of ocean; gazing westward, the waters of the great sound, the shores of which were low marshes miles away. below me could be heard the soft cackle of the snow-goose (_anser hyperboreus_), which had left its nesting-place on the barren grounds of arctic america, and was now feeding contentedly in its winter home in the shallow salt-ponds; while the gentle shur-r-r-of the waves softly broke on the strand. above, the star-lit heavens, whose tender beauty seemed almost within my grasp. perched thus upon a single shaft, on a narrow strip of sand far out in the great water, the many thoughts born of solitude crowded my mind, when my reverie was abruptly broken by an exclamation from captain hatzel, who threw open the door, and exclaimed, with beaming eyes peering into the darkness as he spoke, "i see it! yes, it _is_! hatteras light, thirty-five miles away. this night, december th, is the first time i have caught its flash. tell it to the hatteras keeper when you visit the cape." from captain hatzel i gleaned some facts of deep interest in regard to the inhabitants of the sound. some of them, he told me, had indian blood in their veins; and to prove the truth of his assertion he handed me a well-worn copy of the "history of north carolina," by dr. francis l. hawks, d. d. from this i obtained facts which might serve for the intricate mazes of a romance. it had been a pet scheme with sir walter raleigh to colonize the coast of north carolina, then known as virginia, and though several expeditions had been sent out for that object, each had failed of successful issue. one of these expeditions sent by sir walter to roanoke island consisted of one hundred and twenty-one persons, of whom seventeen were women and six children. of all these souls only two men returned to the old country, the fate of the remainder being unknown, and shrouded in the gloom which always attends mystery. england did not, however, leave her children to perish on a barren shore in the new land without at least an effort to succor them. on march , in the year , there sailed from plymouth three ships, the hopewell, john evangelist, and little john, taking in tow two shallops which were afterwards lost at sea. in those days the largest vessels of a fleet did not exceed one hundred to one hundred and forty tons burden. this expedition was under the charge of admiral john white, governor of the colony of sir walter raleigh on roanoke island, and who had left the feeble band on the island in . in thirty-six days and eight hours these small vessels arrived off "hatorask"--hatteras beach. the fleet dropped anchor three leagues off the beach, and sent a well-manned boat through an inlet to pamplico sound. there existed in those days passages from the ocean through the beaches into the sounds, which have since been filled up by the action of the sea. old roanoke inlet, now closed, which was about four miles north of the modern oregon inlet, is supposed to be the one used by sir walter raleigh's expeditions. it is only four miles from the site of this closed inlet to shallowbag bay, on roanoke island. at the southern entrance of the bay, near ballast point, some vessel evidently grounded and threw overboard her stone ballast; hence the name of the point. captain hatzel has examined this stone, and gives his opinion, as an old pilot, that it is foreign in character. he never met with similar stones, and believes that this ballast was deposited at shallowbag bay by some of the vessels of sir walter's expeditions. as the boat's crew above mentioned rowed northward to roanoke island--made famous two hundred and seventy-two years later by the national and confederate struggles--they sounded their trumpets and sang familiar songs, which they hoped might be borne to their countrymen on the shore; but the marshes and upland wilderness returned no answering voice. at daybreak the explorers landed upon roanoke island, which is twelve miles long by two and a half wide, and found the spot where admiral white had left the colony in . eagerly searching for any tokens of the lost ones, they soon traced in the light soil of the island the imprint of the moccasin of the savage, but looked in vain for any footprint of civilized man. what had become of their countrymen? at last some one spied a conspicuous tree, far up on a sandy bank, blazed and carved. there were but three letters cut upon it, c. r. o., but these simple symbols possessed a world of meaning. three years before, when the sad farewells were being spoken, and the ships were ready to set sail for england, this feeble band, left to struggle in the wilds of the new land with sad forebodings of their possible fate, had agreed upon a signal, and had promised admiral white that if driven to starvation upon the island, they would plant their colony fifty miles inland, near a tribe of friendly indians. indeed, before the ships sailed for england, they were making preparations for this move. admiral white requested them to carve upon a tree the name of the locality to which they should remove, and if distress had overtaken them they were to add a _cross_ over the lettering. anxiously gathering round this interesting relic of the lost englishmen, the rude chirography was eagerly scanned, but no vestige of a cross was found. much relieved in mind, the little company continued their investigations, when, farther on, almost in their very pathway, there rose a noble tree, pointing its top heavenward, as though to remind them in whose care their lost ones had been. approaching this giant, who had stood a silent sentinel through winter storms and summer skies, they found he bore upon his body a message for them. stripped of its bark, five feet upward from the ground there appeared upon the bare surface in bold lettering the word so full of hope--_croatan_; and now also, as in the last case, without the graven cross. cheered by these signs, and believing that the lost colonists had carried out their early intentions, and were now located among the friendly tribe of croatans, wheresoever their country might be, the boat's company decided to go at once to the ships, and return the next day in search of the lost colony. one of the ships, in moving its position from the unprotected anchorage-ground, parted its cable and left an anchor on the bottom--the second that had been lost. the wind drove the ships towards the beach, when a third anchor was lowered; but it held the little fleet so close in to the breakers, that the sailors were forced to slip their cable and work into a channel-way, where, in deeper water, they held their ground. in debating the propriety of holding on and attempting to wear out the gale, the scarcity of their provisions, and the possession of but one cask of water, and only one anchor for the fleet to ride at, decided them to go southward in quest of some favorable landing, where water could be found. the council held out the hope of capturing spanish vessels in the vicinity of the west indies; and it was agreed that, if successful, they should return, richly laden with spoils, to seek their exiled countrymen. one of these vessels returned to england, while the admiral laid his course for trinidad; and this was the last attempt made to find the colonists. more than a century after admiral white had abandoned his colony, lawson, in writing about the hatteras indians, says: "they said that several of their ancestors were white people, and could talk in a book as we do; the truth of which is confirmed by grey eyes being frequently found among them, and no others. they value themselves extremely for their affinity to the english, and are ready to do them all friendly offices. it is probable that the settlement miscarried for want of supplies from england, or through the treachery of the natives; for we may reasonably suppose that the english were forced to cohabit with them for relief and conversation, and that in process of time they conformed themselves to the manners of their indian relations." dr. hawks thinks, "that, driven by starvation, such as survived the famine were merged into the tribes of friendly indians at croatan, and, alas! lost ere long every vestige of christianity and civilization; and those who came to shed light on the darkness of paganism, in the mysterious providence of god ended by relapsing themselves into the heathenism they came to remove. it is a sad picture of poor human nature." it needed not the fierce gusts of wind that howled about the tall tower, causing it to vibrate until water would be spilled out of a pail resting upon the floor of the lantern, blowing one day from one quarter of the compass, and changing the next to another, to warn me that i was near the cape of storms. refusing to continue longer with my new friends, the canoe was put into the water on the th, and captain hatzel's two sons proceeded in advance with a strong boat to break a channel-way through the thin ice which had formed in the quiet coves. we were soon out in the sound, where the boys left me, and i rowed out of the southern end of roanoke and entered upon the wide area of pamplico sound. to avoid shoals, it being calm, i kept about three miles from the beach in three feet of water, until beyond duck island, when the trees on roanoke island slowly sank below the horizon; then gradually drawing in to the beach, the two clumps of trees of north and south chicamicomico came into view. a life-saving station had recently been erected north of the first grove, and there is another fourteen miles further south. the two chicamicomico settlements of scattered houses are each nearly a mile in length, and are separated by a high, bald sand-beach of about the same length, which was once heavily wooded; but the wind has blown the sand into the forest and destroyed it. a wind-mill in each village raised its weird arms to the breeze. three miles further down is kitty midget's hammock, where a few red cedars and some remains of live-oaks tell of the extensive forest that once covered the beach. here captain abraham hooper lives, and occupies himself in fishing with nets in the ocean for blue-fish, which are salted down and sent to the inland towns for a market. i had drawn my boat into the sedge to secure a night's shelter, when the old captain on his rounds captured me. the change from a bed in the damp sedge to the inside seat of the largest fireplace i had ever beheld, was indeed a pleasant one. its inviting front covered almost one side of the room. while the fire flashed up the wide chimney, i sat inside the fireplace with the three children of my host, and enjoyed the genial glow which arose from the fragments of the wreck of a vessel which had pounded herself to death upon the strand near kitty midget's hammock. how curiously those white-haired children watched the man who had come so far in a paper boat! "why did not the paper boat soak to pieces?" they asked. each explanation seemed but to puzzle them the more; and i found myself in much the same condition of mind when trying to make some discoveries concerning kitty midget. she must, however, have lived somewhere on clark's beach long before the present proprietor was born. we spent the next day fishing with nets in the surf for blue-fish, it being about the last day of their stay in that vicinity. they go south as far as cape hatteras, and then disappear in deep water; while the great flocks of gulls, that accompany them to gather the remnants of fish they scatter in their savage meals, rise in the air and fly rapidly away in search of other dainties. on thursday i set out for cape hatteras. the old sailor's song, that-- "hatteras has a blow in store for those who pass her howling door," has far more truth than poetry in it. before proceeding far the wind blew a tempest, when a young fisherman in his sailboat bore down upon me, and begged me to come on board. we attempted to tow the canoe astern, but she filled with water, which obliged us to take her on board. as we flew along before the wind, dashing over the shoals with mad-cap temerity, i discovered that my new acquaintance, burnett, was a most daring as well as reckless sailor. he told me how he had capsized his father's schooner by carrying sail too long. "this 'ere slow way of doing things" he detested. his recital was characteristic of the man. "you see, sir, we was bound for newbern up the neuse river, and as we were well into the sound with all sail set, and travelling along lively, daddy says, 'lorenzo, i reckon a little yaupon wouldn't hurt me, so i'll go below and start a fire under the kittle.' 'do as you likes, daddy,' sez i. so down below he goes, and i takes command of the schooner. a big black squall soon come over cape hatteras from the gulf stream, and it did look like a screecher. now, i thought, old woman, i'll make your sides ache; so i pinted her at it, and afore i could luff her up in the wind, the squall kreened her on to her beam-ends. you'd a laughed to have split yourself, mister, if you could have seen daddy a-crawling out of the companion-way while the water was a-running down stairs like a crick. says he, ruther hurriedly, 'sonny, what's up?' 'it isn't what's _up_, daddy; but what's _down_,' sez i; 'it sort o' looks as if we had capsized.' 'sure 'nuff,' answered dad, as the ballast shifted and the schooner rolled over keel uppermost. we floundered about like porpoises, but managed to get astride her backbone, when dad looked kind of scornfully at me, and burst out with, 'sonny, do you call yourself a keerful sailor?' 'keerful enough, dad,' sez i, 'for a _smart_ one. it's more credit to a man to _drive_ his vessel like a sailor, than to be crawling and bobbing along like a diamond-backed terrapin.' now, stranger, if you'll believe me, that keerful old father of mine would never let me take the helum again, so i sticks to my aunt at the cape." i found that the boat in which we were sailing was a dug-out, made from two immense cypress logs. larger boats than this are made of three logs, and smaller ones are dug out of one. burnett told me that frame boats were so easily pounded to pieces on the shoals, that dug-outs were preferred--being very durable. we soon passed the hamlet of north kinnakeet, then scarsborough with its low houses, then south kinnakeet with its two wind-mills, and after these arose a sterile, bald beach with hatteras light-tower piercing the sky, and west of it hatteras woods and marshes. we approached the low shore and ascended a little creek, where we left our boats, and repaired to the cottage of burnett's aunt. after the barren shores i had passed, this little house, imbedded in living green, was like a bright star in a dark night. it was hidden away in a heavy thicket of live-oaks and cedars, and surrounded by yaupons, the bright red berries of which glistened against the light green leaves. an old woman stood in the doorway with a kindly greeting for her "wild boy," rejoicing the while that he had "got back to his old aunty once more." "yes, aunty," said my friend lorenzo, "i am back again like a bad penny, but not empty-handed; for as soon as our season's catch of blue-fish is sold, old aunty will have sixty or seventy dollars." "he has a good heart, if he is so head-strong," whispered the motherly woman, as she wiped a tear from her eyes, and gazed with pride upon the manly-looking young fellow, and--invited us in to tea--yaupon. [illustration: body island light-house.] chapter x. from cape hatteras to cape fear, north carolina. cape hatteras light.--habits of birds.--storm at hatteras inlet.--miles of wrecks.--the yacht julia searching for the paper canoe.--chased by porpoises.--marsh tackies.--ocracoke inlet.--a graveyard being swallowed up by the sea.--core sound.--three weddings at hunting quarters.--morehead city.--newbern.--swansboro.--a pea-nut plantation.--the route to cape fear. cape hatteras is the apex of a triangle. it is the easternmost part of the state of north carolina, and it extends farther into the ocean than any atlantic cape of the united states. it presents a low, broad, sandy point to the sea, and for several miles beyond it, in the ocean, are the dangerous diamond shoals, the dread of the mariner. [illustration: from bogue inlet, north carolina, to bull's bay, south carolina. route of paper canoe maria theresa from bogue inlet, n.c. to bull's bay, s.c. followed by n. h. bishop in _copyright, by lee & shepard_] the gulf stream, with its river-like current of water flowing northward from the gulf of mexico, in its oscillations from east to west frequently approaches to within eighteen or twenty miles of the cape, filling a large area of atmosphere with its warmth, and causing frequent local disturbances. the weather never remains long in a settled state. as most vessels try to make hatteras light, to ascertain their true position, &c., and because it juts out so far into the atlantic, the locality has become the scene of many wrecks, and the beach, from the cape down to hatteras inlet, fourteen miles, is strewn with the fragments of vessels. the coast runs north and south above, and east and west south of the cape. the old light-house had been replaced by the finest light-tower i had ever examined, which was completed in . it is one hundred and ninety feet in height, and shows a white, revolving light. body island light, though forty feet less in elevation, is frequently seen by the hatteras light-keeper, while the splendid hatteras light had been seen but once by captain hatzel, of body island. one nautical mile south of hatteras light is a small beacon light-tower, which is of great service to the coasting-vessels that pass it in following the eighteen-feet curve of the cape two miles from the land inside of diamond shoals. while speaking of light-houses, it may be interesting to naturalists who live far inland to know that while (as they are well aware) thousands of birds are killed annually during their flights by striking against telegraphic wires, many wild-fowls are also destroyed by dashing against the lanterns of the light-towers during the night. while at body island beach, captain hatzel remarked to me that, during the first winter after the new light-tower was completed, the snow-geese, which winter on the island, would frequently at night strike the thick glass panes of the chamber, and fall senseless upon the floor of the gallery. the second season they did not in a single instance repeat the mistake, but had seemingly become educated to the character of the danger. i have seen one lantern damaged to the amount of five hundred dollars, by a goose breaking a pane of glass and striking heavily upon the costly lens which surrounds the lamp. light-keepers sometimes sit upon the gallery, and, looking along the pathway of light which shoots into the outer darkness over their heads, will see a few dark specks approaching them in this beam of radiance. these specks are birds, confused by the bright rays, and ready to fall an easy prey to the eager keeper, who, quickly levelling his double-barrelled gun, brings it to bear upon the opaque, moving cloud, and with the discharge of the weapon there goes whirling through space to the earth below his next morning's breakfast of wild-fowl. i found mr. w. r. jennett and his first assistant light-keeper, mr. a. w. simpson, intelligent gentlemen. the assistant has devoted his time, when off duty, to the study of the habits of food-fishes of the sound, and has furnished the united states commission of fisheries with several papers on that interesting subject. here also was mr. george onslow, of the united states signal service, who had completed his work of constructing a telegraph line from norfolk along the beach southward to this point, its present terminus. with a fine telescope he could frequently identify vessels a few miles from the cape, and telegraph their position to new york. he had lately saved a vessel by telegraphing to norfolk its dangerous location on hatteras beach, where it had grounded. by this timely notice a wrecking-steamer had arrived and hauled the schooner off in good condition. a low range of hills commences at cape hatteras, in the rear of the light-house, and extends nearly to hatteras inlet. this range is heavily wooded with live-oaks, yellow pines, yaupons, cedars, and bayonet-plants. the fishermen and wreckers live in rudely constructed houses, sheltered by this thicket, which is dense enough to protect them from the strong winds that blow from the ocean and the sound. i walked twelve miles through this pretty, green retreat, and spent sunday with mr. homer w. styron, who keeps a small store about two miles from the inlet. he is a self-taught astronomer, and used an ingeniously constructed telescope of his own manufacture for studying the heavens. i found at the post-office in his store a letter from a yachting party which had left newbern, north carolina, to capture the paper canoe and to force upon its captain the hospitality of the people of that city, on the neuse river, one hundred miles from the cape. judge i. e. west, the owner of the yacht "julia," and his friends, had been cruising since the eleventh day of the month from ocracoke inlet to roanoke island in search of me. judge west, in his letter, expressed a strong desire to have me take my christmas dinner with his family. this generous treatment from a stranger was fully appreciated, and i determined to push on to morehead city, from which place it would be convenient to reach newbern by rail without changing my established route southward, as i would be compelled to do if the regular water route of the neuse river from pamplico sound were followed. on this saturday night, spent at hatteras inlet, there broke upon us one of the fiercest tempests i ever witnessed, even in the tropics. my pedestrian tramp down the shore had scarcely ended when it commenced in reality. for miles along the beach thousands of acres of land were soon submerged by the sea and by the torrents of water which fell from the clouds. while for a moment the night was dark as erebus, again the vivid flash of lightning exposed to view the swaying forests and the gloomy sound. the sea pounded on the beach as if asking for admission to old pamplico. it seemed to say, i demand a new inlet; and, as though trying to carry out its desire, sent great waves rolling up the shingle and over into the hollows among the hills, washing down the low sand dunes as if they also were in collusion with it to remove this frail barrier, this narrow strip of low land which separated the atlantic from the wide interior sheet of water. the phosphorescent sea, covered with its tens of millions of animalcula, each one a miniature light-house, changed in color from inky blackness to silver sheen. will the ocean take to itself this frail foothold?--we queried. will it ingulf us in its insatiable maw, as the whale did jonah? there was no subsidence, no pause in the storm. it howled, bellowed, and screeched like a legion of demons, so that the crashing of falling trees, and the twisting of the sturdy live-oak's toughest limbs, could hardly be heard in the din. yet during this wild night my storm-hardened companion sat with his pretty wife by the open fireplace, as unmoved as though we were in the shelter of a mountain side, while he calmly discoursed of storms, shipwrecks, and terrible struggles for life that this lonely coast had witnessed, which sent thrills of horror to my heart. while traversing the beach during the afternoon, as wreck after wreck, the gravestones of departed ships, projected their timbers from the sands, i had made a calculation of the number of vessels which had left their hulls to rot on hatteras beach since the ships of sir walter raleigh had anchored above the cape, and it resulted in making _one continuous_ line of vessels, wreck touching wreck, along the coast for many, many miles. hundreds of miles of the atlantic coast beaches would have been walled in by the wrecks could they have come on to the strand at one time, and all the dwellers along the coast, outside of the towns, would have been placed in independent circumstances by wrecking their cargoes. during this wild night, while the paper canoe was safely stowed in the rushes of the marsh at the cape, and its owner was enjoying the warmth of the young astronomer's fire at the inlet, less than twenty miles from us, on the dangerous edge of ocracoke shoals, the searching party of the yacht julia were in momentary expectation of going to the bottom of the sound. for hours the gallant craft hung to her anchors, which were heavily backed by all the iron ballast that could be attached to the cables. wave after wave swept over her, and not a man could put his head above the hatches. then, as she rolled in the sea, her cabin-windows went under, and streams of water were forced through the ports into the confined space which was occupied by the little party. for a time they were in imminent danger, for the vessel dragged anchor to the edge of the shoal, and with a heavy thud the yacht struck on the bottom. all hopes of ever returning to newbern were lost, when the changing tide swung the boat off into deeper water, where she rode out the storm in safety. before morning the wind shifted, and by nine o'clock i retraced my steps to the cape, and on tuesday rowed down to hatteras inlet, which was reached a little past noon. before attempting to cross this dangerous tidal gate-way of the ocean i hugged the shore close to its edge, and paused to make myself familiar with the sand-hills of the opposite side, a mile away, which were to serve as the guiding-beacons in the passage. how often had i, lying awake at night, thought of and dreaded the crossing of this ill-omened inlet! it had given me much mental suffering. now it was before me. here on my right was the great sound, on my left the narrow beach island, and out through the portal of the open inlet surged and moaned under a leaden sky that old ocean which now seemed to frown at me, and to say: "wait, my boy, until the inlet's waves deliver you to me, and i will put you among my other victims for your temerity." as i gazed across the current i remarked that it did not seem very rough, though a strong ebb was running out to the sea, and if crossed immediately, before the wind arose, there could be no unreasonable risk. my canvas deck-cover was carefully pulled close about my waist, and a rigid inspection of oars and row-locks was made; then, with a desire to reserve my strength for any great demand that might be made upon it a little later, i rowed with a steady stroke out into hatteras inlet. there was no help nearer than styron's, two miles away on the upper shore, while the beach i was approaching on the other side was uninhabited for nearly sixteen miles, to the village at its southern end, near ocracoke inlet. upon entering the swash i thought of the sharks which the hatteras fishermen had told me frequently seized their oars, snapping the thin blades in pieces, assuring me, at the same time, that mine would prove very attractive, being so white and glimmering in the water, and offering the same glittering fascination as a silver-spoon bait does to a blue-fish. these cheerful suggestions caused a peculiar creeping sensation to come over me, but i tried to quiet myself with the belief that the sharks had followed the blue-fish into deeper water, to escape cold weather. the canoe crossed the upper ebb, and entered an area where the ebb from the opposite side of the inlet struck the first one. while crossing the union of the two currents, a wind came in at the opening through the beach, and though not a strong one, it created a great agitation of the water. the dangerous experience at watchapreague inlet had taught me that when in such a sea one must pull with all his strength, and that the increased momentum would give greater buoyancy to the shell; for while under this treatment she bounced from one irregular wave to another with a climbing action which greatly relieved my anxiety. the danger seemed to be decreasing, and i stole a furtive glance over my shoulder at the low dunes of the beach shore which i was approaching, to see how far into the inlet the tide had dragged me. the white water to leeward warned me of a shoal, and forced me to pull hard for the sound to escape being drawn into the breakers. this danger was hardly passed, when suddenly the waters around me seethed and foamed, and the short waves parted and closed, as great creatures rose from the deep into the air several feet, and then fell heavily into the sea. my tiny shell rocked and pitched about wildly as these animals appeared and disappeared, leaping from the waves all around me, diving under the boat and reappearing on the opposite side. they lashed the current with their strong tails, and snorted or blowed most dismally. for an instant surprise and alarm took such possession of me that not a muscle of my arms obeyed my will, and the canoe commenced to drift in the driving stream towards the open sea. this confusion was only momentary, for as soon as i discovered that my companions were porpoises and only old acquaintances, i determined to avoid them as soon as possible. with a quick glance at my stern range, a sand-hill on the shore of the inlet, and another look over my shoulder for the sand dunes of the other side, i exerted every muscle to reach the beach; but my frisky friends were in no mood to leave me, but continued their fun with increased energy as reinforcements came up from all directions. the faster i rowed the more they multiplied, ploughing the sea in erratic courses. they were from five to seven feet in length, and must have weighed from two hundred to four hundred pounds each. though their attentions were kindly meant, their brusqueness on such an unsteady footing was unpardonable. i most feared the strong, shooting movements of their tails in the sudden dives under my canoe, for one sportive touch of such a _caudality_ would have rolled me over, and furnished material for a tale the very anticipation of which was unpleasant. [illustration: crossing hatteras inlet.] the aquatic gambols of the porpoises lasted but a few minutes after they had called in all their neighbors, and had chased me into three feet depth of water. they then spouted a nasal farewell, which sounded more catarrhal than guitaral, and left me for the more profitable occupation of fishing in the tideway of the inlet, while i rowed into a shallow cove, out of the ebb, to rest, and to recover from the effects of my fright. as i pulled along the beach the tide receded so rapidly that the canoe was constantly grounding, and wading became necessary, for i could not get within several feet of the shore. when five miles from hatteras inlet i espied an empty grass cabin, which the fishermen used in february while catching shad; and, as a southerly wind was now blowing from the sea, and rain was falling, it offered a night's shelter for the traveller. this robinson crusoe looking structure was located upon the low land near the sound, while bleak, sharp-pointed, treeless and grassless sand-hills, blown into shape by the winds, arose in the background, and cut off a view of the ocean, which, judging from the low, melancholy moaning coming over the dunes, was in a sad mood. the canoe was hauled into the bushes and tied securely for fear a deceptive tide might bear it away. the provisions, blankets, &c., were moved into the grass hut, which needed repairing. the holes in the south wall were soon thatched, and a bed easily prepared from the rushes of the marsh. it mattered not that they were wet, for a piece of painted canvas was spread over them, and the inviting couch finished. as fresh water can usually be obtained on all these low beaches by digging two or three feet into the sand, i looked for a large clam-shell, and my search being rewarded, i was soon engaged in digging a well near the cabin. upon looking up from my work a curious sight met my gaze. in some mysterious way every sharp-pointed sand-hill had been covered by a black object, which swayed about and nodded up and down in a strange manner. as i watched the development of this startling phenomenon, the nodding, black objects grew in size until the head, body, and four legs of a horse were clearly cut against the sky. a little later every crest was surmounted by the comical figure of a marsh-tacky. then a few sheep came out of the hollows among the hills and browsed on the coarse grass near the cabin, as though they felt the loneliness of their situation so far removed from mankind. with the marsh-ponies, the sheep, the wild-fowls of the sound, and the sighing sea for companions, the night passed away. the bright moonlight roused me at five o'clock in the morning, and i pushed off again in shoal water on an ebb-tide, experiencing much difficulty in dragging the canoe over shallow places until deep water was entered, when the row to ocracoke became an agreeable one. the landing-place at ocracoke, not far from the light-house, was reached at noon, and the people gathered to see the paper boat, having been notified of my proximity by fishermen. the women here can pull a pretty good stroke, and frequently assist their husbands in the fisheries. these old dames ridiculed the idea of having a boat so small and light as the canoe. one old lady laid aside her pipe and snuff-paddle (snuff-rubbing is a time-honored institution in the south), and roughly grasping the bow of the craft, lifted it high in the air, then, glancing at the fine model, she lowered it slowly to the ground, exclaiming, "i reckon i wouldn't risk my life acrossing a creek in her." these people told me that the yacht julia had stopped there to make inquiries for me, and had departed for newbern. it was more than a mile from the landing to ocracoke inlet, and a mile and three quarters across it to the beach. a straight course from the landing to the village of portsmouth, on the lower side of the inlet, was a distance of five miles, and not one of the hardy watermen, who thumped the sides of my boat with their hard fists to ascertain its strength, believed that i could cross the sound to the other village without rolling over. one kind-hearted oysterman offered to carry myself and boat to portsmouth; but as the day was calm, i rowed away on the five-mile stretch amid doleful prognostications, such as: "that feller will make a coffin for hisself out of that yere gimcrack of an egg-shell. it's all a man's life is wurth to go in her," &c. while approaching the low portsmouth shore of the sound, flocks of canada geese flew within pistol-shot of my head. a man in a dug-out canoe told me that the gunners of the village had reared from the egg a flock of wild geese which now aggregated some seven or eight hundred birds, and that these now flying about were used to decoy their wild relatives. near the beach a sandy hill had been the place of sepulture for the inhabitants of other generations, but for years past the tidal current had been cutting the shore away until coffin after coffin with its contents had been washed into the sound. captain isaac s. jennings, of ocean county, new jersey, had described this spot to me as follows: "i landed at portsmouth and examined this curious burial-ground. here by the water were the remains of the fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters of the people of the village so near at hand; yet these dismal relics of their ancestors were allowed to be stolen away piecemeal by the encroaching ocean. while i gazed sadly upon the strata of coffins protruding from the banks, shining objects like jewels seemed to be sparkling from between the cracks of their fractured sides; and as i tore away the rotten wood, rows of toads were discovered sitting in solemn council, their bright eyes peering from among the debris of bones and decomposed substances." portsmouth island is nearly eight miles long. whalebone inlet is at its lower end, but is too shallow to be of any service to commerce. hatteras and ocracoke inlets admit sea-going vessels. it is thirty-eight miles from whalebone inlet to cape lookout, which projects like a wedge into the sea nearly three miles from the mainland, and there is not another passage through the narrow beach in all that distance that is of any use to the mariner. following the trend of the coast for eleven miles from the point of cape lookout, there is an inlet, but, from the character of its channel and its shallowness, it is not of much value. leaving portsmouth, the canoe entered core sound, which grew narrower as the shoals inside of whalebone inlet were crossed, partly by rowing and partly by wading on the sand-flats. as night came on, a barren stretch of beach on my left hand was followed until i espied the only house within a distance of sixteen miles along the sea. it was occupied by a coasting skipper, whose fine little schooner was anchored a long distance from the land on account of the shoalness of the water. dreary sand-hills protected the cottage from the bleak winds of the ocean. while yet a long distance from the skipper's home, a black object could be seen crawling up the sides of a mound of white sand, and after it reached the apex it remained in one position, while i rowed, and waded, and pulled my canoe towards the shore. when the goal was reached, and the boat was landed high up among the scrub growth, i shouldered my blankets and charts, and plodded through the soft soil towards the dark object, which i now recognized to be a man on a lookout post. he did not move from his position until i reached the hillock, when he suddenly slid down the bank and landed at my feet, with a cheery-- "well, now, i thought it was you. sez i to myself, that's him, sure, when i seed you four miles away. fust thinks i, it's only a log, or a piece of wrak-stuff afloating. pretty soon up comes your head and shoulders into sight; then sez i, it's a man, sure, but where is his boat? for you see, i couldn't see your boat, it was so low down in the water. then i reckoned it was a man afloating on a log, but arter a while the boat loomed up too, and i says, i'll be dog-goned if that isn't him. i went up to newbern, some time ago, in the schooner, and the people there said there was a man coming down the coast a-rowing a paper boat on a _bet_. the _boat_ weighed only fifty-eight pounds, and the _man_ had a heft of only eighty pounds. when pa and me went up to the city agin, the folks said the man was close on to us, and this time they said the man and his boat together weighed only eighty pounds. now i should think you weighed more than that yourself, letting alone the boat." having assured the young man that i was indeed myself, and that the newbern people had played upon his credulity, we walked on to the house, where the family of captain james mason kindly welcomed me to a glowing wood-fire and hearty supper. though i had never heard of their existence till i entered core sound, the kindness of these people was like that of old friends. half a mile below captain mason's home, a short time before my visit, a new breach had been made by the ocean through the beach. about twenty years before a similar breach had occurred in the same locality, and was known during its short life as "pillintary inlet." the next day i crossed the sound, which is here four miles in width, and coasted along to the oystermen's village of hunting quarters, on the mainland. the houses were very small, but the hearts of the poor folks were very large. they came to the water's edge and carried the canoe into the only store in the neighborhood. its proprietor, mr. william h. stewart, insisted upon my sharing his bachelor's quarters in an unfinished room of the storehouse. my young host was hardly out of his teens. in his boyish way he kindly remarked: "i am here all alone. father told me, before he died, never to let a stranger pass my door but to make him share my lodgings, humble though they are; and now, any way, you're just in time for the fun, for we are to have three weddings to-night, and all the boys and girls of the neighborhood will be at hunting quarters." i entered a mild protest against joining in the festivities, on the plea of not having received an invitation; at which the handsome youth laughed heartily. "invitation!" he exclaimed; "why, no one ever gives out invitations in hunting quarters. when there is to be a 'jollification' of any sort, everybody goes to the house without being asked. you see we are all neighbors here. up at newbern and at beaufort, and other _great_ cities, people have their ways, but here all are friends." so we went to the little house in the piny forest, where two hearts were to be made one. the only room on the first floor was crowded with people. the minister had not arrived, and the crowd was gazing at the young groom and his pretty bride-elect as they sat in two chairs in the middle of the company, with their arms around each other, never speaking a word to any one. the heavy weight of people began to settle the floor, and as two joists gave way i struggled to escape through an open window, thinking we would be precipitated into the cellar below. but the good-natured company took no notice of the snapping timbers, only ejaculating, "she'll soon touch bottom;" and to my inquiries about the inconvenience of being pitched through to the cellar, a rustic youth, with great merriment depicted upon his countenance, replied: "sullers, captain, why, there ain't a suller to a buildin' within thirty miles of the quarters. we never uses sullers hereabouts." by my side was a young fisherman, who had got home from a cruise, and was overflowing with affection towards every girl present. "o, gals," he would cry, "you don't know how nice i feels to get back to you once more!" throwing his arms around a bright-eyed girl, who vainly tried to escape him, he said, "o, weary mariner, here is thy rest! no more shall he wander from thee." this sentimental strain was interrupted by an old lady, who reached her arm over my shoulder to administer a rebuke. "sam, ye're a fool!" she cried; "ye're beside yourself to-night, and afore this paper-canoe captain, too. ef i was a gal i'd drap yere society, wid yere familiar ways right in company." the blow and the admonition fell harmlessly upon the head and the heart of the sailor, who replied, "aunty, i knows my advantages in hunting quarters--_wimen is plenty, and men is few_." the crowd roared with laughter at this truism, but were quieted by the shout of a boy that the preacher was a-coming; whereupon the reverend gentleman elbowed his way through the guests to the quiet couple, and requested them to stand up. a few hurried words by the clergyman, a few bashful replies from the young people, and the two were made one. the crowd rushed outside of the house, where a general scramble took place among the boys for their girls. then a procession was formed, headed by the clergyman, which marched along the sandy road to another house in the woods, where the second marriage was to be celebrated. it was amusing to see the young men dash away from the procession, to run to the village store for candy at twenty-five cents per pound, containing as much _terra alba_ (white clay) as sugar. with well-filled pockets they would run back to the procession and fill the girls' aprons with the sweets, soon repeating the process, and showering upon the fair ones cakes, raisins, nuts, and oranges. the only young man who seemed to find no favor in any woman's eyes invested more capital in sweetmeats than the others; and though every girl in the procession gave him a sharp word or a kick as he passed, yet none refused his candies as he tossed them at the maidens, or stuffed them into the pockets of their dresses. the second ceremony was performed in about three minutes, and the preacher feeling faint from his long ride through the woods, declared he must have some supper. so, while he was being served, the girls chatted together, the old ladies helped each other to snuff with little wooden paddles, which were left protruding from one corner of their mouths after they had taken "a dip," as they called it. the boys, after learning that the preacher had postponed the third marriage for an hour, with a wild shout scampered off to stewart's store for more candies. i took advantage of the interim to inquire how it was that the young ladies and gentlemen were upon such terms of pleasant intimacy. "well, captain," replied the person interrogated, "you sees we is all growed up together, and brotherly love and sisterly affection is our teaching. the brethren love the sisteren; and they say that love begets love, so the sisteren loves the brethren. it's parfecly nateral. that's the hull story, captain. how is it up your way?" at last the preacher declared himself satisfied with all he had eaten, and that enough was as good as a feast; so the young people fell into line, and we trudged to the third house, where, with the same dispatch, the third couple were united. then the fiddler scraped the strings of his instrument, and a double-shuffle dance commenced. the girls stamped and moved their feet about in the same manner as the men. soon four or five of the young ladies left the dancing-party, and seated themselves in a corner, pouting discontentedly. my companion explained to me that the deserters were a little stuck-up, having made two or three visits on a schooner to the city (newbern), where they had other ways of dancing, and where the folks didn't think it pretty for a girl to strike her heels upon the floor, &c. how long they danced i know not, for the prospect of a long row on the morrow sent me to rest in the storehouse, from which i was called by a kind old couple sending for me to take tea with them at half an hour after midnight. unwilling to wound the sensitive feelings of these hospitable people, i answered the summons _in propria persona_, and found it was the mother of bride no. , to whom i was indebted for the invitation. a well-filled table took up the space in the centre of the room, where a few hours before the timbers creaked beneath the weight of the curious crowd; and there, sitting on one side in the same affectionate manner i have described, were the bride and groom, apparently unmoved by the change of scene, while the bride's mother rocked in her chair, moaning, "o john, if you'd taken the other gal, i might have stood it, but this yere one has been my comfort." at dawn the canoe was put into core sound, and i followed the western shore, cheered by the bright sun of our saviour's natal day. at noon the mouth of the thoroughfare between harker's island and the mainland was unintentionally passed, and i rowed along by the side of the island next fort macon, which is inside of the angle made by cape lookout. finding it impossible to reach newbern via morehead city that day, the canoe was beached upon the end of harker's island, where i breakfasted at the fashionable hour of two p. m., with men, women, and children around me. my mode of cooking the condensed food and liquid beef, so quickly prepared for the palate, and the remarkable boat of _paper_, all filled the islanders with wonder. they were at first a little shy, looking upon the apparition--which seemed in some wonderful way to have dropped upon their beach--with the light of curiosity in their eyes. then, as i explained the many uses to which paper was put, even to the paying off of great national debts, my audience became very friendly, and offered to get me up a christmas dinner in their cabins among the groves of trees near the strand, if i would tarry with them until night. but time was precious; so, with thanks on my part for their kind offers, we parted, they helping me launch my little boat, and waving a cheerful adieu as i headed the canoe for beaufort, which was quietly passed in the middle of the afternoon. three miles further on, the railroad pier of morehead city, in bogue sound, was reached, and a crowd of people carried the canoe into the hotel. a telegram was soon received from the superintendent of the railroad at newbern, inviting me to a free ride to the city in the first train of the following morning. the reader who has followed me since i left the chilly regions of the st. lawrence must not have his patience taxed by too much detail, lest he should weary of my story and desert my company. were it not for this fear, it would give me pleasure to tell how a week was passed in newbern; how the people came even from interior towns to see the paper canoe; how some, doubting my veracity, slyly stuck the blades of their pocket-knives through the thin sides of the canoe, forgetting that it had yet to traverse many dangerous inlets, and that its owner preferred a tight, dry boat to one punctured by knives. even old men became enthusiastic, and when i was absent from my little craft, an uncontrollable ambition seized them, and they got into the frail shell as it rested upon the floor of a hall, and threatened its destruction. it seemed impossible to make one gentleman of newbern understand that when the boat was in the water she was resting upon all her bearings, but when out of water only upon a thin strip of wood. "by george," said this stout gentleman in a whisper to a friend, "i told my wife i would get into that boat if i smashed it." "and what did the lady say, old fellow?" asked the friend. "o," he replied, "she said, 'now don't make a fool of yourself, fatness, or your ambition may get you into the papers,'" and the speaker fairly shook with laughter. * * * * * while at newbern, judge west and his brother organized a grand hunt, and the railroad company sent us down the road eighteen miles to a wild district, where deer, coons, and wild-fowl were plentiful, and where we hunted all night for coons and ducks, and all day for deer. under these genial influences the practical study of geography for the first time seemed dull, and i became aware that, under the efforts of the citizens of newbern to remind me of the charms of civilized society, i was, as a travelling geographer, fast becoming demoralized. could i, after the many pleasures i was daily enjoying, settle down to a steady pull and one meal a day with a lunch of dry crackers; or sleep on the floor of fishermen's cabins, with fleas and other little annoyances attendant thereon? having realized my position, i tore myself away from my many new friends and retraced my steps to morehead city, leaving it on tuesday, january th, and rowing down the little sound called bogue towards cape fear. as night came on i discovered on the shore a grass cabin, which was on the plantation of dr. emmett, and had been left tenantless by some fisherman. this served for shelter during the night, though the struggles and squealings of a drove of hogs attempting to enter through the rickety door did not contribute much to my repose. the watercourses now became more intricate, growing narrower as i rowed southward. the open waters of the sound were left behind, and i entered a labyrinth of creeks and small sheets of water, which form a network in the marshes between the sandy beach-islands and the mainland all the way to cape fear river. the core sound sheet of the united states coast survey ended at cape lookout, there being no charts of the route to masonboro. i was therefore now travelling upon _local_ knowledge, which proves usually a very uncertain guide. in a cold rain the canoe reached the little village of swansboro, where the chief personage of the place of two hundred inhabitants, mr. mclain, removed me from my temporary camping-place in an old house near the turpentine distilleries into his own comfortable quarters. there are twenty mullet fisheries within ten miles of swansboro, which employ from fifteen to eighteen men each. the pickled and dried roe of this fish is shipped to wilmington and to cincinnati. wild-fowls abound, and the shooting is excellent. the fishermen say flocks of ducks seven miles in length have been seen on the waters of bogue sound. canvas-backs are called "raft-ducks" here, and they sell from twelve to twenty cents each. wild geese bring forty cents, and brant thirty. the marsh-ponies feed upon the beaches, in a half wild state, with the deer and cattle, cross the marshes and swim the streams from the mainland to the beaches in the spring, and graze there until winter, when they collect in little herds, and instinctively return to the piny woods of the uplands. messrs. weeks and taylor had shot, while on a four-days' hunt up the white oak river, twenty deer. captain h. d. heady, of swansboro, informed me that the ducks and geese he killed in one winter supplied him with one hundred pounds of selected feathers. captain heady's description of bogue inlet was not encouraging for the future prosperity of this coast, and the same may be said of all the inlets between it and cape fear. rainy weather kept me within doors until friday, the th of january, when i rowed down white oak river to bogue inlet, and turned into the beach thoroughfare, which led me three miles and a half to bear inlet. my course now lay through creeks among the marshes to the stand-back, near the mainland, where the tides between the two inlets head. across this shoal spot i traversed tortuous watercourses with mud flats, from which beds of sharp raccoon oysters projected and scraped the keel of my boat. the sea was now approached from the mainland to brown's inlet, where the tide ran like a mill-race, swinging my canoe in great circles as i crossed it to the lower side. here i took the widest thoroughfare, and left the beach only to retrace my steps to follow one nearer the strand, which conducted me to the end of the natural system of watercourses, where i found a ditch, dug seventy years before, which connected the last system of waters with another series of creeks that emptied their waters into new river inlet. emerging from the marshes, my course led me away from new river inlet, across open sheets of water to the mainland, where dr. ward's cotton plantation occupied a large and cultivated area in the wilderness. it was nearly two miles from his estate down to the inlet. the intervening flats among the island marshes of new river were covered with natural beds of oysters, upon which the canoe scraped as i crossed to the narrow entrance of stump sound. upon rounding a point of land i found, snugly ensconced in a grove, the cot of an oysterman, captain risley lewis, who, after informing me that his was the last habitation to be found in that vicinity, pressed me to be his guest. the next day proved one of trial to patience and muscle. the narrow watercourses, which like a spider's web penetrate the marshes with numerous small sheets of water, made travelling a most difficult task. at times i was lost, again my canoe was lodged upon oyster-beds in the shallow ponds of water, the mud bottoms of which would not bear my weight if i attempted to get overboard to lighten the little craft. alligator lake, two miles in width, was crossed without seeing an alligator. saurians are first met with, as the traveller proceeds south, in the vicinity of alligator creek and the neuse river, in the latitude of pamplico sound. during the cold weather they hide themselves in the soft, muddy bottoms of creeks and lagoons. all the negroes, and many of the white people of the south, assert, that when captured in his winter bed, this huge reptile's stomach contains the hard knot of a pine-tree; but for what purpose he swallows it they are at a loss to explain. in twelve miles of tortuous windings there appeared but one sign of human life--a little cabin on a ridge of upland among the fringe of marshes that bordered on alligator lake. it was cheering to a lonely canoeist to see this house, and the clearing around it with the season's crop of corn in stacks dotting the field. all this region is called stump sound; but that sheet of water is a well-defined, narrow, lake-like watercourse, which was entered not long after i debouched from alligator lake. stump inlet having closed up eighteen months before my visit, the sound and its tributaries received tidal water from new topsail inlet. it was a cold and rainy evening when i sought shelter in an old boat-house, at a landing on topsail sound, soon after leaving stump sound. while preparing for the night's camp, the son of the proprietor of the plantation discovered the, to him, unheard-of spectacle of a paper boat upon the gravelly strand. filled with curiosity and delight, he dragged me, paddle in hand, through an avenue of trees to a hill upon which a large house was located. this was the boy's home. leaving me on the broad steps of the veranda, he rushed into the hall, shouting to the family, "here's a sailor who has come from the north in a paper boat." this piece of intelligence roused the good people to merriment. "impossible!" "a boat made of paper!" "nonsense!" the boy, however, would not be put down. "but it _is_ made of paper, i tell you; for i pinched it and stuck my nails into it," he replied earnestly. "you are crazy, my boy," some one responded; "a paper boat never could go through these sounds, the coon oysters would cut it in pieces. now tell us, is the sailor made of paper, like his boat?" "indeed, mother, what i tell you is true; and, o, i forgot! here's the sailor on the steps, where i left him." in an instant the whole family were out upon the veranda. seeing my embarrassment, they tried, like well-bred people, to check their merriment, while i explained to them the way in which the boy had captured me, and proposed at once returning to my camp. to this, however, they would not listen; and the charming wife of the planter extended her hand to me, as she said, "no, sir, you will not go back to the wet landing to camp. this is our home, and though marauding armies during the late war have taken from us our wealth, you must share with us the little we have left." this lady with her two daughters, who inherited her beauty and grace of manner, did all in their power to make me comfortable. sunday was the coldest day of the season; but the family, whose hospitality i enjoyed, rode seven miles through the woods, some on horseback, some in the carriage, to the little church in a heavy pine forest. the next day proved stormy, and the driving sleet froze upon the trees and bound their limbs and boughs together with an icy veneer. my host, mr. mcmillan, kindly urged me to tarry. during my stay with him i ascertained that he devoted his attention to raising ground-peas, or peanuts. along the coast of this part of north carolina this nut is the chief product, and is raised in immense quantities. the latter state alone raises annually over one hundred thousand bushels; while virginia and tennessee produce, some years, a crop of seven hundred thousand bushels. wednesday opened with partially clearing weather, and the icy covering of the trees yielded to the softening influences of a southern wind. the family went to the landing to see me off, and the kind ladies stowed many delicacies, made with their own hands, in the bow of the boat. after rowing a half-mile, i took a lingering look at the shore, where those who four days ago were strangers, now waved an adieu as friends. they had been stript of their wealth, though the kind old planter had never raised his hand against the government of his fathers. this family, like thousands of people in the south, had suffered for the rash deeds of others. while the political views of this gentleman differed from those of the stranger from massachusetts, it formed no barrier to their social intercourse, and did not make him forget to exhibit the warm feelings of hospitality which so largely influence the southerner. i went to him, as a traveller in search of truth, upon an honest errand. under such circumstances a northerner does not require a letter of introduction to nine out of ten of the citizens of the fifteen ex-slave states, which cover an area of eight hundred and eighty thousand square miles, and where fourteen millions of people desire to be permitted to enjoy the same privileges as the constitution of the united states guarantees to all the states north of mason and dixon's line. from sloop landing, on my new friends' plantation, to new topsail inlet i had a brisk row of five miles. vessels drawing eight feet of water can reach this landing from the open sea upon a full tide. the sea was rolling in at this ocean door as my canoe crossed it to the next marsh thoroughfare, which connected it with old topsail inlet, where the same monotonous surroundings of sand-hills and marshes are to be found. the next tidal opening was rich inlet, which had a strong ebb running through it to the sea. from it i threaded the thoroughfares up to the mainland, reaching at dusk the "emma nickson plantation." the creeks were growing more shallow, and near the bulkhead, or middle-ground, where tides from two inlets met, there was so little water and so many oyster reefs, that, without a chart, the route grew more and more perplexing in character. it was a distance of thirty miles to cape fear, and twenty miles to new inlet, which was one of the mouths of cape fear river. from the plantation to new inlet, the shallow interior sheets of water with their marshes were called middle, masonboro, and myrtle sounds. the canoe could have traversed these waters to the end of myrtle sound, which is separated from cape fear river by a strip of land only one mile and a half wide, across which a portage can be made to the river. barren and masonboro are the only inlets which supply the three little sounds above mentioned with water, after rich inlet is passed. the coast from cape fear southward eighty miles, to georgetown, south carolina, has several small inlets through the beach, but there are no interior waters parallel with the coast in all that distance, which can be of any service to the canoeist for a coast route. it therefore became necessary for me to follow the next watercourse that could be utilized for reaching winyah bay, which is the first entrance to the system of continuous watercourses south of cape fear. the trees of the nickson plantation hid the house of the proprietor from view; but upon beaching my canoe, a drove of hogs greeted me with friendly grunts, as if the hospitality of their master infected the drove; and, as it grew dark, they trotted across the field, conducting me up to the very doors of the planter's home, where captain mosely, late of the confederate army, gave me a soldier's hearty welcome. "the war is over," he said, "and any northern _gentleman_ is welcome to what we have left." until midnight, this keen-eyed, intelligent officer entertained me with a flow of anecdotes of the war times, his hair-breadth escapes, &c.; the conversation being only interrupted when he paused to pile wood upon the fire, the chimney-place meantime glowing like a furnace. he told me that captain maffitt, of the late confederate navy, lived at masonboro, on the sound; and that had i called upon him, he could have furnished, as an old officer of the coast survey, much valuable geographical information. this pleasant conversation was at last interrupted by the wife of my host, who warned us in her courteous way of the lateness of the hour. with a good-night to my host, and a sad farewell to the sea, i prepared myself for the morrow's journey. chapter xi. from cape fear to charleston, south carolina. a portage to lake waccamaw.--the submerged swamps.--night at a turpentine distillery.--a dismal wilderness.--owls and mistletoe.--crackers and negroes.--across the south carolina line.--a cracker's idea of hospitality.--pot bluff.--peedee river.--georgetown.--winyah bay.--the rice plantations of the santee rivers.--a night with the santee negroes.--arrival at charleston. to reach my next point of embarkation a portage was necessary. wilmington was twelve miles distant, and i reached the railroad station of that city with my canoe packed in a bed of corn-husks, on a one-horse dray, in time to take the evening train to flemington, on lake waccamaw. the polite general freight-agent, mr. a. pope, allowed my canoe to be transported in the passenger baggage-car, where, as it had no covering, i was obliged to steady it during the ride of thirty-two miles, to protect it from the friction caused by the motion of the train. mr. pope quietly telegraphed to the few families at the lake, "take care of the paper canoe;" so when my destination was reached, kind voices greeted me through the darkness and offered me the hospitalities of mrs. brothers' home-like inn at the flemington station. after mr. carroll had conveyed the boat to his storehouse, we all sat down to tea as sociably as though we were old friends. on the morrow we carried the maria theresa on our shoulders to the little lake, out of which the long and crooked river with its dark cypress waters flowed to the sea. a son of mr. short, a landed proprietor who holds some sixty thousand acres of the swamp lands of the waccamaw, escorted me in his yacht, with a party of ladies and gentlemen, five miles across the lake to my point of departure. it was now noon, and our little party picnicked under the lofty trees which rise from the low shores of lake waccamaw. a little later we said our adieu, and the paper canoe shot into the whirling current which rushes out of the lake through a narrow aperture into a great and dismal swamp. before leaving the party, mr. carroll had handed me a letter addressed to mr. hall, who was in charge of a turpentine distillery on my route. "it is _twenty_ miles by the river to my friend hall's," he said, "but in a straight line the place is just _four_ miles from here." such is the character of the waccamaw, this most crooked of rivers. i had never been on so rapid and continuous a current. as it whirled me along the narrow watercourse i was compelled to abandon my oars and use the paddle in order to have my face to the bow, as the abrupt turns of the stream seemed to wall me in on every side. down the tortuous, black, rolling current went the paper canoe, with a giant forest covering the great swamp and screening me from the light of day. the swamps were submerged, and as the water poured out of the thickets into the river it would shoot across the land from one bend to another, presenting in places the mystifying spectacle of water running up stream, but not up an inclined plain. festoons of gray spanish moss hung from the weird limbs of monster trees, giving a funeral aspect to the gloomy forest, while the owls hooted as though it were night. the creamy, wax-like berries of the mistletoe gave a druidical aspect to the woods, for this parasite grew upon the branches of many trees. one spot only of firm land rose from the water in sixteen miles of paddling from the lake, and passing it, i went flying on with the turbulent stream four miles further, to where rafts of logs blocked the river, and the sandy banks, covered with the upland forest of pines, encroached upon the lowlands. this was old dock, with its turpentine distillery smoking and sending out resinous vapors. young mr. hall read my letter and invited me to his temporary home, which, though roughly built of unplaned boards, possessed two comfortable rooms, and a large fireplace, in which light-wood, the terebinthine heart of the pine-tree, was cheerfully blazing. i had made the twenty miles in three hours, but the credit of this quick time must be given to the rapid current. my host did not seem well pleased with the solitude imposed upon him. his employers had sent him from wilmington, to hold and protect "their turpentine farm," which was a wilderness of trees covering four thousand acres, and was valued, with its distillery, at five thousand dollars. an old negro, who attended the still and cooked the meals, was his only companion. we had finished our frugal repast, when a man, shouting in the darkness, approached the house on horseback. this individual, though very tipsy, represented law and order in that district, as i was informed when "jim gore," a justice of the peace, saluted me in a boisterous manner. seating himself by the fire, he earnestly inquired for the bottle. his stomach, he said, was as dry as a lime-kiln, and, though water answers to slake lime, he demanded something stronger to slake the fire that burned within him. he was very suspicious of me when hall told him of my canoe journey. after eying me from head to toe in as steady a manner as he was capable of, he broke forth with: "now, stranger, this won't do. what are ye a-travelling in this sort of way for, in a paper dug-out?" i pleaded a strong desire to study geography, but the wise fellow replied: "geography! geography! why, the fellers who rite geography never travel; they stay at home and spin their yarns 'bout things they never sees." then, glancing at his poor butternut coat and pantaloons, he felt my blue woollen suit, and continued, in a slow, husky voice: "stranger, them clothes cost _something_; they be _store_-clothes. that paper dug-out _cost money_, i tell ye; and it _costs_ something to travel the hull length of the land. no, stranger; if ye be not on a bet, then somebody's a-paying ye _well_ for it." for an hour i entertained this roughest of law dignitaries with an account of my long row, its trials and its pleasures. he became interested in the story, and finally related to me his own aspirations, and the difficulties attending his efforts to make the piny-woods people respect the laws and good government. he then described the river route through the swamps to the sea, and, putting his arm around me in the most affectionate manner, he mournfully said: "o stranger, my heart is with ye; but o, how ye will have to take it when ye go past those awful wretches to-morrow; how they will give it to ye! they most knocked me off my raft, last time i went to georgetown. beware of them; i warn ye in time. dern the hussies." squire jim so emphasized the danger that i became somewhat alarmed, for, more than anything else, i dreaded an outbreak with rough women. and then, too, my new acquaintance informed me that there were four or five of these wretches, of the worst kind, located several miles down the stream. as i was about to inquire into the habits of these ugly old crones, mr. hall, wishing to give squire james a hint, remarked that mr. b---- might at any time retire to the next room, where half the bed was at his disposal. "_half the bed!_" roared the squire; "here are _three_ of us, and where's _my half_?" "why, squire," hesitatingly responded my host, "mr. b---- is _my guest_, and having but _one_ bed, he must have _half_ of it--no less." "then what's to become of me?" thundered his majesty of the law. having been informed that a shake-down would have been ready had he given notice of his visit, and that at some future time, when not so crowded, he could be entertained like a gentleman, he drew himself up, wrapped in the mantle of dignity, and replied: "none of that soft talk, my friend. this man is a traveller; let him take travellers' luck--three in a bed to-night. i'm bound to sleep with him to-night. hall, where's the bottle?" i now retired to the back room, and, without undressing, planted myself on the side of the bed next the wall. sleep was, however, an unattainable luxury, with the squire's voice in the next room, as he told how the country was going to the dogs, because "niggers and white folks wouldn't respect the laws. it took half a man's time to _larn_ it to 'em, and much thanks he ever got by setting everybody to rights." he wound up by lecturing hall for being so temperate, his diligent search in all directions for bottles or jugs being rewarded by finding them filled with unsatisfactory emptiness. he then tumbled into the centre of the bed, crowding me close against the wall. poor hall, having the outside left to him, spent the night in exercising his brain and muscles in vain attempts to keep in his bed; for when his majesty of the law put his arms akimbo, the traveller went to the wall, and the host to the floor. thus passed my first night in the great swamps of the waccamaw river. the negro cook gave us an early breakfast of bacon, sweet potatoes, and corn bread. the squire again looked round for the bottle, and again found nothing but emptiness. he helped me to carry my canoe along the unsteady footing of the dark swamp to the lower side of the raft of logs, and warmly pressed my hand as he whispered: "my dear b----, i shall think of you until you get past those dreadful 'wretches.' keep an eye on your little boat, or they'll devil you." propelled by my double paddle, the canoe seemed to fly through the great forest that rose with its tall trunks and weird, moss-draped arms, out of the water. the owls were still hooting. indeed, the dolorous voice of this bird of darkness sounded through the heavy woods at intervals throughout the day. i seemed to have left the real world behind me, and to have entered upon a landless region of sky, trees, and water. "beware of the cut-offs," said hall, before i left. "only the crackers and shingle-makers know them. if followed, they would save you many a mile, but every opening through the swamp is not a cut-off. keep to the main stream, though it be more crooked and longer. if you take to the cut-offs, you may get into passages that will lead you off into the swamps and into interior bayous, from which you will never emerge. men have starved to death in such places." so i followed the winding stream, which turned back upon itself, running north and south, and east and west, as if trying to box the compass by following the sun in its revolution. after paddling down one bend, i could toss a stick through the trees into the stream where the canoe had cleaved its waters a quarter of a mile behind me. the thought of what i should do in this landless region if my frail shell, in its rapid flight to the sea, happened to be pierced by a snag, was, to say the least, not a comforting one. on what could i stand to repair it? to climb a tree seemed, in such a case, the only resource; and then what anxious waiting there would be for some cypress-shingle maker, in his dug-out canoe, to come to the rescue, and take the traveller from his dangerous lodgings between heaven and earth; or it might be that no one would pass that way, and the weary waiting would be even unto death. but sounds now reached my ears that made me feel that i was not quite alone in this desolate swamp. the gray squirrels scolded among the tree-tops; robins, the brown thrush, and a large black woodpecker with his bright red head, each reminded me of him without whose notice not a sparrow falleth to the ground. ten miles of this black current were passed over, when the first signs of civilization appeared, in the shape of a sombre-looking, two-storied house, located upon a point of the mainland which entered the swamp on the left shore of the river. at this point the river widened to five or six rods, and at intervals land appeared a few inches above the water. wherever the pine land touched the river a pig-pen of rails offered shelter and a gathering-place for the hogs, which are turned loose by the white cracker to feed upon the roots and mast of the wilderness. reeve's ferry, on the right bank, with a little store and turpentine-still, twenty miles from old dock, was the next sign of the presence of man in this swamp. the river now became broad as i approached piraway ferry, which is two miles below piraway farm. remembering the warnings of the squire as to the "awful wretches in the big pine woods," i kept a sharp lookout for the old women who were to give me so much trouble, but the raftsmen on the river explained that though jim gore had told me the truth, i had misunderstood his pronunciation of the word _reaches_, or river bends, which are called in this vicinity _wretches_. the reaches referred to by mr. gore were so long and straight as to afford open passages for wind to blow up them, and these fierce gusts of head winds give the raftsmen much trouble while poling their rafts against them. my fears of ill treatment were now at rest, for my tiny craft, with her sharp-pointed bow, was well adapted for such work. landing at the ferry where a small scow or flat-boat was resting upon the firm land, the ferryman, mr. daniel dunkin, would not permit me to camp out of doors while his log-cabin was only one mile away on the pine-covered uplands. he told me that the boundary-line between north and south carolina crossed this swamp three and a half miles below piraway ferry, and that the first town on the river waccamaw, in south carolina, conwayborough, was a distance of ninety miles by river and only thirty miles by land. there was but one bridge over the river, from its head to conwayborough, and it was built by mr. james wortham, twenty years before, for his plantation. this bridge was twenty miles below piraway, and from it by land to a settlement on little river, which empties into the atlantic, was a distance of only five miles. a short canal would connect this river and its lumber regions with little river and the sea. for the first time in my experience as a traveller i had entered a country where the miles were _short_. when fifteen years old i made my first journey alone and on foot from the vicinity of boston to the white mountains of new hampshire. this boyish pedestrian trip occupied about twenty-one days, and covered some three hundred miles of hard tramping. new england gives honest measure on the finger-posts along her highways. the traveller learns by well-earned experience the length of _her_ miles; but in the wilderness of the south there is no standard of five thousand two hundred and eighty feet to a statute mile, and the watermen along the sea-coast are ignorant of the fact that one-sixtieth of a degree of latitude (about six thousand and eighty feet) is the geographical and nautical mile of the cartographer, as well as the "knot" of the sailor. at piraway ferry no two of the raftsmen and lumbermen, ignorant or educated, would give the same distance, either upon the lengths of surveyed roads or unmeasured rivers. "it is one hundred and sixty-five miles by river from piraway ferry to conwayborough," said one who had travelled the route for years. the most moderate estimate made was that of ninety miles by river. the reader, therefore, must not accuse me of over-stating distances while absent from the seaboard, as my friends of the coast survey bureau have not yet penetrated into these interior regions with their theodolites, plane-tables, and telametre-rods. to the canoeist, who is ambitious to score up _miles_ instead of collecting geographical notes, these wild rivers afford an excellent opportunity to satisfy his aims. from sixty to eighty miles can be rowed in ten hours as easily as forty miles can be gone over upon a river of slow current in the northern states. there is, i am sorry to say, a class of american travellers who "_do_" all the capitals of europe in the same business-like way, and if they have anything to say in regard to every-day life in the countries through which they pass, they forget to thank the compiler of the guide-book for the information they possess. there was but one room in the cabin of my new acquaintance, who represented that class of piny-woods people called in the south--because they subsist largely upon corn,--corn crackers, or crackers. these crackers are the "poor white folks" of the planter, and "de white trash" of the old slave, who now as a freedman is beginning to feel the responsibility of his position. these crackers are a very kind-hearted people, but few of them can read or write. the children of the negro, filled with curiosity and a new-born pride, whenever opportunity permits, attend the schools in large numbers; but the very indolent white man seems to be destitute of all ambition, and his children, in many places in the south, following close in the father's footsteps, grow up in an almost unimaginable ignorance. the news of the arrival of the little maria theresa at piraway ferry spread with astonishing rapidity through the woods, and on sunday, after "de shoutings," as the negroes call their meetings, were over, the blacks came in numbers to see "dat yankee-man's paper canno." these simple people eyed me from head to foot with a grave sort of curiosity, their great mouths open, displaying pearly teeth of which a white man might well be proud. "you is a good man, capt'n--we knows dat," they said; and when i asked why, the answer showed their child-like faith. "'cause you couldn't hab come all dis way in a _paper_ boat if de lord hadn't helped you. _he_ dono help only good folks." the cracker also came with his children to view the wonder, while the raftsmen were so struck with the advantages of my double paddle, which originated with the inhabitants of the arctic regions, that they laid it upon a board and drew its outlines with chalk. they vowed they would introduce it upon the river. these crackers declared it would take more than "de shoutings," or any other religious service, to improve the moral condition of the blacks. they openly accused the colored preachers of disturbing the nocturnal rest of their hens and turkeys; and as to hog-stealing and cow-killing, "why, we won't have any critters left ef this carpet-bag government lasts much longer!" they feelingly exclaimed. "we does nothing to nobody. we lets the niggers alone; but niggers will steal--they can't help it, the poor devils; it's in 'em. now, ef they eats us out of house and home, what can a poor man do? they puts 'em up for justices of peace, and sends 'em to the legislature, when they can't read more'n us; and they do say it's 'cause we fit in the confederate sarvice that they razes the nigger over our heads. now, does the folkes up north like to see white people tyrannized over by niggers? jes tell 'em when you go back, stranger, that we's got soulds like yours up north, and we's got feelings too, by thunder! jes like other white men. this was a white man's country once--now it's all niggers and dogs. why, them niggers in the legislature has spit-boxes lined with gold to spit in! what's this country a-coming to? we wish the niggers no harm if they lets our hogs and chickens alone." after this tirade it was amusing to see how friendly the whites and blacks were. the crackers conversed with these children of ham, who had been stealing their hams for so long a time, in the most kindly way, realizing, perhaps, that they had various peculiar traits of their own, and must, after all, endure their neighbors. a traveller should place facts before his readers, and leave to them the drawing of the moral. northern men and women who go to the southern states and reside for even the short space of a year or two, invariably change their life-long views and principles regarding the negro as a moral and social creature. when these people return to their homes in maine or massachusetts (as did the representatives of the granges of the northern states after they had visited south carolina in ) a new light, derived from contact with _facts_, dawns upon them, while their surprised and untravelled neighbors say: "_so you have become southern in your views._ i never would have thought that of _you_." the railroad has become one of the great mediums of enlightenment to mankind, and joins in a social fraternity the disunited elements of a country. god grant that the resources of the great south may soon be developed by the capital and free labor of the north. our sister states of the south, exhausted by the struggles of the late war which resulted in consolidating more firmly than ever the great union, are now ready to receive every honest effort to develop their wealth or cultivate their territory. let every national patriot give up narrowness of views and sectional selfishness and become acquainted with (not the politicians) the people of the new south, and a harmony of feeling will soon possess the hearts of all true lovers of a government of the people. the swamp tributaries were swelling the river into a very rapid torrent as i paddled away from the ferry on monday, january . a warmer latitude having been reached, i could dispense with one blanket, and this i had presented to my kind host, who had refused to accept payment for his hospitality. he was very proud of his present, and said, feelingly, "no one shall touch this but me." his good wife had baked some of a rich and very nice variety of sweet-potatoes, unlike those we get in new jersey or the other middle states--which potatoes she kindly added to my stores. they are not dry or mealy when cooked, but seem saturated with honey. the poor woman's gift now occupied the space formerly taken up by the blanket i had given her husband. from this day, as latitude after latitude was crossed on my way southward, i distributed every article i could spare, among these poor, kind-hearted people. mr. macgregor went in his rob roy canoe over the rivers of europe, "diffusing cheerfulness and distributing evangelical tracts." i had no room for tracts, and if i had followed the example of my well-intentioned predecessor in canoeing, it would have served the cause of truth or creed but little. the crackers could not read, and but few of the grown negroes had been taught letters. they did not want books, but tobacco. men and women hailed me from the banks as i glided along in my canoe, with, "say, captain, hab you eny 'bacca or snuff for dis chile?" poor humanity! the cracker and the freedman fill alike their places according to the light they possess. do we, who have been taught from our youth sacred things, do more than this? do we love our neighbor as ourself? for twenty miles (local authority) i journeyed down the stream, without seeing a human being or a dwelling-place, to stanley's house and the bridge; from which i urged the canoe thirty-five miles further, passing an old field on a bluff, when darkness settled on the swamps, and a heavy mist rose from the waters and enveloped the forests in its folds. with not a trace of land above water i groped about, running into what appeared to be openings in the submerged land, only to find my canoe tangled in thickets. it was useless to go further, and i prepared to ascend to the forks of a giant tree, with a light rope, to be used for lashing my body into a safe position, when a long, low cry engaged my attention. "waugh! ho! ho! ho! peig--peig--pe-ig--pe-ig," came through the still, thick air. it was not an owl, nor a catamount that cried thus; nor was it the bark of a fox. it was the voice of a cracker calling in his hogs from the forest. this sound was indeed pleasant to my ears, for i knew the upland was near, and that a warm fire awaited my benumbed limbs in the cabin of this unknown man. pushing the canoe towards the sound, and feeling the submerged border of the swamp with my paddle, i struck the upland where it touched the water, and disembarking, felt my way along a well-trodden path to a little clearing. here a drove of hogs were crowding around their owner, who was scattering kernels of corn about him as he vociferated, "pe-ig--pe-ig--pe-ig--pig--pig--pig." we stood face to face, yet neither could see the face of the other in the darkness. i told my tale, and asked where i could find a sheltered spot to camp. "stranger," slowly replied the cracker, "my cabin's close at hand. come home with me. it's a bad night for a man to lay out in; and the niggers would steal your traps if they knew you had anything worth taking. come with me." in the tall pines near at hand was a cabin of peeled rails, the chinks between them being stuffed with moss. a roof of cypress shingles kept the rain out. the log chimney, which was plastered with mud, was built outside of the walls and against an end of the rustic-looking structure. the wide-mouthed fireplace sent forth a blaze of light as we entered the poor man's home. i saw in the nicely swept floor, the clean bed-spreads, and the general neatness of the place, the character of wilson edge's wife. "hog and hominy's our food here in the piny woods," said mr. edge, as his wife invited us to the little table; "and we've a few eggs now and then to eat with sweet potatoes, but it's up-hill work to keep the niggers from killing every fowl and animal we have. the carpet-bag politicians promised them every one, for his vote, forty acres of land and a mule. they sed as how the northern government was a-going to give it to um; but the poor devils never got any thanks even for their votes. they had been stuffed with all sorts of notions by the carpet-baggers, and i don't blame um for putting on airs and trying to rule us. it's human natur, that's all. we don't blame the niggers half so much as those who puts it in their heads to do so; but it's hard times we've had, we poor woods folks. they took our children for the cussed war, to fight fur niggers and rich people as owned um. "we never could find out what all the fuss was about; but when jeff davis made a law to exempt every man from the army who owned fifteen niggers, then our blood riz right up, and we sez to our neighbors, 'this ere thing's a-getting to be a rich man's quarrel and a poor man's fight.' after all they dragged off my boy to chambersburg, pennsylvania, and killed him a fighting for what? why, for rich nigger owners. our young men hid in the swamps, but they were hunted up and forced into the army. niggers has been our ruin. ef a white man takes a case before a nigger justice, he gives the nigger everything, and the white man has to stand one side. now, would you folks up north like to have a nigger justice who can't read nor count ten figgurs?" i tried to comfort the poor man, by assuring him that outside of the political enemies of our peace, the masses in the north were honestly inclined towards the south now that slavery was at an end; and that wrong could not long prevail, with the cheerful prospect of a new administration, and the removal of all unconstitutional forces that preyed upon the south. the two beds in the single room of the cabin were occupied by the family; while i slept upon the floor by the fire, with my blankets for a couch and a roll of homespun for a pillow, which the women called "_heading_." they often said, "let me give you some heading for your bed." we waited until eight o'clock the next day for the mists to rise from the swamps. my daily trouble was now upon me. how could i remunerate a southerner for his cost of keeping me, when not, in the true sense of the word, an invited guest to his hospitality? wilson edge sat by the fire, while his wife and little ones were preparing to accompany me to see the paper boat. "mr. edge," i stammered, "you have treated me with great kindness, your wife has been put to some inconvenience, as i came in so unexpected a manner, and you will really oblige me if you will accept a little money for all this; though money cannot pay for your hospitality. grant my wish, and you will send me away with a light heart." the poor cracker lowered his head and slowly ran his fingers through his coal black hair. for a moment he seemed studying a reply, and then he spoke as though he represented the whole generous heart of the south. "_stranger_," he slowly articulated, "_stranger, i have known white men to be niggers enough to take a stranger's money for lodgings and vittles, but i am not that man_." we found the canoe as it had been left the night before, and i was soon pulling down the river. the great wilderness was traversed thirty miles to the county town of conwayborough, where the negroes roared with laughter at the working of the double paddle, as i shot past the landing-place where cotton and naval stores were piled, waiting to be lightered nine miles to pot bluff,--so called from the fact of a pot being lost from a vessel near it,--which place is reached by vessels from new york drawing twelve feet of water. though still a long distance from the ocean, i was beginning to feel its tidal influences. at pot bluff, the landing and comfortable home of its owner, mr. z. w. dusenberry, presented a pleasant relief after the monotony of the great pine forests. this enterprising business man made my short stay a very pleasant one. wednesday, january th, was cold for this latitude, and ice formed in thin sheets in the water-pails. twenty-two miles below pot bluff, bull creek enters the waccamaw from the peedee river. at the mouth of this connecting watercourse is tip top, the first rice plantation of the waccamaw. the peedee and its sister stream run an almost parallel course from bull creek to winyah bay, making their debouchure close to the city of georgetown. steam saw-mills and rice plantations take the place of the forests from a few miles below tip top to the vicinity of georgetown. mr. m. l. blakely, of new york, one of the largest shingle manufacturers of the south, occupied as his headquarters the bates hill plantation, on the peedee. this gentleman had invited me, through the medium of the post-office, to visit him in the rice-growing regions of south carolina. to reach his home i took the short "cut-off" which bull creek offered, and entered upon the strongest of head-currents. the thick, yellow, muddy torrent of the peedee rushed through bull creek with such volume, that i wondered if it left much water on the other side, to give character to the river, as it followed its own channel to winyah bay. one and a half miles of vigorous paddling brought me to a branch of the watercourse, which is much narrower than the main one, and is consequently called little bull creek. this also comes from the peedee river, and its source is nearer to the bates hill plantation than the main bull creek. to urge the canoe up this narrow stream three miles and a half to the parent river peedee, was a most trying ordeal. at times the boat would not move a hundred feet in five minutes, and often, as my strength seemed failing me, i caught the friendly branches of trees, and held on to keep the canoe from being whirled down the current towards the waccamaw. after long and persistent efforts had exhausted my strength, i was about to seek for a resting-place in the swamp, when a view of the broad peedee opened before me, and with vigorous strokes of the paddle the canoe slowly approached the mighty current. a moment more and it was within its grasp, and went flying down the turbulent stream at the rate of ten miles an hour. a loud halloo greeted me from the swamp, where a party of negro shingle-makers were at work. they manned their boat, a long cypress dug-out, and followed me. their employer, who proved to be the gentleman whose abiding-place i was now rapidly approaching, sat in the stern. we landed together before the old plantation-house, which had been occupied a few years before by members of the wealthy and powerful rice-planting aristocracy of the peedee, but was now the temporary home of a northern man, who was busily employed in guiding the labors of his four hundred freedmen in the swamps of north and south carolina. the paper canoe had now entered the regions of the rice-planter. along the low banks of the peedee were diked marshes where, before the civil war, each estate produced from five thousand to forty thousand bushels of rice annually, and the lords of rice were more powerful than those of cotton, though cotton was king. the rich lands here produced as high as fifty-five bushels of rice to the acre, under forced slave labor; now the free blacks cannot wrest from nature more than twenty-five or thirty bushels. fine old mansions lined the river's banks, but the families had been so reduced by the ravages of war, that i saw refined ladies, who had been educated in the schools of edinburgh, scotland, overseeing the negroes as they worked in the yards of the rice-mills. the undaunted spirit of these southern ladies, as they worked in their homes now so desolate, roused my admiration. a light, graceful figure, enveloped in an old shawl, and mounted on an old horse, flitted about one plantation like a restless spirit. "that lady's father," said a gentleman to me, "owned three plantations, worth three millions of dollars, before the war. there is a rice-mill on one of the plantations which cost thirty thousand dollars. she now fights against misfortune, and will not give up. the confederate war would not have lasted six months if it had not been for our women. they drove thousands of us young men into the fight; and now, having lost all, they go bravely to work, even taking the places of their old servants in their grand old homes. it's hard for them, though, i assure you." on tuesday, january th, i paddled down the peedee, stopping at the plantations of dr. weston and colonel benjamin allston. the latter gentleman was a son of one of the governors of south carolina. he kindly gave me a letter of introduction to commodore richard lowndes, who lived near the coast. from the peedee i passed through a cut in the marshes into the broad waccamaw, and descended it to winyah bay. georgetown is located between the mouths of the peedee and sampit rivers. cautiously approaching the city, i landed at mr. david risley's steam saw-mills, and that gentleman kindly secreted my boat in a back counting-room, while i went up town to visit the post-office. by some, to me, unaccountable means, the people had heard of the arrival of the paper boat, and three elaborately dressed negro women accosted me with, "please show wees tree ladies de little paper boat." before i had reached my destination, the post-office, a body of men met me, on their way to the steam-mill. the crowd forced me back to the canoe, and asked so many questions that i was sorely taxed to find answers for these gentlemen. there were three editors in the crowd: two were white men, one a negro. the young men, who claimed the position of representatives of the spirit of the place and of the times, published "the comet," while the negro, as though influenced by a spirit of sarcasm, conducted "the planet." the third newspaper represented at the canoe reception was the "georgetown times," which courteously noticed the little boat that had come so far. the "planet" prudently kept in the dark, and said nothing, but "the comet," representing the culture of the young men of the city, published the following notice of my arrival: "tom collins has at last arrived in his wonderful paper boat. he has it hitched to mr. risley's new saw-mill, where every one can have a view. he intends shooting off his six-pounder before weighing anchor in the morning. hurrah for collins." i left mr. risley's comfortable home before noon the next day, and followed the shores of winyah bay towards the sea. near battery white, on the right shore, in the pine forests, was the birth-place of marion, the brave patriot of the american revolution, whose bugle's call summoned the youth of those days to arms. when near the inlet, the rice-plantation marshes skirted the shore for some distance. out of these wet lands flowed a little stream, called mosquito creek, which once connected the north santee river with winyah bay, and served as a boundary to south island. the creek was very crooked, and the ebb-tide strong. when more than halfway to santee river i was forced to leave the stream, as it had become closed by tidal deposits and rank vegetation. the ditches of rice plantations emptied their drainage of the lowlands into mosquito creek. following a wide ditch to the right, through fields of rich alluvial soil, which had been wrested by severe toil from nature, the boat soon reached the rice-mill of commodore richard lowndes. a little further on, and situated in a noble grove of live-oaks, which were draped in the weird festoons of spanish moss, on the upland arose the stately home of the planter, who still kept his plantation in cultivation, though on a scale of less magnitude than formerly. it was, indeed, a pleasant evening that i passed in the company of the refined members of the old commodore's household, and with a pang of regret the next day i paddled along the main canal of the lowlands, casting backward glances at the old house, with its grand old trees. the canal ended at north santee bay. while i was preparing to ascend the river a tempest arose, which kept me a weary prisoner among the reeds of the rice marsh. the hollow reeds made poor fuel for cooking, and when the dark, stormy night shut down upon me, the damp soil grew damper as the tide arose, until it threatened to overflow the land. for hours i lay in my narrow canoe waiting for the tidal flood to do its worst, but it receded, and left me without any means of building a fire, as the reeds were wet by the storm. the next afternoon, being tired of this sort of prison-life, and cramped for lack of exercise, i launched the canoe into the rough water, and crossing to crow island found a lee under its shores, which permitted me to ascend the river to the mouth of atchison creek, through which i passed, two miles, to the south santee river. all these rivers are bordered by rice plantations, many of them having been abandoned to the care of the freedmen. i saw no white men upon them. buildings and dikes are falling into ruins, and the river freshets frequently inundate the land. many of the owners of these once valuable estates are too much reduced in wealth to attempt their proper cultivation. it is in any case difficult to get the freedmen to work through an entire season, even when well paid for their services, and they flock to the towns whenever opportunity permits. the north and south santee rivers empty into the atlantic, but their entrances are so shallow that georgetown entrance is the inlet through which most of the produce of the country--pitch, tar, turpentine, rice, and lumber--finds exit to the sea. as i left the canal, which, with the creek, makes a complete thoroughfare for lighters and small coasters from one santee river to the other, a renewal of the tempest made me seek shelter in an old cabin in a negro settlement, each house of which was built upon piles driven into the marshes. the old negro overseer of the plantation hinted to me that his "hands were berry spicious of ebbry stranger," and advised me to row to some other locality. i told him i was from the north, and would not hurt even one of the fleas which in multitudes infested his negroes' quarters; but the old fellow shook his head, and would not be responsible for me if i staid there all night. a tall darkey, who had listened to the conversation, broke in with, "now, uncle, ye knows dat if dis gemmum is from de norf he is one of wees, and ye must _du_ fur him jis _dis_ time." but "uncle overseer" kept repeating, "some niggers here is mity spicious. du not no who white man is anyhow." "well, uncle," replied the tall black, "ef dis man is a yankee-mans, ise will see him _froo_." then he questioned me, while the fleas, having telegraphed to each other that a stranger had arrived, made sad havoc of me and my patience. "my name's jacob gilleu; what's yourn?" i gave it. "whar's your home?" came next. "i am a citizen of the united states," i replied. "de 'nited states--whar's dat? neber hurd him afore," said jacob gilleu. having informed him it was the land which general grant governed, he exclaimed: "o, you's a _grant_ man; all rite den; you is one of wees--all de same as wees. den look a-here, boss. i send you to one good place on alligator creek, whar seba gillings libs. he black man, but he treat you jes like white man." jacob helped me launch my boat through the soft mud, which nearly stalled us; and following his directions i paddled across the south santee and coasted down to alligator creek, where extensive marshes, covered by tall reeds, hid the landscape from my view. about half a mile from the mouth of the creek, which watercourse was on my direct route to bull's bay, a large tide-gate was found at the mouth of a canal. this being wide open, i pushed up the canal to a low point of land which rose like an island out of the rushes. here was a negro hamlet of a dozen houses, or shanties, and the ruins of a rice-mill. the majority of the negroes were absent working within the diked enclosures of this large estate, which before the war had produced forty thousand bushels of rice annually. now the place was leased by a former slave, and but little work was accomplished under the present management. seba gillings, a powerfully built negro, came to the dike upon which i had landed the canoe. i quickly told him my story, and how i had been forced to leave the last negro quarters. i used jacob gilleu's name as authority for seeking shelter with him from the damps of the half-submerged lands. the dignified black man bade me "fear nuffing, stay here all de night, long's you please; treat you like white man. i'se mity poor, but gib you de berry best i hab." he locked my boat in a rickety old storehouse, and gave me to understand "dat niggers will steal de berry breff from a man's mouff." he took me to his home, and soon showed me how he managed "de niggers." his wife sat silently by the fire. he ordered her to "pound de rice;" and she threw a quantity of unhulled rice into a wooden mortar three feet high planted in the ground in front of the shanty. then, with an enormous pestle, the black woman pounded the grains until the hulls were removed, when, seating herself upon the floor of the dark, smoky cabin, she winnowed the rice with her breath, while her long, slim fingers caught and removed all the specks of dirt from the mass. it was cooked as the chinese cook it--not to a glutinous mass, as we of the north prepare it--but each grain was dry and entire. then eggs and bacon were prepared; not by the woman, but by the son, a lad of fourteen years. all these movements were superintended by old seba, who sat looking as dark and as solemn and as learned as an associate judge on the bench of a new jersey county court. on the blackest of tables, minus a cloth, the well-cooked food was placed for the stranger. as soon as my meal was finished, every member of the family made a dash for the fragments, and the board was cleared in a wonderfully short space of time. then we gathered round the great, black-mouthed fireplace, and while the bright coals of live-oak spread a streak of light through the darkness, black men and black women stole into the room until everything from floor to ceiling, from door to chimney-place, seemed to be growing blacker and blacker, and i felt as black as my surroundings. the scant clothing of the men only half covered their shiny, ebony skins. the whole company preserved a dignified silence, which was occasionally broken by deep sighs coming from the women in reply to a half-whispered "all de way from de norf in a _paper_ canno--bless de lord! bless de lord!" this dull monotony was broken by the entrance of a young negro who, having made a passage in a sloop to charleston through bull's bay, was looked upon as a great traveller, and to him were referred disputes upon nautical matters. he had not yet seen the boat, but he proceeded to tell the negroes present all about it. he first bowed to me with a "how'dy, how'dy, cap'n," and then struck an attitude in the middle of the floor. upon this natural orator seba gillings' dignity had no effect--was he not a travelled man? his exordium was: "how fur you cum, sar?" i replied, about fourteen hundred miles. "fourteen hundred miles!" he roared; "duz you knows how much dat is, honnies? it's jes _one tousand_ four hundred miles." all the women groaned out, "bless de lord! bless de lord!" and clapped their shrivelled hands in ecstasy. the little black tried to run his fingers through his short, woolly hair as he continued: "what is dis yere world a-coming to? now, yous ere folks, did ye's eber hear de likes o' dis--a _paper_ boat?" to which the crones replied, clapping their hands, "bless de lord! bless de lord! only the yankee-mens up norf can make de _paper_ boats. bless de lord!" "and what," continued the orator, "and what will the yankee-mens do next? dey duz ebery ting. can dey bring a man back agen? can dey bring a man back to bref?" "no! no!" howled the women; "only de lord can bring a man back agen--no yankee-mens can do dat. bless de lord! bless de lord!" "and what sent dis yankee-man _one tousand_ four hundred miles in his _paper_ boat?" "de lord! de lord! bless de lord!" shouted the now highly excited women, violently striking the palms of their hands together. "and why," went on this categorical negro, "did de _lord_ send him down souf in de _paper_ boat?" "kase he couldn't hab cum in de _paper_ boat ef de lord hadn't a-sent him. o, bless de lord! bless de lord!" "and what duz he call his paper boat?" "maria theresa," i replied. "maria truss her," cried the orator. "he calls her maria truss her. berry good, berry good name; kase he truss his life in her ebry day, and dat's why he calls his little boat truss her. yes, de yankee-mans makes de gunboats and de paper boats. has de gemmin from de norf any bacca for dis yere chile?" as the women had become very piously inclined, and were in just the state of nervous excitement to commence "de shoutings," old uncle seba rudely informed them that "de yankee-mans wants sleep," and cleared the room of the crowd, to my great relief, for the state of the atmosphere was beyond description. seba had a closet where he kept onions, muskrat skins, and other pieces of personal property. he now set his wife to sweeping it out, and i spread my clean blankets with a sigh upon the black floor, knowing i should carry away in the morning more than i had brought into seba's dwelling. i will not now expatiate upon the small annoyances of travel; but to the canoeist who may follow the southern watercourses traversed by the paper canoe, i would quietly say, "keep away from cabins of all kinds, and you will by so doing travel with a light heart and even temper." when i cast up my account with old seba the next morning, he said that by trading the rice he raised he could obtain "bout ebbry ting he wanted, 'cept rum." rum was his medicine. so long as he kept a little stowed away, he admitted he was often sick. having been destitute of cash, and consequently of rum for some time, he acknowledged his state of health remarkable; and he was a model of strength and manly development. all the other negroes were dwarfish-looking specimens, while their hair was so very short that it gave them the appearance of being bald. when the canoe was taken out of the storehouse to be put into the canal, these half-naked, ebony-skinned creatures swarmed about it like bees. not a trace of white blood could be detected in them. each tried to put a finger upon the boat. they seemed to regard it as a fetich; and, i believe, had it been placed upon an end they would have bowed down and paid their african devotions to it. only the oldest ones could speak english well enough to be understood. the youths chattered in african tongue, and wore talismans about their necks. they were, to say the least, verging on barbarism. the experience gathered among the blacks of other lands impressed me with the well-founded belief, that in more than one place in the south would the african fetich be set up and worshipped before long, unless the church bestirs herself to look well to her _home_ missions. in all my travels, outside of the cities, in the south it has not been my good fortune to find an educated white man preaching to negroes, yet everywhere the poor blacks gather in the log-cabin, or rudely constructed church, to listen to ignorant preachers of their own color. the blind leading the blind. a few men of negro extraction, with white blood in their veins, not any more negro than white man, consequently _not_ negroes in the true sense of the word, are sent from the negro colleges of the south to lecture northern congregations upon the needs of _their_ race; and these one-quarter, or perhaps three-quarters, white men are, with their intelligence, and sometimes brilliant oratory, held up as true types of the negro race by northerners; while there is, in fact, as much difference between the pure-blooded negro of the rice-field and this false representative of "his needs," as can well be imagined. an irishman, just from the old country, listened one evening to the fascinating eloquence of a mulatto freedman. the good irishman had never seen a pure-blooded black man. the orator said, "i am only half a black man. my mother was a slave, my father a white planter." "be jabbers," shouted the excited irishman, who was charmed with the lecturer, "if you are only half a nigger, what must a _whole one_ be like!" the blacks were kind and civil, as they usually are when fairly treated. they stood upon the dike and shouted unintelligible farewells as i descended the canal to alligator creek. this thoroughfare soon carried me on its salt-water current to the sea; for i missed a narrow entrance to the marshes, called the eye of the needle (a steamboat thoroughfare), and found myself upon the calm sea, which pulsated in long swells. to the south was the low island of cape roman, which, like a protecting arm, guarded the quiet bay behind it. the marshes extended from the main almost to the cape, while upon the edge of the rushy meadows, upon an island just inside of the cape, rose the tower of roman light. this was the first time my tiny shell had floated upon the ocean. i coasted the sandy beach of the muddy lowlands, towards the light-house, until i found a creek debouching from the marsh, which i entered, and from one watercourse to another, without a chart, found my way at dusk into bull's bay. the sea was rolling in and breaking upon the shore, which i was forced to hug closely, as the old disturbers of my peace, the porpoises, were visible, fishing in numbers. to escape the dangerous raccoon oyster reefs of the shoal water the canoe was forced into a deeper channel, when the lively porpoises chased the boat and drove me back again on to the sharp-lipped shells. it was fast growing dark, and no place of refuge nearer than the upland, a long distance across the soft marsh, which was even now wet with the sea. the rough water of the sound, the oyster reefs which threatened to pierce my boat, and a coast which would be submerged by the next flood-tide, all seemed to conspire against me. suddenly my anxiety was relieved, and gratitude filled my heart, as the tall masts of a schooner rose out of the marshes not far from the upland, telling me that a friendly creek was near at hand. its wide mouth soon opened invitingly before me, and i rowed towards the beautiful craft anchored in its current, the trim rig of which plainly said--the property of the united states. an officer stood on the quarterdeck watching my approach through his glass; and, as i was passing the vessel, a sailor remarked to his mates, "that is the paper canoe. i was in norfolk, last december, when it reached the elizabeth river." the officer kindly hailed me, and offered me the hospitality of the coast-survey schooner "caswell." in the cosiest of cabins, mr. w. h. dennis, with his co-laborers messrs. ogden and bond, with their interesting conversation soon made me forget the discomforts of the last three days spent in the muddy flats among the lowland negroes. from poor, kind seba gillings' black cabin-floor, to the neat state-room, with its snowy sheets and clean towels, where fresh, pure water could be used without stint, was indeed a transition. the party expected to complete their work as far as charleston harbor before the season closed. the sunday spent on the "caswell" greatly refreshed me. on saturday evening mr. dennis traced upon a sheet of paper my route through the interior coast watercourses to charleston harbor; and i left the pretty schooner on monday, fully posted for my voyage. the tide commenced flooding at eleven a. m., and the flats soon afforded me water for their passage in the vicinity of the shore. heavy forests covered the uplands, where a few houses were visible. bull's island, with pines and a few cabbage palms, was on my left as i reached the entrance of the southern thoroughfare at the end of the bay. here, in the intricacies of creeks and passages through the islands, and made careless by the possession of mr. dennis' chart, i several times blundered into the wrong course; and got no further that afternoon than price's inlet, though i rowed more than twenty miles. some eight miles of the distance rowed was lost by ascending and descending creeks by mistake. after a weary day's work shelter was found in a house close by the sea, on the shores of price's inlet; where, in company with a young fisherman, who was in the employ of mr. magwood, of charleston, i slept upon the floor in my blankets. charles hucks, the fisherman, asserted that three albino deer were killed on caper's island the previous winter. two were shot by a negro, while he killed the third. messrs. magwood, terry, and noland, of charleston, one summer penned beside the water one thousand old terrapin, to hold them over for the winter season. these "diamond-backs" would consume five bushels of shrimps in one hour when fed. a tide of unusual height washed out the terrapins from their "crawl," and with them disappeared all anticipated results of the experiment. the next day, caper's island and inlet, dewees' inlet, long island, and breach inlet were successively passed, on strong tidal currents. sullivan's island is separated from long island by breach inlet. while following the creeks in the marshes back of sullivan's island, the compact mass of buildings of moultrieville, at its western end, at the entrance of charleston harbor, rose imposingly to view. the gloomy mantle of darkness was settling over the harbor as the paper canoe stole quietly into its historic waters. before me lay the quiet bay, with old fort sumter rising from the watery plain like a spectral giant, as though to remind one that this had been the scene of mighty struggles. the tranquil waters softly rippled a response to the touch of my oars; all was peace and quiet here, where, only a few short years before, the thunder of cannon woke a thousand echoes, and the waves were stained with the lifeblood of america,--where war, with her iron throat, poured out destruction, and god's creatures, men, made after his own image, destroyed each other ruthlessly, having never, in all that civilization had done for them, discovered any other way of settling their difficulties than by this wholesale murder. the actors in this scene were scattered now; they had returned to the farm, the workshop, the desk, and the pulpit. the old flag again floated upon the ramparts of sumter, and a government was trying to reconstruct itself, so that the great republic should become more thoroughly a government of the people, founded upon equal rights to all men. a sharp, scraping sound under my boat roused me from my revery, for i had leaned upon my oars while the tide had carried me slowly but surely upon the oyster-reefs, from which i escaped with some slight damage to my paper shell. newspaper reading had impressed upon me a belief that the citizens of the city which played so important a part in the late civil war might not treat kindly a massachusetts man. i therefore decided to go up to the city upon the ferry-boat for the large mail which awaited my arrival at the charleston post-office, after receiving which i intended to return to mount pleasant, and cross the bay to the entrance of the southern watercourses, leaving the city as quietly as i entered it. my curiosity was, however, aroused to see how, under the new reconstruction rule, things were conducted in the once proud city of charleston. as i stood at the window of the post-office delivery, and inquired through the narrow window for my letters, a heavy shadow seemed to fall upon me as the head of a negro appeared. the black post-office official's features underwent a sudden change as i pronounced my name, and, while a warm glow of affection lighted up his dark face, he thrust his whole arm through the window, and grasped my hand with a vigorous shake in the most friendly manner, as though upon his shoulders rested the good name of the people. [illustration: reception at charleston post-office.] "_welcome_ to charleston, mr. b----, _welcome_ to our beautiful city," he exclaimed. so _this_ was charleston under reconstruction. after handing me my mail, the postmaster graciously remarked, "our rule is to close the office at five o'clock p. m., but if you are belated any day, tap at the door, and i will attend you." this was my first welcome to charleston; but before i could return to my quarters at mount pleasant, members of the chamber of commerce, the carolina club, and others, pressed upon me kind attentions and hospitalities, while mr. james l. frazer, of the south carolina regatta association, sent for the maria theresa, and placed it in charge of the wharfinger of the southern wharf, where many ladies and gentlemen visited it. when i left the old city, a few days later, i blushed to think how i had doubted these people, whose reputation for hospitality to strangers had been world-wide for more than half a century. while here i was the guest of rev. g. r. brackett, the well-loved pastor of one of charleston's churches. it was with feelings of regret i turned my tiny craft towards untried waters, leaving behind me the beautiful city of charleston, and the friends who had so kindly cared for the lonely canoeist. chapter xii. from charleston to savannah, georgia. the interior water route to jehossee island.--governor aiken's model rice plantation.--lost in the horns.--st. helena sound.--lost in the night.--the phantom ship.--a finlander's welcome.--a night on the emperor's old yacht.--the phosphate mines.--coosaw and broad rivers.--port royal sound and calibogue sound.--cuffy's home.--arrival in georgia.--receptions at greenwich shooting-park. captain n. l. coste, and several other charleston pilots, drew and presented to me charts of the route to be followed by the paper canoe through the sea island passages, from the ashley to the savannah river, as some of the smaller watercourses near the upland were not, in , upon any engraved chart of the coast survey. [illustration: from bull's bay, south carolina, to st. simon's sound, georgia. route of paper canoe maria theresa from bull's bay, n.c. to st. simon's sound, ga. followed by n. h. bishop in _copyright, by lee & shepard_] ex-governor william aiken, whose rice plantation on jehossee island was considered, before the late war, the model one of the south, invited me to pass the following sunday with him upon his estate, which was about sixty-five miles from charleston, and along one of the interior water routes to savannah. he proposed to leave his city residence and travel by land, while i paddled my canoe southward to meet him. the genial editor of the "news and courier" promised to notify the people of my departure, and have the citizens assembled to give me a south carolina adieu. to avoid this publicity,--so kindly meant,--i quietly left the city from the south side on friday, february th, and ascended the ashley to wappoo creek, on the opposite bank of the river. a steamboat sent me a screaming salute as the mouth of the wappoo was reached, which made me feel that, though in strange waters, friends were all around me. i was now following one of the salt-water, steamboat passages through the great marshes of south carolina. from wappoo creek i took the "elliot cut" into the broad stono river, from behind the marshes of which forests rose upon the low bluffs of the upland, and rowed steadily on to church flats, where wide awake, with its landing and store, nestled on the bank. a little further on the tides divided, one ebbing through the stono to the sea, the other towards the north edisto. "new cut" connects church flats with wadmelaw sound, a sheet of water not over two miles in width and the same distance in length. from the sound the wadmelaw river runs to the mouth of the dahoo. vessels drawing eight and a half feet of water can pass on full tides from charleston over the course i was following to the north edisto river. leaving wadmelaw sound, a deep bend of the river was entered, when the bluffs of enterprise landing, with its store and the ruins of a burnt saw-mill, came into view on the left. having rowed more than thirty miles from the ashley, and finding that the proprietor of enterprise, a connecticut gentleman, had made preparations to entertain me, this day of pleasant journeying ended. the cardinal-bird was carolling his matin song when the members of this little new england colony watched my departure down the wadmelaw the next morning. the course was for the most part over the submerged phosphate beds of south carolina, where the remains of extinct species were now excavated, furnishing food for the worn-out soils of america and europe, and interesting studies and speculations for men of science. the dahoo river was reached soon after leaving enterprise. here the north edisto, a broad river, passes the mouth of the dahoo, in its descent to the sea, which is about ten miles distant. for two miles along the dahoo the porpoises gave me strong proof of their knowledge of the presence of the paper canoe by their rough gambols, but being now in quiet inland waters, i could laugh at these strange creatures as they broke from the water around the boat. at four o'clock p. m. the extensive marshes of jehossee island were reached, and i approached the village of the plantation through a short canal. out of the rice-fields of rich, black alluvium rose an area of higher land, upon which were situated the mansion and village of governor aiken, where he, in , commenced his duties as rice-planter. a hedge of bright green casino surrounded the well-kept garden, within which magnolias and live-oaks enveloped the solid old house, screening it with their heavy foliage from the strong winds of the ocean, while flowering shrubs of all descriptions added their bright and vivid coloring to the picturesque beauty of the scene. the governor had arrived at jehossee before me, and saturday being pay-day, the faces of the negroes were wreathed in smiles. here, in his quiet island home, i remained until monday with this most excellent man and patriot, whose soul had been tried as by fire during the disturbances caused by the war. as we sat together in that room where, in years gone by, governor aiken had entertained his northern guests, with englishmen of noble blood,--a room full of reminiscences both pleasant and painful,--my kind host freely told me the story of his busy life, which sounded like a tale of romance. he had tried to stay the wild storm of secession when the war-cloud hung gloomily over his state. it broke, and his unheeded warnings were drowned in the thunders of the political tempest that swept over the fair south. before the war he owned one thousand slaves. he organized schools to teach his negroes to read and write. the improvement of their moral condition was his great study. the life he had entered upon, though at first distasteful, had been forced upon him, and he met his peculiar responsibilities with a true christian desire to benefit all within his reach. when a young man, having returned from the tour of europe, his father presented him with jehossee island, an estate of five thousand acres, around which it required four stout negro oarsmen to row him in a day. "here," said the father to the future governor of south carolina, as he presented the domain to his son,--"here are the means; now go to work and develop them." william aiken applied himself industriously to the task of improving the talents given him. his well-directed efforts bore good fruit, as year after year jehossee island, from a half submerged, sedgy, boggy waste, grew into one of the finest rice-plantations in the south. the new lord of the manor ditched the marshes, and walled in his new rice-fields with dikes, to keep out the freshets from the upland and the tides from the ocean, perfecting a complete system of drainage and irrigation. he built comfortable quarters for his slaves, and erected a church and schoolhouse for their use. from the original two hundred and eighty acres of cultivated rice land, the new proprietor developed the wild morass into sixteen hundred acres of rice-fields, and six hundred acres of vegetable, corn, and provender producing land. for several seasons prior to the war, jehossee yielded a rice crop which sold for seventy thousand dollars, and netted annually fifty thousand dollars income to the owner. at that time governor aiken had eight hundred and seventy-three slaves on the island, and about one hundred working as mechanics, &c., in charleston. the eight hundred and seventy-three jehossee slaves, men, women, and children, furnished a working force of three hundred for the rice-fields. mr. aiken would not tolerate the loose matrimonial ways of negro life, but compelled his slaves to accept the marriage ceremony; and herein lay one of his chief difficulties, for, to whatever cause we attribute it, the fact remains the same, namely, that the ordinary negro has no sense of morality. after all the attempts made on this plantation to improve the moral nature of these men and women, governor aiken, during a yellow-fever season in savannah after the war, while visiting the poor sufferers, intent upon charitable works, found in the lowest quarter of the city, sunk in the most abject depths of vice, men and women who had once been good servants on his plantations. in old times jehossee was a happy place for master and for slave. the governor rarely locked the door of his mansion. the family plate, valued at fifteen thousand dollars, was stored in a chest in a room on the ground-floor of the house, which had for its occupants, during four months of the year, two or three negro servants. though all the negroes at the quarters, which were only a quarter of a mile from the mansion, knew the valuable contents of the chest, it was never disturbed. they stole small things, but seemed incapable of committing a burglary. when the union army marched through another part of south carolina, where governor aiken had buried these old family heirlooms and had added to the original plate thirty thousand dollars' worth of his own purchasing, the soldiers dug up this treasure-trove, and forty-five thousand dollars' worth of fine silver went to enrich the spoils of the union army. soon after, three thousand eight hundred bottles of fine old wines, worth from eight to nine dollars a bottle, were dug up and destroyed by a confederate officer's order, to prevent the union army from capturing them. thus was plundered an old and revered governor of south carolina--one who was a kind neighbor, a true patriot, and a christian gentleman. the persecutions of the owner of jehossee did not, however, terminate with the war; for when the struggle was virtually ended, and the fair mansion of the rice-plantation retained its heirlooms and its furniture, beaufort, of south carolina, was still under the influence of the freedman's bureau; and when it was whispered that aiken's house was full of nice old furniture, and that a few faithful servants of the good old master were its only guards, covetous thoughts at once stirred the evil minds of those who were the representatives of law and order. this house was left almost without protection. the war was over. south carolina had bent her proud head in agony over her burned plantations and desolate homes. the victorious army was now proclaiming peace, and generous treatment to a fallen foe. then to what an almost unimaginable state of demoralization must some of the freedmen's protectors have fallen, when they sent a gunboat to jehossee island, and rifled the old house of all its treasures! to-day, the governor's favorite sideboard stands in the house of a citizen of boston, as a relic of the war. o, people of the north, hold no longer to your relics of the war, stolen from the firesides of the south! restore them to their owners, or else bury them out of the sight of your children, that they may not be led to believe that the war for the preservation of the great republic was a war for _plunder_;--else did brave men fight, and good women pray in vain. away with stolen pianos, "captured" sideboards, and purloined silver! what but this petty plundering could be expected of men who robbed by wholesale the poor negro, to protect whose rights they were sent south? the great political party of the north became the pledged conservator of the black man's rights, and established a freedman's bureau, and freedman's banks to guard his humble earnings. all know something of the workings of those banks; and to everlasting infamy must be consigned the names of many of those conducting them,--men who robbed every one of these depositories of negro savings, and left the poor, child-like freedman in a physical state of destitution, and in a perfect bewilderment of mind as to who his true friend really was. a faithful negro of jehossee island was but one among thousands of such cases. while the tumult of war vexed the land, the faithful negro overseer remained at his post to guard his late master's property, supporting himself by the manufacture of salt, and living in the most frugal manner to be able to "lay by" a sum for his old age. having saved five hundred dollars, he deposited them in the nearest freedman's bank, which, though _fathered_ by the united states government, failed; and the now destitute negro found himself stripped in the same moment of his hard-earned savings, and his confidence in his new protectors. as the war of the rebellion was slowly drawing to its close, mr. lincoln's kind heart was drawn towards his erring countrymen, and he made a list of the names of the wisest and best men of the south, who, not having taken an active part in the strife, might be intrusted with the task of bringing back the unruly states to their constitutional relations with the national government. governor aiken was informed that his name was upon that list; and he would gladly have accepted the onerous position, and labored in the true interests of the whole people, but the pistol of an assassin closed the life of the president, whose generous plans of reconstruction were never realized. in the birth of our new centennial let us eschew the political charlatan, and bring forward our statesmen to serve and govern a people, who, to become a unit of strength, must ever bear in mind the words of the great southern statesman, who said he knew "no north, no south, no east, no west; but one undivided country." on monday, at ten a. m., two negroes assisted me to launch my craft from the river's bank at the mouth of the canal, for the tide was very low. as i settled myself for a long pull at the oars, the face of one of the blacks was seemingly rent in twain, as a huge mouth opened, and a pair of strong lungs sent forth these parting words: "_bully for massachusetts!_" "how did you know i came from massachusetts?" i called out from the river. "i knows de cuts ob dem. i suffered at fort wagner. dis chile knows massachusetts." two miles further on, bull creek served me as a "cut-off," and half an hour after entering it the tide was flooding against me. when goat island creek was passed on the left hand, knots of pine forests rose picturesquely in places out of the bottom-lands, and an hour later, at bennett's point, on the right, i found the watercourse a quarter of a mile in width. the surroundings were of a lovely nature during this day's journey. here marshes, diversified by occasional hammocks of timber dotting their uninteresting wastes; there humble habitations of whites and blacks appearing at intervals in the forest growth. as i was destitute of a finished chart of the coast survey, after rowing along one side of hutchinson's island i became bewildered in the maze of creeks which penetrate the marshes that lie between bennett's point and the coast. making a rough topographical sketch of the country as i descended hutchinson's creek, or big river,--the latter appellation being the most appropriate, as it is a very wide watercourse,--i came upon a group of low islands, and found upon one of them a plantation which had been abandoned to the negroes, and the little bluff upon which two or three rickety buildings were situated was the last land which remained unsubmerged during a high tide between the plantation and the sea. i was now in a quandary. i had left the hospitable residence of governor aiken at ten o'clock a. m., when i should have departed at sunrise in order to have had time to enter and pass through st. helena sound before night came on. the prospect of obtaining shelter was indeed dismal. just at this time a loud shout from the negroes on shore attracted my attention, and i rested upon my oars, while a boat-load of women and children paddled out to me. "is _dat_ de _little_ boat?" they asked, viewing my craft with curious eyes. "and is dat boat made of paper?" they continued, showing that negro runners had posted the people, even in these solitary regions, of the approach of the paper canoe. i questioned these negro women about the route, but each gave a different answer as to the passage through the horns to st. helena sound. hurrying on through tortuous creeks, the deserted tract called "the horns" was entered, and until sunset i followed one short stream after another, to its source in the reedy plain, constantly retracing the route, with the tide not yet ebbing strong enough to show me a course to the sound. presently it ebbed more rapidly, and i followed the tide from one intricacy to another, but never found the principal thoroughfare. while i was enveloped in reeds, and at a loss which way to go, the soft ripple of breaking waves struck my ear like sweet music. the sea was telling me of its proximity. carefully balancing myself, i stood up in the cranky canoe, and peering over the grassy thickets, saw before me the broad waters of helena sound. the fresh salt breeze from the ocean struck upon my forehead, and nerved me to a renewal of my efforts to get within a region of higher land, and to a place of shelter. the ebbing tide was yet high, and through the forest of vegetation, and over the submerged coast, i pushed the canoe into the sound. now i rowed as though for my life, closely skirting the marshes, and soon entered waters covered by a chart in my possession. my course was to skirt the coast of the sound from where i had entered it, and cross the mouths of the combahee and bull rivers to the entrance of the broad coosaw. this last river i would ascend seven miles to the first upland, and camp thereon until morning. the tide was now against me, and the night was growing darker, as the faithful craft was forced along the marshes four miles to the mouth of the combahee river, which i had to ascend half a mile to get rid of a shoal of frisky porpoises, who were fishing in the current. then descending it on the opposite shore, i rowed two miles further in the dark, but for half an hour previous to my reaching the wide debouchure of bull river, some enormous blackfish surged about me in the tideway and sounded their nasal calls, while their more demonstrative porpoise neighbors leaped from the water in the misty atmosphere, and so alarmed me and occupied my attention, that instead of crossing to the coosaw river, i unwittingly ascended the bull, and was soon lost in the contours of the river. as i hugged the marshy borders of the stream to escape the strong current of its channel, and rowed on and on in the gloom, eagerly scanning the high, sedge-fringed flats to find one little spot of firm upland upon which i might land my canoe and obtain a resting-spot for myself for the night, the feeling that i was lost was not the most cheerful to be imagined. in the thin fog which arose from the warm water into the cool night air, objects on the marshes assumed fantastical shapes. a few reeds, taller than the rest, had the appearance of trees twenty feet high. so real did these unreal images seem, that i drove my canoe against the soft, muddy bank, repeatedly prompted to land in what seemed a copse of low trees, but in every instance i was deceived. still i pulled up that mysterious river, ignorant at the time of even its name, praying only for one little spot of upland where i might camp. while thus employed, i peered over my shoulder, into the gloom, and beheld what seemed to be a vision; for, out of a cloud of mist rose the skeleton lines of a large ship, with all its sails furled to the yards. "a ship at anchor, and in this out-of-the-way place!" i ejaculated, scarcely believing my eyes; but when i pointed the canoe towards it, and again looked over my shoulder, the vision of hope was gone. again i saw tall masts cutting through the mists, but the ship's hull could not be distinguished, and as i rowed towards the objects, first the lower masts disappeared, then the topmasts dissolved, and later, the topgallant and royal masts faded away. for half an hour i rowed and rowed for that mysterious vessel, which was veiled and unveiled to my sight. never did so spectral an object haunt or thwart me. it seemed to change its position on the water, as well as in the atmosphere, and i was too busily employed in trying to reach it to discover in the darkness that the current, which i could not distinguish from smooth water, was whirling me down stream as fast as i would approach the weird vessel. drawing once more from the current, i followed the marsh until the canoe was opposite the anchorage of a real ship; then, with hearty pulls, i shot around its stern, and shouted: "ship ahoy!" no one answered the hail. the vessel looked like a man-of-war, but not of american build. not a light gleamed from her ports, not a footfall came from her decks. she seemed to be deserted in the middle of the river, surrounded by a desolate waste of marshes. the current gurgled and sucked about her run, as the ebb-tide washed her black hull on its way to the sea. the spectacle seemed now even more mysterious than when, mirage-like, it peered forth from a cloud of mist. but it was real, and not fantastic. another hail, louder than the first, went forth into the night air, and penetrated to the ship's forecastle, for a sailor answered my call, and reported to the captain in the cabin the presence of a boat at the ship's side. a quick, firm tread sounded upon the deck; then, with a light bound, a powerfully-built young man landed upon the high rail of the vessel. he peered down from his stately ship upon the little speck which floated upon the gurgling current; then, with a voice "filled with the fogs of the ocean," he thundered forth, as though he were hailing a man-of-war: "what boat's that?" "paper canoe maria theresa," i replied, in as foggy a voice as i could assume. "where from, and where bound?" again roared the captain. "_from_ quebec, canada, and _bound_ to sleep on board your vessel, if i can ever get up there," i politely responded, in a more subdued voice, for i soon discovered that nature had never intended me for a fog-trumpet. "ah, is it you?" cheerily responded the captain, suddenly dispensing with all his fogginess; "i've been looking for you this long time. got a charleston paper on board; your trip all in it. come up, and break a bottle of wine with me." "all hands" came from the forecastle, and finland mates and finland sailors, speaking both english and russian, crowded to the rail to receive the paper canoe, which had first been described to them by english newspapers when the vessel lay in a british port, awaiting the charter-party which afterwards sent them to bull river, south carolina, for a load of phosphates. the jolly crew lowered buntlines and clewlines, to which i attached my boat's stores. these were hoisted up the high sides of the ship, and, after bending on a line to the bow and stern rings of the canoe, i ascended by the ladder, while captain johs. bergelund and his mates claimed the pleasure of landing the paper canoe on the deck of the rurik. the tiny shell looked very small as she rested on the broad, white decks of the emperor of russia's old steam yacht, which bore the name of the founder of the russian empire. though now a bark and not a steamer, though a freighter and not a royal yacht, the rurik looked every inch a government vessel, for her young captain, with a sailor's pride, kept her in a thorough state of cleanliness and order. we went to supper. the captain, his mates, and the stranger gathered around the board, while the generous sailor brought out his curious bottles and put them by the side of the still more curious dishes of food. all my surroundings were those of the country of the midnight sun, and i should have felt more bewildered than when in the fog i viewed and chased this spectral-looking ship, had not captain bergelund, in most excellent english, entertained me with a flow of conversation which put me at my ease. he discoursed of finland, where lakes covered the country from near abo, its chief city, to the far north, where the summer days are "nearly all night long." painting in high colors the delights of his native land, he begged me to visit it. finally, as midnight drew near, this genial sailor insisted upon putting me in his own comfortable state-room, while he slept upon a lounge in the cabin. one mile above the rurik's anchorage was the phosphate-mill of the pacific company, which was supplying captain bergelund, by lighters, with his freight of unground fertilizer. the next morning i took leave of the rurik, but, instead of descending the bull river to the coosaw, i determined to save time by crossing the peninsula between the two rivers by means of two short creeks which were connected at their sources by a very short canal near "the mines" of the phosphate company. when i entered horse island creek, at eleven o'clock, the tide was on the last of the ebb, and i sat in the canoe a long time awaiting the flood to float me up the wide ditch, which would conduct me to the creek that emptied into the coosaw. upon the banks of the canal three hours were lost waiting for the tide to give me one foot of water, when i rowed into the second watercourse, and late in the afternoon entered the wide coosaw. the two creeks and the connecting canal are called the haulover creek. as i turned up the coosaw, and skirted the now submerged marshes of its left bank, two dredging-machines were at work up the river raising the remains of the marine monsters of antiquity. the strong wind and swashing seas being in my favor, the canoe soon arrived opposite the spot of upland i had so longed to reach the previous night. this was chisolm's landing, back of which were the phosphate works of the coosaw mine company. the inspector of phosphates, mr. john hunn, offered me the hospitality of alligator hall, where he and some of the gentlemen employed by the company resided in bachelor retirement. my host described a mammal's tooth that weighed nearly fourteen pounds, which had been taken from a phosphate mine; it had been sent to a public room at beaufort, south carolina. a fossil shark's tooth, weighing four and a half pounds, was also found, and a learned ichthyologist has asserted that the owner of this remarkable relic of the past must have been one hundred feet in length. beaufort was near at hand, and could be easily reached by entering brickyard creek, the entrance of which was on the right bank of the coosaw, nearly opposite chisolm's landing. it was nearly six miles by this creek to beaufort, and from that town to port royal sound, by following beaufort river, was a distance of eleven miles. the mouth of beaufort river is only two miles from the sea. preferring to follow a more interior water route than the beaufort one, the canoe was rowed up the coosaw five miles to whale branch, which is crossed by the port royal railroad bridge. whale branch, five miles in length, empties into broad river, which i descended thirteen miles, to the lower end of daw island, on its right bank. here, in this region of marshy shores, the chechessee river and the broad river mingle their strong currents in port royal sound. it was dusk when the sound was entered from the extreme end of daw island, where it became necessary to cross immediately to skull creek, at hilton head island, or go into camp for the night. i looked down the sound six miles to the broad atlantic, which was sending in clouds of mist on a fresh breeze. i gazed across the mouth of the chechessee, and the sound at the entrance of the port of refuge. i desired to traverse nearly three miles of this rough water. i would gladly have camped, but the shore i was about to leave offered to submerge me with the next high water. no friendly hammock of trees could be seen as i glided from the shadow of the high rushes of daw island. circumstances decided the point in debate, and i rowed rapidly into the sound. the canoe had not gone half a mile when the chechessee river opened fully to view, and a pretty little hammock, with two or three shanties beneath its trees, could be plainly seen on daw's island. it was now too late to return and ascend the river to the hammock, for the sound was disturbed by the freshening breeze from the sea blowing against the ebb-tide, which was increased in power by the outflowing volume of water from the wide chechessee. it required all the energy i possessed to keep the canoe from being overrun by the swashy, sharp-pointed seas. once or twice i thought my last struggle for life had come, but a merciful power gave me the strength and coolness that this trying ordeal required, and i somehow weathered the dangerous oyster reefs above skull creek, and landed at "seabrook plantation," upon hilton head island, near two or three old houses, one of which was being fitted up as a store by mr. kleim, of the first new york volunteers, who had lived on the island since . mr. kleim took me to his bachelor quarters, where the wet cargo of the maria theresa was dried by the kitchen fireplace. the next day, february , i left seabrook and followed skull creek to mackay's creek, and, passing the mouth of may river, entered calibogue sound, where a sudden tempest arose and drove me into a creek which flowed out of the marshes of bull island. a few negro huts were discovered on a low mound of earth. the blacks told me their hammock was called bird island. the tempest lasted all day, and as no shelter could be found on the creek, a darky hauled my canoe on a cart a couple of miles to bull creek, which enters into cooper river, one of the watercourses i was to enter from calibogue sound. upon reaching the wooded shores of bull creek, my carter introduced me to the head man of the settlement, a weazened-looking little old creature called cuffy, who, though respectful in his demeanor to "de yankee-mans," was cross and overbearing to the few families occupying the shanties in the magnificent grove of live-oaks which shaded them. cuffy's cook-house, or kitchen, which was a log structure measuring nine by ten feet, with posts only three feet high, was the only building which could be emptied of its contents for my accommodation. our contract or lease was a verbal one, cuffy's terms being "whateber de white man likes to gib an ole nigger." cuffy cut a big switch, and sent in his "darter," a girl of about fourteen years, to clean out the shanty. when she did not move fast enough to suit the old man's wishes, he switched her over the shoulders till it excited my pity; but the girl seemed to take the beating as an every-day amusement, for it made no impression on her hard skull and thick skin. after commencing to "keep house," the old women came to sell me eggs and beg for "bacca." they requested me never to throw away my coffee-grounds, as it made coffee "good 'nuf for black folks." i distributed some of my stores among them, and, after cutting rushes and boughs for my bed, turned in for the night. these negroes had been raising sea-island cotton, but the price having declined to five cents a pound, they could not get twenty-five cents a day for their labor by cultivating it. the fierce wind subsided before dawn, but a heavy fog covered the marshes and the creek. cuffy's "settlement" turned out before sunrise to see me off; and the canoe soon reached the broad cooper river, which i ascended in the misty darkness by following close to the left bank. four miles up the cooper river from calibogue sound there is a passage through the marshes from the cooper to new river, which is called ram's horn creek. on the right of its entrance a well-wooded hammock rises from the marsh, and is called page island. about midway between the two rivers and along this crooked thoroughfare is another piece of upland called pine island, inhabited by the families of two boat-builders. while navigating cooper river, as the heavy mists rolled in clouds over the quiet waters, a sailboat, rowed by negroes, emerged from the gloom and as suddenly disappeared. i shouted after them: "please tell me the name of the next creek." a hoarse voice came back to me from the cloud: "pull and be d----d." then all was still as night again. to solve this seemingly uncourteous reply, so unusual in the south, i consulted the manuscript charts which the charleston pilots had kindly drawn for my use, and found that the negroes had spoken geographically as well as truthfully, for pine island creek is known to the watermen as "pull and be d----d creek," on account of its tortuous character, and chiefly because, as the tides head in it, if a boat enters it from one river with a favorable tide, it has a strong head current on the other side of the middle ground to oppose it. thus pulling at the oars at some parts of the creek becomes hard work for the boatmen; hence this name, which, though profane, may be considered geographical. after leaving the cooper river, the watercourses to savannah were discolored by red or yellow mud. from pine island i descended new river two miles and a half to wall's cut, which is only a quarter of a mile in length, and through which i entered wright's river, following it a couple of miles to the broad, yellow, turbulent current of the savannah. my thoughts now naturally turned to the early days of steamboat enterprise, when this river, as well as the hudson, was conspicuous; for though the steamer savannah was not the first steam-propelled vessel which cut the waves of the atlantic, she was the first steamer that ever crossed it. let us examine historical data. colonel john stevens, of new york, built the steamboat phoenix about the year , and was prevented from using it upon the hudson river by the fulton and livingston monopoly charter. the phoenix made an ocean voyage to the delaware river. the first english venture was that of the steamer caledonia, which made a passage to holland in . the london times of may , , printed in its issue of that date the following item: "great experiment.--a new vessel of three hundred tons has been built at new york for the express purpose of carrying passengers across the atlantic. she is to come to liverpool direct." this ship-rigged steamer was the "savannah," and the bold projector of this experiment of sending a steamboat across the atlantic was daniel dodd. the savannah was built in new york, by francis ficket, for mr. dodd. stephen vail, of morristown, new jersey, built her engines, and on the d of august, , she was launched, gliding gracefully into the element which was to bear her to foreign lands, there to be crowned with the laurels of success. on may th this purely american-built vessel left savannah, and glided out from this waste of marshes, under the command of captain moses rogers, with stephen rogers as navigator. the port of new london, conn., had furnished these able seamen. the steamer reached liverpool june th, the passage having occupied twenty-six days, upon eighteen of which she had used her paddles. a son of mr. dodd once told me of the sensation produced by the arrival of a smoking vessel on the coast of ireland, and how lieutenant john bowie, of the king's cutter kite, sent a boat-load of sailors to board the savannah to assist her crew to extinguish the fires of what his majesty's officers supposed to be a burning ship. the savannah, after visiting liverpool, continued her voyage on july d, and reached st. petersburg in safety. leaving the latter port on october th, this adventurous craft completed the round voyage upon her arrival at savannah, november th. i pulled up the savannah until within five miles of the city, and then left the river on its south side, where old rice-plantations are first met, and entered st. augustine creek, which is the steamboat thoroughfare of the inland route to florida. just outside the city of savannah, near its beautiful cemetery, where tall trees with their graceful drapery of spanish moss screen from wind and sun the quiet resting-places of the dead, my canoe was landed, and stored in a building of the german greenwich shooting park, where mr. john hellwig, in a most hospitable manner, cared for it and its owner. while awaiting the arrival of letters at the savannah post-office, many of the ladies of that beautiful city came out to see the paper canoe. they seemed to have the mistaken idea that my little craft had come from the distant dominion of canada over the atlantic ocean. they also looked upon the voyage of the paper canoe as a very sentimental thing, while the canoeist had found it an intensely practical affair, though occasionally relieved by incidents of romantic or amusing character. as the ladies clustered round the boat while it rested upon the centre-table of mr. hellwig's parlor, they questioned me freely. "tell us," they said, "what were your thoughts while you rowed upon the broad ocean in the lonely hours of night?" though unwilling to break their pleasing illusions, i was obliged to inform them that a sensible canoeist is usually enjoying his needed rest in some camp, or sleeping in some sheltered place,--under a roof if possible,--after it is too dark to travel in safety; and as to ocean travelling, the canoe had only once entered upon the atlantic ocean, and then through a mistake. "but what subjects occupy your thoughts as you row, and row, and row all day by yourself, in this little ship?" a motherly lady inquired. "to tell you honestly, ladies, i must say that when i am in shallow watercourses, with the tides usually ebbing at the wrong time for my convenience, i am so full of anxiety about getting wrecked on the reefs of sharp coon-oysters, that i am wishing myself in deep water; and when my route forces me into the deep water of sounds, and the surface becomes tossed into wild disorder by strong currents and stronger winds, and the porpoises pay me their little attentions, chasing the canoe, flapping their tails, and showing their sportive dispositions, i think longingly of those same shoal creeks, and wish i was once more in their shallow waters." "we ladies have prayed for your safety," said a kind-looking german lady, "and we will pray that your voyage may have a happy and successful end." when the ladies left, two irish laborers, dressed in sombre black, with high hats worn with the air of dignity, examined the boat. there was an absence of the sparkle of fun usually seen in the irish face, for this was a serious occasion. they did not see any romance or sentiment in the voyage, but took a broad, geographical view of the matter. they stood silently gazing at the canoe with the same air of solemnity they would have given a corpse. then one addressed the other, as though the owner of the craft was entirely out of the hearing of their conversation. said no. , "and what did i tell ye, pater?" "and so ye did," replied no. . "and didn't i say so?" continued no. . "of course ye did; and wasn't me of the same mind, to be sure?" responded no. . "yes, i told ye as how it is the men of _these_ times is greater than the men of ould times. there was the great coolumbus, who came over in three ships to see americky. what did he know about _paper_ boats? nothing at all, at all. he cum over in big ships, while this young feller has cum all the way from canada. i tell ye the men of ould times was not up to the men of these times. thin there's captain boyton, who don't use any boat or ship at all, at all, but goes a-_swimming_ in rubber clothes to keep him dry all over the atlantic oshin. jis' look, man, how he landed on the shores of ould ireland not long since. now what's coolumbus, or any other man of the past ages, to him? coolumbus could not hold a candle to boyton! no, i tell ye agen that the men of this age is greater than the men of the past ages." "and," broke in no. , "there's a britisher who's gone to the river niles in a canoe." "the _river niles_!" hotly exclaimed no. ; "don't waste your breath on that thing. it's no _new_ thing at all, at all. it was diskivered a long time ago, and nobody cares a fig for it now." "yet," responded no. , "some of those old-times people were very enterprising. there was that great traveller robinson crusoe: ye must confess he was a great man for _his_ time." "the same who wint to the south sea islands and settled there?" asked the first biographer. "the _very same man_," replied no. , with animation. this instructive conversation was here interrupted by a party of ladies and gentlemen, who in turn gave their views of canoe and canoeist. chapter xiii. from the savannah river to florida. route to the sea islands of georgia.--storm-bound on green island.--ossabaw island.--st. catherine's sound.--sapelo island.--the mud of mud river.--night in a negro cabin.--"de shoutings" on doboy island.--broughton island.--st. simon's and jekyl islands.--interview with an alligator.--a night in jointer hammock.--cumberland island and st. mary's river.--farewell to the sea. on february th, the voyage was again resumed. my route lay through the coast islands of georgia, as far south as the state boundary, cumberland sound, and the st. mary's river. this part of the coast is very interesting, and is beautifully delineated on the coast charts no. - of the united states coast survey, which were published the year after my voyage ended. steamers run from savannah through these interesting interior water-ways to the ports of the st. john's river, florida, and by taking this route the traveller can escape a most uninteresting railroad journey from savannah to jacksonville, where sandy soils and pine forests present an uninviting prospect to the eye. a little dredging, in a few places along the steamboat route, should be done at national cost, to make this a more convenient and expeditious tidal route for vessels. leaving greenwich, bonaventure, and thunderbolt behind me on the upland, the canoe entered the great marshy district of the coast along the wilmington and skiddaway rivers to skiddaway narrows, which is a contracted, crooked watercourse connecting the skiddaway with the burnside river. the low lands were made picturesque by hammocks, some of which were cultivated. in leaving the burnside for the broad vernon river, as the canoe approached the sea, one of the sudden tempests which frequently vex these coast-waters arose, and drove me to a hammock in the marshes of green island, on the left bank and opposite the mouth of the little ogeechee river. green island has been well cultivated in the past, but is now only the summer home of mr. styles, its owner. two or three families of negroes inhabited the cabins and looked after the property of the absent proprietor. i waded to my knees in the mud before the canoe could be landed, and, as it stormed all night, i slept on the floor of the humble cot of the negro echard holmes, having first treated the household to crackers and coffee. the negroes gathered from other points to examine the canoe, and, hearing that i was from the north, one grizzly old darky begged me to "carry" his complaints to washington. "de goberment," he said, "has been berry good to wees black folks. it gib us our freedom,--all berry well; but dar is an noder ting wees wants; dat is, wees wants general grant to make tings _stashionary_. de storekeeper gibs a poor nigger only one dollar fur bushel corn, sometimes not so much. den he makes poor nigger gib him tree dollars fur bag hominy, sometimes more'n dat. wees wants de goberment to make tings _stashionary_. make de storekeeper gib black man one dollar and quarter fur de bushel of corn, and make him sell de poor nigger de bag hominy fur much less dan tree dollars. make all tings _stashionary_. den dar's one ting more. tell de goberment to do fur poor darky 'nodder ting,--make de ole massa say to me, 'you's been good slave in ole times,--_berry_ good slave; now i gib you one, two, tree, _five_ acres of land for yoursef.' den ole nigger be happy, and massa be happy too; den bof of um bees happy. hab you a leetle bacca fur dis ole man?" from the styles mansion it was but three miles to ossabaw sound. little don island and raccoon key are in the mouth of the vernon. between the two flat islands is a deep passage through which the tides rush with great force; it is called hell gate. on the south side of raccoon key the great ogeechee river pours its strong volume of water into ossabaw sound. i entered the great ogeechee through the don island passage, and saw sturgeon-fishermen at work with their nets along the shores of ossabaw, one of the sea islands. ossabaw island lies between ossabaw and st. catherine's sounds, and is eight miles long and six miles wide. the side towards the sea is firm upland, diversified with glades, while the western portion is principally marshes cut up by numerous creeks. all the sea islands produce the long staple cotton known as sea-island cotton, and before the war a very valuable variety. a few negroes occupy the places abandoned by the proprietor, and eke out a scanty livelihood. there are many deer in the forests of ossabaw island. one of its late proprietors informed me that there must be at least ten thousand wild hogs there, as they have been multiplying for many years, and but few were shot by the negroes. the domestic hog becomes a very shy animal if left to himself for two or three years. the hunter may search for him without a dog almost in vain, though the woods may contain large numbers of these creatures. the weather was now delightful, and had i possessed a light tent i would not have sought shelter at night in a human habitation anywhere along the route. the malaria which arises from fresh-water sinks in many of the sea islands during the summer months, did not now make camping-out dangerous to the health. crossing the great ogeechee above middle marsh island, i followed the river to the creek called florida passage, through which i reached bear river, with its wide and long reaches, and descended it to st. catherine's sound. now the sea opened to full view as the canoe crossed the tidal ocean gate-way two miles to north newport river. when four miles up the newport i entered johnson's creek, which flows from north to south newport rivers. by means of the creek and the south newport river, my little craft was navigated down to the southern end of st. catherine's island to the sound of the same name, and here another inlet was crossed at sunset, and high point of sapelo island was reached. from among the green trees of the high bluff a mansion, which exhibited the taste of its builder, rose imposingly. this was, however, but one of the many edifices that are tombs of buried hopes. the proprietor, a northern gentleman, after the war purchased one-third of sapelo island for fifty-five thousand dollars in gold. he attempted, as many other enterprising northerners had done, to give the late slave a chance to prove his worth as a freedman to the world. "pay the negro wages; treat him as you would treat a white man, and he will reward your confidence with industry and gratitude." so thought and so acted the large-hearted northern colonel. he built a large mansion, engaged his freedmen, paid them for their work, and treated them like _men_. the result was ruin, and simply because he had not paused to consider that the negro had not been _born_ a freedman, and that the demoralization of slavery was still upon him. beside which facts we must also place certain ethnological and moral principles which exist in the pure negro type, and which are entirely overlooked by those philanthropic persons who have rarely, if ever, seen a full-blooded negro, but affect to understand him through his _half_-white brother, the mulatto. mud river opened its wide mouth before me as i left the inlet, but the tide was very low, and mud river is a sticking-point in the passage of the florida steamers. it became so dark that i was obliged to get near the shore to make a landing. my attempt was made opposite a negro's house which was on a bluff, but the water had receded into the very narrow channel of mud river, and i was soon stuck fast on a flat. getting overboard, i sank to my knees in the soft mud. i called for help, and was answered by a tall darky, who, with a double-barrelled gun, left his house and stood in a threatening manner on the shore. i appealed for help, and said i wished to go ashore. "den cum de best way you can," he answered in a surly manner. "what duz you want 'bout here, any way? what duz you want on choc'late plantation, anyhow?" i explained to this ugly black that i was a northern man, travelling to see the country, and wished to camp near his house for protection, and promised, if he would aid me to land, that i would convince him of my honest purpose by showing him the contents of my canoe, and would prove to him that i was no enemy to the colored man. i told him of the maps, the letters, and the blankets which were in the little canoe now so fast in the mud, and what a loss it would be if some marauder, passing on the next high tide, should steal my boat. the fellow slowly lowered his gun, which had been held in a threatening position, and said: "nobody knows his friends in dese times. i'se had a boat stealed by some white man, and spose you was cumin to steal sumting else. dese folks on de riber can't be trussed. dey steals ebryting. heaps o' bad white men 'bout nowadays sens de war. steals a nigger's chickens, boats, and ebryting dey lays hands on. up at de big house on high pint (norfen gemmin built him, and den got gusted wid cotton-planting and went home) de white folks goes and steals all de cheers and beds, and ebryting out ob de house. sens de war all rascals." it was a wearisome and dangerous job for me to navigate the canoe over the soft, slippery mud to the firm shore, as there were unfathomed places in the flats which might ingulf or entomb me at any step; but the task was completed, and i stood face to face with the now half tranquillized negro. before removing the mud that hung upon me to the waist in heavy clods, i showed the darky my chart-case, and explained the object of my mission. he was very intelligent, and, after asking a few questions, said to his son: "take dis gun to de house;" and then turning to me, continued: "dis is de sort ob man i'se am. i'se knows how to treat a friend like a white man, and i'se can fight wid my knife or my fist or my gun anybody who 'poses on me. now i'se knows you is a gemmin i'se won't treat you like a nigger. gib you best i'se got. cum to de house." when inside of the house of this resolute black, every attention was paid to my comfort. the cargo of the paper canoe was piled up in one corner of the room. the wife and children sat before the bright fire and listened to the story of my cruise. i doctored the sick pickaninny of my host, and made the family a pot of strong coffee. this negro could read, but he asked me to address a label he wished to attach to a bag of sea-island cotton of one hundred and sixty pounds' weight, which he had raised, and was to ship by the steamboat lizzie baker to a mercantile house in savannah. as i rested upon my blankets, which were spread upon the floor of the only comfortable room in the house, at intervals during the night the large form of the black stole softly in and bent over me to see if i were well covered up, and he as noiselessly piled live-oak sticks upon the dying embers to dry up the dampness which rose from the river. he brought me a basin of cold water in the morning, and not possessing a towel clean enough for a white man, he insisted that i should use his wife's newly starched calico apron to wipe my face and hands upon. when i offered him money for the night's accommodation and the excellent oyster breakfast that his wife prepared for me, he said: "you may gib my wife whateber pleases you for _her cooking_, but nuffin for de food or de lodgings. i'se no nigger, ef i is a cullud man." it was now saturday, and as i rowed through the marsh thoroughfare called new tea kettle creek, which connects mud river with doboy sound near the southern end of sapelo island, i calculated the chances of finding a resting-place for sunday. if i went up to the mainland through north and darien rivers to the town of darien, my past experience taught me that instead of enjoying rest i would become a forced exhibiter of the paper canoe to crowds of people. to avoid this, i determined to pass the day in the first hammock that would afford shelter and fire-wood; but as the canoe entered doboy sound, which, with its inlet, separates sapelo from the almost treeless wolf island, the wind rose with such violence that i was driven to take refuge upon doboy island, a small marshy territory, the few firm acres of which were occupied by the settlement and steam saw-mill of messrs. hiltons, foster & gibson, a northern lumber firm. foreign and american vessels were anchored under the lee of protecting marshes, awaiting their cargoes of sawed deals and hewn timber; while rafts of logs, which had been borne upon the currents of the altamaha and other streams from the far interior regions of pine forests, were collected here and manufactured into lumber. one of the proprietors, a northern gentleman, occupied with his family a very comfortable cottage near the store and steam saw-mill. as the doboy people had learned of the approach of the paper canoe from southern newspapers, the little craft was identified as soon as it touched the low shores of the island. i could not find any kind of hotel or lodging-place in this settlement of yankees, canadians, and negroes, and was about to leave it in search of some lone hammock, when a mechanic kindly offered me the floor of an unfinished room in an unfinished house, in which i passed my sunday trying to rest, and obtaining my meals at a restaurant kept by a negro. a member of the spaulding family, the owners of a part of sapelo island, called upon me, and seeing me in such inhospitable quarters, with fleas in hundreds invading my blankets, urged me to return with him to his island domain, where he might have an opportunity to make me comfortable. the kind gentleman little knew how hardened i had become to such annoyances as hard floors and the active flea. such inconveniences had been robbed of their discomforts by the kind voices of welcome which, with few exceptions, came from every southern gentleman whose territory had been invaded by the paper canoe. there was but one place of worship on the island, and that was under the charge of the negroes. accepting the invitation of a nephew of the resident new england proprietor of doboy island to attend "de shoutings," we set out on sunday evening for the temporary place of negro worship. a negro girl, decked with ribbons, called across the street to a young colored delinquent: "you no goes to de shoutings, sam! why fur? you neber hears me shout, honey, and dey _do_ say i shouts so pretty. cum 'long wid me now." a few blacks had collected in the small shanty, and the preacher, an old freed man, was about to read a hymn as we entered. at first the singing was low and monotonous, but it gradually swelled to a high pitch as the negroes became excited. praying followed the singing. then the black preacher set aside "de shouting" part of the service for what he considered more important interests, and discoursed upon things spiritual and temporal in this wise: "now i'se got someting to tell all of yese berry 'portant." here two young blacks got up to leave the room, but were rudely stopped by a negro putting his back against the door. "no, no," chuckled the preacher, "yese don't git off dat a-way. i'se prepared fur de ockasun. nobody gits out ob dis room till i'se had my say. jes you set down dar. now i'se goin' to do one ting, and it's dis: i'se goin' to spread de gospel all ober dis yere island of doboy. now's de time; talked long 'nuf, too long, 'bout buildin' de church. whar's yere pride? whar is it? got none! look at dis room for a church! look at dis pulpit--one flour-barrel wid one candle stickin' out ob a bottle! dat's yere pulpit. got no pride! shamed o' yeresefs! here white men comes way from new york to hear de gospel in dis yere room wid flour-barrel fur pulpit, and empty bottle fur candlestick. no more talk now. all go to work. de mill people will gib us lumber fur de new church; odders mus' gib _money_. tell ebbry cullud pusson on de island to cum on tuesday and carry lumber, and gib ebbry one what he can,--one dollar apiece, or ten cents if got no more. de white gemmins we knows whar to find when we wants dar money, but de cullud ones is berry slippery when de hat am passed round." at the termination of the preacher's exhortation, i proposed to my companion that i should present the minister with a dollar for his new church, but with a look of dismay, he replied: "oh, don't give it to the _preacher_. hand it to that other negro sitting near him. we never trust the _preacher_ with money; he always spends the church-money. we only trust him for _preaching_." monday, march st, opened fair, but the wind arose when the canoe reached three mile cut, which connects the darien with altamaha river. i went through this narrow steamboat passage, and being prevented by the wind from entering the wide altamaha, returned to the darien river and ascended it to general's cut, which, with butler river, affords a passage to the altamaha river. before entering general's cut, mistaking a large, half submerged alligator for a log on a mud bank, the canoe nearly touched the saurian before he was roused from his nap to retire into the water. general's cut penetrates a rice plantation opposite the town of darien, to butler's island, the estate of the late pierce butler, at its southern end. rice-planting, since the war, had not proved a very profitable business to the present proprietors, who deserve much praise for the efforts they have made to educate their freedmen. a profitable crop of oranges is gathered some seasons from the groves upon butler's island. from the mouth of general's cut down butler river to the altamaha was but a short row. the latter stream would have taken me to altamaha sound, to avoid which i passed through wood's cut into the south altamaha river, and proceeded through the lowland rice-plantations towards st. simon's island, which is by the sea. about the middle of the afternoon, when close to broughton island, where the south altamaha presented a wide area to the strong head-wind which was sending little waves over my canoe, a white plantation-house, under the veranda of which an elderly gentleman was sitting, attracted my attention. here was what seemed to be the last camping-ground on a route of several miles to st. simon's island. if the wind continued to blow from the same quarter, the canoe could not cross buttermilk sound that night; so i went ashore to inquire if there were any hammocks in the marshes by the river-banks between the plantation and the sound. the bachelor proprietor of broughton island, captain richard a. akin, posted me as to the route to st. simon's island, but insisted that the canoe traveller should share his comfortable quarters until the next day; and when the next day came round, and the warm sun and smooth current of the wide altamaha invited me to continue the voyage, the hospitable rice-planter thought the weather not settled enough for me to venture down to the sound. in fact, he held me a rather willing captive for several days, and then let me off on the condition that i should return at some future time, and spend a month with him in examining the sea islands and game resources of the vicinity. captain akin was a successful rice-planter on the new system of employing freedmen on wages, but while he protected the ignorant blacks in all their newly-found rights, he was a thorough disciplinarian. the negroes seemed to like their employer, and stuck to him with greater tenacity than they did to those planters who allowed them to do as they pleased. the result of lax treatment with these people is always a failure of crops. the rivers and swamps near broughton island abound in fine fishes and terrapin, while the marshes and flats of the sea islands afford excellent opportunities for the sportsman to try his skill upon the feathered tribe. on monday, march th, the maria theresa left broughton island well provisioned with the stores the generous captain had pressed upon my acceptance. the atmosphere was softened by balmy breezes, and the bright sunlight played with the shadows of the clouds upon the wide marshes, which were now growing green with the warmth of returning spring. the fish sprang from the water as i touched it with my light oars. st. simon's island,--where mr. pierce butler once cultivated sea-island cotton, and to which he took his english bride, miss kemble,--with its almost abandoned plantation, was reached before ten o'clock. frederica river carried me along the whole length of the island to st. simon's sound. when midway the island, i paused to survey what remains of the old town of frederica, of which but few vestiges can be discovered. history informs us that frederica was the first town built by the english in georgia, and was founded by general oglethorpe, who began and established the colony. the fortress was regular and beautiful, and was the largest, most regular, and perhaps most costly of any in north america of british construction. pursuing my journey southward, the canoe entered the exposed area of st. simon's sound, which, with its ocean inlet, was easily crossed to the wild and picturesque jekyl island, upon which the two bachelor brothers dubignon live and hunt the deer, enjoying the free life of lords of the forest. their old family mansion, once a haven of hospitality, where the northern tourist and shipwrecked sailor shared alike the good things of this life with the kind host, was used for a target by a gunboat during the late war, and is now in ruins. here, twenty years ago, at midnight, the slave-yacht "wanderer" landed her cargo of african negroes, the capital for the enterprise being supplied by three southern gentlemen, and the execution of the work being intrusted, under carefully drawn contracts, to boston parties. the calm weather greatly facilitated my progress, and had i not missed jekyl creek, which is the steamboat thoroughfare through the marshes to jekyl and st. andrew's sound, that whole day's experience would have been a most happy one. the mouth of jekyl creek was a narrow entrance, and being off in the sound, i passed it as i approached the lowlands, which were skirted until a passage at cedar hammock through the marsh was found, some distance from the one i was seeking. into this i entered, and winding about for some time over its tortuous course, at a late hour in the afternoon the canoe emerged into a broad watercourse, down which i could look across jekyl sound to the sea. this broad stream was jointer creek, and i ascended it to find a spot of high ground upon which to camp. it was now low water, and the surface of the marshes was three or four feet above my head. after much anxious searching, and a great deal of rowing against the last of the ebb, a forest of pines and palmetto-trees was reached on colonel's island, at a point about four miles--across the marshes and brunswick river--from the interesting old town of brunswick, georgia. the soft, muddy shores of the hammock were in one place enveloped in a thicket of reeds, and here i rested upon my oars to select a convenient landing-place. the rustling of the reeds suddenly attracted my attention. some animal was crawling through the thicket in the direction of the boat. my eyes became fixed upon the mysterious shaking and waving of the tops of the reeds, and my hearing was strained to detect the cause of the crackling of the dry rushes over which this unseen creature was moving. a moment later my curiosity was satisfied, for there emerged slowly from the covert an alligator nearly as large as my canoe. the brute's head was as long as a barrel; his rough coat of mail was besmeared with mud, and his dull eyes were fixed steadily upon me. i was so surprised and fascinated by the appearance of this huge reptile that i remained immovable in my boat, while he in a deliberate manner entered the water within a few feet of me. the hammock suddenly lost all its inviting aspect, and i pulled away from it faster than i had approached. in the gloom i observed two little hammocks, between colonel's island and the brunswick river, which seemed to be near jointer's creek, so i followed the tortuous thoroughfares until i was within a quarter of a mile of one of them. pulling my canoe up a narrow creek towards the largest hammock, until the creek ended in the lowland, i was cheered by the sight of a small house in a grove of live-oaks, to reach which i was obliged to abandon my canoe and attempt to cross the soft marsh. the tide was now rising rapidly, and it might be necessary for me to swim some inland creek before i could arrive at the upland. an oar was driven into the soft mud of the marsh and the canoe tied to it, for i knew that the whole country, with the exception of the hammock near by, would be under water at flood-tide. floundering through mud and pressing aside the tall, wire-like grass of the lowland, which entangled my feet, frequently leaping natural ditches, and going down with a thud in the mud on the other side, i finally struck the firm ground of the largest jointer hammock, when the voice of its owner, mr. r. f. williams, sounded most cheerfully in my ears as he exclaimed: "where _did_ you come from? how did you get across the marsh?" the unfortunate position of my boat was explained while the family gathered round me, after which we sat down to supper. mr. williams felt anxious about the cargo of my boat. "the coons," he said, "will scent your provisions, and tear everything to pieces in the boat. we must go look after it immediately." to go to the canoe we were obliged to follow a creek which swept past the side of the hammock, opposite to my landing-place, and row two or three miles on jointer creek. at nine o'clock we reached the locality where i had abandoned the paper canoe. everything had changed in appearance; the land was under water; not a landmark remained except the top of the oar, which rose out of the lake-like expanse of water, while near it gracefully floated my little companion. we towed her to the hammock; and after the tedious labor of divesting myself of the marsh mud, which clung to my clothes, had been crowned with success, the comfortable bed furnished by my host gave rest to limbs and nerves which had been severely overtaxed since sunset. the following day opened cloudy and windy. the ocean inlet of jekyl and st. andrew's sounds is three miles wide. from the mouth of jointer creek, across these unprotected sounds, to high point of cumberland island, is eight miles. the route from the creek to cumberland island was a risky one for so small a boat as the paper canoe while the weather continued unpropitious. after entering the sounds there was but one spot of upland, near the mouth of the satilla river, that could be used for camping purposes on the vast area of marshes. during the month of march rainy and windy weather prevail on this coast. i could ill afford to lose any time shut up in jointer's hammock by bad weather, as the low regions of okefenokee swamp were to be penetrated before the warm season could make the task a disagreeable one. after holding a consultation with mr. williams, he contracted to take the canoe and its captain across st. andrew's sound to high point of cumberland island that day. his little sloop was soon under way, and though the short, breaking waves of the sound, and the furious blasts of wind, made the navigation of the shoals disagreeable, we landed quietly at mr. chubbs' oriental hotel, at high point, soon after noon. mr. martin, the surveyor of the island, welcomed me to cumberland, and gave me much information pertaining to local matters. the next morning the canoe left the high bluffs of this beautiful sea island so filled with historic associations, and threaded the marshy thoroughfare of cumberland and brickhill river to cumberland sound. as i approached the mouth of the st. mary's river, the picturesque ruins of dungeness towered above the live-oak forest of the southern end of cumberland island. it was with regret i turned my back upon that sea, the sounds of which had so long struck upon my ear with their sweet melody. it seemed almost a moan that was borne to me now as the soft waves laved the sides of my graceful craft, as though to give her a last, loving farewell. chapter xiv. st. mary's river and the suwanee wilderness. a portage to dutton.--descent of the st. mary's river.--fÊte given by the citizens to the paper canoe.--the proposed canal route across florida.--a portage to the suwanee river.--a negro speaks on electricity and the telegraph.--a freedman's sermon. i now ascended the beautiful st. mary's river, which flows from the great okefenokee swamp. the state of georgia was on my right hand, and florida on my left. pretty hammocks dotted the marshes, while the country presented peculiar and interesting characteristics. when four miles from cumberland sound, the little city of st. mary's, situated on the georgia side of the river, was before me; and i went ashore to make inquiries concerning the route to okefenokee swamp. my object was to get information about the upper st. mary's river, from which i proposed to make a portage of thirty-five or forty miles in a westerly direction to the suwanee river, upon arriving at which i would descend to the gulf of mexico. my efforts, both at st. mary's and fernandina, on the florida side of cumberland sound, to obtain any reliable information upon this matter, were unsuccessful. a settlement at trader's hill, about seventy-five miles up the st. mary's river, was the geographical limit of local knowledge, while i wished to ascend the river at least one hundred miles beyond that point. believing that if i explored the uninhabited sources of the st. mary's, i should be compelled to return without finding any settler upon its banks at the proper point of departure for a portage to the suwanee, it became necessary to abandon all idea of ascending this river. i could not, however, give up the exploration of the route. in this dilemma, a kindly written letter seemed to solve the difficulties. messrs. dutton & rixford, northern gentlemen, who possessed large facilities for the manufacture of resin and turpentine at their new settlements of dutton, six miles from the st. mary's river, and at rixford, near the suwanee, kindly proposed that i should take my canoe by railroad from cumberland sound to dutton. from that station mr. dutton offered to transport the boat through the wilderness to the st. mary's river, which could be from that point easily descended to the sea. the suwanee river, at rixford, could be reached by rail, and the voyage would end at its debouchure on the marshy coast of the gulf of mexico. hon. david yulee, president and one-third owner of the a. g. & w. i. t. c. railroad, which connects the atlantic coast at fernandina with the gulf coast at cedar keys, offered me the free use of his long railroad, for any purpose of exploration, &c., while his son, mr. c. wickliffe yulee, exerted himself to remove all impediments to delay. these gentlemen, being native floridians, have done much towards encouraging all legitimate exploration of the peninsula, and have also done something towards putting a check on the outrageous impositions practised on northern agricultural emigrants to florida, by encouraging the organization of a railroad land-company, which offers a forty-acre homestead for fifty dollars, to be selected out of nearly six hundred thousand acres of land along their highway across the state. a man of comparatively small means can now try the experiment of making a home in the mild climate of florida, and if he afterwards abandons the enterprise there will have been but a small investment of capital, and consequently little loss. the turpentine distillery of dutton was situated in a heavy forest of lofty pines. major c. k. dutton furnished a team of mules to haul the maria theresa to the st. mary's river, the morning after my arrival by rail at dutton station. the warm sunshine shot aslant the tall pines as the teamster followed a faintly developed trail towards the swamps. before noon the flashing waters of the stream were discernible, and a little later, with paddle in hand, i was urging the canoe towards the atlantic coast. a luxurious growth of trees and shrubs fringed the low, and in some places submerged, river shores. back, on the higher, sandy soils, the yellow pine forests, in almost primeval grandeur, arose, shutting out all view of the horizon. low bluffs, with white, sandy beaches of a few rods in extent, offered excellent camping-grounds. when the cracker of okefenokee swamp is asked why he lives in so desolate a region, with only a few cattle and hogs for companions, with mosquitoes, fleas, and vermin about him, with alligators, catamounts, and owls on all sides, making night hideous, he usually replies, "wal, stranger, wood and water is so _powerful_ handy. sich privileges ain't met with everywhar." as i glided swiftly down the dark current i peered into the dense woods, hoping to be cheered by the sight of a settler's cabin; but in all that day's search not a clearing could be found, nor could i discern rising from the tree-tops of the solitary forest a little cloud of smoke issuing from the chimney of civilized man. i was alone in the vast wilds through which the beautiful river flowed noiselessly but swiftly to the sea. thoreau loved a swamp, and so do all lovers of nature, for nowhere else does she so bountifully show her vigorous powers of growth, her varied wealth of botanical wonders. here the birds resort in flocks when weary of the hot, sandy uplands, for here they find pure water, cool shade, and many a curious glossy berry for their dainty appetites. [illustration: from st. simon's sound, georgia, to cedar keys, florida. route of paper canoe maria theresa from st. simon's sd. ga. to cedar keys, fla. followed by n. h. bishop in _copyright, by lee & shepard_] as the little maria theresa sped onward through the open forest and tangled wild-wood, through wet morass and piny upland, my thoughts dwelt upon the humble life of the concord naturalist and philosopher. how he would have enjoyed the descent of this wild river from the swamp to the sea! he had left us for purer delights; but i could enjoy his "walden" as though he still lived, and read of his studies of nature with ever-increasing interest. swamps have their peculiar features. those of the waccamaw were indeed desolate, while the swamps of the st. mary's were full of sunshine for the traveller. soon after the canoe had commenced her river journey, a sharp sound, like that produced by a man striking the water with a broad, flat stick, reached my ears. as this sound was frequently repeated, and always in advance of my boat, it roused my curiosity. it proved to come from alligators. one after another slipped off the banks, striking the water with their tails as they took refuge in the river from the disturber of their peace. to observe the movements of these reptiles i ran the canoe within two rods of the left shore, and by rapid paddling was enabled to arrive opposite a creature as he entered the water. when thus confronted, the alligator would depress his ugly head, lash the water once with his tail, and dive under the canoe, a most thoroughly alarmed animal. all these alligators were mere babies, very few being over four feet long. had they been as large as the one which greeted me at colonel's island, i should not have investigated their dispositions, but would have considered discretion the better part of valor, and left them undisturbed in their sun-baths on the banks. in all my experience with the hundreds of alligators i have seen in the southern rivers and swamps of north america, every one, both large and small, fled at the approach of man. the experience of some of my friends in their acquaintance with american alligators has been of a more serious nature. it is well to exercise care about camping at night close to the water infested with large saurians, as one of these strong fellows could easily seize a sleeping man by the leg and draw him into the river. they do not seem to fear a recumbent or bowed figure, but, like most wild animals, flee before the _upright_ form of man. late in the afternoon i passed an island, made by a "cut-off" through a bend of the river, and, according to previous directions, counted fourteen bends or reaches in the river which was to guide me to stewart's ferry, the owner of which lived back in the woods, his cabin not being discernible from the river. near this spot, which is occasionally visited by lumbermen and piny-woods settlers, i drew my canoe on to a sandy beach one rod in length. a little bluff, five or six feet above the water, furnished me with the broad leaves of the saw-palmetto, a dwarfish sort of palm, which i arranged for a bed. the provision-basket was placed at my head. a little fire of light-wood cheered me for a while, but its bright flame soon attracted winged insects in large numbers. having made a cup of chocolate, and eaten some of captain akin's chipped beef and crackers, i continued my preparations for the night. feeling somewhat nervous about large alligators, i covered myself with a piece of painted canvas, which was stiff and strong, and placed the little revolver, my only weapon, under my blanket. as i fully realized the novelty of my strange position in this desolate region, it was some time before i could compose myself and sleep. it was a night of dreams. sounds indistinct but numerous troubled my brain, until i was fully roused to wakefulness by horrible visions and doleful cries. the chuck-will's-widow, which in the south supplies the place of our whippoorwill, repeated his oft-told tale of "chuck-will's-widow, chuck-will's-widow," with untiring earnestness. the owls hooted wildly, with a chorus of cries from animals and reptiles not recognizable by me, excepting the snarling voices of the coons fighting in the forest. these last were old acquaintances, however, as they frequently gathered round my camp at night to pick up the remains of supper. while i listened, there rose a cry so hideous in its character and so belligerent in its tone, that i trembled with fear upon my palm-leaf mattress. it resembled the bellowing of an infuriated bull, but was louder and more penetrating in its effect. the proximity of this animal was indeed unpleasant, for he had planted himself on the river's edge, near the little bluff upon which my camp had been constructed. the loud roar was answered by a similar bellow from the other side of the river, and for a long time did these two male alligators keep up their challenging cries, without coming to combat. numerous wood-mice attacked my provision-basket, and even worked their way through the leaves of my palmetto mattress. thus with an endless variety of annoyances the night wore wearily away, but the light of the rising sun did not penetrate the thick fog which enveloped the river until after eight o'clock, when i embarked for a second day's journey upon the stream, which had now attained a width of five or six rods. rafts of logs blocked the river as i approached the settlement of trader's hill, and upon a most insecure footing the canoe was dragged over a quarter of a mile of logs, and put into the water on the lower side of the "jam." crossing several of these log "jams," which covered the entire width of the st. mary's, i became weary of the task, and, after the last was reached, determined to go into camp until the next day, when suddenly the voices of men in the woods were heard. soon a gentleman, with two raftsmen, appeared and kindly greeted me. they had been notified of my approach at trader's hill by a courier sent from dutton across the woods, and these men, whose knowledge of woodcraft is wonderful, had timed my movements so correctly that they had arrived just in time to meet me at this point. the two raftsmen rubbed the canoe all over with their hands, and expressed delight at its beautiful finish in their own peculiar vernacular. "she's the dog-gonedest thing i ever seed, and jist as putty as a new coffin!" exclaimed one. "indeed, she's the handsomest trick i ever did blink on," said the second. the two stalwart lumbermen lifted the boat as though she were but a feather, and carried her, jumping from log to log, the whole length of the raft. they then put her gently in the water, and added to their farewell the cheering intelligence that "there's no more jams nor rafts 'twixt here and the sea, and you can go clar on to new york if you like." trader's hill, on a very high bluff on the left bank, was soon passed, when the current seemed suddenly to cease, and i felt the first tidal effect of the sea, though many miles from the coast. the tide was flooding. i now laid aside the paddle, and putting the light steel outriggers in their sockets, rapidly rowed down the now broad river until the shadows of night fell upon forest and stream, when the comfortable residence of mr. lewis davis, with his steam saw-mill, came into sight upon orange bluff, on the florida side of the river. here a kind welcome greeted me from host and hostess, who had dwelt twenty years in this romantic but secluded spot. there were orange-trees forty years old on this property, and all in fine bearing order. there was also a fine sulphur spring near the house. mr. davis stated that, during a residence of twenty years in this charming locality, he had experienced but one attack of chills. he considered the st. mary's river, on account of the purity of its waters, one of the healthiest of southern streams. the descent of this beautiful river now became a holiday pastime. though there were but few signs of the existence of man, the scenery was of a cheering character. a brick-kiln, a few saw-mills, and an abandoned rice-plantation were passed, while the low salt-marshes, extending into the river from the forest-covered upland, gave evidence of the proximity to the sea. large alligators were frequently seen sunning themselves upon the edges of the banks. at dusk the town of st. mary's, in its wealth of foliage, opened to my view from across the lowlands, and soon after the paper canoe was carefully stored in a building belonging to one of its hospitable citizens, while local authority asserted that i had traversed one hundred and seventy-five miles of the river. one evening, while enjoying the hospitality of mr. silas fordam, at his beautiful winter home, "orange hall," situated in the heart of st. mary's, a note, signed by the hon. j. m. arnow, mayor of the city, was handed me. mr. arnow, in the name of the city government, invited my presence at the spencer house. upon arriving at the hotel, a surprise awaited me. the citizens of the place had gathered to welcome the paper canoe and its owner, and to express the kindly feelings they, as southern citizens, held towards their northern friends. the hotel was decorated with flags and floral emblems, one of which expressed, in its ingeniously constructed words, wrought in flowers, "_one hundred thousand welcomes_." the mayor and his friends received me upon the veranda of the hotel with kind words of welcome. bright lights glimmered at this moment through the long avenue of trees, and music arose upon the night air. it was a torchlight procession coming from the river, bearing upon a framework structure, from which hung chinese lanterns and wreaths of laurel, the little paper canoe. the base-ball club of the city, dressed in their handsome uniform, carried the "maria theresa," while the sailors from the lumber fleet in the river, with the flags of several nationalities, brought up the rear. when the procession arrived in front of the hotel, three hearty cheers were given by the people, and the mayor read the city's address of welcome to me; to which i made reply, not only in behalf of myself, but of all those of my countrymen who desired the establishment of a pure and good government in every portion of our dear land. mayor arnow presented me with an engrossed copy of his speech of welcome, in which he invited all industrious northerners to come to his native city, promising that city ordinances should be passed to encourage the erection of manufactories, &c., by northern capital and northern labor. after the address, the wife of the mayor presented me with two memorial banners, in the name of the ladies of the city. these were made for the occasion, and being the handiwork of the ladies themselves, were highly appreciated by the recipient. when these graceful tributes had been received, each lady and child present deposited a bouquet of flowers, grown in the gardens of st. mary's, in my little craft, till it contained about four hundred of these refined expressions of the good-will of these kind people. not only did the native population of the town vie with each other to accord the lonely voyager a true southern welcome, but mr. a. curtis, an english gentleman, who, becoming fascinated with the fine climate of this part of georgia, had settled here, did all he could to show his appreciation of canoe-travelling, and superintended the marine display and flag corps of the procession. i left st. mary's with a strange longing to return to its interesting environs, and to study here the climatology of southern georgia, for, strange to say, cases of local "fever and chills" have never originated in the city. it is reached from savannah by the inside steamboat route, or by rail, to fernandina, with which it is connected by a steamboat ferry eight miles in length. speculation not having yet affected the low valuation placed upon property around st. mary's, northern men can obtain winter homes in this attractive town at a very low cost. this city is a port of entry. mr. joseph shepard, a most faithful government officer, has filled the position of collector of customs for several years. as vessels of considerable tonnage can ascend the st. mary's river from the sea on a full tide to the wharves of the city, its citizens prophesy a future growth and development for the place when a river and canal route across the peninsula between the atlantic ocean and the gulf of mexico shall have been completed. for many years colonel raiford has been elaborating his plan "for elongating the western and southern inland system of navigation to harbors of the atlantic ocean." he proposes to unite the natural watercourses of the coast of the gulf of mexico by short canals, so that barges drawing seven feet of water, and freighted with the produce of the mississippi river and its tributaries, may pass from new orleans eastward to the southern ports of the atlantic states. the great peninsula of florida would be crossed by these vessels from the suwanee to the st. mary's river by means of a canal cut through the okefenokee swamp, and this route would save several hundred miles of navigation upon open ocean waters. the dangerous coral reefs of the florida and bahama shores would be avoided, and a land-locked channel of thirty thousand miles of navigable watercourses would be united in one system. lieutenant-colonel q. a. gilmore's report on "water line for transportation from the mouth of the st. mary's river, on the atlantic coast, through okefenokee swamp and the state of florida to the gulf of mexico," in which the able inquirer discusses this water route, has recently been published. i traversed a portion of this route in - , from the head of the ohio river to new orleans, and along the shores of the gulf of mexico to cedar keys, in a cedar duck-boat; and as the results of my observations may some day be made public, i will at this time refer the reader, if he be interested in the important enterprise, to the congressional reports which describe the feasibility of the plan. another portage by rail was made in order to complete my journey to the gulf of mexico, and rixford, near the suwanee river, was reached via the a. g. & w. i. t. c. railroad to baldwin, thence over the j. p. & m. railroad to live oak, where another railroad from the north connects, and along which, a few miles from live oak, messrs. dutton & rixford had recently established their turpentine and resin works. at rixford i found myself near the summit, or backbone of florida, from which the tributaries of the water-shed flow on one side to the atlantic ocean, and on the other to the gulf of mexico. it was a high region of rolling country, heavily wooded with magnificent pine forests, rich in terebinthine resources. the residence of the proprietor, the store and the distillery, with a few log cabins inhabited by negroes and white employés, made up the establishment of rixford. the crackers and negroes came from long distances to see the paper boat. one afternoon, when a number of people had gathered at rixford to behold the little craft, i placed it on one of those curious sheets of water of crystal purity called in that region a _sink_; and though this nameless, mirror-like lakelet did not cover over an acre in extent, the movements of the little craft, when propelled by the double paddle, excited an enthusiasm which is seldom exhibited by the piny-woods people. as the boat was carefully lifted from the silvery tarn, one woman called out in a loud voice, "lake theresa!" and thus, by mutual consent of every one present, did this lakelet of crystal waters receive its name. the blacks crowded around the canoe, and while feeling its firm texture, and wondering at the long distance it had traversed, expressed themselves in their peculiar and original way. one of their number, known as a "tonguey nigger," volunteered to explain the wonder to the somewhat confused intellects of his companions. to a question from one negro as to "how did dis yere yankee-man cum all dis fur way in de _paper_ canoe, all hissef lone?" the "_educated_" negro replied: "it's all de lord. no man ken cum so fur in a _paper_ boat ef de lord didn't help him. de lord does eberyting. he puts de tings in de yankee-man's heads to du um, an' dey duz um. dar was de big franklin up norf, dat made de telegraf. did ye eber har tell ob him?" "neber, neber!" responded all the negroes. then, with a look of supreme contempt for the ignorance of his audience, the orator proceeded: "dis great franklin, _cap'n_ franklin, he tort he'd kotch de litening and make de telegraf; so he flies a big kite way up to de heabens, an' he puts de string in de bottle dat hab nufing in it. den he holds de bottle in one hand, an' he holds de cork in de udder hand. down cums de litening and fills de bottle _full up_, and cap'n franklin he dun cork him up mighty quick, and kotched de litening an' made de telegraf. but it was de lord--de lord, not cap'n franklin--dat did all dis." it was amusing to watch the varied expression of the negroes, as they listened to this description of the discovery of electricity, and the origin of the telegraph. their eyes dilated with wonder, and their thick lips parted till the mouth, growing wider and wider, seemed to cover more than its share of the face. the momentary silence was soon broken by a deep gurgle proceeding from a stolid-looking negro, as he exclaimed: "did he kotch de bottle _full_ ob litening, and _cork_ him up. golly! i tort he wud hab _busted_ hissef!" "so he wud! so he wud!" roared the orator, "but ye see 'twas all de lord--de lord's a-doing it." while in florida i paid some attention to the negro method of conducting praise meetings, which they very appropriately call "de shoutings." if i give some verbatim reports of the negro's curious and undignified clerical efforts, it is not done for the purpose of caricaturing him, nor with a desire to make him appear destitute of mental calibre; but rather with the hope that the picture given may draw some sympathy from the liberal churches of the north, which do not forget the african in his native jungle, nor the barbarous islanders of the south seas. a well-informed roman catholic priest told me that he had been disappointed with the progress his powerfully organized church had made in converting the freedmen. before going among them i had supposed that the simple-minded black, now no longer a slave, would be easily attracted to the impressive ceremonies of the church of rome; but after witnessing the activity of their devotions, and observing how anxious they are to take a conspicuous and a leading part in all religious services, it seemed to me that the free black of the south would take more naturally to methodism than to any other form of christianity. the appointment of _local preachers_ would be especially acceptable to the negro, as he would then be permitted to have ministers of his own color, and of his own neighborhood, to lead the meetings; while the roman catholic priest would probably treat him more like a child, and would therefore exercise a strong discipline over him. in one of their places of worship, at my request, a new york lady, well skilled in rapid writing and familiar with the negro vernacular, reported verbatim the negro preacher's sermon. the text was the parable of the ten virgins; and as the preacher went on, he said: "five ob dem war wise an' five of dem war foolish. de wise jes gone an' dun git dar lamps _full up ob oil_, and git rite in and see de bridegoom; an' de foolish dey sot dem rite down on de stool ob do-noting, an' dar dey sot till de call cum; den dey run, pick up der ole lamps and try to push door in, but de lord say to dem, 'git out dar! you jes git out dar!' an' shut door rite in dar face. "my brudders and my sisters, yer must fill de lamps wid de gospel an' de edication ob moses, fur moses war a larned man, an' edication is de _mos estaminable blessin'_ a pusson kin hab in dis world. "hole-on to de gospel! ef you see dat de flag am tore, get hole somewhar, keep a grabblin until ye git hole ob de stick, an' nebah gib up de stick, but grabble, grabble till ye die; for dough yer sins be as black as scarlet, dey shall be white as snow." the sermon over, the assembled negroes then sung in slow measure: "lit-tell chil-ern, you'd bet-tar be-a-lieve-- lit-tell chil-ern, you'd bet-tar be-a-lieve-- lit-tell chil-ern, you'd bet-tar be-a-lieve-- i'll git home to heav-en when i die. sweet heav-en ain-a-my-ain, sweet heav-en ain-a-my-ain, sweet heav-en ain-a-my-ain, i'll git home to _heav-en_ when i die. lord wish-ed i was in heav-en, fur to see my mudder when she enter, fur to see her tri-als an' long white robes: she'll shine like cristul in de sun. sweet heav-en ain-a-my-ain, sweet heav-en ain-a-my-ain, sweet heav-en ain-a-my-ain, i'll git home to heav-en when i die." while visiting a town in georgia, where the negroes had made some effort to improve their condition, i made a few notes relating to the freedman's debating society of the place. affecting high-sounding words, they called their organization, "de lycenum," and its doings were directed by a committee of two persons, called respectively, "de disputaceous visitor," and "de lachrymal visitor." what particular duties devolved upon the "lachrymal visitor," i could never clearly ascertain. one evening these negroes debated upon the following theme, "which is de best--when ye are out ob a ting, or when ye hab got it?" which was another form of expressing the old question, "is there more pleasure in possession than in anticipation?" another night the colored orators became intensely excited over the query, "which is de best, _spring-water_ or matches?" the freedmen, for so unfortunate a class, seem to be remarkably well behaved. during several journeys through the southern states i found them usually temperate, and very civil in their intercourse with the whites, though it must be confessed that but few of them can apply themselves steadily and persistently to manual labor, either for themselves or their employers. chapter xv. down upon the suwanee river. the rich foliage of the river.--columbus.--rolins' bluff.--old town hammock.--a hunter killed by a panther.--dangerous serpents.--clay landing.--the marshes of the coast.--bradford's island.--my last camp.--the voyage ended. some friends, among whom were colonel george w. nason, jr., of massachusetts, and major john purviance, commissioner of suwanee county, offered to escort the paper canoe down "the river of song" to the gulf of mexico, a distance, according to local authority, of two hundred and thirty-five miles. while the members of the party were preparing for the journey, colonel nason accompanied me to the river, which was less than three miles from rixford, the proprietors of which sent the canoe after us on a wagon drawn by mules. the point of embarkation was the lower mineral springs, the property of judge bryson. the suwanee, which was swollen by some recent rains in okefenokee swamp, was a wild, dark, turbulent current, which went coursing through the woods on its tortuous route with great rapidity. the luxuriant foliage of the river-banks was remarkable. maples were in blossom, beech-trees in bloom, while the buckeye was covered with its heavy festoons of red flowers. pines, willows, cotton-wood, two kinds of hickory, water-oak, live-oak, sweet-gum, magnolia, the red and white bay-tree, a few red-cedars, and haw-bushes, with many species not known to me, made up a rich wall of verdure on either side, as i sped along with a light heart to columbus, where my _compagnons de voyage_ were to meet me. wood-ducks and egrets, in small flocks, inhabited the forest. the limestone banks of the river were not visible, as the water was eighteen feet above its low summer level. i now passed under the railroad bridge which connects live oak with savannah. after a steady row of some hours, my progress was checked by a great boom, stretched across the river to catch the logs which floated down from the upper country. i was obliged to disembark and haul the canoe around this obstacle, when, after passing a few clearings, the long bridge of the j. p. & m. railroad came into view, stretching across the now wide river from one wilderness to the other. on the left bank was all that remained of the once flourishing town of columbus, consisting now of a store, kept by mr. allen, and a few buildings. before the railroad was built, columbus possessed a population of five hundred souls, and it was reached, during favorable stages of water, by light-draught steamboats from cedar keys, on the gulf of mexico. the building of railroads in the south has diverted trade from one locality to another, and many towns, once prosperous, have gone to decay. the steam saw-mills and village of ellaville were located on the river-bank opposite columbus, and this lumber establishment is the only place of importance between it and cedar keys. this far-famed river, to which the heart of the minstrel's darky "is turning eber," is, in fact, almost without the "one little hut among de bushes," for it is a wild and lonely stream. even in the most prosperous times there were but few plantations upon its shores. wild animals roam its great forests, and vile reptiles infest the dense swamps. it is a country well fitted for the hunter and lumberman, for the naturalist or canoeist; but the majority of people would, i am sure, rather hear of it poured forth in song from the sweet lips of christina nilsson, than to be themselves "way down upon the suwanee ribber." on monday, march d, messrs. nason, purviance, and henderson joined me. the party had obtained a northern-built shad-boat, which had been brought by rail from savannah. it was sloop-rigged, and was decked forward, so that the enthusiastic tourists possessed a weatherproof covering for their provisions and blankets. with the strong current of the river, a pair of long oars, and a sail to be used when favorable winds blew, the party in the shad-boat could make easy and rapid progress towards the gulf, while my lightly dancing craft needed scarcely a touch of the oar to send her forward. on tuesday, the d, we left columbus, while a crowd of people assembled to see us off, many of them seeming to consider this simple and delightful way of travelling too dangerous to be attempted. the smooth but swift current rolled on its course like a sea of molten glass, as the soft sunlight trembled through the foliage and shimmered over its broad surface. our boats glided safely over the rapids, which for a mile and a half impede the navigation of the river during the summer months, but which were now made safe by the great depth of water caused by the freshet. the weather was charming, and our little party, fully alive to all the beautiful surroundings, woke many an echo with sounds meant to be sweet. of course the good old song was not forgotten. our best voice sang: "way down up-on de suwanee rib-ber, far, far away, dere's whar my heart is turn-ing eb-ber, dere's whar de old folks stay. all up and down de whole creation sadly i roam, still longing for de old plantation, and for de old folks at home. "all round de little farm i wander'd when i was young; den many happy days i squan-der'd-- many de songs i sung. when i was playing wid my brud-der, hap-py was i. o! take me to my kind old mud-der, dere let me live and die! "one little hut among de bushes,-- one dat i love,-- still sadly to my mem'ry rushes, no matter where i rove. when will i see de bees a-hum-ming all round de comb? when will i hear de ban-jo tum-ming down in my good old home?" we all joined in the chorus at the end of each verse: "all de world am sad and dreary eb-ry-whar i roam. o, darkies, how my heart grows weary, far from de old folks at home." we soon entered forests primeval which were quiet, save for the sound of the axe of the log-thief, for timber-stealing is a profession which reaches its greatest perfection on the florida state lands and united states naval reserves. uncle sam's territory is being constantly plundered to supply the steam saw-mills of private individuals in florida. several of the party told interesting stories of the way in which log-thieves managed to steal from the government _legally_. "there," said one, "is x, who runs his mill on the largest tract of pine timber uncle sam has got. he once bought a few acres' claim adjacent to a fine naval reserve. he was not, of course, able to discover the boundary line which separated his little tract from the rich government reserve, so he kept a large force of men cutting down uncle sam's immense pines, and, hauling them to the suwanee, floated them to his mill. this thing went on for some time, till the government agent made his appearance and demanded a settlement. "the wholesale timber-thief now showed a fair face, and very frankly explained that he supposed he had been cutting logs from his own territory, but quite recently he had discovered that he had really been trespassing on the property of his much-loved country, and as he was truly a loyal citizen, he desired to make restitution, and was now ready to settle. "the government agent was astonished at the seeming candor of the man, who so worked upon his sympathy that he promised to be as easy upon him as the law allowed. the agent settled upon a valuation of fifty cents an acre for all the territory that had been cut over. 'and now,' said he, 'how many acres of land have you "logged" since you put your lumbermen into the forest?' "mr. x declared himself unable to answer this question, but generously offered to permit the agent to put down any number of acres he thought would represent a fair thing between a kind government and one of its unfortunate citizens. intending to do his duty faithfully, the officer settled upon two thousand acres as having been trespassed upon; but to his astonishment the incomprehensible offender stoutly affirmed that he had logged fully five thousand acres, and at once settled the matter in full by paying twenty-five hundred dollars, taking a receipt for the same. "when this enterprising business-man visited jacksonville, his friends rallied him upon confessing judgment to government for three thousand acres of timber more than had been claimed by the agent. this true _patriot_ winked as he replied: "'it is true i hold a receipt from the government for the timber on five thousand acres at the very low rate of fifty cents an acre. as i have not yet cut logs from more than one-fifth of the tract, _i intend to work off the timber on the other four thousand acres at my leisure_, and no power can stop me now i have the government receipt to show it's paid for.'" the sloop and the canoe had left columbus a little before noon, and at six p. m. we passed charles' ferry, where the old st. augustine and tallahassee forest road crosses the river. at this lonely place an old man, now dead, owned a subterranean spring, which he called "mediterranean passage." this spring is powerful enough to run a rickety, "up-and-down" saw-mill. the great height of the water allowed me to paddle into the mill with my canoe. at half past seven o'clock a deserted log cabin at barrington's ferry offered us shelter for the night. the whole of the next day we rowed through the same immense forests, finding no more cultivated land than during our first day's voyage. we landed at a log cabin in a small clearing to purchase eggs of a poor woman, whose husband had shot her brother a few days before. as the wife's brother had visited the cabin with the intention of killing the husband, the woman seemed to think the murdered man had "got his desarts," and, as a coroner's jury had returned a verdict of "justifiable homicide," the affair was considered settled. below this cabin we came to island no. , where rapids trouble boatmen in the summer months. now we glided gently but swiftly over the deep current. the few inhabitants we met along the banks of the suwanee seemed to carry with them an air of repose while awake. to rouse them from mid-day slumbers we would call loudly as we passed a cabin in the woods, and after considerable delay a man would appear at the door, rubbing his eyes as though the genial sunlight was oppressive to his vision. it was indeed a quiet, restful region, this great wilderness of the suwanee. we passed mrs. goodman's farm and log buildings on the left bank, just below island no. , before noon, and about this time major purviance shot at a large wild turkey (_meleagris gallopavo_), knocking it off a bank into the water. the gobbler got back to land, and led us a fruitless chase into the thicket of saw-palmetto. he knew his ground better than we, for, though wounded, he made good his escape. we stopped a few moments at troy, which, though dignified in name, consists only of a store and some half dozen buildings. a few miles below this place, on the left bank of the river, is an uninhabited elevation called rolins' bluff, from which a line running north ° east, twenty-three miles and a half in length, will strike live oak. a charter to connect live oak with this region of the suwanee by means of a railroad had just passed the florida legislature, but had been killed by the veto of the governor. after sunset the boats were secured in safe positions in front of a deserted cabin, round which a luxuriant growth of bitter-orange trees showed what nature could do for this neglected grove. the night air was balmy, and tremulous with insect life, while the alligators in the swamps kept up their bellowings till morning. after breakfast we descended to the mouth of the santa fé river, which was on the left bank of the suwanee. the piny-woods people called it the santaffy. the wilderness below the santa fé is rich in associations of the seminole indian war. many relics have been found, and, among others, on the site of an old indian town, entombed in a hollow tree, the skeletons of an indian adult and child, decked with beads, were discovered. fort fanning is on the left bank, and old town hammock on the right bank of the suwanee. during the seminole war, the hammock and the neighboring fastnesses became the hiding-places of the persecuted indians, and so wild and undisturbed is this region, even at this time, that the bear, lynx, and panther take refuge from man in its jungles. colonel j. l. f. cottrell left his native virginia in , and commenced the cultivation of the virgin soil of old town hammock. each state has its peculiar mode of dividing its land, and here in florida this old plantation was in township , section , range . the estate included about two thousand acres of land, of which nearly eleven hundred were under cultivation. the slaves whom the colonel brought from virginia were now his tenants, and he leased them portions of his arable acres. he considered this locality as healthy as any in the suwanee country. the old planter's home, with its hospitable doors ever open to the stranger, was embowered in live-oaks and other trees, from the branches of which the graceful festoons of spanish moss waved in the soft air, telling of a warm, moist atmosphere. a large screw cotton-press and corn-cribs, with smoke-house and other plantation buildings, were conveniently grouped under the spreading branches of the protecting oaks. the estate produced cotton, corn, sweet potatoes, cattle, hogs, and poultry. deer sometimes approached the enclosed fields, while the early morning call of the wild turkey came from the thickets of the hammock. in this retired part of florida, cheered by the society of a devoted wife and four lovely daughters, lived the kind-hearted gentleman who not only pressed upon us the comforts of his well-ordered house, but also insisted upon accompanying the paper canoe from his forest home to the sea. when gathered around the firesides of the backwoods people, the conversation generally runs into hunting stories, indian reminiscences, and wild tales of what the pioneers suffered while establishing themselves in their forest homes. one event of startling interest had occurred in the suwanee country a few weeks before the paper canoe entered its confines. two hunters went by night to the woods to shoot deer by firelight. as they stalked about, with light-wood torches held above their heads, they came upon a herd of deer, which, being bewildered by the glare of the lights, made no attempt to escape. sticking their torches in the ground, the hunters stretched themselves flat upon the grass, to hide their forms from the animals they hoped to kill at their leisure. one of the men was stationed beneath the branches of a large tree; the other was a few yards distant. [illustration: the panther's leap.] before the preconcerted signal for discharging their rifles could be given, the sound of a heavy body falling to the ground, and an accompanying smothered shriek, startled the hunter who was farthest from the tree. starting up in alarm, he flew to the assistance of his friend, whose prostrate form was covered by a large panther, which had pounced upon him from the overhanging limb of the great oak. it had been but the work of an instant for the powerful cougar to break with his strong jaws the neck of the poor backwoodsman. in this rare case of a panther (_felis concolor_) voluntarily attacking man, it will be noted by the student of natural history that the victim was lying upon the ground. probably the animal would not have left his perch among the branches of the oak, where he was evidently waiting for the approach of the deer, if the _upright_ form of the man had been seen. go to a southern bayou, which is rarely, if ever, visited by man, and where its saurian inhabitants have never been annoyed by him,--place your body in a recumbent position on the margin of the lagoon, and wait until some large alligator slowly rises to the surface of the water. he will eye you for a moment with evident curiosity, and will in some cases steadily approach you. when the monster reptile is within two or three rods of your position, rise slowly upon your feet to your full height, and the alligator of the southern states--the _a. mississippiensis_--will, in nine cases out of ten, retire with precipitation. there are but few wild animals that will attack man willingly when face to face with him; they quail before his erect form. in every case of the animals of north america showing fight to man, which has been investigated by me, the beasts have had no opportunity to escape, or have had their young to defend, or have been wounded by the hunter. it was nearly ten o'clock a. m. on friday, march th, when our merry party left old town hammock. this day was to see the end of the voyage of the paper canoe, for my tiny craft was to arrive at the waters of the great southern sea before midnight. the wife and daughters of our host, like true women of the forest, offered no forebodings at the departure of the head of their household, but wished him, with cheerful looks, a pleasant voyage to the gulf. the gulf port of cedar keys is but a few miles from the mouth of the suwanee river. the railroad which terminates at cedar keys would, with its connection with other routes, carry the members of our party to their several homes. the bright day animated our spirits, as we swept swiftly down the river. the party in the shad-boat, now called "adventurer," rowed merrily on with song and laughter, while i made an attempt to examine more closely the character of the water-moccasin--the _trigono cephalus-piscivorus_ of lacepede,--which i had more cause to fear than the alligators of the river. the water-moccasin is about two feet in length, and has a circumference of five or six inches. the tail possesses a horny point about half an inch in length, which is harmless, though the crackers and negroes stoutly affirm that when it strikes a tree the tree withers and dies, and when it enters the flesh of a man he is poisoned unto death. the color of the reptile is a dirty brown. never found far from water, it is common in the swamps, and is the terror of the rice-field negroes. the bite of the water-moccasin is exceedingly venomous, and it is considered more poisonous than that of the rattlesnake, which warns man of his approach by sounding his rattle. the moccasin does not, like the rattlesnake, wait to be attacked, but assumes the offensive whenever opportunity offers, striking with its fangs at every animated object in its vicinity. all other species of snakes flee from its presence. it is found as far north as the peedee river of south carolina, and is abundant in all low districts of the southern states. as the suwanee had overflowed its banks below old town hammock, the snakes had taken to the low limbs of the trees and to the tops of bushes, where they seemed to be sleeping in the warmth of the bright sunlight; but as i glided along the shore a few feet from their aerial beds, they discovered my presence, and dropped sluggishly into the water. it would not be an exaggeration to say that we passed thousands of these dangerous reptiles while descending the suwanee. raftsmen told me that when traversing lagoons in their log canoes, if a moccasin is met some distance from land he will frequently enter the canoe for refuge or for rest, and instances have been known where the occupant has been so alarmed as to jump overboard and swim ashore in order to escape from this malignant reptile. the only place worthy of notice between old town hammock and the gulf marshes is clay landing, on the left bank of the river, where mrs. tresper formerly lived in a very comfortable house. clay landing was used during the confederate war as a place of deposit for blockade goods. archer, a railroad station, is but twenty miles distant, and to it over rough roads the contraband imports were hauled by mule teams, after having been landed from the fleet blockade-runner. as the sun was sinking to rest, and the tree-shadows grew long on the wide river's bosom, we tasted the saltness in the air as the briny breezes were wafted to us over the forests from the gulf of mexico. after darkness had cast its sombre mantle upon us, we left the "east pass" entrance to the left, and our boats hurried on the rapidly ebbing tide down the broad "west pass" into the great marshes of the coast. an hour later we emerged from the dark forest into the smooth savannas. the freshness of the sea-air was exhilarating. the stars were shining softly, and the ripple of the tide, the call of the heron, or the whirr of the frightened duck, and the leaping of fishes from the water, were the only sounds nature offered us. it was like entering another world. in these lowlands, near the mouth of the river, there seemed to be but one place above the high-tide level. it was a little hammock, covered by a few trees, called bradford's island, and rose like an oasis in the desert. the swift tide hurried along its shores, and a little farther on mingled the waters of the great wilderness with that of the sea. our tired party landed on a shelly beach, and burned a grassy area to destroy sand-fleas. this done, some built a large camp-fire, while others spread blankets upon the ground. i drew the faithful sharer of my long voyage near a thicket of prickly-pears, and slept beside it for the last time, never thinking or dreaming that one year later i should approach the mouth of the suwanee from the west, after a long voyage of twenty-five hundred miles from the head of the ohio river, and would again seek shelter on its banks. it was a night of sweet repose. the camp-fire dissipated the damps, and the long row made rest welcome. a glorious morning broke upon our party as we breakfasted under the shady palms of the island. behind us rose the compact wall of dark green of the heavy forests, and along the coast, from east to west, as far as the eye could reach, were the brownish-green savanna-like lowlands, against which beat, in soft murmurs, the waves of that sea i had so longed to reach. from out the broad marshes arose low hammocks, green with pines and feathery with palmetto-trees. clouds of mist were rising, and while i watched them melt away in the warm beams of the morning sun, i thought they were like the dark doubts which curled themselves about me so long ago in the cold st. lawrence, now all melted by the joy of success. the snow-clad north was now behind me. the maria theresa danced in the shimmering waters of the great southern sea, and my heart was light, for my voyage was over. [illustration: no. . the voyage ended.] +----------------------------------------------------+ | | |transcriber's note: | | | |roundout in chapter vi page has been changed | |to rondout. | | | |grave-yard in the introduction to chapter x page | |has been changed to graveyard. | | | |caliboque sound in the introduction to chapter xii | |page has been changed to calibogue sound. | | | |the use of quotation marks in the original when | |block quoting verse has been retained. | | | +----------------------------------------------------+ transcriber's note: the dagger symbol is denoted by the [+] sign the asterism symbol is denoted by ** * * * * * [illustration] a thousand miles in the rob roy canoe on rivers and lakes of europe. by j. macgregor, m.a., trinity college, cambridge; barrister at law: with numerous illustrations and a map. _sixth thousand._ london: sampson low, son, and marston milton house, ludgate-hill. . (_the right of translation reserved._) preface. the voyage about to be described was made last autumn in a small canoe, with a double paddle and sails, which the writer managed alone. the route led sometimes over mountains and through forests and plains, where the boat had to be carried or dragged. the waters navigated were as follows:-- the rivers thames, sambre, meuse, rhine, main, danube, reuss, aar, ill, moselle, meurthe, marne, and seine. the lakes titisee, constance, unter see, zurich, zug, and lucerne, together with six canals in belgium and france, and two expeditions in the open sea of the british channel. temple, london, _april , _. the author's profits from the first and second editions, were given to the royal national life-boat institution and to the shipwrecked mariners' society. list of illustrations. page rapids of the reuss (_frontispiece_). -- sea rollers in the channel swimming herd on the meuse singers' waggon on the danube a crowd in the morning haymakers amazed night surprise at gegglingen the rob roy in a bustle sailing upon lake zug shirking a waterfall a critical moment astride the stern the rob roy and the cow polite to the ladies group of french fishers passing a dangerous barrier a choked canal rigging ashore route of the canoe (_map_) chart of currents and rocks contents. chapter i. page canoe travelling--other modes--the rob roy--hints--tourists--the rivers--the dress--i and we chapter ii. the start--the nore--porpoises--a gale--the channel--ostend canal--river meuse--earl of aberdeen--holland--the rhine--the premier's son--river main--heron stalking--the prince of wales chapter iii. hollenthal pass--ladies--black forest--night music--beds--lake titisee--pontius pilate--storm--starers--banket--four in hand--source of the danube chapter iv. river donau--singers--shady nooks--geisingen--mill weirs--rapids--morning crowd--donkey's stable--islands--monks--spiders--concert--fish--a race chapter v. sigmaringen--treacherous trees--congress of herons--flying dutchman--tub and shovel--bottle race--snags--bridge perils--ya vol--ferry rope--benighted--ten eggs chapter vi. day-dream--river iller--ulm--a stiff king--lake constance--seeing in the dark--switzerland--coloured canvas--sign talk--synagogue--amelia--gibberish chapter vii. fog--fancy pictures--boy soldiers--boat's billet--eating--lake zurich--crinoline--hot walk--staring--lake zug--swiss shots--fishing britons--talk-book chapter viii. sailing on lucerne--seeburg--river scenes--night and snow--the reuss--a dear dinner--seeing a rope--passing a fall--sullen roar--bremgarten rapids chapter ix. hunger--music at the mill--sentiment and chops--river limmat--fixed on a fall--river aar--rhine again--douaniers--falls of lauffenburg--the cow cart chapter x. field of foam--precipice--puzzled--philosophy--rheinfelden rapids--dazzled--lower rapids--astride--fate of the four-oar--very salt--ladies--whirlpool--funny english--insulting a baby--bride chapter xi. private concert--thunderer--la hardt forest--mulhouse canal--river ill--reading stories--madame nico--night noises--pets--ducking--the vosges mountains--admirers--boat on wheels--new wine chapter xii. bonfire--my wife--matthews--tunnel picture--imposture--fancy--moselle--cocher--saturday review tracts--gymnastics--the paddle--a spell--overhead--feminine forum--public breakfast chapter xiii. river moselle--the tramp--halcyon--painted woman--beating to quarters--boat in a hedge--river meurthe--moving house--tears of a mother--five francs chapter xiv. ladies in muslin--chalons camp--officers shouting--volunteers' umbrella--reims--leaks--madame clicquot--heavy blow--the elephant--first cloud chapter xv. meaux on the marne--hammering--popish forms--wise dogs--blocked in a tunnel--a dry voyage--arbour and garret--odd fellows--dream on the seine--almost over--no admittance--charing-cross appendix. hints for canoists--the rob roy's stores--chart of rocks and currents--the kent--danger--exercise--sun--walking machine--odds and ends--future voyages chapter i. canoe travelling--other modes--the rob roy--hints--tourists--the rivers--the dress--i and we--the election. the object of this book is to describe a new mode of travelling on the continent, by which new people and things are met with, while healthy exercise is enjoyed, and an interest ever varied with excitement keeps fully alert the energies of the mind. some years ago the water lily was rowed by four men on the rhine and on the danube, and its "log" delighted all readers. afterwards, the boat water witch laboured up french rivers, and through a hundred tedious locks on the bâle canal. but these and other voyages of three or five men in an open boat were necessarily very limited. in the wildest parts of the best rivers the channel is too narrow for oars, or, if wide, it is too shallow for a row-boat; and the tortuous passages, the rocks and banks, the weeds and snags, the milldams, barriers, fallen trees, rapids, whirlpools, and waterfalls that constantly occur on a river winding among hills, make those very parts where the scenery is wildest and best to be quite unapproachable in an open boat, for it would be swamped by the sharp waves, or upset over the sunken rocks which it is utterly impossible for a steersman to see. but these very things, which are obstacles or dangers to the "pair oar," become interesting features to the voyager in a covered canoe. for now, as he sits in his little bark, he looks forward, and not backward. he sees all his course, and the scenery besides. with one powerful sweep of his paddle he can instantly turn the canoe, when only a foot distant from fatal destruction. he can steer within an inch in a narrow place, or pass through reeds and weeds, branches and grass; can hoist and lower his sail without changing his seat; can shove with his paddle when aground, or jump out in good time to prevent a decided smash. he can wade and haul the light craft over shallows, or drag it on dry ground, through fields and hedges, over dykes, barriers, and walls; can carry it by hand up ladders and stairs, and can transport his boat over high mountains and broad plains in a cart drawn by a horse, a bullock, or a cow. nay, more than this, the covered canoe is far stronger than an open boat, and may be fearlessly dropped headforemost into a deep pool, a lock, or a millrace, and yet, when the breakers are high, in the open sea or in fresh water rapids, they can only wash over the covered deck, while it is always dry within. again, the canoe is safer than a rowing-boat, because you sit so low in it, and never require to shift your place or lose hold of the paddle; while for comfort during long hours, for days and weeks of hard work, it is evidently the best, because you lean all the time against a backboard, and the moment you rest the paddle on your lap you are as much at ease as in an arm-chair; so that, while drifting along with the current or the wind, you can gaze around, and eat or read or chat with the starers on the bank, and yet, in a moment of sudden danger, the hands are at once on the faithful paddle ready for action. finally, you can lie at full length in the canoe, with the sail as an awning for the sun, or a shelter for rain, and you can sleep in it thus at night, under cover, with an opening for air to leeward, and at least as much room for turning in your bed as sufficed for the great duke of wellington; or, if you are tired of the water for a time, you can leave your boat at an inn--it will not be "eating its head off," like a horse; or you can send it home or sell it, and take to the road yourself, or sink into the dull old cushions of the "première classe," and dream you are seeing the world. with such advantages, then, and with good weather and good health, the canoe voyage about to be described was truly delightful, and i never enjoyed so much continuous pleasure in any other tour. but, before this deliberate assertion has weight with intending "canoists," it may well be asked from one who thus praises the paddle, "has he travelled in other ways, so as to know their several pleasures? has he climbed glaciers and volcanoes, dived into caves and catacombs, trotted in the norway carriole, ambled on an arab, and galloped on the russian steppes? does he know the charms of a nile boat, or a trinity eight, or a sail in the Ægean, or a mule in spain? has he swung upon a camel, or glided in a sleigh, or trundled in a rantoone?" yes, he has most thoroughly enjoyed these and other modes of locomotion in the four corners of the world; but the pleasure in the canoe was far better than all. the weather last summer was, indeed, exceptionally good; but then rain would have diminished some of the difficulties, though it might have been a bore to paddle ten hours in a downpour. two inches more of water in the rivers would have saved many a grounding and wading, while, at worst, the rain could have wetted only the upper man, which a cape can cover; so, even in bad weather, give me the canoe. messrs. searle and sons, of lambeth, soon built for me the very boat i wanted. the rob roy is built of oak, and covered fore and aft with cedar. she is made just short enough to go into the german railway waggons; that is to say, fifteen feet in length, twenty-eight inches broad, nine inches deep, weighs eighty pounds, and draws three inches of water, with an inch of keel. a paddle seven feet long, with a blade at each end, and a lug sail and jib, are the means of propulsion; and a pretty blue silk union jack is the only ornament. the elliptic hole in which i sit is fifty-four inches long and twenty broad, and has a macintosh cover fastened round the combing and to a button on my breast; while between my knees is my baggage for three months, in a black bag one foot square and five inches deep. but, having got this little boat, the difficulty was to find where she could go to, or what rivers were at once feasible to paddle on, and pretty to see. inquiries in london as to this had no result. even the paris boat club knew nothing of french rivers. the best german and austrian maps were frequently wrong. they made villages on the banks which i found were a mile away in a wood, and so were useless to one who had made up his mind (a good resolve) never to leave his boat. it was soon, therefore, evident that, after quitting the rhine, this was to be a voyage of discovery. and as i would most gladly have accepted any hints on the matter myself, so i venture to hope that this narrative will lessen the trouble, while it stimulates the desire of the numerous travellers who will spend their vacation in a canoe.[i.] [i.] see appendix. special hints for those who intend to "canoe it" will usually be given in the footnotes, or in the appendix. not that i shall attempt to make a "handbook" to any of the streams. the man who has a spark of enterprise would turn from a river of which every reach was mapped and its channels all lettered. fancy the free traveller, equipped for a delicious summer of savage life, quietly submitting to be cramped and tutored by a "chart of the upper mosel," in the style of the following extracts copied literally from two guide-books;-- ( ) "turn to the r. (right), cross the brook, and ascend by a broad and steep forest track (in min.) to the hamlet of albersbach, situate in the midst of verdant meadows. in five min. more a cross is reached, where the path to the l. must be taken; in min. to the r., in the hollow, to the saw mill; in min. more through the gate to the r.; in min. the least trodden path to the l. leading to the gaschpels hof; after / hr. the stony track into the wood must be ascended," &c., &c.--_from b----'s rhine, p. _. ( ) "_to the ridge of the riffelberg_ , ft. _hotel_ on top very good. hrs. up. guide fr. horse and man fr. path past the church: then l. over fields; then up through a wood hr. past châlets: then r. across a stream."-- _----'s handbook_. this sort of guide-book is not to be ridiculed. it is useful for some travellers as a ruled copy-book is of use to some writers. for first tours it may be needful and pleasant to have all made easy, to be carried in steamers or railways like a parcel, to stop at hotels anglified by the crowd of english guests, and to ride, walk, or drive among people who know already just what you will want to eat, and see, and do. year after year it is enough of excitement to some tourists to be shifted in squads from town to town, according to the routine of an excursion ticket. those who are a little more advanced will venture to devise a tour from the mazy pages of bradshaw, and with portmanteau and bag, and hat-box and sticks, they find more than enough of judgment and tact is needed when they arrive in a night train, and must fix on an omnibus in a strange town. safe at last in the bedroom of the hotel, they cannot but exclaim with satisfaction "well, here we are all right at last!" but after mountains and caves, churches and galleries, ruins and battle-fields have been pretty well seen, and after tact and fortitude have been educated by experience, the tourist is ready for new lines of travel which might have given him at first more anxiety than pleasure, and these he will find in deeper searches among the natural scenery and national character of the very countries he has only skimmed before. the rivers and streams on the continent are scarcely known to the english tourist, and the beauty and life upon them no one has well seen. in his guide-book route, indeed, from town to town, the tourist has crossed this and that stream--has admired a few yards of the water, and has then left it for ever. he is carried again on a noble river by night in a steamboat, or is whisked along its banks in a railway, and, between two tunnels, gets a moment's glimpse at the lovely water, and lo! it is gone. but a mine of rich beauty remains there to be explored, and fresh gems of life and character are waiting there to be gathered. these are not mapped and labelled and ticketed in any handbook yet; and far better so, for the enjoyment of such treasures is enhanced to the best traveller by the energy and pluck required to get at them. on this new world of waters we are to launch the boat, the man, and his baggage, for we must describe all three, "arma virumque canoe." so what sort of dress did he wear? the clothes i took for this tour consisted of a complete suit of grey flannel for use in the boat, and another suit of light but ordinary dress for shore work and sundays. the "norfolk jacket" is a loose frock-coat, like a blouse, with shoulder-straps, and belted at the waist, and garnished by six pockets. with this excellent new-fashioned coat, a something in each of its pockets, and a cambridge straw hat, canvas wading shoes, blue spectacles, a waterproof overcoat, and my spare jib for a sun shawl, there was sure to be a full day's enjoyment in defiance of rain or sun, deeps or shallows, hunger or _ennui_. four hours' work to begin, and then three of rest or floating, reading or sailing, and again, a three hours' heavy pull, and then with a swim in the river or a bath at the inn, a change of garments and a pleasant walk, all was made quite fresh again for a lively evening, a hearty dinner, talk, books, pictures, letters, and bed. now i foresee that in the description of this tour i shall have to write "i," and the word "me" must be used by me very often indeed; but having the misfortune to be neither an emperor, an editor, nor a married man, who can speak in the plural, i cannot help it if i am put down as a bachelor _egotist_, reserving the "we" for myself and my boat. the manner of working the double-bladed paddle was easily learned by a few days' practice on the thames, and so excellent is the exercise for the muscles of the limbs and body that i have continued it at intervals, even during the winter, when a pretty sharp "look out" must be kept to pilot safely among the red and yellow lights of steamers, barges, embankments, and bridges in an evening's voyage from putney to westminster. all being ready and the weather very hot at the end of july, when the country had caught the election fever, and m.p.'s had run off to scramble for seats, and the lawyers had run after them to thicken the bustle, and the last bullet at wimbledon had come "thud" on the target, it was time for the rob roy to start. chapter ii. the start. the thames--the cornwall--porpoises--a gale--the channel--ostend canal--the meuse--earl of aberdeen--holland--the rhine--the premier's son--the river main--heron stalking--the prince of wales. the rob roy bounded away joyously on the top of the tide through westminster bridge, and swiftly shooting the narrow piles at blackfriars, danced along the waves of the pool, which looked all golden in the morning sun, but were in fact of veritable pea-soup hue. a fine breeze at greenwich enabled me to set the new white sail, and we skimmed along with a cheery hissing sound. at such times the river is a lively scene with steamers and sea-bound ships, bluff little tugs, and big looming barges. i had many a chat with the passing sailors, for it was well to begin this at once, seeing that every day afterwards i was to have talk with the river folk in english, french, dutch, german, or else some hotchpotch patois. the bargee is not a bad fellow if you begin with good humour, but he will not stand banter. often they began the colloquy with, "holloah you two!" or "any room inside?" or "got your life insured, gov'nor?" but i smiled and nodded to every one, and every one on every river and lake was friendly to me. gravesend was to be the port for the night, but purfleet looked so pretty that i took a tack or two to reconnoitre, and resolved to stop at the very nice hotel on the river, which i beg to recommend. while lolling about in my boat at anchor in the hot sun a fly stung my hand; and although it was not remarked at once, the arm speedily swelled, and i had to poultice the hand at night and to go to church next day with a sling, which appendage excited a great deal of comment in the village sunday-school. this little incident is mentioned because it was the only occasion on which any insect troubled me on the voyage, though several croakers had predicted that in rivers and marshes there would be hundreds of wasps, venomous flies, and gnats, not to mention other residents within doors. just as i entered the door of the quiet little church, an only gentleman about to go in fell down dead in the path. it was impossible not to be much impressed with this sudden death as a solemn warning, especially to one in vigorous health. the "cornwall" reformatory school-ship is moored at purfleet. some of the boys came ashore for a walk, neatly clad and very well behaved. captain burton, who commands this interesting vessel, received me on board very kindly, and the evening service between decks was a sight to remember for ever. about boys sat in rows along the old frigate's main-deck, with the open ports looking on the river, now reddened by a setting sun, and the cool air pleasantly fanning us. the lads chanted the psalms to the music of a harmonium, played with excellent feeling and good taste, and the captain read a suitable portion from some selected book, and then prayer was offered; and all this was by and for poor vagrant boys, whose claim on society is great indeed if measured by the wrong it has done them in neglect if not in precept, nay, even in example. next morning the canoe was lowered down a ladder from the hay-loft, where it had been kept (it had to go up into many far more strange places in subsequent days), and the cornwall boys bid me a pleasant voyage--a wish most fully realized indeed. after taking in supplies at gravesend, i shoved off into the tide, and lit a cigar, and now i felt i had fairly started. then there began a strange feeling of _freedom_ and _novelty_ which lasted to the end of the tour. something like it is felt when you first march off with a knapsack ready to walk anywhere, or when you start alone in a sailing-boat for a long cruise. but then in walking you are bounded by every sea and river, and in a common sailing-boat you are bounded by every shallow and shore; whereas, i was in a canoe, which could be paddled or sailed, hauled, or carried over land or water to rome, if i liked, or to hong-kong. the wind was fair again, and up went my sail. the reaches got wider and the water more salt, but i knew every part of the course, for i had once spent a fortnight about the mouth of the thames in my pretty little sailing-boat, the kent, alone, with only a dog, a chart, a compass, and a bachelor's kettle. the new steamer alexandra, which plies from london daily, passed me here, its high-terraced american decks covered with people, and the crowd gave a fine loud cheer to the rob roy, for the newspapers had mentioned its departure. presently the land seemed to fade away at each side in pale distance, and the water was more sea than river, till near the nore we entered a great shoal of porpoises. often as i have seen these harmless and agile playfellows i had never been so close to them before, and in a boat so small as to be almost disregarded by them, wily though they be. i allowed the canoe to rock on the waves, and the porpoises frequently came near enough to be struck by my paddle, but i did not wage war, for a flap of a tail would have soon turned me upside down. after a pleasant sail to southend and along the beach, the wind changed, and a storm of heavy rain had to be met in its teeth by taking to the paddle, until near shoeburyness, where i meant to stop a day or two in the camp of the national artillery association, which was assembled here for its first prize shooting. the royal artillery received us volunteers on this occasion with the greatest kindness, and as they had appropriated quarters of officers absent on leave for the use of members of the council of the association, i was soon comfortably ensconced. the camp, however, in a wet field was moist enough; but the fine tall fellows who had come from yorkshire, somerset, or aberdeen to handle the -pounders, trudged about in the mud with good humour and thick boots, and sang round the camp-fire in a drizzle of rain, and then pounded away at the targets next day, for these were volunteers of the right sort. as the wind had then risen to a gale it seemed a good opportunity for a thorough trial of the canoe in rough water, so i paddled her to a corner where she would be least injured by being thrown ashore after an upset, and where she would be safe while i might run to change clothes after a swim. the buoyancy of the boat astonished me, and her stability was in every way satisfactory. in the midst of the waves i even managed to rig up the mast and sail, and as i had no baggage on board and so did not mind being perfectly wet through in the experiments, there was nothing left untried, and the confidence then gained for after times was invaluable. early next morning i started directly in the teeth of the wind, and paddled against a very heavy sea to southend, where a nice warm bath was enjoyed while my clothes were getting dried, and then the rob roy had its first railway journey in one of the little cars on the southend pier to the steamboat. it was amusing to see how much interest and curiosity the canoe excited even on the thames, where all kinds of new and old and wonderful boats may be seen. the reasons for this i never exactly made out. some wondered to see so small a boat at sea, others had never seen a canoe before, the manner of rowing was new to most, and the sail made many smile. the graceful shape of the boat pleased others, the cedar covering and the jaunty flag, and a good many stared at the captain's uniform, and they stared more after they had asked, "where are you going to?" and were often told, "i really do not know." from sheerness to dover was the route, and on the branch line train the rob roy had to be carried on the coals in the engine-tender, with torrents of rain and plenty of hot sparks driven into her by the gale; but after some delay at a junction the canoe was formally introduced to a baggage-waggon and ticketed like a portmanteau, the first of a series of transits in this way. the london chatham and dover railway company took this new kind of "box" as passengers' luggage, so i had nothing to pay, and the steamer to ostend was equally large-hearted, so i say, "canoemen, choose this channel." but before crossing to belgium i had a day at dover, where i bought some stuff and had a jib made for the boat by deft and fair fingers, had paddled the rob roy on the green waves which toss about off the pier-head most delectably. the same performance was repeated on the top of the swell, tumbling and breaking on the "digue"[ii.] at ostend, where, even with little wind, the rollers ran high on a strong ebb tide. fat bathers wallowed in the shallows, and fair ones, dressed most bizarre, were swimming like ducks. all of these, and the babies squalling hysterically at each dip, were duly admired; and then i had a quieter run under sail on their wide and straight canal. [illustration: rollers off the digue.] [ii.] at ostend i found an english gentleman preparing for a voyage on the danube, for which he was to build a "centre board" boat. although no doubt a sailing boat could reach the danube by the bamberg canal, yet, after four tours on that river from its source as far as pest, i am convinced that to trust to sailing upon it would entail much tedious delay, useless trouble, and constant anxiety. if the wind is ahead you have all the labour of tacking, and are frequently in slack water near the banks, and often in channels where the only course would be dead to windward. if the wind is aft the danger of "running" is extreme where you have to "broach to" and stop suddenly near a shallow or a barrier. with a strong side wind, indeed, you can sail safely, but this must come from north or south, and the high banks vastly reduce its effect. with just a little persuasion the railway people consented to put the canoe in the baggage-van, and to charge a franc or two for "extra luggage" to brussels. here she was carried on a cart through the town to another station, and in the evening we were at namur, where the rob roy was housed for the night in the landlord's private parlour, resting gracefully upon two chairs. two porters carried her through the streets next morning, and i took a paddle on the sambre, but very soon turned down stream and smoothly glided to the meuse. glancing water, brilliant sun, a light boat, and a light heart, all your baggage on board, and on a fast current,--who would exchange this for any diligence or railway, or steamboat, or horse? a pleasant stream was enough to satisfy at this early period of the voyage, for the excitement of rocks and rapids had not yet become a charm. it is good policy, too, that a quiet, easy, respectable sort of river like the meuse should be taken in the earlier stage of a water tour, when there is novelty enough in being on a river at all. the river-banks one would call tame if seen from shore are altogether new when you open up the vista from the middle of the stream. the picture that is rolled sideways to the common traveller now pours out from before you, ever enlarging from a centre, and in the gentle sway of the stream the landscape seems to swell on this side and on that with new things ever advancing to meet you in succession. how careful i was at the first shallow! getting out and wading as i lowered the boat. a month afterwards i would dash over them with a shove here and a stroke there in answer to a hoarse croak of the stones at the bottom grinding against my keel. and the first barrier--how anxious it made me, to think by what means shall i get over. a man appeared just in time (n.b.--they _always_ do), and twopence made him happy for his share of carrying the boat round by land, and i jumped in again as before. sailing was easy, too, in a fine wide river, strong and deep, and with a favouring breeze, and when the little steamer passed i drew alongside and got my penny roll and penny glass of beer, while the wondering passengers (the first of many amazed foreigners) smiled, chattered, and then looked grave--for was it not indecorous to laugh at an englishman evidently mad, poor fellow? the voyage was chequered by innumerable little events, all perfectly different from those one meets on shore, and when i came to the forts at huy and knew the first day's work was done, the persuasion was complete that quite a new order of sensations had been set going. next morning i found the boat safe in the coach-house and the sails still drying on the harness-pegs, where we had left them, but the ostler and all his folks were nowhere to be seen. everybody had gone to join the long funeral procession of a great musician, who lived fifty years at huy, though we never heard of him before, or of huy either; yet you see it is in our map at page . the pleasure of meandering with a new river is very peculiar and fascinating. each few yards brings a novelty, or starts an excitement. a crane jumps up here, a duck flutters there, splash leaps a gleaming trout by your side, the rushing sound of rocks warns you round that corner, or anon you come suddenly upon a millrace. all these, in addition to the scenery and the people and the weather, and the determination that you _must_ get on, over, through, or under every difficulty, and cannot leave your boat in a desolate wold, and ought to arrive at a house before dark, and that your luncheon bag is long since empty; all these, i say, keep the mind awake, which would perchance dose away for miles in a first-class carriage. it is, as in the voyage of life, that our cares and hardships are our very mentors of living. our minds would only vegetate if all life were like a straight canal, and we in a boat being towed along it. the afflictions that agitate the soul are as its shallows, rocks, and whirlpools, and the bark that has not been tossed on billows knows not half the sweetness of the harbour of rest. the river soon got fast and lively, and hour after hour of vigorous work prepared me well for breakfast. trees seemed to spring up in front and grow tall, but it was only because i came rapidly towards them. pleasant villages floated as it were to meet me, gently moving. all life got to be a smooth and gliding thing, of dreamy pictures and far-off sounds, without fuss and without dust or anything sudden or loud, till at length the bustle and hammers of liege neared the rob roy--for it was always the objects and not myself that seemed to move. here i saw a fast steamer, the seraing, propelled by water forced from its sides, and as my boat hopped and bobbed in the steamer's waves we entered a dock together, and the canoe was soon hoisted into a garden for the night. gun-barrels are the rage in liege. everybody there makes or carries or sells gun-barrels. even women walk about with twenty stocked rifles on their backs, and each rifle, remember, weighs lbs. they sell plenty of fruit in the market, and there are churches well worth a visit here, but gun-barrels, after all, are the prevailing idea of the place. however, it is not my purpose to describe the towns seen on this tour. i had seen liege well, years before, and indeed almost every town mentioned in these pages. the charm then of the voyage was not in going to strange lands, but in seeing old places in a new way. here at length the earl of aberdeen met me, according to our plans arranged long before. he had got a canoe built for the trip, but a foot longer and two inches narrower than the rob roy, and, moreover, made of fir instead of strong oak. it was sent from london to liege, and the "combing" round the edge of the deck was broken in the journey, so we spent some hours at a cabinet-maker's, where it was neatly mended. launching our boats unobserved on the river, we soon left liege in the distance and braved the hot sun. the pleasant companionship of two travellers, each quite free in his own boat, was very enjoyable. sometimes we sailed, then paddled a mile or two, or joined to help the boats over a weir, or towed them along while we walked on the bank for a change.[iii.] [iii.] frequent trials afterwards convinced me that towing is only useful if you feel very cramped from sitting. and this constraint is felt less and less as you get accustomed to sit ten or twelve hours at a time. experience enables you to make the seat perfectly comfortable, and on the better rivers you have so frequently to get out that any additional change is quite needless. towing is slower progress than paddling, even when your arms are tired, though my canoe was so light to tow that for miles i have drawn it by my little finger on a canal. each of us took whichever side of the river pleased him best, and we talked across long acres of water between, to the evident surprise of sedate people on the banks, who often could see only one of the strange elocutionists, the other being hidden by bushes or tall sedge. when talking thus aloud had amplified into somewhat uproarious singing, the chorus was far more energetic than harmonious, but then the briton is at once the most timid and shy of mortal travellers, and the most _outré_ and singular when he chooses to be free. the midday beams on a river in august are sure to conquer your fresh energies at last, and so we had to pull up at a village for bread and wine. the moment i got into my boat again a shrill whining cry in the river attracted my attention, and it came from a poor little boy, who had somehow fallen into the water, and was now making his last faint efforts to cling to a great barge in the stream. naturally i rushed over to save him, and my boat went so fast and so straight that its sharp prow caught the hapless urchin in the rear, and with such a pointed reminder too that he screamed and struggled and thus got safely on the barge, which was beyond his reach, until thus roughly but fortunately aided. on most of the belgian, german, and french rivers there are excellent floating baths, an obvious convenience which i do not recollect observing on a single river in britain, though in summer we have quite as many bathers as there are abroad. the floating baths consist of a wooden framework, say feet long, moored in the stream, and through which the water runs freely, while a set of strong bars and chains and iron network forms a false bottom, shallow at one end and deeper at the other, so that the bather cannot be carried away by the current. round the sides there are bathing boxes and steps, ladders, and spring boards for the various degree of aquatic proficiency. the youths and even the little boys on the rhine are very good swimmers, and many of them dive well. sometimes there is a ladies' bath of similar construction, from which a good deal of very lively noise may be heard when the fair bathers are in a talkative mood. the soldiers at military stations near the rivers are marched down regularly to bathe, and one day we found a large number of young recruits assembled for their general dip. while some were in the water others were firing at the targets for ball practice. there were three targets, each made of cardboard sheets, fastened upon wooden uprights. a marker safely protected in a ball-proof _mantelet_ was placed so close to these targets that he could see all three at once. one man of the firing party opposite each target having fired, his bullet passed through the pasteboard and left a clear round hole in it, while the ball itself was buried in the earth behind, and so could be recovered again, instead of being dashed into fragments as on our iron targets, and then spattered about on all sides, to the great danger of the marker and everybody else. when three men had thus fired, signals were made by drum, flag, and bugle, and the firing ceased. the marker then came out and pointed to the bullet-mark on each target, and having patched up the holes he returned within his mantelet, and the firing was resumed. this very safe and simple method of ball practice is much better than that used in our military shooting. once as we rounded a point there was a large herd of cattle swimming across the stream in close column, and i went right into the middle of them to observe how they would welcome a stranger. in the nile you see the black oxen swim over the stream night and morning, reminding you of pharaoh's dream about the "kine" coming up out of the river, a notion that used to puzzle in boyhood days, but which is by no means incongruous when thus explained. the bible is a book that bears full light to be cast upon it, for truth looks more true under more light. we had been delayed this morning in our start, and so the evening fell sombre ere we came near the resting-place. this was the town of maastricht, in holland, and it is stated to be one of the most strongly fortified places in europe; that is, of the old fashion, with straight high walls quite impervious to the armstrong and whitworth guns--of a century gone by. [illustration: cattle swimming the meuse. page .] but all we knew as we came near it at night was, that the stream was good and strong, and that no lights appeared. emerging from trees we were right in the middle of the town, but where were the houses? had they no windows, no lamps, not even a candle? two great high walls bounded the river, but not a gate or port could we find, though one of us carefully scanned the right and the other cautiously scraped along the left of this very strange place. it appears that the commerce and boats all turn into a canal above the old tumble-down fortress, and so the blank brick sides bounded us thus inhospitably. soon we came to a bridge, looming overhead in the blackness, and our arrival there was greeted by a shower of stones from some dutch lads upon it, pattering pitilessly upon the delicate cedar-covered canoes. turning up stream, and after a closer scrutiny, we found a place where we could cling to the wall, which here sloped a little with debris, and now there was nothing for it but to haul the boats up bodily over the impregnable fortification, and thus carry them into the sleepy town. no wonder the _octroi_ guard stared as his lamplight fell on two gaunt men in grey, carrying what seemed to him a pair of long coffins, but he was a sensible though surprised individual, and he guided us well, stamping through the dark deserted streets to an hotel. though the canoes in a cart made a decided impression at the railway-station next day, and arguments logically proved that the boats must go as baggage, the porters were dense to conviction, and obdurate to persuasion, until all at once a sudden change took place; they rushed at us, caught up the two neglected "batteaux," ran with them to the luggage-van, pushed them in, and banged the door, piped the whistle, and as the train went off--"do you know why they have yielded so suddenly?" said a dutchman, who could speak english. "not at all," said we. "because i told them one of you was the son of the prime minister, and the other lord russell's son." but a change of railway had to be made at aix-la-chapelle, and after a hard struggle we had nearly surrendered the boats to the "merchandise train," to limp along the line at night and to arrive "perhaps to-morrow." indeed the superintendent of that department seemed to clutch the boats as his prize, but as he gloried a little too loudly, the "chef" of the passengers' baggage came, listened, and with calm mien ordered for us a special covered truck, and on arriving at cologne there was "nothing to pay."[iv.] [iv.] this is an exceptional case, and i wrote from england to thank the officer. it would be unreasonable again to expect any baggage to be thus favoured. a canoe is at best a clumsy inconvenience in the luggage-van, and no one can wonder that it is objected to. in france the railway _fourgons_ are shorter than in other countries, and the officials there insisted on treating my canoe as merchandise. the instances given above show what occurred in belgium and holland. in germany little difficulty was made about the boat as luggage. in switzerland there was no objection raised, for was not i an english traveller? as for the english railway guards, they have the good sense to see that a long light article like a canoe can be readily carried on the top of a passenger carriage. probably some distinct rules will be instituted by the railways in each country, when they are found to be liable to a nautical incursion, but after all one can very well arrange to walk or see sights now and then, while the boat travels slower by a goods-train. to be quiet we went to the belle vue, at deutz, which is opposite cologne, but a great singing society had its gala there, and sang and drank prodigiously. next day (sunday too) this same quiet deutz had a "schutzen fest," where the man who had hit the target best was dragged about in an open carriage with his wife, both wearing brass crowns, and bowing royally to a screaming crowd, while blue lights glared and rockets shot up in the serene darkness. at cologne, while lord a. went to take our tickets at the steamer, the boats were put in a handcart, which i shoved from behind as a man pulled it in front. in our way to the river i was assailed by a poor vagrant sort of fellow, who insisted on being employed as a porter, and being enraged at a refusal he actually took up a large stone and ran after the cart in a threatening passion. i could not take my hands from the boats, though in fear that his missile would smash them if he threw it, but i kicked up my legs behind as we trotted along. one of the sentries saw the man's conduct, and soon a policeman brought him to me as a prisoner, but as he trembled now with fear more than before with anger, i declined to make any charge, though the police pressed this course, saying, "travellers are sacred here." this incident is mentioned because it was the sole occasion when any discourtesy happened to me during this tour. we took the canoes by steamer to a wide part of the rhine at bingen. here the scenery is good, and we spent an active day on the river, sailing in a splendid breeze, landing on islands, scudding about in steamers' waves, and, in fact, enjoying a combination of yacht voyage, pic-nic, and boat race. this was a fine long day of pleasure, though in one of the sudden squalls my canoe happened to ground on a bank just at the most critical time, and the bamboo mast broke short. the uncouth and ridiculous appearance of a sail falling overboard is like that of an umbrella turned inside out in a gust of wind. but i got another stronger mast, and made the broken one into a boom. lord aberdeen went by train to inspect the river nahe, but reported unfavourably; and i paddled up from its mouth, but the water was very low. few arguments were needed to stop me from going against stream; for i have a profound respect for the universal principle of gravitation, and quite allow that in rowing it is well to have it with you by always going down stream, and so the good rule was to make steam, horse, or man take the canoe against the current, and to let gravity help the boat to carry me down. time pressed for my fellow-paddler to return to england, so we went on to mayence, and thence by rail to asschaffenburg on the main. the canoes again travelled in grand state, having a truck to themselves; but instead of the stately philosopher superintendent of aix-la-chapelle, who managed this gratuitously, we had a fussy little person to deal with, and to pay accordingly,--the only case of decided cheating i can recollect during the voyage. a fellow-passenger in the railway was deeply interested about our tour; and we had spoken of its various details for some time to him before we found that he supposed we were travelling with "two small cannons," mistaking the word "canôts" for "canons." he had even asked about their length and weight, and had heard with perfect placidity that our "canons" were fifteen feet long, and weighed eighty pounds, and that we took them only for "plaisir," not to sell. had we carried two pet cameleopards, he probably would not have been astonished. the guests at the german inn of this long-named town amused us much by their respectful curiosity. our dress in perfect unison, both alike in grey flannel, puzzled them exceedingly; but this sort of perplexity about costume and whence why and whither was an everyday occurrence for months afterwards with me. a fine breeze enabled us to start on the river main under sail, though we lost much time in forcing the boats to do yachts' work; and i am inclined to believe that sailing on rivers is rather a mistake unless with a favourable wind. the main is an easy stream to follow, and the scenery only so-so. a storm of rain at length made it lunch-time, so we sheltered ourselves in a bleak sort of arbour attached to an inn, where they could give us only sour black bread and raw bacon. eating this poor cheer in a wet, rustling breeze and pattering rain, half-chilled in our macintoshes, was the only time i fared badly, so little of "roughing it" was there in this luxurious tour. fine weather came soon again and pleasure,--nay, positive sporting; for there were wild ducks quite impudent in their familiarity, and herons wading about with that look of injured innocence they put on when you dare to disturb them. so my friend capped his revolver-pistol, and i acted as a pointer dog, stealing along the other side of the river, and indicating the position of the game with my paddle. vast trouble was taken. lord a. went ashore, and crawled on the bank a long way to a wily bird, but, though the sportsman had shown himself at wimbledon to be one of the best shots in the world, it was evidently not easy to shoot a heron with a pocket revolver. as the darker shades fell, even this rather stupid river became beautiful; and our evening bath was in a quiet pool, with pure yellow sand to rest on if you tired in swimming. at hanau we stopped for the night. the wanderings and turnings of the main next day have really left no impression on my memory, except that we had a pleasant time, and at last came to a large schloss, where we observed on the river a boat evidently english. while we examined this craft, a man told us it belonged to the prince of wales, "and he is looking at you now from the balcony." for this was the duchess of cambridge's schloss at rumpenheim, and presently a four-in-hand crossed the ferry, and the prince and princess of wales drove in it by the river-side, while we plied a vigorous paddle against the powerful west wind until we reached frankfort, where our wet jackets were soon dried at the _russie_, one of the best hotels in europe. the frankfort boatmen were much interested next day to see the two english canoes flitting about so lightly on their river; sometimes skimming the surface with the wind, and despising the contrary stream; then wheeling about, and paddling hither and thither in shallows where it seemed as if the banks were only moist. on one occasion we both got into my canoe, and it supported the additional weight perfectly well, which seemed to prove that the dimensions of it were unnecessarily large for the displacement required. however, there was not room for both of us to use our paddles comfortably in the same canoe. on the sunday, the royal personages came to the english church at frankfort, and, with that quiet behaviour of good taste which wins more admiration that any pageantry, they walked from the place of worship like the rest of the hearers. there is a true grandeur in simplicity when the occasion is one of solemn things. next day my active and pleasant companion had to leave me on his return to england. not satisfied with a fortnight's rifle practice at wimbledon, where the best prize of the year was won by his skill, he must return to the moors and coverts for more deadly sport; and the calls of more important business, besides, required his presence at home. he paddled down the rhine to cologne, and on the way several times performed the difficult feat of hooking on his canoe to a steamer going at full speed. meantime, my boat went along with me by railway to freyburg, from whence the new voyage was really to begin, for as yet the rob roy had not paddled in parts unknown. chapter iii. höllenthal pass--ladies--black forest--night music--beds--lake titisee--pontius pilate--storm--starers--singers--source of the danube. planning your summer tour is one of the most agreeable of occupations. it is in june or july that the foreign bradshaw becomes suddenly of intense interest, and the well-known pages of "steamers and railways"--why, it is worth while being a bachelor to be able to read each of these as part of your sketched-out plan, and (oh, selfish thought!) to have only one mind to consult as to whither away. all this pleasure is a good deal influenced, however, by true answers to these questions,--have you worked hard in working time, so as to be entitled to play in these playhours? is this to be a vacation of refreshment, or an idle lounge and killing of time? are you going off to rest, and to recruit delicate health, or with vigour to enjoy a summer of active exertion? but now the infallible bradshaw could not help me with the canoe one iota, and baedeker was not written for a boat; so at freyburg my plans resolved themselves into the simple direction, "go at once to the source of the danube." next morning, therefore, found the rob roy in a cart, and the grey-clothed traveller walking beside it on the dusty höllenthal road. the gay, light-hearted exultation of being strong and well, and on a right errand, and with unknown things to do and places to see and people to meet, who can describe this? how easy it is at such times to be glad, and to think this is being "thankful." after moralizing for a few miles, a carriage full of english people overtook me, and soon we became companions. "the english are so distant, so silent, such _hauteur_, and gloomy distrust," forsooth! a false verdict, say i. the ladies carried me off through the very pretty glen, and the canoe on its cart trundled slowly after us behind, through the höllenthal pass, which is too seldom visited by travellers, who so often admire the spire of freyburg (from the railway perhaps), passing it on their route to switzerland. this entrance to the schwartzwald, or black forest, is a woody, rocky, and grim defile, with an excellent road, and good inns. the villages are of wood, and there is a saw-mill in every other house, giving a busy, wholesome sound, mellowed by the patter of the water-wheel. further on, where tourists' scenery stops, it is a grand, dark-coloured ocean of hills. the houses get larger and larger, and fewer and fewer, and nearly every one has a little chapel built alongside, with a wooden saint's image of life-size nailed on the gable end. one night i was in one of these huge domiciles, when all the servants and ploughboys came in, and half said, half sung, their prayers, in a whining but yet musical tone, and then retired for a hearty supper. our carriage mounted still among crags, that bowed from each side to meet across the narrow gorge, and were crested on high by the grand trees that will be felled and floated down the rhine on one of those huge rafts you meet at strasbourg. but everybody must have seen a rhine raft, so i need not describe it, with its acres of wood and its street of cabin dwellings, and its gay bannerets. a large raft needs men to navigate it, and the timber will sell for , _l._ at the top of this pass was the watershed of this first chain of hills, where my english friends took leave of me. the rob roy was safely housed in the baar inn, and i set off for a long walk to find if the tiny stream there would possibly be navigable. alone on a hillside in a foreign land, and with an evening sun on the wild mountains, the playful breeze and the bleating sheep around you--there is a certain sense of independent delight that possesses the mind then with a buoyant gladness; but how can i explain it in words, unless you have felt this sort of pleasure? however, the rivulet was found to be eminently unsuited for a canoe; so now let me go to bed in my wooden room, where the washingbasin is oval, and the partitions are so thin that one hears all the noises of the place at midnight. now, the long-drawn snore of the landlord; then, the tittle-tattle of the servants not asleep yet,--a pussy's plaintive mew, and the scraping of a mouse; the cows breathing in soft slumber; and, again, the sharp rattle of a horse's chain. the elaborate construction of that edifice of housewifery called a "bett" here, and which we are expected to sleep upon, can only be understood when you have to undermine and dismantle it night after night to arrive at a reasonable flat surface on which to recline. first you take off a great fluff bag, at least two feet thick, then a counterpane, and then a brilliant scarlet blanket; next you extract one enormous pillow, another enormous pillow, and a huge wedge-shaped bolster,--all, it appears, requisite for the teutonic race, who yet could surely put themselves to sleep at an angle of forty-five degrees, without all this trouble, by merely tilting up the end of a flat bedstead. simple but real courtesy have i found throughout. every one says "gut tag;" and, even in a hotel, on getting up from breakfast a guest who has not spoken a word will wish "gut morgen" as he departs, and perhaps "bon appetit" to those not satisfied like himself. about eight o'clock the light repast of tea or coffee, bread, butter, and honey begins the day; at noon is "mittagessen," the mid-day meal, leaving all proper excuse for another dining operation in the shape of a supper at seven. no fine manners here! my driver sat down to dinner with me, and the waiter along with him, smoking a cigar between whiles, as he waited on us both. but all this is just as one sees in canada and in norway, and wherever there are mountains, woods, and torrent streams, with a sparse population; and, as in norway too, you see at once that all can read, and they do read. there is more reading in one day in a common house in germany than in a month in the same sort of place in france. i had hired the cart and driver by the day, but he by no means admired my first directions next morning--namely, to take the boat off the main road, so as to get to the titisee, a pretty mountain lake about four miles long, and surrounded by wooded knolls. his arguments and objections were evidently superficial, and something deeper than he said was in his mind. in fact, it appears that, by a superstition long cherished there, pontius pilate is supposed to be in that deep, still lake, and dark rumours were told that he would surely drag me down if i ventured upon it.[v.] [v.] the legend about pilate extends over germany and italy. even on the flanks of stromboli there is a _talus_ of the volcano which the people dare not approach, "because of pontius pilate." of course, this decided the matter, and when i launched the rob roy from the pebbly shore in a fine foggy morning, and in full view of the inhabitants of the region (eight in number at last census), we had a most pleasant paddle for several miles. at a distance the boat was invisible being so low in the water, and they said that "only a man was seen, whirling a paddle about his head." there is nothing interesting about this lake, except that it is , feet above the sea and very lonely, in the middle of the black forest. certainly no english boat has been there before, and probably no other will visit the deserted water. after this, the rob roy is carted again still further into the forests. lumbering vehicles meet us, all carrying wood. some have joined three carts together, and have eight horses. others have a bullock or two besides, and all the men are intelligent enough, for they stop and stare, and my driver deigns to tell them, in a patois wholly beyond me, as to what a strange fare he has got with a boat and no other luggage. however, they invariably conclude that the canoe is being carried about for sale, and it could have been well sold frequently already. about mid-day my sage driver began to mutter something at intervals, but i could only make out from his gestures and glances that it had to do with a storm overhead. the mixture of english, french, and german on the borders of the rhine accustoms one to hear odd words. "shall have you pottyto?" says a waiter, and he is asking if you will have potatoes. another hands you a dish, saying, it is "sweetbone," and you must know it is "sweetbread." yes, the storm came, and as it seldom does come except in such places. i once heard a thunder peal while standing on the crater of mount vesuvius, and i have seen the bright lightning, in cold and grand beauty, playing on the falls of niagara in a sombre night, but the vividness of the flashes to-day in the black forest, and the crashing, rolling, and booming of the terrible and majestic battery of heaven was astounding. once a bolt fell so near and with such a blaze that the horse albeit tired enough started off down a hill and made me quite nervous lest he should overturn the cart and injure my precious boat, which naturally was more and more dear to me as it was longer my sole companion. as we toiled up the rothenhaus pass, down came the rain, whistling and rushing through the cold, dark forests of larch, and blackening the top of great feldberg, the highest mountain here, and then pouring heavy and fast on the cart and horse, the man, the canoe, and myself. this was the last rain my boat got in the tour. all other days i spent in her were perfectly dry. people stared out of their windows to see a cart and a boat in this heavy shower--what! a boat, up here in the hills? where can it be going, and whose is it? then they ran out to us, and forced the driver to harangue, and he tried to satisfy their curiosity, but his explanation never seemed to be quite exhaustive, for they turned homeward shaking their heads and looking grave, even though i nodded and laughed at them through the bars of the cart, lifting up my head among the wet straw. the weather dried up its tears at last, and the sun glittered on the road, still sparkling with its rivulets of rain, but the boat was soon dried by a sponge, while a smart walk warmed its well-soaked captain. the horse too had got into a cheerful vein and actually trotted with excitement, for now it was down hill, and bright sun--a welcome change in ten minutes from our labouring up a steep forest road in a thunder-storm. the most rigid teetotaller (i am only a temperance man) would probably allow that just a very small glass of kirchwasser might be prescribed at this moment with advantage, and as there was no "faculty" there but myself, i administered the dose medicinally to the driver and to his employer, and gave a bran-mash and a rub down to the horse, which made all three of us better satisfied with ourselves and each other, and so we jogged on again. by dusk i marched into donaueschingen, and on crossing the little bridge, saw at once i could begin the danube from its very source, for there was at least three inches of water in the middle of the stream. in five minutes a crowd assembled round the boat, even before it could be loosened from the cart.[vi.] [vi.] after trying various modes of securing the canoe in a springless cart for long journeys on rough and hilly roads, i am convinced that the best way is to fasten two ropes across the top of a long cart and let the boat lie on these, which will bear it like springs and so modify the jolts. the painter is then made fast fore and aft, so as to keep the boat from moving back and forward. all plans for using trusses of straw, &c., fail after a few miles of rolling gravel and coarse ruts. the ordinary idlers came first, then the more shy townspeople, and then a number of strange folk, whose exact position i could not make out, until it was explained that the great singing meeting for that part of germany was to be held next day in the town, and so there were visitors, all men of some means and intelligence, who were collected from a wide country round about. the town was in gala for this meeting of song. the inns were full, but still the good landlord of the "poste" by the bridge gave me an excellent room, and the canoe was duly borne aloft in procession to the coachhouse. what a din these tenors and basses did make at the table d'hôte! everything about the boat had to be told a dozen times over to them, while my driver had a separate lecture-room on the subject below. the town was well worth inspection next day, for it was in a violent fit of decoration. every house was tidied up, and all the streets were swept clean. from the humbler windows hung green boughs and garlands, rugs, quilts, and blankets; while banners, venetian streamers, arches, mottoes, and wreaths of flowers announced the wealthier houses. crowds of gaping peasants paraded the streets and jostled against bands drumming and tromboning (if there be such a word), and marching in a somewhat ricketty manner over the undoubtedly rough pavement. every now and then the bustle had a fresh paroxysm when four horses rattled along, bringing in new visitors from some distant choir. they are coming you see in a long four-wheeled cart, covered with evergreens and bearing four pine trees in it erect among sacks which are used as seats--only the inmates do not sit but stand up in the cart, and shout, and sing, and wave banners aloft, while the hundreds of on-lookers roar out the "hoch," the german hurrah! with only one note. as every window had its ornament or device, i made one for mine also, and my sails were festooned (rather tastefully, i flatter myself) to support the little blue silk english jack of the canoe. this complimentary display was speedily recognized by the germans, who greeted it with cheers, and sung glees below, and improvised verses about england, and then sang round the boat itself, laughing, shouting, and hurraing boisterously with the vigour of youthful lungs. never tell me again that the germans are phlegmatic! [illustration: singers' waggon.] they had a "banket" in the evening at the museum. it was "free for all," and so came on these cheap terms, and all drank beer from long glass cylinders at a penny a glass, all smoked cigars at a farthing a piece, and all talked and all sang, though a splendid brass band was playing beside them, and whenever it stopped a glee or chorus commenced. the whole affair was a scene of bewildering excitement, very curious to contemplate for one sitting in the midst. next me i found a young bookseller who had sold me a french book in the morning. he said i must take a ticket for the sunday concert; but i told him i was an englishman, and had learned in my country that it was god's will and for man's good to keep sunday for far better things, which are too much forgotten when one day in seven is not saved from the business, excitement, and giddiness of every-day life. and is there not a feeling of dull sameness about time in those countries and places where the week is not steadied and centred round a solid day on which lofty and deep things, pure and lasting things may have at least some hours of our attention? so i left the merry singers to bang their drums and hoch! at each other in the great hall provided for their use by the prince of furstemburg. he had reared this near his stables, in which are many good horses, some of the best being english, and named on their stalls "miss," "pet," "lady," or "tom," &c. an english gentleman whom i met afterwards had been travelling through germany with a four-in-hand drag, and he came to donaueschingen, where the prince soon heard of his arrival. next day his serene highness was at his stables, and seeing an english visitor there, he politely conducted the stranger over the whole establishment, explaining every item with minute care. he found out afterwards that this visitor was not the english gentleman, but only his groom! the intelligence, activity, and good temper of most of the german waiters in hotels will surely be observed by travellers whose daily enjoyment depends so much on that class. here, for instance, is a little waiter at the poste inn. he is the size of a boy, but looks twenty years older. his face is flat, and broad, and brown, and so is his jacket. his shoulders are high, and he reminds you of those four everlasting german juveniles, with thick comforters about their necks, who stand in london streets blowing brass music, with their cheeks puffed out, and their cold grey eyes turning on all the passing objects while the music, or at any rate a noise, blurts out as if mechanically from the big, unpolished instruments held by red benumbed fingers. this waiter lad then is all the day at the beck of all, and never gets a night undisturbed, yet he is as obliging at ten o'clock in the dark as for the early coffee at sunrise, and he quite agrees with each guest, in the belief that _his_ particular cutlet or cognac is the most important feature of the hour. i honour this sort of man. he fills a hard place well, and bismarck or mussurus cannot do more. then again, there is ulric, the other waiter, hired only for to-day as an "extra," to meet the crush of hungry vocalists who will soon fill the _saal_. he is timid yet, being young, and only used to a village inn where "the poste at donaueschingen" is looked up to with solemn admiration as the pink of fashion. he was learning french too, and was sentimental, so i gave him a very matter-of-fact book, and then he asked me to let him sit in the canoe while i was to paddle it down the river to his home! the naïve simplicity of this request was truly refreshing, and if we had been sure of shallow water all the way, and yet not too shallow, it would perhaps have been amusing to admit such a passenger. the actual source of the danube is by no means agreed upon any more than the source of the nile. i had a day's exploration of the country, after seeking exact information on this point from the townspeople in vain. the land round donaueschingen is a spongy soil, with numerous rivulets and a few large streams. i went along one of these, the brege, which rises twenty miles away, near st. martin, and investigated about ten miles of another, the brigach, a brook rising near st. georgen, about a mile from the source of the neckar, which river runs to the rhine. these streams join near donaueschingen, but in the town there bubbles up a clear spring of water in the gardens of the prince near the church, and this, the infant danube, runs into the other water already wide enough for a boat, but which then for the first time has the name of donau. the name, it is said, is never given to either of the two larger rivulets, because sometimes both have been known to fail in dry summers, while the bubbling spring has been perennial for ages. the brege and another confluent are caused to fill an artificial pond close by the brigach. this lake is wooded round, and has a pretty island, and swans, and gold fish. a waterwheel (in vain covered for concealment) pumps up water to flow from an inverted horn amid a group of statuary in this romantic pond, and the stream flowing from it also joins the others, now the danube.[vii.] [vii.] the old roman ister. the name donau is pronounced "doanou." hilpert says, "dönau allied to dón and düna (a river)." in celtic _dune_ means "river," and _don_ means "brown," while "_au_" in german is "island" (like the english "eyot"). the other three rivers mentioned above, and depicted in the plan on the map with this book, seem to preserve traces of their roman names. thus the "brigach" is the stream coming from the north where "alt breisach" now represents the roman "mons brisiacus," while the "brege" may be referred to "brigantii," the people about the "brigantinus lacus," now the "boden see" (lake constance), where also bregentz now represents the roman "brigantius." the river neckar was "nicer" of old, and the black forest was "hercynia silva." the reader being now sufficiently confused about the source of the danube and its name, let us leave the latin in the quagmire and jump nimbly into our canoe. that there might be no mistake however in this matter about the various rivulets, i went up each stream until it would not float a canoe. then from near the little bridge, on august , while the singers _sol-faed_ excessively at the boat, and shouted "hocks" and farewells to the english "flagge," and the landlord bowed (his bill of thirteen francs for three full days being duly paid), and the populace stared, the rob roy shot off like an arrow on a river delightfully new. chapter iv. the danube--singers--shady nooks--geisingen--mill weirs--rapids--morning crowd--donkey's stable--islands--monks--spiders--concert--fish--a race. at first the river is a few feet broad, but it soon enlarges, and the streams of a great plain quickly bring its volume to that of the thames at kingston. the quiet, dark donau winds about then in slow serpentine smoothness for hours in a level mead, with waving sedge on the banks and silken sleepy weeds in the water. here the long-necked, long-winged, long-legged heron, that seems to have forgotten to get a body, flocks by scores with ducks of the various wild breeds, while pretty painted butterflies and fierce-looking dragon-flies float, as it were, on the summer sunbeams, and simmer in the air. the haymakers are at work; and half their work is hammering the soft edges of their very miserable scythes, which they then dip in the water. now they have a chat; and as i whiz by round a corner, there is a row of open mouths and wondering eyes, but an immediate return to courtesy with a touch of the hat, and "gut tag" when presence of mind is restored. then they call to their mates, and laugh with rustic satisfaction--a laugh that is real and true, not cynical, but the recognition of a strange incongruity, that of a reasonable being pent up in a boat and hundreds of miles from home, yet whistling most cheerfully all the time. soon the hills on either side have houses and old castles, and then wood, and, lastly, rock; and with these, mingling the bold, the wild, and the sylvan, there begins a grand panorama of river beauties to be unrolled for days and days. no river i have seen equals this upper danube, and i have visited many pretty streams. the wood is so thick, the rocks so quaint and high and varied, the water so clear, and the grass so green. winding here and turning there, and rushing fast down this reach and paddling slow along that, with each minute a fresh view, and of new things, the mind is ever on the _qui vive_, or the boat will go bump on a bank, crash on a rock, or plunge into a tree full of gnats and spiders. this is veritable travelling, where skill and tact are needed to bear you along, and where each exertion of either is rewarded at once. i think, also, it promotes decision of character, for you _must_ choose, and that promptly, too, between, say, five channels opened suddenly before you. three are probably safe, but which of these three is the shortest, deepest, and most practicable? in an instant, if you hesitate, the boat is on a bank; and it is remarkable how speedily the exercise of this resolution becomes experienced into habit, but of course only after some severe lessons. it is exciting to direct a camel over the sandy desert when you have lost your fellow-travellers, and to guide a horse in trackless wilds alone; but the pleasure of paddling a canoe down a rapid, high-banked, and unknown river, is far more than these. part of this pleasure flows from the mere sense of rapid motion. in going down a swift reach of the river there is the same sensation about one's diaphragm which is felt when one goes forward smoothly on a lofty rope swing. now the first few days of the danube are upon very fast waters. between its source and ulm the descent of the river is about , feet.[viii.] this would give feet of fall for each of a five days' journey; and it will be seen from this that the prospect for the day's voyage is most cheering when you launch in the morning and know you will have to descend about the height of st. paul's cathedral before halting for the night. [viii.] the best geographical books give different estimates of this, some above and others below the amount here stated. another part of the pleasure--it is not to be denied--consists in the satisfaction of overcoming difficulties. when you have followed a channel chosen from several, and, after half-a-mile of it, you see one and another of the rejected channels emerging from its island to join that you are in, there is a natural pride in observing that any other streamlet but the one you had chosen would certainly have been a mistake. these reflections are by the way; and we have been winding the while through a rich grassy plain till a bridge over the river made it seem quite a civilized spot, and, just as i passed under, there drove along one of the green-boughed waggons of jovial singers returning from donaueschingen. of course they recognised the canoe, and stopped to give her a hearty cheer, ending with a general chorus made up of the few english words of their vocabulary, "all r-r-r-r-ight, englishmánn!" "all r-r-r-r-ight, englishmánn!"[ix.] [ix.] see sketch, _ante_, page . the coincidence of these noisy but good-humoured people having been assembled in the morning, when the canoe had started from the source of the danube, caused the news of its adventure to be rapidly carried to all the neighbouring towns, so that the rob roy was welcomed at once, and the newspapers recorded its progress not only in germany and france, but in england, and even in sweden and in america. at the village of geisingen it was discovered that the boiler of my engine needed some fuel, or, in plain terms, i must breakfast. the houses of the town were not close to the river, but some workmen were near at hand, and i had to leave the canoe in the centre of the stream moored to a plank, with very strict injunctions (in most distinct english!) to an intelligent boy to take charge of her until my return; and then i walked to the principal street, and to the best-looking house, and knocked, entered, asked for breakfast, and sat down, and was speedily supplied with an excellent meal. one after another the people came in to look at the queer stranger who was clad so oddly, and had come--aye, _how_ had he come? that was what they argued about in whispers till he paid his bill, and then they followed to see where he would go, and thus was there always a congregation of inquisitive but respectful observers as we started anew. off again, though the august sun is hot. but we cannot stop now. the shade will be better enjoyed when resting in the boat under a high rock, or in a cool water cave, or beneath a wooden bridge, or within the longer shadow of a pine-clad cliff. often i tried to rest those midday hours (for one cannot always work) on shore, in a house, or on a grassy bank; but it was never so pleasant as at full length in the canoe, under a thick grown oak-tree, with a book to read dreamily, and a mild cigar at six for a penny, grown in the fields we passed, and made up at yesterday's inn.[x.] [x.] two stimulants well known in england are much used in germany,--tea and tobacco. ( ) the tobacco plant (sometimes styled a weed, because it also grows wild) produces leaves, which are dried and rolled, and then treated with fire, using an appropriate instrument, by which the fumes are inhaled. the effect upon many persons is to soothe; but it impairs the appetite of others. the use is carried to excess in turkey. the leaves contain a deadly poison. ( ) the tea weed (sometimes styled a plant, because it also grows under cultivation) produces leaves, which are dried and rolled, and then treated with fire, using an appropriate instrument, by which the infusion is imbibed. the effect upon many persons is to cheer; but it impairs the sleep of others. the use is carried to excess in russia. the leaves contain a deadly poison. both these luxuries are cheap and portable, and are daily enjoyed by millions of persons in all climates. both require care and moderation in their use. both have advocates and enemies; and it cannot be settled by argument whether the plant or the weed is the more useful or hurtful to mankind. let it be well understood that this picture only describes the resting time, and not the active hours of progress in the cooler part of the day before and after the bright meridian sun. in working hours there was no lazy lolling, the enjoyment was that of delightful exertion, varied at every reach of the river. you start, indeed, quietly enough, but are sure soon to hear the well-known rushing sound of a milldam, and this almost every day, five or six times. on coming to it i usually went straight along the top edge of the weir, looking over for a good place to descend by, and surveying the innumerable little streams below to see my best course afterwards. by this time the miller and his family and his men, and all the neighbours, would run down to see the new sight, but i always lifted out my little black knapsack and put my paddle on shore, and then stepped out and pulled my boat over or round the obstruction, sometimes through a hayfield or two, or by a lane, or along a wall, and then launched her again in deep water. dams less than four feet high one can "shoot" with a headlong plunge into the little billows at the foot, but this wrenches the boot if it strikes against a stone, and it is better to get out and ease her through, lift her over, or drag her round. in other places i had to sit astride on the stern of the canoe, with both legs in the water, fending her off from big stones on either side, and cautiously steering.[xi.] [xi.] the invention of this method was made here, but its invaluable advantages were more apparent in passing the second rapid of rheinfelden. see _post_, page , where described, with a sketch. but with these amusements, and a little wading, you sit quite dry, and, leaning against the backboard, smoothly glide past every danger, lolling at ease where the current is excessive, and where it would not be safe to add impetus, for the shock of a collision there would break the strongest boat. if incidents like these, and the scenery and the people ashore, were not enough to satisfy the ever greedy mind, some louder plashing, with a deeper roar, would announce the rapids. this sound was sure to waken up any sleepiness, and once in the middle of rough water all had to be energy and life. i never had a positive upset, but of course i had to jump out frequently to save the boat, for the first care was the canoe, and the second was my luggage, to keep it all dry, the sketch-book in particular, while the third object was to get on comfortably and fast. after hours of these pleasures of work and rest, and a vast deal seen and heard and felt that would take too long to tell, the waning sun, and the cravings within for dinner, warned me truly that i had come near the stopping-place for the night. the town of tuttlingen is built on both sides of the river, and almost every house is a dyer's shop or a tannery, with men beating, scraping, and washing hides in the water. as i allowed the boat to drift among these the boys soon found her out--a new object--and therefore to boys (and may it always be so) well worth a shout and a run; so a whole posse of little germans scampered along beside me, but i could not see any feasible-looking inn. it is one of the privileges of this water tour that you can survey calmly all the whereabouts; and being out of reach of the touters and porters who harass the wretched traveller delivered to their grasp from an omnibus or a steamboat, you can philosophize on the whole _morale_ of a town, and if so inclined can pass it, and simply go on. in fact, on several occasions i did not fancy a town, so we went on to another. however, i was fairly nonplussed now. it would not do to go further, for it was not a thickly-peopled country; but i went nearly to the end of the place in search of a good landing, till i turned into a millrace and stepped ashore. the crowd pressed so closely that i had to fix on a boy who had a toy barrow with four little wheels, and amid much laughter i persuaded the boy to lend it (of course as a great honour to him), and so i pulled the boat on this to the hotel. the boy's sixpence of reward was a fact that brought all the juvenile population together, and though we hoisted the canoe into a hayloft and gave very positive injunction to the ostler to keep her safe, there was soon a string of older sightseers admitted one by one; and even at night they were mounting the ladder with lanterns, women as well as men, to examine the "schiff." a total change of garments usually enabled me to stroll through the villages in the evening without being recognised, but here i was instantly known as i emerged for a walk, and it was evident that an unusual attendance must be expected in the morning. tuttlingen is a very curious old town, with a good inn and bad pavement, tall houses, all leaning here and there, and big, clumsy, honest-looking men lounging after their work, and wonderfully satisfied to chat in groups amid the signal darkness of unlighted streets; very fat horses and pleasant-looking women, a bridge, and numerous schoolboys; these are my impressions of tuttlingen. [illustration: morning visitors. page .] even at six o'clock next morning these boys had begun to assemble for the sight they expected, and those of them who had satchels on their backs seemed grievously disappointed to find the start would not come off before their hour for early school. however, the grown-up people came instead, and flocked to the bridge and its approaches. while i was endeavouring to answer all the usual questions as to the boat, a man respectfully asked me to delay the start five minutes, as his aged father, who was bedridden, wished exceedingly just to see the canoe. in all such cases it is a pleasure to give pleasure, and to sympathize with the boundless delight of the boys, remembering how as a boy a boat delighted me; and then, again, these worthy, mother-like, wholesome-faced dames, how could one object to their prying gaze, mingled as it was with friendly smile and genuine interest? the stream on which i started here was not the main channel of the danube, but a narrow arm of the river conducted through the town, while the other part fell over the mill-weir. the woodcut shows the scene at starting, and there were crowds as large as this at other towns; but a picture never can repeat the shouts and bustle, or the sound of guns firing and bells ringing, which on more than one occasion celebrated the rob roy's morning paddle. the lovely scenery of this day's voyage often reminded me of that upon the wye,[xii.] in its best parts between ross and chepstow. there were the white rocks and dark trees, and caverns, crags, and jutting peaks you meet near tintern; but then the wye has no islands, and its muddy water at full tide has a worse substitute in muddier banks when the sea has ebbed. [xii.] murray says: "the meuse has been compared to the wye; but is even more romantic than the english river." i would rank the wye as much above the meuse as below the danube for romance in scenery. the islands on beauteous donau were of all sizes and shapes. some low and flat, and thickly covered with shrubs; others of stalwart rock, stretching up at a sharp angle, under which the glassy water bubbled all fresh and clear. almost each minute there was a new scene, and often i backed against the current to hold my post in the best view of some grand picture. magnificent crags reached high up on both sides, and impenetrable forests rung with echoes when i shouted in the glee of health, freedom, and exquisite enjoyment. but scenes and sentiments will not feed the hungry paddler, so i decided to stop at friedingen, a village on the bank. there was a difficulty now as to where the canoe could be left, for no inn seemed near enough to let me guard her while i breakfasted. at length a mason helped me to carry the rob roy into a donkey's stable, and a boy volunteered to guide the stranger to the best inn. the first, and the second, and the third he led me to were all beerhouses, where only drink could be had; and as the crowd augmented at every stage, i dismissed the ragged cicerone, and trusted myself instead to the sure leading of that unnamed instinct which guides a hungry man to food. even the place found at last, was soon filled with wondering spectators. a piece of a german and english dictionary from my baggage excited universal attention, and was several times carried outside to those who had not secured reserved seats within. the magnificent scenery culminated at beuron, where a great convent on a rich mound of grass is nearly surrounded by the danube, amid a spacious amphitheatre of magnificent white cliffs perfectly upright, and clad with the heaviest wood. the place looks so lonely, though fair, that you could scarcely believe you might stop there for the night, and so i had nearly swept by it again into perfect solitude, but at last pulled up under a tree, and walked through well ploughed fields to the little hamlet in this sequestered spot. the field labourers were of course surprised at the apparition of a man in flannel, who must have come out of the river; but the people at the kloster had already heard of the "schiff," and the rob roy was soon mounted on two men's shoulders, and borne in triumph to the excellent hotel. the prince who founded the monastery is, i believe, himself a monk. now tolls the bell for "even song," while my dinner is spread in an arbour looking out on this grand scene, made grander still by dark clouds gathering on the mountains, and a loud and long thunder peal, with torrents of rain. this deluge of wet came opportunely when i had such good shelter, as it cooled the air, and would strengthen the stream of the river; so i admired the venerable monks with complacent satisfaction, a feeling never so complete as when you are inside, and you look at people who are out in the rain. a young girl on a visit to her friends here could talk bad french rapidly, so she was sent to gossip with me as i dined; and then the whole family inspected my sketch-book, a proceeding which happened at least twice every day for many weeks of the voyage. this emboldened me to ask for some music, and we adjourned to a great hall, where a concert was soon in progress with a guitar, a piano, and a violin, all well played; and the germans are never at a loss for a song. my young visitor, melanie, then became the interpreter in a curious conversation with the others, who could speak only german; and i ventured to turn our thoughts on some of the nobler things which ought not to be long absent from the mind--i mean, what is loved, and feared, enjoyed, and derided, as "religion." in my very limited baggage i had brought some selected pieces and scripture anecdotes and other papers in french and german, and these were used on appropriate occasions, and were always well received, often with exceedingly great interest and sincere gratitude. some people are shy about giving tracts, or are even afraid of them. but then some people are shy of speaking at all, or even dislike to ride, or skate, or row. one need not laugh at another for this. the practice of carrying a few printed pages to convey in clear language what one cannot accurately speak in a foreign tongue is surely allowable, to say the least. but i invariably find it to be very useful and interesting to myself and to others; and, as it hurts nobody, and has nothing in it of which to be proud or ashamed, and as hundreds of men do it, and as i have done it for years, and will do it again, i am far too old a traveller to be laughed out of it now. the kloster at beuron is a favourite place for excursionists from the towns in the neighbourhood, and no doubt some day soon it will be a regular "place to see" for english travellers rowing down the danube; for it is thus, and only thus, you can approach it with full effect. the moon had come forth as i leaned out of my bedroom window, and it whitened the ample circus of beetling crags, and darkened the trees, while a fainter and redder light glimmered from the monks' chapel, as the low tones of midnight chanting now and then reached the ear. perhaps it is better to wear a monk's cowl than to wear consistently a layman's common coat in the workday throng of life; and it _may_ be better to fast and chant and kneel at shrines than to be temperate and thankful and prayerful in the busy world. but i doubt. after leaving beuron, with the firing of guns and the usual pleasant good wishes from the shore, the danube carried us between two lofty rocks, and down calm reaches for hours. the water was unspeakably clear; you could see right into deep caverns far below. i used to gaze downwards for so long a time at the fish moving about, and to strike at them with my long paddle (never once hitting any), that i forgot the boat was swinging along all the time, till bump she went on a bank, or crash against a rocky isle, or rumbling into some thick trees, when a shower of leaves, spiders, and rubbish wakened up my reverie. then, warned by the shock, i return to the plain duty of looking ahead, until, perhaps, after an hour's active rushing through narrow "guts," and over little falls, and getting out and hauling the boat down larger ones, my eyes are wandering again, gazing at the peaks overhead, and at the eagles soaring above them, and at the clear blue sky above all; till again the rob roy heels over on a sunken stone, and i have to jump out nimbly to save her from utter destruction. for days together i had my feet bare, and my trousers tucked up, ready to wade at any moment, and perfectly comfortable all the time, for a fiery sun dried every thing in a few minutes. the physical enjoyment of such a life to one in good health and good spirits, with a good boat and good scenery, is only to be appreciated after experience; for these little reminders that one must not actually _sleep_ on a rushing river never resulted in any disaster, and i came home without a cold or a scratch, or a hole in the boat, or one single day regretted. may this be so for many a john bull let loose on the continent to "paddle his own canoe." on the rivers where there is no navigation and no towing paths it was impossible to estimate the distances traversed each day, except by the number of hours i was at work, the average speed, the strength of the wind and current, and the number of stoppages for food or rest, or mill-weirs, waterfalls, or barriers. thirty miles was reckoned to be a good day's work, and i have sometimes gone forty miles in a day; but twenty was quite enough when the scenery and incidents on the way filled up every moment of time with varied sensations of new pleasures. it will generally be found, i think, that for walking in a pleasant country twenty miles a day is enough for mind and body to be active and observant all the time. but the events that occur in river work are far more frequent and interesting than those on the road, for you have all the circumstances of your boat in addition to what fills the pedestrian's journal, and after a little time your canoe becomes so much a companion (friend, shall i say?) that every turn it takes and every knock and grate on its side is felt as if it were your own. the boat gets to be individualized, and so does the river, till at last there is a pleasant rivalry set up, for it is "man and boat" _versus_ the river and all it can place in your way. after a few tours on the continent your first hour in a railway or diligence may be new and enjoyable, but you soon begin to wish for the end of the road, and after a short stay in the town you have come to you begin to talk (or think) of when you are to leave. now a feature of the boating tour is that quiet progress can be enjoyed all the time, because you have personal exertion or engagement for every moment, and your observation of the scenery around is now most minute and interesting, because every bend and slope of it tells at once what you have to do. certainly the pleasure of a day is not to be measured by the number of miles you have gone over. the voyage yesterday, for instance, was one of the very best for enjoyment of scenery, incident, and exercise, yet it was the shortest day i had. the guide-book says, "tuttlingen is twelve miles"--by river, say eighteen--"from kloster beuron, where the fine scenery begins. this part of the danube is not navigable." i will not say that on some occasions i did not wish for the end of the day's work, when arms were weary, and the sun was low, and yearnings of the inner man grumbling for dinner, especially when no one could tell how far it was to any house, or whether you could stop there all night if you reached it. chapter v. sigmaringen--treacherous trees--congress of herons--flying dutchman--tub and shovel--bottle race--snags--bridge perils--ya vol--ferry rope--benighted. the sides of the river were now less precipitous, and the road came within a field or two of the water, and made it seem quite homely for a time. i had heard a loud jingling sound on this road for at least half-an-hour, and observed a long cart with two horses trotting fast, and evidently daring to race with the rob roy. but at length such earnest signals were made from it that i stopped, and the cart at once pulled up, and from it there ran across the field a man breathless and hot, without his hat, and followed by two young ladies, equally hurried. he was a german, resident for a short time in london, and now at home for a month's holiday, and he was prodigal of thanks for my "great courtesy" in having stopped that the ladies might see the canoe which they had followed thus for some miles, having heard of its fame at their village. on another occasion three youths voluntarily ran alongside the boat and panted in the sun, and tumbled over stocks and stones at such a rate, that after a mile of the supererogatory exercise, i asked what it was all about. excellent villagers! they had taken all this trouble to arrive at a point further down the stream where they knew there was a hard place, and they thought they might help me in passing it. such exertions on behalf of a stranger were really most kind, and when i allowed them to give a nominal help, where in reality it was easy enough to get on unaided, they were much delighted and more than rewarded, and went back prattling their purest suabian in a highly satisfied frame of mind. many are the bends and currents, but at last we arrive at the town of sigmaringen. it has certainly an aristocratic air, though there are only , inhabitants; but then it has a principality, though the whole population of this is only , . fancy a parish in london with a prince all to themselves, and--bearing such a fine grand name too--"his royal serene highness the hereditary prince of hohenzollern sigmaringen." but though i have often laughed at this petty kingdom in the geography books, i shall never do so again, for it contains some of the most beautiful river scenery in the world, and i never had more unalloyed pleasure in passing through a foreign dominion. there are pretty gardens here, and a handsome protestant church, and a few good shops, schlosses on the hills, and older castles perched on high rocks in the usual picturesque and uncomfortable places where our ancestors built their nests. the deutscher hof is the hotel just opened three weeks ago, and all its inmates are in a flutter when their first english guest marches up to the door with a boat and a great company of gazers. the waiter too, all fresh from a year in london at the palace hotel, buckingham gate, how glad he is that his english is now in requisition, sitting by me at dinner and talking most sensibly all the time. the weather still continued superb as we paddled away. deep green woods dipped their lower branches in the water, but i found that the stream had sometimes a fashion of carrying the boat under these, and it is especially needful to guard against this when a sharp bend with a fast current hurries you into a wooded corner. indeed, strange as it may seem, there was more danger to the boat from these trees than from rocks or banks, and far more trouble. for when the boat gets under their low branches your paddle is quite powerless, because you cannot lower one end to hold the water without raising the other and so catching it in the trees. then if you put your head down forward you cannot see, and the boughs are generally as hard as an ordinary skull when the two are in collision. finally, if you lean backwards the twigs scrape your face and catch upon a nose even of ordinary length, and if you take your hand from the paddle to protect the face away goes the paddle into the river. therefore, although my hat was never knocked off, and my skull was always the hardest, and my paddle was never lost, and my nose was never de-romanized by the branches, i set it down as a maxim, to keep clear of trees in a stream. still it was tempting to go under shady groves when i tried to surprise a flock of herons or a family of wild ducks. once we came upon twenty-four herons all together. as my boat advanced silently, steadily gliding, it was curious to watch these birds, who had certainly never been disturbed before by any boat in such a place. they stared eagerly at me and then looked at each other, and evidently took a vote of the assembly as to what all this could mean. if birds' faces can give any expression of their opinions, it is certain that one of these herons was saying then to the others "did you ever?" and an indignant sneer was on another's beak that plainly answered, "such impudence indeed!" while a third added, with a sarcastic chirp, "and a foreigner too!" but, after consultation, they always got up and circled round, flew down stream, and then settled all again together in an adjourned meeting. a few minutes brought me to their new retreat, and so we went on for miles, they always flying down stream, and always assembling, though over and over again disturbed, until an amendment on the plan was moved and they bent their way aside. a pleasant and favourable breeze springing up, which soon freshened into a gale, i now set my sails, and the boat went with very great speed; dashing over rocks and bounding past the haymakers so fast that when one who caught sight of her had shouted to the rest of his "mates," the sight was departed for ever before they came, and i heard them behind me arguing, probably about the ghost. but it was a shame to be a phantom ship too often, and it was far more amusing to go right into the middle of these people, who knew nothing about the canoe, who had never seen a boat, and never met a foreigner in their lives. thus, when a waterfall was found too high to "shoot," or a wide barrier made it advisable to take the boat by land, i used to walk straight into the hayfields, pushing the boat point foremost through a hedge, or dragging her steadily over the wet newly-mown grass in literal imitation of the american craft which could go "wherever there was a heavy dew." on such occasions the amazement of the untaught clowns, beholding suddenly such an apparition, was beyond all description. some even ran away, very often children cried outright, and when i looked gravely on the ground as i marched and dragged the boat, and then suddenly stopped in their midst with a hearty laugh and an address in english, the whole proceeding may have appeared to them at least as strange as it did to me. [illustration: "in the hayfields."] the water of the river all at once became here of a pale white colour, and i was mourning that my pretty scenes below were clouded; but in about thirty miles the pebbly deeps appeared again, and the stream resumed its charming limpid clearness. this matter of dark or bright water is of some importance, because, when it is clear you can easily estimate after a little experience the general depth, even at some distance, by the shades and hues of the water, while the sunk rocks, big stones, and other particular obstacles are of course more visible then. usually i got well enough fed at some village, or at least at a house, but in this lonely part of the river it seemed wise to take provender with me in the boat, and to picnic in some quiet pool, with a shady tree above. one of the very few boats i saw on the river appeared as i was thus engaged, and a little boy was in it. his specimen of naval architecture (no doubt the only one he had ever seen) was an odd contrast to the beautifully finished canoe made by searle. he had a pole and a shovel; the latter article he used as a paddle, and his boat was of enormous thickness and clumsiness, made of three planks, abundantly clamped with iron. i gave him some bread, and we had a chat; then some butter, and then some cheese. he would not take wine, but he produced a cigar from his wet jacket, and also two matches, which he lighted with great skill. we soon got to be friends, as people do who are together alone, and in the same mode of travelling, riding, or sailing, or on camels' backs. so we smiled in sympathy, and i asked him if he could read, and gave him a neat little page prettily printed in german, with a red border. this he read very nicely and was glad to put in his ragged pocket; but he could scarcely part from me, and struggled vainly to urge his tub along with the shovel till we came to a run of dashing waves, and then of course i had to leave him behind, looking and yearning, with a low, murmuring sound, and a sorrowful, earnest gaze i shall never forget. shoals of large and small fish are in this river, and very few fishermen. i did not see ten men fishing in ten days. but the pretty little kingfisher does not neglect his proper duties, and ever and anon his round blue back shines in the sun as he hurries away with a note of protest against the stranger who has invaded his preserves. bees are buzzing while the sun is hot, and when it sinks, out gush the endless mazes of gnats to hop and flit their tangled dances, the creatures of a day--born since the morning, and to die at night. before the danube parted with the rocks that had been on each side for days together, it played some strange pranks among them, and they with it. often they rose at each side a hundred feet without a bend, and then behind these were broken cliffs heaved this way and that, or tossed upside down, or as bridges hanging over chasms. here and there a huge splinted tooth-like spire of stone stuck out of the water, leaning at an angle. sometimes in front there was a veritable upright wall, as smooth as if it were chiselled, and entirely cutting off the middle of the stream. in advancing steadily to such a place it was really impossible to determine on which side the stream could by any means find an exit, and once indeed i was persuaded that it must descend below. in other cases the river, which had splayed out its width to that of the thames at hungerford, would suddenly narrow its size to a six-foot passage, and rush down that with a "whishhh!" the rob roy cheerily sped through these, but i landed to scan the course before attempting the most difficult cuts.--oh how lonely it was! a more difficult vagary to cope with was when in a dozen petty streams the water tumbled over as many little cascades, and only one was passable--sometimes not one. the interest of finding these, examining, trying, failing, and succeeding, was a continuous delight, and filled up every mile with a series of exciting incidents, till at length the rocks were done. and now we enter a vast plain, with the stream bending round on itself, and hurrying swiftly on through the innumerable islands, eddies, and "snags," or trees uprooted, sticking in the water. at the most critical part of this labyrinth we were going a tremendous pace, when suddenly we came to a fork in the river, with the volumes of water going down both channels nearly equal. we could not descend by one of these because a tree would catch the mast, so i instantly turned into the other, when up started a man and shouted impetuously that no boat could pass by _that_ course. it was a moment of danger, but i lowered the sails in that moment, took down my mast, and, despite stream and gale, i managed to paddle back to the proper channel. as no man had been seen for hours before, the arrival of this warning note was opportune. a new amusement was invented to-day--it was to pitch out my empty wine-bottle and to watch its curious bobbings and whirlings as the current carried it along, while i floated near and compared the natural course taken by the bottle with the selected route which intelligence gave to the rob roy. soon the bottle became impersonated, and we were racing together, and then a sympathy began for its well-known cork as it plumped down when its bottom struck a stone--for the bottle drew more water than my canoe--and every time it grounded there came a loud and melancholy clink of the glass, and down it went. the thick bushes near the river skirted it now for miles, and at one place i could see above me, through the upper branches, about haymakers, men and women, who were honestly working away, and therefore had not observed my approach. i resolved to have a bit of fun here, so we closed in to the bank, but still so as to see the industrious group. then suddenly i began in a very loud voice with-- "rule, britannia, britannia rules the waves." long before i got to the word "slaves" the whole party were like statues, silent and fixed in amazement. then they looked right, left, before, behind, and upwards in all directions, except, of course, into the river, for why should they look _there_? nothing had ever come up from the river to disturb their quiet mead. i next whistled a lively air, and then dashing out of my hiding-place stood up in my boat, and made a brief (but, we trust, brilliant) speech to them in the best english i could muster, and in a moment afterwards we had vanished from their sight. a little further on there was some road-making in progress, and i pulled up my boat under a tree and walked up to the "barraque," or workman's canteen, and entered among or german "navvies," who were sitting at their midday beer. i ordered a glass and drank their health standing, paid, bowed, and departed, but a general rush ensued to see where on earth this flannel-clad being had come from, and they stood on the bank in a row as i waded, shoved, hauled, paddled, and carried my boat through a troublesome labyrinth of channels and embankments, with which their engineering had begun to spoil the river. but the bridges one had now more frequently to meet were far worse encroachments of civilization, for most of them were so low that my mast would not pass under without heeling the boat over to one side, so as to make the mast lean down obliquely. in one case of this kind she was very nearly shipwrecked, for the wind was so good that i would not lower the sail, and this and a swift current took us (me and my boat--she is now, you see, installed as a "person") rapidly to the centre arch, when just as we entered i noticed a fierce-looking snag with a sharp point exactly in my course. to swerve to the side would be to strike the wooden pier, but even this would be better (for i might ward off the violence of a blow near my hands) than to run on the snag, which would be certain to cut a hole. with a heavy thump on the pier the canoe began to capsize, and only by the nearest escape was she saved from foundering. what i thought was a snag turned out to be the point of an iron stake or railing, carelessly thrown into the water from the bridge above. it may be here remarked that many hidden dangers occur near bridges, for there are wooden or iron bars fixed under water, or rough sharp stones lying about, which, being left there when the bridge was building, are never removed from a river not navigable or used by boats. another kind of obstruction is the thin wire rope suspended across the rivers, where a ferry is established by running a flat boat over the stream with cords attached to the wire rope. the rope is black in colour, and therefore is not noticed till you approach it too near to lower the mast, but this sort of danger is easily avoided by the somewhat sharp "look-out" which a week or two on the water makes quite instinctive and habitual. perhaps one of the many advantages of a river tour is the increased acuteness of observation which it requires and fosters. i stopped next at a clumsy sort of town called riedlingen, where an englishman is a very rare visitor. the excitement here about the boat became almost ridiculous, and one german, who had been in america and could jabber a little in english, was deputed to ask questions, while the rest heard the answers interpreted. next morning at eight o'clock at least a thousand people gathered on the bridge and its approaches to see the boat start, and shoals of schoolboys ran in, each with his little knapsack of books.[xiii.] [xiii.] knapsack, from "schnap," "sach," provision bag, for "bits and bats," as we should say; havresack is from "hafer," "forage bag." query.--does this youthful carriage of the knapsack adapt boys for military service, and does it account for the high shoulders of many germans? the scenery after this became of only ordinary interest compared with what i had passed through, but there would have been little spare time to look at it had it been ever so picturesque, for the wind was quite a gale,[xiv.] and right in my favour, and the stream was fast and tortuous with banks, eddies, and innumerable islands and cross channels, so that the navigation occupied all one's energy, especially as it was a point of honour not to haul down the sail in a fair wind. [xiv.] in the newspaper accounts of the weather it was stated that at this time a storm swept over central europe. midday came, and yet i could find no place to breakfast, though the excitement and exertion of thus sailing was really hard work. but still we hurried on, for dark clouds were gathering behind, and thunder and rain seemed very near. "ah," said i inwardly, "had i only listened to that worthy dame's entreaties this morning to take good provision for the day!" she had smiled like the best of mothers, and timidly asked to be allowed to touch my watch-chain, "it was so _schon_," so beautiful to see. but, oddly enough, we had taken no solid food on board to-day, being so impatient to get off when the wind was strong and fair. the rapid pace then brought us to ehingen, the village i had marked on the map for this night's rest. but now we came there it was found to be _too soon_--i could not stop for the day with such a splendid breeze inviting progress; nor would it do to leave the boat on the bank and go to the village to eat, for it was too far from the river, and so the current and sails must hurry us on as before. now and then i asked some gazing agriculturist on the bank where the nearest houses were, but he never could understand that i meant _nearest, and also close to the river_; so the end of every discussion was that he said, "ya vol," which means in yankee tongue, "that's so"; in scottish, "hoot, aye"; in irish, "troth, an' it is"; and in french, "c'est vrai"; but then none of this helps one a bit. i therefore got first ravenous and then faint, and after mounting the bank to see the turns of the river in advance, i actually fell asleep under a tree. the wind had quite subsided when i awoke, and then quaffed deep draughts of water and paddled on. the banks were now of yellow mud, and about eight or ten feet high, quite straight up from the water, just like those on the nile, and several affluent streams ran from the plain to join the river. often, indeed, i saw a church tower right ahead, and laboured along to get there, but after half-a-mile the stream would turn sharp round to one side, and still more and more round, and at last the tower once in front was directly behind us. the explanation of this tormenting peculiarity was simply this,--that the villages were carefully built _away_ from the river bank because it is a bad foundation, and is washed away as new channels are formed by the flood. when the light began to fail i took a good look at the map, and serpentine bends were marked on it plain enough indeed, but only in one-half of their actual number; and, moreover, i saw that in the forest we had now entered there would be no suitable villages at all. the overhanging trees made a short twilight soon deepen into night; and to add to the interest the snags suddenly became numerous, and some of them waved about in the current, as they do on the upper mississippi, when the tenacious mud holds down the roots merely by its weight. all this made it necessary to paddle slowly and with great caution, and to cross always to the slack side of the stream instead of by one's usual course, which, in descending, is to keep with the rapid current. sometimes i had to back out of shallows which were invisible in the dark, and often i stopped a long time before a glance of some ripple obscurely told me the probable course. the necessity for this caution will be evident when it is remembered that in case of an upset here _both_ sets of clothes would have been wet together, and without any house at hand to dry them. all at once i heard a bell toll quite near me in the thick wood, and i came to the bank, but it was impossible to get ashore on it, so i passed that place too, and finally made up my mind to sleep in the boat, and soon had all sorts of plans in course of devising. just then two drops of rain came on my nose, and i resolved at once to stop, for if my clothes got wet before i was snug in the canoe there would be little comfort all night, without anything solid to eat since morning, and all my cigars already puffed away. as i now cautiously searched for some root projecting from the bank to make fast to, a light appeared straight in front, and i dashed forward with the boat to reach it, and speedily ran her into a strange sort of lake or pond, where the stream ceased, and a noise on the boat's side told of weeds, which proved to be large round leaves on the surface, like those of the victoria regia lily. i drew up the boat on shore, and mounted the high bank through a thicket, carrying my long paddle as a protection against the large dogs which farmhouses sport here, and which might be troublesome to quarrel with in the dark. the house i came to on the top of the precipice had its window lighted, and several people were talking inside, so i knocked loudly, and all was silence. then i knocked again, and whined out that i was a poor benighted "englander," and hoped they would let me in, at which melancholy tale they burst out laughing, and so did i! after an argument between us, which was equally intelligible on both sides, a fat farmer cautiously took the light upstairs, and, opening a window, thrust the candle forward, and gazed out upon me standing erect as a true briton, and with my paddle, too, but in reality a humiliated vagrant begging for a night's lodging. [illustration] [illustration] after due scrutiny he pulled in his head and his candle, shut the window, and fell to laughing immoderately. at this i was glad, for i never found it difficult to get on with a man who begins in good humour. presently the others went up, and i stood their gaze unflinchingly, and, besides, made an eloquent appeal in the vernacular--mine, not theirs, be it clearly understood. finally they were satisfied that i was alone, and, though probably mad, yet not quite a match for all of them, so they came down gallantly; but then there was the difficulty of persuading the man to grope down to the river on this dark night to carry up a boat. with some exertion we got it up by a better way, and safely locked it in the cowhouse of another establishment, and there i was made thoroughly comfortable. they said they had nothing to eat but kirchwasser, bread, and eggs, and how many eggs would i like? so i said, "to begin with, ten," and i ate them every one. by this time the priest had come; they often used to send for the _prester_ to do the talk. the large room soon got full, and the sketch-book was passed round, and an india-rubber band made endless merriment for the smaller fry, all in the old routine, the very mention of which it may be tedious to hear of so often, as indeed it was to me to perform. but then in each case it was _their_ first time of going through the performance, and they were so kind and courteous one could not refuse to please such people. the priest was very communicative, and we tried to converse in latin, for my german was not good enough for him nor his french for me. but we soon agreed that it was a long time since our schoolboy latin days, though i recollect having had long conversations in latin with a monk at nazareth, but there we had ten days together, and so had time to practise. thus ended the st of september, the only occasion on which i had to "rough it" at all during the voyage; and even then, it may be seen, the very small discomforts were all the results of gross want of prudence on my own part, and ended merely by a hard day's work with breakfast and dinner merged into a late supper. my bill here was _s._ _d._, the day before, _s._ _d._, including always wine and luxuries. chapter vi. day-dream--river iller--ulm--a stiff king--lake constance--seeing in the dark--switzerland--coloured canvas--sign talk--synagogue--amelia--gibberish. the threatening rain had not come during the night, and it was a lovely morning next day, like all the rest before and after it; and as we were leaving this place i found it was called gegglingen,[xv.] and was only nine miles from ulm. [xv.] it will be noticed how the termination "_ingen_" is common here. thus in our water route we have passed donaueschingen, geisingen, mehringen, tuttlingen, friedingen, sigmaringen, riedlingen, ehingen, dischingen, and gegglingen, the least and last. in england we have the "ing" in dorking, kettering, &c. the lofty tower of the cathedral of this town soon came in view, but i noticed it without any pleasure, for this was to end my week on the danube; and in my ship's log it is entered as "one of the most pleasant weeks of my life for scenery, health, weather, exercise, and varied adventure." in a pensive mood, therefore, i landed at a garden, and reclined on a warm mossy bank to have a rest and a day-dream, but very soon the loud booming of artillery aroused the hill echoes, and then sharp rattling of infantry firing. the heights around were crested with fringes of blue-coated soldiers and glistening bayonets, amid the soft round, cotton-like volumes of smoke from the great guns spurting out fire long before the sound comes. it was a review of troops and a sham attack on a fort surmounting the hill, near the battlefield of long years ago at ulm. if they fought in heat and fury, let them now rest in peace. come back, my thoughts, to the river at my feet. i had been with this river from its infancy, nay, even from its birth in the schwartzwald. i had followed it right and left, as it seemed to toddle in zigzag turnings like a child; and i had wound with it hither and thither as it roamed away further like free boyhood. then it grew in size by feeding on the oozy plain, and was still my companion when it got the strength of youth, dashing over the rocks, and bounding through the forests; and i had come at last to feel its powerful stream stronger than my strength, and compelling my respect. and now, at ulm, i found it a noble river, steady and swift, as if in the flower of age; but its romance was gone. it had boats on it, and navigation, and bridges, and railways, like other great waters; and so i would let it go on alone, tumbling, rushing, swelling, till its broad bosom bears whole fleets at ofen, and at length as a great water giant it leaps down headlong into the black sea. having seen ulm in a former tour, i was in no mood to "go over" the sights again, nor need they be related here, for it is only river travel and lake sailing that we are concerned with; while reference may be made to the guide-books if you wish to hear this sort of thing: "ulm, lat. °, an old cathedral (_a_) town, on two (§) hills (see appx.). pop. ; situated [+][+] on the danube." at that i stop, and look into the water once more. the river is discoloured here,--what is called in scotland "drumly;" and this seems partly owing to the tributary _iller_, which rises in the tyrol, and falls into the danube, a little way above the town. the iller has a peculiar air of wild, forlorn bleakness, with its wide channel half occupied by cold white gravel, and its banks scored and torn, with weird, broken roots, gnarled trees, bleakness and fallen, all lying dishevelled; surely in flood times, and of dark wintry nights, a very deluge boils and seethes along there. then, at last, there are the barges on the danube, and very rudimental they are; huge in size, with flat bottoms, and bows and stems cocked up, and a roofed house in the middle of their sprawling length. the german boys must have these models before them when they make the noah's arks for english nurseries; and murray well says of these barges, they are "nothing better than wooden sheds floating in flat trays." in a steamer was tried here, but it got on a bank, and the effort was abandoned; so you have to go on to donauwerth before this mode of travelling is reached, but from thence you can steam down to the black sea, and the passage boats below vienna are very fast and well appointed. rafts there are at ulm, but we suppose the timber for them comes by the iller, for i did not notice any logs descending the upper part of the danube. again, there are the public washhouses in the river, each of them a large floating establishment, with overhanging eaves, under which you can see, say, fifty women all in a row, half kneeling or leaning over the low bulwarks, and all slapping your best shirts mercilessly. i made straight over to these ladies, and asked how the rob roy could get up so steep a bank, and how far it was to the railway; and so their senior matron kindly got a man and a hand-cart for the boat, and, as the company of women heard it was from england, they all talked louder and more together, and pounded and smacked the unfortunate linen with additional emphasis. the bustle at the railway-station was only half about the canoe; the other half was for the king of wurtemburg, who was getting into his special train to go to his palace at fredrickshafen. behold me, then, fresh from gegglingen and snags, in the immediate presence of royalty! but this king was not at all kingly, though decidedly stiff. he is, however, rather amusing sometimes; as when by his order, issued lately, he compels sentries to salute even empty royal carriages. i got a newspaper here, and had twelve days to overtake of the world's doings while we had roamed in hill, forest, and waves. yet i had been always asked there to "give the news," and chiefly on two points,--the great eastern, with its electric cable, and the catastrophe on the matterhorn glacier, the two being at times vaguely associated, as if the breaking of the cable in the one had something to do with the loss of mountaineers in the other. so, while i read, the train bore us southwards to fredrickshafen, the canoe being charged as baggage three shillings, and patiently submitting to have a numbered label pasted on its pretty brown face. this lively port, on the north side of the lake of constance, has a charming view in front of it well worth stopping to enjoy. it is not fair to treat it as only a half-hour's town, to be seen while you are waiting for the lake steamer to take you across to switzerland. but now i come to it for a sunday's rest (if you wish to travel fast and far, rest every sunday), and, as the hotel faced the station, and the lake faced the hotel, this is the very place to stop in with a canoe. so we took the boat upstairs into a loft, where the washerwoman not only gave room for the well worked timbers of the rob roy to be safe and still, but kindly mended my sails, and sundry other odds and ends of a wardrobe, somewhat disorganized by rough times. next day there was service in the protestant church, a fine building, well filled, and duly guarded by a beadle in bright array. the service began by a woman singing "comfort ye" from handel, in exquisite taste and simple style, with a voice that made one forget that this solemn melody is usually sung by a man. then a large number of school children were ranged in the chancel, round a crucifix, and sang a very beautiful hymn, and next the whole congregation joined in chanting the psalms in unison, with tasteful feeling and devoutness. a young german preacher gave us an eloquent sermon, and then the people were dismissed. the afternoon was drummed away by two noisy bands, evidently rivals, and each determined to excel the other in loudness, while both combined to persecute the poor visitors who _do_ wish for quietness, at any rate once a week. i could scarcely escape from this din in a long walk by the lake, and on coming back found a man bathing by moonlight, while rockets, squibs, and catherine wheels were let off in his boat. better indeed was it to look with entranced eyes on the far off snowy range, now lit up by the full harvest moon, and on the sheen of "each particular star," bright above, and bright again below, in the mirror of the lake. the lake of constance is forty-four miles long, and about nine miles wide. i could not see a ripple there when the rob roy was launched at early morn, with my mind, and body, and soul refreshed, and an eager longing to begin the tour of switzerland once more, but now in so new a fashion. soon we were far from the shore, and in that middle distance of the lake where all sides seem equally near, and where the "other side" appears never to get any nearer as you go on. here, in the middle, i rested for a while, and the sensation then was certainly new. beauty was everywhere around, and there was full freedom to see it. there was no cut-and-dry route to be followed, no road, not even a track on the water, no hours, or time to constrain. i could go right or left by a stroke of the paddle, and i was utterly my own master of whither to steer, and where to stop. the "pat-a-pat" of a steamer's wheels was the only sound, and that was very distant, and when the boat came near, the passengers cheered the canoe, and smiles of (was it not?) envy told of how pleasant and pretty she looked. after a little wavering in my plans, i settled it was best to go to the swiss side, and, after coasting by the villages, i selected a little inn in a retired bay, and moored my boat, and ordered breakfast. here was an old man of eighty-six, landlord and waiter in one, a venerable man, and i respect age more while growing older. he talked with me for five hours while i ate, read, and sketched, and feasted my eyes on mountain views, and answered vaguely to his remarks, said in a sleepy way, and in a hot, quiet, basking sun. there are peaceful and almost dreamy hours of rest in this water tour, and they are sweet too after hard toil. it is not all rapids and struggles when you journey with a canoe. close to the inn was the idiot asylum, an old castle with poor demented women in it. the little flag of my boat attracted their attention, and all the inmates were allowed to come out and see it, with many smiles of pleasure, and many odd remarks and gestures. disentangling myself from this strange group, i landed again further down, and, under a splendid tree, spent an hour or two in carpenter's work (for i had a few tools on board), to repair the boat's damages and to brighten her up a bit for the english eyes i must expect in the next part of the voyage. not a wave had energy to rise on the lake in the hot sun. a sheep-bell tinkled now and then, but in a tired, listless, and irregular way. a gossamer spider had spun his web from my mast to the tree above, and wagtails hopped near me on the stones, and turned an inquiring little eye to the boat half in the water, and its master reclining on the grass. it was an easy paddle from this to the town of constance, at the end of the lake. here a _douanier_ made a descent upon me and was inexorable. "you _must_ have the boat examined." "very well, pray examine it." his chief was absent, and i must put the canoe in the custom-house till to-morrow morning. an hour was wasted in palaver about this, and at first i protested vigorously against such absurdity in "free switzerland." but constance is not in switzerland, it is in the grand duchy of baden, and so to keep it "grand," they must do very little things, and at any rate can trouble travellers. at length an obliging native, ashamed of the proceeding, remonstrated with the douanier, and persuaded him at least to search the boat and let it pass. he took as much time to inspect as if she were a brig of tons, and, when he came to look at the stern, i gravely pointed to a round hole cut in the partition for this very purpose! into this hole he peered, while the crowd was hushed in silence, and as he saw nothing but darkness, extremely dark, for (nothing else was there), he solemnly pronounced the canoe "free," and she was duly borne to the hotel. but constance once had a man in it who was really "grand," john huss, the noble martyr for the truth. in the council hall you see the veritable cell in which he was imprisoned some hundreds of years ago, and on a former visit i had seen, from the tower, through a telescope, the field where the faggots burned him, and from whence his great soul leaped up to heaven out of the blazing pile. "avenge, o lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones lie scattered on the alpine mountains cold; e'en them who kept thy truth so pure of old when all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones." --_milton._ does not a thought or two on such great things make other common things look small? true and good--but we may not stop always in the lake to ponder thus, for the current is moving again, so let us launch the rob roy on our old friend, the rhine. it is a change to cross a quiet lake after being hurried on a rapid stream like the danube, and now it is another change to paddle from the lake into a wide river like the rhine, which speeds fast and steady among lively scenes. the water is deep, and of a faint blue, but clear enough to show what is below. the pebbly bottom seems to roll towards you from underneath, and village churches appear to spin quietly round on the banks, for the land and its things seem to move, not the water, so glassy its surface steadily flowing. here are the fishers again, slowly paying out their fine-spun nets, and there is a target-hut built on four piles in the river. the target itself is a great cube of wood, say six feet on each side. it is fired at from another hut perched also on post in the water, and a "marker" safely placed behind the great block of wood turns it round on a vertical pivot, and so patches up the bullet-hole, and indicates its position to those who have fired. the rhine suddenly narrows soon after leaving the boden see, or lake constance as we call it, but the banks again open out till it is a mile or two in breadth. here and there are grassy islands, and you may notice, by long stakes stuck on the shallows, which tremble as the water presses them, that the channel for steamers is very roundabout, though the canoe will skim over any part of it comfortably. behind each islet of tall reeds there is a fishing-boat held fast by two poles stuck in the bottom of the river; or it is noiselessly moving to a more lucky pool, sculled by the boatman, with his oar at only one side,--rather a novel plan,--while he pays out the net with his other hand. rudely-made barges are afloat, and seem to turn round helplessly in the current of the deeper parts, or hoist their great square sails in the dead calm--perhaps for the appearance of the thing--a very picturesque appearance, as the sail has two broad bands of dark blue cloth for its centre stripes. but the pointed lateen sail of geneva is certainly a more graceful rig than the lug, especially when there are two masts, and the white sails swell towards you, goosewinged, before a flowing breeze. the river has probably a very uneven bottom in this part, for the water sometimes rushes round in great whirlpools, and strange overturnings of itself, as if it were boiling from below in exuberant volume with a gushing upwards; and then again, it wheels about in a circle with a sweep far around, before it settles to go onward.[xvi.] [xvi.] these maelstroms seem at first to demand extra caution as you approach, but they are harmless enough, for the water is deep, and it only twists the boat round; and you need not mind this except when the sail is up, but have a care _then_ that you are not taken aback. in crossing one of these whirlpools at full speed it will be found needless to try to counteract the sudden action on your bow by paddling against it, for it is better to hold on as if there were no interference, and presently the action in the reverse direction puts all quite straight. on the borders of switzerland the german and french tongues are both generally known at the hotels, and by the people accustomed to do business with foreigners travelling among them. but in your course along a river these convenient waiters and polyglot commissionaires are not found exactly in attendance at every village, and it is, therefore, to the bystanders or casual loungers your observations must be addressed. frequent intercourse with natives of strange countries, where there is no common language between them and the tourist, will gradually teach him a "sign language" which suits all people alike. thus, in any place, no matter what was their dialect, it was always easy to induce one or two men to aid in carrying the canoe. the _formula_ for this was something in the following style. i first got the boat on shore, and a crowd of course soon collected, while i arranged its interior, and sponged out the splashed water, and fastened the cover down. then, tightening my belt for a walk, i looked round with a kind smile, and selecting a likely man, would address him in english deliberately as follows--suiting each action to the word, for i have always found that sign language is made more natural when you speak your own tongue all the time you are acting:--"well now, i think as you have looked on enough and have seen all you want, it's about time to go to an hotel, a _gasthaus_. here! you--yes, _you_!--just take that end of the boat up, so,--gently, '_langsam!_' '_langsam!_'--all right, yes, under your arm, like this,--now march off to the best hotel, _gasthaus_." [illustration: "langsam."] then the procession naturally formed itself. the most humorous boys of course took precedence, because of services or mischief willing to be performed; and, meanwhile, they gratuitously danced about and under the canoe like fauns around silenus. women only came near and waited modestly till the throng had passed. the seniors of the place kept on the safer confines of the movement, where dignity of gait might comport with close observation. in a case of sign talking like the foregoing you can be helped by one substantive and one adverb; and if you pronounce these clearly, and use them correctly, while all the other expressions are evidently _your_ language and not theirs, they will understand it much better than if you try signs in dumb show or say the whole in bad german, and so give rise to all possible mistakes of your meaning. but it is quite another matter when you have forgotten (or have never acquired) the foreign word for the noun you wish to name, though, even then, by well chosen signs, and among an intelligent people, a good deal can be conveyed, as may be shown in the following cases. once i was riding among the arabs along the algerian coast, on my way from carthage, and my guide, a dense kabyle, was evidently taking me past a place i wished to visit, and which had been duly entered in the list when he was engaged. i could not make him understand this, for my limited arabic had been acquired under a different pronunciation in syria; but one night, it happened that a clever chief had me in a tent, or rather a hut, just like the top of a gipsy cart. i explained to him by signs (and talking english) that the muleteer was taking me past the place it was desired to see. then i tried to pronounce the name of that place, but was always wrong, or he could not make it out; it was maskutayn, or "bewitched waters," a wonderful volcanic valley, full of boiling streams and little volcanoes of salt. at length, sitting in the moonlight, signs were tried even for this difficult occasion. i put my chibouque (pipe) under the sand and took water in my hand, and as he looked on intently--for the arabs love this speaking action--i put water on the fire in the pipe-bowl, and blew it up through the sand, talking english all the time. this was done again, and suddenly the black lustrous eyes of the ishmaelite glistened brighter. he slapped his forehead. he jumped up. you could almost be sure he said "i know it now;" and then he roused the unfortunate muleteer from his snorings to give him an energetic lecture, by means of which we were directed next day straight to the very place i desired to find. in a few cases of this international talking it becomes necessary to sketch pictures, which are even better than signs, but not among arabs. during a visit to the fair of nijni novgorod, in the middle of russia, i passed many hours in the "chinese street" there, and found it was very difficult to communicate with ching loo, and even signs were useless. but they had some red wax about the tea-chests, and there was a white wall beside us, so upon this i put the whole story in large pictures, with an explanatory lecture in english all the time, which proceeding attracted an audience of several scores of chinamen and kalmuks and other outlandish people, and the particular group i meant to enlighten seemed perfectly to understand all that was desired. and so we suppose that if you can work your paddle well, and learn the general sign language, and a little of the pencil tongue, you can go very far in a canoe without being starved or homeless; while you are sure to have a wide field in which to study the various degrees of intelligence among those you meet. to come back, however, from the volga to the rhine. the current flows more and more gently as we enter the zeller see, or unter see, a lake which would be called pretty if our taste has not been sated for a while by having a snowy range for the background to the views on constance. but the lake of constance sadly wants islands, and here in the zeller see are several, one of them being of great size. the emperor of the french had passed two days at his chateau on this lake, just before we arrived. no doubt he would have waited a week had he known the rob roy was coming.[xvii.] [xvii.] his majesty has not forgotten the canoe, as will be seen by the following extract from the paris intelligence in the "globe" of april (his majesty's birthday):-- "by an edict, dated april , , issued this morning, the ministre d'etat institutes a special committee for the organisation of a special exhibition, at the exposition universelle of , of all objects connected with the arts and industry attached to pleasure boats and river navigation. this measure is thought to display the importance which amateur navigation has assumed during the last few years--to display the honour in which is held this _sport nouveau_, as it is denominated in the report, and to be successful in abolishing the old and absurd prejudices which have so long prevented its development in france. the emperor, whose fancy for imitating everything english leads him to patronise with alacrity all imitation of english sports in particular, is said to have suggested the present exhibition after reading macgregor's 'cruise of the rob roy,' which developes many new ideas of the purposes besides mere pleasure to which pleasure boats may be applied, and would be glad to encourage a taste for the exploration of solitary streams and lonely currents amongst the youth of france." however, as we were too late to breakfast with his majesty, i pulled in at the village of steckborn, where an inn is built on the actual edge of the water, a state of things most convenient for the aquatic tourist, and which you find often along this part of the rhine. in a case of this sort you can tap at the door with the paddle, and order a repast before you debark, so that it is boiling and fizzing, and the table is all ready, while you put things to rights on board, and come leisurely ashore, and then tie the boat to the window balcony, or, at any rate, in some place where it can be seen all the time you breakfast or dine, and rest, and read, and draw. experience proved that very few boys, even of the most mischievous species, will meddle with a boat which is floating, but that very few men, even of the most amiable order, will refrain from pulling it about when the little craft is left on shore. to have your boat not only moored afloat but in your sight too,--that is perfection, and it is worth additional trouble to arrange this, because then and for hours of the midday stoppage, you will be wholly at ease, or at any rate, you will have one care the less, the weary resting traveller will not then be anxious about his absent boat, as if it were a valuable horse in a strange stable. the landlord was much interested in the story of my voyage as depicted in the sketch-book, so he brought a friend to see me who could speak french, and who had himself constructed a boat of two tin tubes,[xviii.] on which a stage or frame is supported, with a seat and rowlocks, the oddest looking thing in nautical existence. i persuaded him to put this institution into the water, and we started for a cruise; the double-tube metal boat, with its spider-like gear aloft, and the oak canoe, so low and rakish, with its varnished cedar deck, and jaunty flag, now racing side by side, each of them a rare sight, but the two together quite unprecedented. [xviii.] each of these was in shape like the cigar ship which i had sailed past on the thames, and which has since been launched. the river here is like parts of the clyde and the kyles of bute, with french villages let in, and an italian sky stretched overhead. we rowed across to a village where a number of jews live, for i wished to visit their synagogue; but, lo! this was the grand duchy of baden land, and a heavily-armed sentry found us invading the dominion, so he deployed and formed square to force us to land somewhere else. the man was civil, but his orders were unreasonable, so we merely embarked again and went over to switzerland, and ran our little fleet into a bramble bush, to hide it while we mounted to an auberge on the hill for a sixpenny bottle of wine. the pretty swiss lass in charge said she once knew an englishman--but "it was a pity they were all so proud." he had sent her a letter in english, which i asked her to let me read for her. it began, "my dear little girl, i love you;" and this did not sound so very proud for a beginning. my boating friend promised to make her a tin _cafetiere_, and so it may be divined that he was the tinman of the village, and a most agreeable tinman too. she came to see us on board, and her father arrived just in time to witness a triangular parting, which must have puzzled him a good deal, amelia waving farewell to a "proud" englishman and a nautical whitesmith, who both took leave also of each other, the last sailing away with huge square yards and coloured canvas, and the rob roy drifting with the stream in the opposite direction. every day for weeks past had been as a picnic to me, but i prolonged this one into night, the air was so balmy and the red sun setting was so soon replaced by the white moon rising, and besides, the navigation here had no dangers, and there were villages every few miles. when i had enough of it, cruising here and there by moonlight, i drew up to the town of stein, but all was now lonely by the water-side. this is to be expected when you arrive late; however, a slap or two on the water with the paddle, and a loud verse of a song, italian, dutch, a pibroch, any noise in fact, soon draws the idlers to you, and it is precisely the idlers you want. one of them readily helped me with the boat to an inn, where an excellent landlady greeted the strange guest. from this moment all was bustle there, and very much it was increased by a german guest, who insisted on talking to me in english, which i am sure i did not understand a bit better than the germans who came to listen and look on. chapter vii. fog--fancy pictures--boy soldiers--boat's billet--eating--lake zurich--crinoline--hot walk--staring--lake zug--swiss shots--fishing britons--talk-book. in the morning there was a most curious change of air; all around was in a dense white fog. truly it was now to be "sensation rowing;" so we hastened to get off into this milky atmosphere. i have an idea that we passed under a bridge; at least the usual cheers sounded this time as if they were above me, but the mist was as thick as our best november cheshire-cheese fogs, and quite as interesting. on several occasions i positively could not see the bow of my boat, only a few feet from my nose. the whole arrangement was so unexpected and entirely novel,--paddling on a fast invisible stream--that i had the liveliest emotions of pleasure without seeing anything at all. but then fancy had free play all the time, and the pictures it drew were vivid and full of colour, and, after all, our impressions of external objects are only pictures, so say the philosophers; and why not then enjoy a tour in a fog, with a good album of pictures making the while in the brain? sounds too there were, but like those of witches and fairies--though perhaps it was only the cackling of some antique washerwomen on the banks. however, i addressed the unseen company in both prose and poetry, and was full of emphasis, which now and again was increased by my boat running straight into the shore. the clearing away of the fog was one of the most interesting evolutions of nature to be seen. in one sort or other every traveller has enjoyed the quick or gradual tearing up of a fog curtain on mountain or moor, but here it was on a beauteous river. i wish to describe this process, but i cannot. it was a series of "turner pictures," with glimpses right and left, and far overhead, of trees, sky, castles, each lightened and shown for a moment, and then gauzed over again and completely hidden; while the mind had to imagine all the context of the scenery, and it was sure to be quite wrong when another gleam of sun disclosed what was there in reality. for it cleared away at last, and father sol avenged himself by an extra hot ray, for thus trifling with his beams. the rhine banks here were sloping but steep, with pleasant meadows, vineyards, and woods, mingled with tolerable fairness to all three. in short, though i appreciate scenery with an eager admiration, any scenery seemed good when the genial exercise of the canoe was the medium for enjoying it. soon afterwards the woods thickened, the mountains rose behind them, the current got faster and faster, the houses, at first dotted on the knolls, got closer and more suburb like, and at last a grand sweep of the stream opened up schaffhausen to the eye, while a sullen sound on the water warned of "rapids ahead." as i intended to keep them always in front, some caution was needed in steering, though there is no difficulty here, for steamboats navigate thus far, and of course it is easy for a canoe. but when i glided down to the bridge there was the "goldenen schiff" hotel, and i resolved to patronise it on account of its name, and because there was a gigantic picture of a briton on the adjoining wall. he was in full highland costume, though the peculiar tartan of his kilt showed that there is still one clan we have not yet recognised. here began a novel kind of astonishment among the people; for when, on my arrival, they asked, "where have you come from?" and were told, "from england," they could not understand how my course seemed as if in reality from germany. the short morning's work being soon over, there was all the day before me to wander about. drums and a band presently led me to a corps of little boys in full uniform, about of them, all with real guns and with boy officers, most martial to behold, albeit they were munching apples between the words of command, and pulling wry faces at urchins of eight years old, who strove in vain to take long steps with short legs. they had some skirmishing drill, and used small goats' horns to give the orders instead of bugles. these horns are used on the railways too, and the note is very clear, and may be heard well a long way off. indeed i think much might be done in our drill at home by something of this sort. it is a short three miles to the belle vue, built above the falls of schaffhausen, and in full view of this noble scene. these great falls of the rhine looked much finer than i had recollected them some twelve years before; it is pleasant, but unusual, for one's second visit to such sights to be more striking than the first. at night the river was splendidly illuminated by bengal lights of different colours, and the effect of this on the tossing foam and rich full body of ever pouring water--or fire as it then seemed to be--was to present a spectacle of magical beauty and grandeur, well seen from the balcony of the hotel, by many travellers from various lands. on one side of me was a russian, and a brazilian on the other. next day, at the railway-station, i put the sharp bow of the rob roy in at the window of the "baggages" office, and asked for the "boat's ticket." the clerk did not seem at all surprised, for he knew i was an englishman, and nothing is too odd, queer, mad in short, for englishmen to do. but the porters, guards, and engine-drivers made a good deal of talk before the canoe was safely stowed among the trunks in the van; and i now and then visited her there, just for company's sake, and to see that the sharp-cornered, iron-bound boxes of the american tourists had not broken holes in her oaken skin. one could not but survey, with some anxiety, the lumbering casks on the platform, waiting to be rolled in beside the canoe; and the fish baskets, iron bars, crates, and clumsy gear of all sorts, which at every stoppage is tumbled in or roughly shovelled out of the luggage-van of a train. this care and sympathy for a mere boat may be called enthusiasm by those who have not felt the like towards inanimate objects linked to our pleasures or pains by hourly ties of interest; but others will understand how a friendship for the boat was felt more every day i journeyed with her: her strong points were better known as they were more tried, but the weak points, too, of the frail traveller became now more apparent, and the desire to bring her safely to england was rapidly increased when we had made the homeward turn. the mere cost of the railway ticket for the boat's carriage to zurich was two or three shillings,--not so much as the expense of taking it between the stations and the hotels. submitting, then, to be borne again on wheels and through tunnels in the good old railway style, we soon arrive among the regular swiss mountains, and where gather the swiss tourists, for whom arise the swiss hotels, those huge establishments founded and managed so as best to fatten on the wandering englishman, and to give him homoeopathic feeding while his purse is bled. for suffer me again to have a little gossip about _eating_. yes, it is a mundane subject, and undoubtedly physical; but when the traveller has to move his body and baggage along a route by his own muscles, by climbing or by rowing, or by whipping a mule, it is a matter of high moment, to him at least, that fibrine should be easily procurable. if you wish, then, to live well in switzerland and germany go to german hotels, and avoid the grand barracks reared on every view-point for the english tourist. see how the omnibus, from the train or the steamer, pours down its victims into the landlords' arms. papa and mamma, and three daughters and a maid: well, of course _they_ will be attended to. here is another timid lady with an alpenstock, a long white cane people get when they arrive in switzerland, and which they never know what on earth to do with. next there will issue from the same vehicle a dozen newly-fledged londoners; and the whole party, men and women, are so demure, so afraid of themselves, that the hotel-keeper does just what he likes with them, every one. without a courier, a wife, heavy baggage, or young ladies, i enter too, and dare to order a cutlet and potatoes. after half-an-hour two chops come and spinach, each just one bite, and cold. i ask for fruit, and some pears are presented that grate on the knife, with a minute bunch of grapes, good ones let us acknowledge. for this we pay _s._ next day i row three miles down the lake, and order, just as before, a cutlet, potatoes, and fruit, but this time at a second-rate german inn. presently behold two luscious veal cutlets, with splendid potatoes, and famous hot plates; and a fruit-basket teeming gracefully with large clusters of magnificent grapes, peaches, pears all gushing with juice, and mellow apples, and rosy plums. for this i pay _s._ _d._ the secret is that the germans won't pay the prices which the english fear to grumble at, and won't put up with the articles the english fear to refuse. nor may we blame the hotel-keepers for their part in this business. they try to make as much money as they can, and most people who are making money try to do the same. in the twilight the rob roy launched on the lake of zurich, so lovely by evening, cool and calm, with its pretty villages painted again on the water below, and soft voices singing, and slow music floating in the air, as the moon looked down, and the crests of snow were silvered on far-off hills. the canoe was now put up in a boathouse where all seemed to be secure. it was the only time i had found a boathouse for my boat, and the only time when she was badly treated; for, next morning, though the man in charge appeared to be a solid, honest fellow, i saw at once that the canoe had been sadly tumbled about and filled with water, the seat cast off and floating outside, the covering deranged, the sails untied, and the sacred paddle defiled by clumsy hands. the man who suffered this to be perpetrated will not soon forget the anglo-german-french set-down he received (with a half-franc), and i shall not forget in future to observe the time-honoured practice of carrying the canoe invariably into the hotel. another piece of experience gained here was this, that to send your luggage on by a steamer, intending to regain it on your arrival, adds far less of convenience than it does of anxiety and trouble, seeing that in this sort of travel you can readily take the baggage with you always and everywhere in your boat. much of the charm of next day's paddle on the lake consisted in its perfect independence of all previous arrangements, and in the absence of such thraldom as, "you must be here by ten o'clock;" or, "you have to sleep there at night." so now, let the wind blow as it likes, i could run before it, and breakfast at this village; or cross to that point to bathe; or row round that bay, and lunch on the other side of the lake, or anywhere else on the shore, or in the boat itself, as i pleased. i felt as a dog must feel on his travels who has no luggage and no collar, and has only one coat, which always fits him, and is always getting new. when quite sated with the water, i fixed on horgen to stop at for a rest, to the intense delight of all the horgen boys. how they did jump and caper about the canoe, and scream with the glee of young hearts stirred by a new sight! it was one of the great treats of this voyage to find it gave such hours of pleasure to the juvenile population in each place. along the vista of my recollection as i think over the past days of this excursion, many thousand childish faces brimming with happiness range their chubby or not chubby cheeks. these young friends were still more joyous when the boat was put into a cart, and the driver got up beside it, and the captain of the canoe began his hot walk behind. a number of their mammas came out to smile on the performance, and some asked to have a passage to england in the boat, to which there was the stock reply, given day by day, "not much room for the crinoline." only once was there the rejoinder, that the lady would willingly leave her expansion at home; though on another occasion (and that in france, too) they answered, "we poor folks don't wear crinoline." in every group there were various forms of inquisitiveness about the canoe. first, those who examined it without putting questions; and then those who questioned about it without examining. some lifted it to feel the weight; others passed their hands along its smooth deck to feel the polished cedar; others looked underneath to see if there was a keel, or bent the rope to feel how flexible it was, or poised the paddle (when i let them), and said, "how light!" and then more critical inquirers measured the boat's dimensions, tapped its sides with their knuckles, and looked wise; sketched its form, scrutinized its copper nails, or gently touched the silken flag, with its frayed hem and colour fading now; in all places this last item, as an object of interest, was always the first exclaimed about by the lady portion of the crowd. it is with such little but pleasant trivialities that a traveller's day may be filled in this enchanting atmosphere where simply to exist, to breathe, to gaze, and to listen, are enough to pass the sunny hours, if not to engage the nobler powers of the mind. the lakes of zurich and zug are not far separate. about three hours of steady road walking takes you from one to the other, over a high neck of forest land, and a hot walk this was from twelve to three o'clock, in the brightest hours of the day. the heat and the dust made me eager again to be afloat. by the map, indeed, it seemed as if one could row part of this way on a river which runs into zug, but maps are no guidance as to the fitness of streams for a boat. they make a black line wriggling about on the paper do for all rivers alike, and this tells you nothing as to the depth or force of the current, nor can the drivers or innkeepers tell much more, since they have no particular reason for observing how a river comports itself; their business is on the road. the driver was proud of his unusual fare, a boat with an english flag, and he gave a short account of it to every friend he met, an account no doubt frightfully exaggerated, but always accepted as sufficient by the gratified listener. the worthy carter, however, was quite annoyed that i stopped him outside the town of zug (paying thirteen francs for the cart), for i wished to get the canoe into the water unobserved, as the morning's work had left me yet no rest, and sweet repose could best be had by floating in my boat. however, there was no evading the townspeople's desire to see "the schiff in a cart from england." we took her behind a clump of stones, but they climbed upon the stones and stood. i sat down in a moody silence, but they sat down too in respectful patience. i tried then another plan, turned the canoe bottom upward, and began lining a seam of the planks with red putty. they looked on till it was done, and i began the same seam again, and told them that all the other seams must be thus lined. this, at last, was too much for some of the wiser ones, who turned away and murmured about my slowness, but others at once took their places in the front row. it seemed unfriendly to go on thus any longer, and as it was cooler now, i pushed the boat into the lake, shipped my luggage on board, and after the usual english speech to them all from the water, bid every one "adieu."[xix.] [xix.] this word, like other expressive french words, is commonly used in germany and switzerland. new vigour came when once the paddle was grasped again, and the soft yielding water and gentle heaving on its bosom had fresh pleasure now after the dusty road. it seems as if one must be for ever spoiled for land travel by this smooth liquid journeying. zug is a little lake, and the mountains are over it only at one end, but then there are glorious hills, the rigi and a hundred more, each behind another, or raising a peak in the gaps between. i must resolutely abstain from describing these here. the sight of them is well known to the traveller. the painted pictures of them in every shop window are faithful enough for those who have not been nearer, and words can tell very little to others of what is seen and felt when you fill the delighted eye by looking on the snowy range. near one end of the lake i visited the line of targets where the switzers were popping away their little bullets at their short ranges, with all sorts of gimcrack instruments to aid them, lenses, crooks, and straps for the arms, hair-triggers, and everything done under cover too. very skilful indeed are they in the use of these contrivances; but the weapons look like toy-guns after all, and are only one step removed from the crossbows you see in belgium and france, where men meet to shoot at stuffed cockrobins fixed on a pole, and do not hit them, and then adjourn for beer. the swiss are good shots and brave men, and woe be to their invaders. still, in this matter of rifle shooting their _dilettanti_ practice through a window, at the short range of yards, seems really childish when compared with that of the manly groups at wimbledon, where, on the open heath, in sun or drifting hail, the burly yorkshireman meets with the hardy scot, and sends his heavier deadly bullet on its swift errand right away for a thousand yards in the storm. leaving the shooters to their bulls' eyes, i paddled in front of the town to scan the hotels, and to judge of the best by appearances. out came the boats of zug to examine the floating stranger. they went round and round, in a criticising mood, just as local dogs strut slowly in circles about a new-come cur who is not known to their street, and besides is of ambiguous breed. these boats were all larger than mine, and most of them were brighter with plenty of paint, and universally they were encumbered with most awkward oars. a courteous frenchman in one of the boats told me all the zug news in a breath, besides asking numerous questions, and giving a hasty commentary on the fishing in the lake. finally, he pointed out the best hotel, and so the naval squadron advanced to the pier, led by the canoe. a gracious landlady here put my boat safe in the hotel coachhouse, and offered to give me the key of the padlock, to make sure. in the _salle à manger_ were some english friends from london, so now i felt that here was an end of lone wanderings among foreigners, for the summer stream of tourists from england was encountered at this point. an early start next morning found the mists on the mountains, but they were quickly furled up out of the way in festoons like muslin curtains. we skirted the pretty villas on the verge of the lake, and hauled in by some apple-trees to rig up the sails. this could be done more easily when the boat was drawn ashore than when it was afloat; though, after practice, i could not only set the mast and hoist the sails "at sea," but could even stand up and change my coat, or tie the flag on the masthead, or survey a difficult channel, while the boat was rocking on the waves of a rapid.[xx.] [xx.] this is so very useful in extending the horizon of view, and in enabling you to examine a whole ledge of sunken rocks at once, that it is well worth the trouble of a week or two's practice. sailing on a lake in switzerland is a full reward for carrying your mast and sails unused for many a long mile. sometimes, indeed, the sails seemed to be after all an encumbrance, but this was when they were not available. every time they came into use again the satisfaction of having brought them was reassured. in sailing while the wind is light you need not always sit, as must be done for paddling. wafted by the breeze you can now recline, lie down, or lie up, put your legs anyhow and anywhere, in the water if you like, and the peak of the sail is a shade between the sun and your eyes, while the ripples seem to tinkle cheerfully against the bow, and the wavelets seethe by smoothly near the stern. when you are under sail the hill tops look higher than before, for now you see how far they are above your "lofty" masthead, and the black rocks on the shore look blacker when seen in contrast with a sail like cream. [illustration: "sailing on lake zug."] after a cruise that left nothing more to see of zug, we put into port at imyn, and though it is a little place, only a few houses, the boys there were as troublesome as gnats buzzing about; so the canoe had to be locked in the stable out of sight. three britons were waiting here for the steamer. they had come to fish in switzerland. now fishing and travelling kill each other, so far as my experience goes, unless one of them is used as a _passetemps_ because you cannot go on with the other. thus i recollect once at the town of vossevangen, in norway, when we had to wait some hours for horses, it was capital fun to catch three trout with a pin for a hook fastened on the lash of a gig-whip, while a fellow-traveller shot with a pistol at my glengarry cap on a stone. the true fisherman fishes for the fishing, not for the fishes. he himself is pleased even if he catches nothing, though he is more pleased to bring back a full basket, for that will justify him to his friends. now when you stop your travelling that you may angle, if you catch nothing you grudge the day spent, and keep thinking how much you might have seen in it on the road. on the other hand, if you do happen to catch one or two fish, you don't like to leave the place where more might be taken, and your first ten miles after departure from it is a stage of reflection about pools, stones, bites, and rises, instead of what is going on all around. worst of all, if you have hooked a fish and lost him, it is a sad confession of defeat then to give up the sport and moodily resume the tour. as for the three visitors at imyn, they had just twenty minutes sure, so they breakfasted in five minutes, and in the next three minutes had got their rods ready, and were out in the garden casting as fast as possible, and flogging the water as if the fish also ought to be in a hurry to get taken. the hot sun blazed upon the bald head of one of these excited anglers, for he had not time to put on his hat. the other had got his line entangled in a bush, and of course was _hors de combat_. the third was a sort of light skirmisher, rushing about with advice, and pointing out shoals of minnows everywhere else but where his companions were engaged. however, they managed to capture a few monsters of the deep, that is to say, a couple of misguided gudgeons, probably dissipated members of their tribe, and late risers, who had missed their proper breakfasts. ardent as i am with the rod i could not enjoy fishing after this sort. to be in this tide of wandering britons, and yet to look at them and listen to them as if you were distinct--this is a post full of interest and amusement; and if you can, even for one day, try to be (at least in thought) a swiss resident or a parisian, and so to regard the english around you from the point they are seen from by the foreigners whom they visit, the examination becomes far more curious. but this has been done by many clever tourists, who have written their notes with more or less humour, and with more rather than less severity; so i shall not attempt to analyse the strange atoms of the flood from our islands which overflows the continent every year. it is the fashion to decry three-fourths of this motley company as "snobs," "spendthrifts," or "greenhorns." with humble but firm voice i protest against this unfairness; nor can i help thinking that much of the hard criticism published by travellers against their fellows is a crooked way of saying, what it does not do to assert directly, that the writer has at any rate met some travellers inferior to himself. of course, among the englishmen whom i met now and then in the course of this voyage there were some strange specimens, and their remarks were odd enough, when alluding to the canoe. one said, for example, "don't you think it would have been more commodious to have had an attendant with you to look after your luggage and things?" the most obvious answer to this was probably that which i gave, "not for me, if he was to be in the boat; and not for him, if he had to run on the bank." another englishman at home asked me in all seriousness about the canoe voyage, "was it not a great waste of time?" and when i inquired how _he_ had spent his vacation, he said, "oh, i was all the time _at brighton_!" in returning once more to english conversation, one is reminded how very useless and unpractical are all the "talk-books" published to facilitate the traveller's conversation in foreign languages. whether they are meant to help you in french, german, italian, or spanish, these little books, with their well-known double columns of words and phrases, and their "polite letter-writer" at the end, all seem to be equally determined to force words upon you which you never will need to use; while the things you are always wanting to say in the new tongue are either carefully buried among colloquies on botany or precious stones, or among philosophical discussions about metaphysics, or else the desirable phrases are not in the book at all. this need of a brief and good "talk-book" struck me particularly when i had carefully marked in my german one all the pages which would never be required in the tour, so that i could cut them out as an unnecessary addition to the weight of my ship's library. why, the little book, when thus expurgated, got so lamentably thin that the few pages left of it, as just possible to be useful, formed only a wretched skeleton of the original volume. another fault of these books is that half the matter in them is made up of what the imaginary chatting foreigner says _to you_, the unhappy englishman, and this often in long phrases, or even in set speeches. but when, in actual life, the real foreigner speaks to you, he somehow says quite a different set of words from any particular phrases you see in the book, and you cannot make out his meaning, because it does not correspond with anything you have learned. it is evident that a dictionary is required to get at the english meaning of what is said to you by another; while a talk-book will suffice for what you wish to say to him; because you can select in it and compose from it before you utter any particular phrase. the danish phrase-book for norway and sweden is a tolerably good one, and it holds in a short compass all the traveller wants; but i think a book of this kind for each of the other principal languages might well be constructed on the following basis. first, let us have the expression "i want," and then the english substantives most used in travel talk, arranged in alphabetical order, and with their foreign equivalents. next, put the request "will you," and after it place each of the verbs of action generally required by travellers. then set forth the question, "does the," with a column of events formed by a noun, verb, and preposition in each, such as "coach stop at," "road lead to," "steamer start from," &c.; and, lastly, give us the comprehensive "is it," with a long alphabetical list of adjectives likely to be employed. under these four heads, with two pages of adverbs and numerals, i think that the primary communications with a foreigner can be comprised; and as for conversations with him on special subjects, such as politics, or art, or scenery, these are practically not likely to be attempted unless you learn his language, and not merely some of its most necessary _words_; but this study of language is not the purpose for which you get a talk-book. having now delivered a homily on international talking, it is time to be on the move again. chapter viii. sailing on lucerne--seeburg--river scenes--night and snow--the reuss--a dear dinner--seeing a rope--passing a fall--bremgarten rapids. when the steamer at imyn had embarked the three sportsmen, and the little pier was quiet, we got a cart out for the rob roy, and bargained to have it rumbled over the hill to the lake of lucerne for the sum of five francs--it is only half-an-hour's walk. the landlord himself came as driver, for he was fully interested about the canoe, and he did not omit to let people know his sentiments on the subject all along the way, even calling out to the men plucking fruit in the apple-trees, who had perhaps failed to notice the phenomenon which was passing on the road beneath them. there was a permanent joke on such occasions, and, oddly enough, it was used by the drivers in germany as well as in switzerland, and was of course original and spontaneous with each of them as they called out, "going to america!" and then chuckled at the brilliant remark. the village we came to on lucerne was the well-known kussnacht, that is, _one_ of the well-known kussnachts, for there are plenty of these honeymoon towns in central europe; and with the customary assembly of _quidnuncs_, eloquently addressed this time by the landlord-driver, the canoe was launched on another lake, perhaps the prettiest lake in the world. like other people, and at other times, i had traversed this beautiful water of the four cantons, but those only who have seen it well by steamer and by walking, so as to know how it juts in and winds round in intricate geography, can imagine how much better you may follow and grasp its beauties by searching them out alone and in a canoe. for thus i could penetrate all the wooded nooks, and dwell on each view-point, and visit the rocky islets, and wait long, longer--as long as i pleased before some lofty berg, while the ground-swell gently undulated, and the passing cloud shaded the hill with grey, and the red flag of a steamer fluttered in a distant sunbeam, and the plash of a barge's oar broke on the boatman's song; everything around changing just a little, and the stream of inward thought and admiration changing too as it flowed, but, all the time, and when the eye came back to it again, there was the grand mountain still the same, "like teneriffe or atlas unremoved." how cool the snow looked up there aloft even in the heat of summer! and, to come down again to one's level on the water, how lively the steamer was with the music of its band and the quick beat of its wheels curling up white foam. let us speed to meet it and to get a tossing in the swell, while jones and smith, under the awning, cry out, "why, to be sure, that's the rob roy canoe," and mrs. jones and the three miss smiths all lift up their heads from their "murrays," where they have been diligently reading the history of switzerland from a.d. , and then the description in words of all the scenery around, although they have suffered its speaking realities in mountain, wood, and lake to pass unnoticed. as i was quite fresh (having worked chiefly the sails on zug) and now in good "training," so as to get on very comfortably with ten or twelve hours' rowing in the day, i spent it all in seeing this inexhaustible lake of lucerne, and yet felt that at least a dozen new pictures had been left unseen in this rich volume of the book of nature. but as this book had no page in it about quarters for the night it was time to consider these homely affairs, and to look out for an hotel; not one of the big barracks for englishmen spoken of before, but some quiet place where one could stop for sunday. coming suddenly then round a shady point, behold the very place! but can it be an hotel? yes, there is the name, "seeburg." is it quiet? observe the shady walks. bathing? why, there is a bath in the lake at the end of the garden. fishing? at least four rods are stretched over the reeds by hopeful hands, and with earnest looks behind, watching for the faintest nibble. let us run boldly in. ten minutes, and the boat is safely in a shed, and its captain well housed in an excellent room; and, having ordered dinner, it was delicious to jump into the lake for a swim, all hot with the hot day's work, and to stretch away out to the deep, and circle round and round in these limpid waters, with a nice little bath-room to come back to, and fresh dry clothes to put on. in the evening we had very pretty english music, a family party improvised in an hour, and broken up for a moonlight walk, while, all this time (one fancied), in the big hotel of the town the guests were in stiff _coteries_, or each set retired to its sitting-room, and lamenting how unsociable everybody else had become. i never was more comfortable than here, with a few english families "en pension," luxuriating for the sum of six francs per day, and an old russian general, most warlike and courteous, who would chat with you by the hour, on the seat under the shady chestnut, and smiled at the four persevering fishermen whose bag consisted, i believe, of three bites, one of them allowed on all hands to have been _bonâ fide_. then on sunday we went to lucerne, to church, where a large congregation listened to a very good sermon from the well-known secretary of the society for colonial and continental churches. at least every traveller, if not every home-stayed englishman, ought to support this association, because it many times supplies just that food and rest which the soul needs so much on a sunday abroad, when the pleasures of foreign travel are apt to make only the mind and body constitute the man. i determined to paddle from lucerne by the river reuss, which flows out of the lake and through the town. this river is one of four--the rhine, rhone, reuss, and ticino, which all rise near together in the neighbourhood of the st. gothard; and yet, while one flows into the german ocean, another falls into the mediterranean, both between them having first made nearly the compass of switzerland. the walking tourist comes often upon the rapid reuss as it staggers and tumbles among the swiss mountains. to me it had a special interest, for i once ascended the galenhorn over the glaciers it starts from, and with only a useless guide, who lost his head and then lost his way, and then lost his temper and began to cry. we groped about in a fog until snow began to fall, and the snowstorm lasted for six hours--a weary time spent by us wandering in the dark and without food. at length we were discovered by some people sent out with lights to search for the benighted pleasure-seeker. the reuss has many cascades and torrent gorges as it runs among the rough crags, and it falls nearly , feet before it reaches the lake of lucerne, this lake itself being still , feet above the sea. a gradual current towards the end of the lake entices you under the bridge where the river starts again on its course, at first gently enough, and as if it never could get fierce and hoarse-voiced when it has taken you miles away into the woods and can deal with you all alone. the map showed the reuss flowing into the aar, but i could learn nothing more about either of these rivers, except that an intelligent man said, "the reuss is a mere torrent," while another recounted how a man some years ago went on the aar in a boat, and was taken up by the police and punished for thus perilling his life. deducting from these statements the usual per cent. for exaggeration, everything appeared satisfactory, so i yielded my boat to the current, and, at parting, waved my yellow paddle to certain fair friends who had honoured me with their countenance, and who were now assembled on the bridge. after this a few judicious strokes took the rob roy through the town and past the pleasant environs, and we were now again upon running water. the current, after a quiet beginning, soon put on a sort of "business air," as if it did not mean to dally, and rapidly got into quick time, threading a devious course among the woods, hayfields, and vineyards, and it seemed not to murmur (as streams always do), but to sing with buoyant exhilaration in the fresh brightness of the morn. it certainly was a change, from the sluggish feeling of dead water in the lakes to the lively tremulous thrilling of a rapid river like the reuss, which, in many places, is as wide as the rhine at schaffhausen. it is a wild stream, too fast for navigation, and therefore the villages are not built on the banks, and there are no boats, and the lonely, pathless, forest-covered banks are sometimes bleak enough when seen from the water. for some miles it was easy travelling, the water being seldom less than two feet deep, and with rocks readily visible by the eddy bubbling about them, because they were sharp and jagged. it is the long smooth and round-topped rock which is most treacherous in a fast river, for the spray which the current throws round such a rock is often not different from an ordinary wave. now and then the stream was so swift that i was afraid of losing my straw hat, simply from the breeze created by great speed--for it was a day without wind. it cannot be concealed that continuous physical enjoyment such as this tour presented is a dangerous luxury if it be not properly used. when i thought of the hospitals of london, of the herds of squalid poor in foetid alleys, of the pale-faced ragged boys, and the vice, sadness, pain, and poverty we are sent to do battle with if we be christian soldiers, i could not help asking, "am i right in thus enjoying such comfort, such scenery, such health?" certainly not right, unless to get vigour of thought and hand, and freshened energy of mind, and larger thankfulness and wider love, and so, with all the powers recruited, to enter the field again more eager and able to be useful. in the more lonely parts of the reuss the trees were in dense thickets to the water's edge, and the wild ducks fluttered out from them with a splash, and some larger birds like bustards often hovered over the canoe. i think among the flying companions i noticed also the bunting, or "ammer" (from which german word comes our english "yellow hammer"), wood-pigeons, and very beautiful hawks. the herons and kingfishers were here as well, but not so many of them as on the danube. nothing particular occurred, although it was a pleasant morning's work, until we got through the bridge at imyl, where an inn was high up on the bank. the ostler helped me to carry the boat into the stable, and the landlady audaciously charged me _s._ _d._ for my first dinner (i always had two dinners on full working days), being pretty sure that she need not expect her customer to stop there again. the navigation after this began to be more interesting, with gravel banks and big stones to avoid, and a channel to be chosen from among several, and the wire ropes of the ferries stretched tightly across the river requiring to be noticed with proper respect. you may have observed how difficult it is, sometimes, to see a rope when it is stretched and quite horizontal, or at any rate how hard it is to judge correctly of its distance from your eye. this can be well noticed in walking by the seashore among fishing-boats moored on the beach, when you will sometimes even knock your nose against a taut hawser before you are aware that it is so close. this is caused by the fact that the mind estimates the distance of an object partly by comparing the two views of its surface obtained by the two eyes respectively, and which views are not quite the same, but differ, just as the two pictures prepared for the stereoscope. each eye sees a little round one side of the object, and the solid look of the object and its distance are thus before the mind. now when the rope is horizontal the eyes do not see round the two sides in this manner, though if the head is leant sideways it will be found that the illusion referred to no longer appears. nor is it out of place to inquire thus at length into this matter, for i can assure you that one or two blunt slaps on the head from these ropes across a river make it at least interesting if not pleasant to examine "the reason why." and now we have got the philosophy of the thing, let us leave the ropes behind. the actual number of miles in a day's work is much influenced by the number of waterfalls or artificial barriers which are too dry or too high to allow the canoe to float over them. [illustration: "shirking a fall."] in all such cases, of course, i had to get out and to drag the boat round by the fields, as has been already described (p. ); or to lower her carefully among the rocks, as is shown in the accompanying sketch, which represents the usual appearance of this part of the day's proceedings. although this sort of work was a change of posture, and brought into play new muscular action, yet the strain sometimes put on the limbs by the weight of the boat, and the great caution required where there was only slippery footing, made these barriers to be regarded on the whole as bores. full soon however we were to forget such trifling troubles, for more serious work impended. the river banks suddenly assumed a new character. they were steep and high, and their height increased as we advanced between the two upright walls of stratified gravel and boulders. a full body of water ran here, the current being of only ordinary force at its edges, where it was interrupted by rocks, stones, and shingle, and was thus twisted into eddies innumerable. to avoid these entanglements at the sides, it seemed best, on the whole, to keep the boat in mid-channel, though the breakers were far more dangerous there, in the full force of the stream. i began to think that this must be the "hard place coming," which a wise man farther up the river had warned me was quite too much for so small a boat, unless in flood times, when fewer rocks would be in the way. in reply, i had told him that when we got near such a place i would pull out my boat and drag it along the bank, if requisite. to this he said, "ah! but the banks are a hundred feet high." so i had mentally resolved (but entirely forgot) to stop in good time and to climb up the rocks and investigate matters ahead before going into an unknown run of broken water. such plans are very well in theory, but somehow the approach to these rapids was so gradual, and the mind was so much occupied in overcoming the particular difficulty of each moment, that no opportunity occurred for rest or reflection. the dull heavy roar round the corner got louder as the rob roy neared the great bend. for here the river makes a turn round the whole of a letter s, in fact very nearly in a complete figure of , and in wheeling thus it glides over a sloping ledge of flat rocks, spread obliquely athwart the stream for a hundred feet on either hand, and just a few inches below the surface. the canoe was swept over this singular place by the current, its keel and sides grinding and bumping on the stones, and sliding on the soft moss which here made the rock so slippery and black. the progress was aided by sundry pushes and jerks at proper times, but we advanced altogether in a clumsy, helpless style, until at length there came in sight the great white ridge of tossing foam where the din was great, and a sense of excitement and confusion filled the mind. i was quite conscious that the sight before me was made to look worse because of the noise around, and by the feeling of the loneliness and powerlessness of a puny man struggling in a waste of breakers, where to strike a single one was sure to upset the boat. from the nature of the place, too, it was evident that it would be difficult to save the canoe by swimming alongside it when capsized or foundered, and yet it was utterly impossible now to stop. right in front, and in the middle, i saw the well-known wave which is always raised when a main stream converges, as it rushes down a narrow neck. the depression or trough of this was about two feet below, and the crest four feet above the level, so the height of the wave was about six feet. though rather tall it was very thin and sharp-featured, and always stationary in position, though the water composing it was going at a tremendous pace. after this wave there was another smaller one, as frequently happens. it was not the _height_ of the wave that gave any concern; had it been at sea the boat would rise over any lofty billow, but here the wave stood still, and the canoe was to be impelled against it with all the force of a mighty stream, and so it _must_ go through the body of water, for it could not have time to rise. and so the question remained, "what is _behind_ that wave?" for if it is a rock then this is the last hour of the rob roy.[xxi.] [xxi.] i had not then acquired the knowledge of a valuable fact, that a sharp wave of this kind _never_ has a rock behind it. a sharp wave requires free water at its rear, and it is therefore in the safest part of the river so far as concealed dangers are concerned. this at least was the conclusion come to after frequent observation afterwards of many such places. the boat plunged headlong into the shining mound of water as i clenched my teeth and clutched my paddle. we saw her sharp prow deeply buried, and then (i confess) my eyes were shut involuntarily, and before she could rise the mass of solid water struck me with a heavy blow full in the breast, closing round my neck as if cold hands gripped me, and quite taking away my breath.[xxii.] [xxii.] see a faithful representation of this incident, so far as relates to the water, in the frontispiece. vivid thoughts coursed through the brain in this exciting moment, but another slap from the lesser wave, and a whirl round in the eddy below, told that the battle was over soon, and the little boat slowly rose from under a load of water, which still covered my arms, and then, trembling, and as if stunned by the heavy shock, she staggered to the shore. the river too had done its worst, and it seemed now to draw off from hindering us, and so i clung to a rock to rest for some minutes, panting with a tired thrilling of nervousness and gladness strangely mingled. although the weight of water had been so heavy on my body and legs, very little of it had got inside under the waterproof covering, for the whole affair was done in a few seconds, and though everything in front was completely drenched up to my necktie, the back of my coat was scarcely wet. most fortunately i had removed the flag from its usual place about an hour before, and thus it was preserved from being swept away. well, now it is over, and we are rested, and begin with a fresh start; for there is still some work to do in threading a way among the breakers. the main point, however, has been passed, and the difficulties after it look small, though at other times they might receive attention. here is our resting-place, the old roman town of bremgarten, which is built in a hollow of this very remarkable serpent bend of the rapid reuss. the houses are stuck on the rocks, and abut on the river itself, and as the stream bore me past these i clung to the doorstep of a washerwoman's house, and pulled my boat out of the water into her very kitchen, to the great amusement and surprise of the worthy lady, who wondered still more when i hauled the canoe again through the other side of her room until it fairly came out to the street behind! it must have astonished the people to see a canoe thus suddenly appearing on their quiet pavement. they soon crowded round and bore her to the hotel, which was a moderately bad one. next morning the bill was twelve francs, nearly double its proper amount; and thus we encountered in one day the only two extortionate innkeepers met with at all.[xxiii.] [xxiii.] however, i made the landlord here take eight francs as a compromise. this quaint old place, with high walls and a foss, and several antiquities, was well worth the inspection of my early morning walk next day, and then the rob roy was ordered to the door. chapter ix. hunger--music at the mill--sentiment and chops--river limmat--fixed on a fall--on the river aar--the rhine again--douaniers--falls of lauffenburg--the cow cart. the wetting and excitement of yesterday made me rather stiff in beginning again; and anon, when a rushing sound was heard in front i was aware of a new anxiety as to whether this might not mean the same sort of rough work as yesterday's over again, whereas hitherto this sound of breakers to come had always promised nothing but pleasure. however, things very soon came back to their old way, a continuous and varied enjoyment from morning to night. the river was rapid again, but with no really difficult places. i saw one raft in course of preparation, though there were not many boats, for as the men there said, "how could we get boats _up_ that stream?" the villages near the river were often so high up on lofty cliffs, or otherwise unsuitable, that i went on for some miles trying in vain to fix on one for my (no. ) dinner. each bend of the winding water held out hopes that down there at last, or round that bluff cape at farthest, there must be a proper place to breakfast. but when it was now long past the usual hour, and the shores got less inhabited and hunger more imperative, we determined to land at a mill which overhung the stream in a picturesque spot. i landed unobserved. this was a blunder in diplomacy, for the canoe was always good as credentials; but i climbed up the bank and through the garden, and found the hall door open; so i walked timidly into a large, comfortable house, leaving my paddle outside lest it might be regarded as a bludgeon. i had come as a beggar, not a burglar. the chords of a piano, well struck and by firm fingers, led me towards the drawing-room; for to hear music is almost to make sure of welcome in a house, and it was so now. my bows and reverences scarcely softened the exceedingly strange appearance i must have made as an intruder, clothed in universal flannel, and offering ten thousand apologies in french, german, and english for thus dropping down from the clouds, that is to say, climbing up from the water. the young miller rose from the piano, and bowed. his fair sister stopped her sweet song, and blushed. for my part, being only a sort of "casual," i modestly asked for bread and wine, and got hopelessly involved in an effort to explain how i had come by the river unperceived. the excessive courtesy of my new friends was embarrassing, and was further complicated by the arrival of another young lady, even more surprised and hospitable. quickly the refreshments were set on the table, and the miller sealed the intimacy by lighting his ample pipe. our conversation was of the most lively and unintelligible character, and soon lapsed into music, when beethoven and goss told all we had to say in chants and symphonies. the inevitable sketch-book whiled away a good hour, till the ladies were joined by a third damsel, and the adventures of ulysses had to be told to three penelopes at once. the miller's party became humorous to a degree, and they resisted all my efforts to get away, even when the family dinner was set on the board, and the domestic servants and farm-labourers came in to seat themselves at a lower table. this was a picture of rural life not soon to be forgotten. the stately grandmamma of the mansion now advanced, prim and stiff, and with dignity and matronly grace entreated the stranger to join their company. the old oak furniture was lightened by a hundred little trifles worked by the women, or collected by the tasteful diligence of their brother; and the sun shone, and the mill went round, and the river rolled by, and all was kindness, "because you are an englishman." the power of the _civis romanus_ is far better shown when it draws forth kindness, than when it compels fear. but as respects the formal invitation it would not do to stop and eat, and it would not do to stop and not eat, or to make the potatoes get cold, or the granddames' dinner too late; so i _must_ go, even though the girls had playfully hidden my luggage to keep the guest among them. the whole party, therefore, adjourned to the little nook where my boat had been left concealed; and when they caught sight of its tiny form, and its little fluttering flag, the young ladies screamed with delight and surprise, clapping their hands and waving adieux as we paddled away. i left this happy, pleasant scene with mingled feelings, and tried to think out what was the daily life in this sequestered mill; and if my paddling did for a time become a little sentimental, it may be pardoned by travellers who have come among kind friends where they expected perhaps a cold rebuff. the romantic effect of all this was to make me desperately hungry, for be it known that bread and wine and beethoven will not do to dine upon if you are rowing forty miles in the sun. so it must be confessed that when an hour afterwards i saw an auberge by the water's edge it became necessary to stifle my feelings by ordering an omelette and two chops. the table was soon spread under a shady pear-tree just by the water, and the rob roy rested gently on the ripples at my feet. the pleasures of this sunny hour of well-earned repose, freshened by a bunch of grapes and a pear plucked from above my head, were just a little troubled by a slight apprehension that some day the miller's sister might come by and hear how had been comforted my lacerated heart. again "to boat," and down by the shady trees, under the towering rocks, over the nimble rapids, and winding among orchards, vineyards, and wholesome scented hay, the same old story of constant varied pleasure. the hills were in front now, and their contour showed that some rivers were to join company with the reuss, which here rolled on a fine broad stream, like the thames at putney. presently the limmat flowed in at one side, and at the other the river aar, which last then gives the name to all the three, though it did not appear to be the largest. this is not the only aar among the rivers, but it is the "old original aar," which swiss travellers regard as an acquaintance after they have seen it dash headlong over the rocks at handek. it takes its rise from two glaciers, one of them the finster aar glacier, not far from grimsel; and to me this gave it a special interest, for i had been hard pushed once in the wilds near that homely hospice. it was on an afternoon some years ago, when i came from the furca, by the rhone glacier to the foot of the valley, walking with two germans; and as they were rather "muffs," and meant to stop there, i thoughtlessly set off alone to climb the rocks and to get to the grimsel by myself. this is easy enough in daylight, but it was nearly six o'clock when i started, and late in september; so after a short half-hour of mounting, the snow began to fall, and the darkness was not made less by the white flakes drifting across it. by some happy conjuncture i managed to scale the pathless mountain, and struck on a little stream which had often to be forded in the dark, but was always leading to the desired valley. at length the light of the hospice shone welcome as a haven to steer for, and i soon joined the pleasant english guests inside, and bought a pair of trousers from the waiter at _s._ _d._ for a change in the wet. but paddling on the aar had no great danger where we met it now, for the noisy, brawling torrent was sobered by age, and after much knocking about in the world it had settled into a steady and respectable river. a few of my friends, the snags, were however lodged in the water hereabouts, and as they bobbed their heads in uneasy beds, and the river was much discoloured, it became worth while to keep a sharp lookout for them. the "river tongue," explained already as consisting of sign language with a parallel comment in loud english, was put to a severe test on a wide stream like this. consider, for example, how you could best ask the following question (speaking by signs and english only) from a man who is on the bank over there a hundred yards distant. "is it better for me to go over to those rocks, and keep on the left of that island, or to pull my boat out at these stumps, and drag her on land into this channel?" one comfort is the man made out my meaning, for did he not answer, "ya vol?" he could not have done more had we both learned the same language, unless indeed he had _heard_ what i said. mills occurred here and there. some of these had the waterwheel simply built on the river; others had it so arranged as to allow the shaft to be raised or lowered to suit the varying height of water in floods and droughts. others had it floating on barges. others, again, had a half weir built diagonally across part of the river; and it was important to look carefully at this wall so as to see on which side it ought to be kept in selecting the best course. in a few cases there was another construction; two half weirs, converged gradually towards the middle of the river, forming a letter v, with its sharp end turned _up_ the stream, and leaving a narrow opening there, through which a torrent flowed, with rough waves dancing merrily in the pool below. i had to "shoot" several of these, and at other times to get out and lower the boat down them, in the manner explained before. on one occasion i was in an unaccountably careless fit, and instead of first examining the depth of the water on the edge of the little fall, i resolved to go straight at it and take my chance. it must be stated that while a depth of three inches is enough for the canoe to float in when all its length is in the water, the same depth will by no means suffice at the upper edge of a fall. for when the boat arrives there the fore part, say six or seven feet of it, projects for a time over the fall and out of the water, and is merely in the air, without support, so that the centre of the keel will sink at least six or seven inches; and if there be not more water than this the keel catches the crest of the weir, and the boat will then stop, and perhaps swing round, after which it must fall over sideways, unless considerable dexterity is used in the management. although a case of this sort had occurred to me before, i got again into the same predicament, which was made far more puzzling as the fore end of the boat went under a rock at the bottom of the fall, and thus the canoe hung upon the edge, and would go neither one way nor another.[xxiv.] it would also have been very difficult to get out of the boat in this position; for to jump feet foremost would have broken the boat--to plunge in head first might have broken my head on the rocks below. [xxiv.] this adventure was the result of temporary carelessness, while that at the rapids was the result of impatience, for the passage of these latter could probably have been effected without encountering the central wave had an hour or two been spent in examining the place. let not any tourist, then, be deterred from a paddle on the reuss, which is a perfectly suitable river, with no unavoidable dangers. [illustration: "fixed on the fall."] the canoe was much wrenched in my struggles, which ended, however, by man and boat tumbling down sideways, and, marvellous to say, quite safely to the bottom. this performance was not one to be proud of. surely it was like ingratitude to treat the rob roy thus, exposing it to needless risk when it had carried me so far and so well. the aar soon flows into the rhine, and here is our canoe on old rhenus once more, with the town of waldshut ("end of the forest") leaning over the high bank to welcome us near. there is a lower path and a row of little houses at the bottom of the cliff, past which the rhine courses with rapid eddies deep and strong. here an old fisherman soon spied me, and roared out his biography at the top of his voice; how he had been a courier in lord somebody's family; how he had journeyed seven years in italy, and could fish with artificial flies, and was seventy years old, with various other reasons why i should put my boat into his house. he was just the man for the moment; but first those two uniformed _douaniers_ must be dealt with, and i had to satisfy their dignity by paddling up the strong current to their lair; for the fly had touched the spiders' web and the spiders were too grand to come out and seize it. good humour, and smiles, and a little judicious irony as to the absurd notion of overhauling a canoe which could be carried on your back, soon made them release me, if only to uphold their own dignity, and i left the boat in the best drawing-room of the ex-courier, and ascended the hill to the hotel aloft. but the man came too, and he had found time to prepare an amended report of the boat's journey for the worthy landlord, so, as usual, there was soon everything ready for comfort and good cheer. waldshut is made up of one wide street almost closed at the end, and with pretty gardens about it, and a fine prospect from its high position; but an hour's walk appeared to exhaust all the town could show, though the scenery round such a place is not to be done with in this brief manner. the visitors soon came to hear and see more nearly what the newspapers had told them of the canoe. one gentleman, indeed, seemed to expect me to unfold the boat from my pocket, for a french paper had spoken about a man going over the country "with a canoe under his arm." the evening was enlivened by some signals, burned at my bedroom-window to lighten up the street, which little entertainment was evidently entirely new--to the waldshutians at least. before we start homewards on the rhine with our faces due west, it may be well very briefly to give the log bearings and direction of the canoe's voyage up to this point. first, by the thames, july , e. (east), to shoeburyness, thence to sheerness, s. from that by rail to dover, and by steamer to ostend, and rail again, aug. , to the meuse, along which the course was nearly e., until its turn into holland, n.e. then, aug. , to the rhine, s.e., and ascending it nearly s., until at frankfort, aug. , we go n.e. by rail to asschaffenburg, and by the river wind back again to frankfort in wide curves. farther up the rhine, aug. , our course is due s., till from freyburg the boat is carted e. to the titisee, and to donaueschingen, and, aug. , descends the danube, which there flows nearly e., but with great bends to n. and s. until, sept. , we are at ulm. the rail next carries us s. to the lake of constance, which is sailed along in a course s.w., and through the zeller see to schaffhausen, sept. , about due w. thence turning s. to zurich, and over the lake and the neck of land, and veering to the w. by zug, we arrive on lucerne, sept. , where the southernmost point of the voyage is reached, and then our prow points to n., till, sept. , we land at waldshut. this devious course had taken the boat to several different kingdoms and states--holland, belgium, france, wurtemburg, bavaria, and the grand duchy of baden, rhenish prussia, the palatinate, switzerland, and the pretty hollenzollern sigmaringen. now we had come back again to the very grand duchy again, a land where all travellers must mind their p's and q's. the ex-courier took the canoe from his wife's washing-tubs and put her on the rhine, and then he spirited my start by recounting the lively things we must expect soon to meet. i must take care to "keep to the right," near the falls of lauffenburg, for an english lord had been carried over them and drowned;[xxv.] and i must beware of rheinfelden rapids, because an englishman had tried to descend them in a boat with a fisherman, and their craft was capsized and the fisherman was drowned; and i must do this here, and that there, and so many other things everywhere else, that all the directions were jumbled up together. but it seemed to relieve the man to tell his tale, and doubtless he sat down to his breakfast comfortable in mind and body, and cut his meat into little bits, and then changed the fork to the right hand to eat them every one, as they all do hereabouts, with every appearance of content. [xxv.] this was lord montague, the last of his line, and on the same day his family mansion of cowdray, in sussex, was burned to the ground. up with the sails! for the east wind freshens, and the fair wide river hurries along. this was a splendid scene to sail in, with lofty banks of rock, and rich meads, or terraces laden with grapes. after a good morning's pleasure here the wind suddenly rose to a gale, and i took in my jib just in time, for a sort of minor hurricane came on, raising tall columns of dust on the road alongside, blowing off men's hats, and whisking up the hay and leaves and branches high into the air. still i kept the lug-sail set; and with wind and current in the same direction i scudded faster than i ever sailed before in my life. great exertion was required to manage a light skiff safely with such a whirlwind above and a whirlwater below; one's nerves were kept in extreme tension, and it was a half-hour of pleasant excitement. for this reason it was that i did not for some time notice a youth who had been running after the boat, yelling and shrieking, and waving his coat in the air. we drew nearer to him, and "luffed up," hailing him with, "what's the matter?" and he could only pant out "wasserfall, wasserfall, funf minuten!"----the breeze had brought me within a hundred yards of the falls of lauffenburg,--the whistle of the wind had drowned the roar of the water. i crossed to the right bank (as the ex-courier had directed), but the youth's loud cries to come to the "links," or left side, at last prevailed, and he was right in this. the sail was soon lowered, and the boat was hauled on a raft, and then this fine young fellow explained that five minutes more would have turned the corner and drawn me into the horrid current sweeping over the falls. while he set off in search of a cart to convey the boat, i had time to pull her up the high bank and make all snug for a drive, and anon he returned with a very grotesque carter and a most crazy vehicle, actually drawn by a milch cow! all three of us laughed as we hoisted the rob roy on this cart, and the cow kicked vehemently, either at the cart, or the boat, or the laughing. our procession soon entered the little town, but it was difficult to be dignified. as the cart with a screeching wheel rattled slowly over the big round stones of the street, vacant at midday, the windows were soon full of heads, and after one peep at us, down they rushed to see the fun.[xxvi.] a cow drawing a boat to the door of a great hotel is certainly a quaint proceeding; although in justice to the worthy quadruped i should mention that she now behaved in a proper and ladylike manner. [xxvi.] a sketch of this cow-cart will be found, _post_, page . here the public hit upon every possible way but the right one to pronounce the boat's name, painted in blue letters on its bow. sometimes it was "roab ro," at others "rubree," but at length a man in spectacles called out, "ah! ah! valtarescote!" the mild sir walter's novels had not been written in vain. the falls of lauffenburg[xxvii.] can be seen well from the bridge which spans the river, much narrowed at this spot. [xxvii.] "lauffenburg" means the "town of the falls," from "laufen," to run; and the yankee term "loafer" may come from this "herum laufer," one running about. a raft is coming down as we look at the thundering foam--of course without the men upon it; see the great solid frame that seems to resent the quickening of its quiet pace, and to hold back with a presentiment of evil as every moment draws it nearer to the plunge. crash go all the bindings, and the huge, sturdy-logs are hurled topsy-turvy into the gorge, bouncing about like chips of firewood, and rattling among the foam. nor was it easy to look calmly on this without thinking how the frail canoe would have fared in such a cauldron of cold water boiling. the salmon drawn into this place get terribly puzzled by it, and so are caught by hundreds in great iron cages lowered from the rocks for this purpose. fishing stations of the same kind are found at several points on the river, where a stage is built on piles, and a beam supports a strong net below. in a little house, like a sentry-box, you notice a man seated, silent and lonely, while he holds tenderly in his hand a dozen strings, which are fastened to the edges of the net. when a fish is beguiled into the snare, or is borne in by the swift current bewildering, the slightest vibrations of the net are thrilled along the cords to the watcher's hand, and then he raises the great beam and secures the prize. my young friend, who had so kindly warned me, and hired the cow, and shown the salmon, i now invited to breakfast, and he became the hero of the hour, being repeatedly addressed by the other inquirers in an unpronounceable german title, which signifies, in short, "man preserver." here we heard again of a certain four-oared boat, with five englishmen in it, which had been sent out from london overland to schaffhausen, and then descended the rhine rowing swiftly. this, the people said, had come to lauffenburg about six weeks before, and i fully sympathised with the crew in their charming pull, especially if the weather was such as we had enjoyed; that is to say, not one shower in the boat from the source of the danube to the palace of westminster. chapter x. field of foam--precipice--puzzled--philosophy--rheinfelden rapids--dazzled--astride--fate of the four-oar--very salt--the ladies--whirlpool--funny english--a baby--the bride. the canoe was now fixed on a hand-cart and dragged once more through the streets to a point below the falls, and the rob roy became very lively on the water after its few hours of rest. all was brilliant around, and deep underneath, and azure above, and happy within, till the dull distant sound of breakers began and got louder, and at last could not be ignored; we have come to the rapids of rheinfelden. the exaggeration with which judicious friends at each place describe the dangers to be encountered is so general in these latitudes, that one learns to receive it calmly, but the scene itself when i came to the place was certainly puzzling and grand. imagine some hundreds of acres all of water in white crested waves, varied only by black rocks resisting a struggling torrent, and a loud, thundering roar, mingled with a strange hissing, as the spray from ten thousand sharp-pointed billows is tossed into the air. and then you are alone, too, and the banks are high, and you have a precious boat to guard. while there was time to do it i stood up in my boat to survey, but it was a mere horizon of waves, and nothing could be learned from looking. then i coasted towards one side where the shrubs and trees hanging in the water brushed the paddle, and seemed so safe because they were on shore. the rapids of bremgarten could probably be passed most easily by keeping to the edge, though with much delay and numerous "getting outs," but an attempt now to go along the side in this way was soon shown to be useless, for presently i came to a lofty rock jutting out into the stream, and the very loud roar behind it fortunately attracted so much attention that i pulled into the bank, made the boat fast, and mounted through the thicket to the top of the cliff. i saw at once that to try to pass by this rock in any boat would be madness, for the swiftest part of the current ran right under the projecting crag, and then wheeled round and plunged over a height of some feet into a pool of foam, broken fragments, and powerful waves. next, would it be just possible to float the boat past the rock while i might hold the painter from above? the rock on careful measurement was found too high for this. to see well over the cliff i had to lie down on my face, and the pleasant curiosity felt at first, as to how i should have to act, now gradually sickened into the sad conviction, "impossible!" then was the time to turn with earnest eyes to the wide expanse of the river, and see if haply, somewhere at least, even in the middle, a channel might be traced. yes, there certainly was a channel, only one, very far out, and very difficult to hit upon when you sit in a boat quite near the level of the water; but the attempt must be made, or stay,--might i not get the boat carried round by land? under the trees far off were men who might be called to help, labourers quietly working, and never minding me. i was tempted, but did not yield. for a philosophical thought had come upmost, that, after all, the boat had not to meet _every_ wave and rock now visible, and the thousand breakers dashing around, but only a certain few which would be on each side in my crooked and untried way; of the rocks in any one line--say fifty of them between me and any point--only two would become a new danger in crossing that line. then again, rapids look worse from the shore than they really are, because you see all their difficulties at once, and you hear the general din. on the other hand, waves look much smaller from the bank (being half hidden by others) than you find them to be when the boat is in the trough between two. the hidden rocks may make a channel which looks good enough from the land, to be quite impracticable when you attempt it in the water. lastly, the current is seen to be swifter from the shore where you can observe its speed from a fixed point, than it seems when you are in the water where you notice only its velocity in relation to the stream on each side, which is itself all the time running at four or five miles an hour. but it is the positive speed of the current that ought really to be considered, for it is by this the boat will be urged against a breaker stationary in the river. to get to this middle channel at once from the place where i had left my boat was not possible. we must enter it higher up the river, so i had to pull the canoe up stream, over shallows, and along the bristly margin, wading, towing, and struggling, for about half a mile, till at length it seemed we must be high enough up stream to let me paddle out swiftly across, while the current would take the boat sideways to the rough water. and now in a little quiet bay i rested half an hour to recover strength after this exertion, and to prepare fully for a "spurt," which might indeed be delayed in starting, but which, once begun, must be vigorous and all watchful to the end. here various thoughts blended and tumbled about in the mind most disorderly. to leave this quiet bank and willingly rush out, in cold blood, into a field of white breakers; to tarnish the fair journey with a foolhardy prank; to risk the rob roy where the touch of one rock was utter destruction. will it be pleasant? can it be wise? is it right? the answer was, to sponge out every drop of water from the boat, to fasten the luggage inside, that it might not fall out in an upset, to brace the waterproof cover all tight around, and to get its edge in my teeth ready to let go in capsizing, and then to pull one gentle stroke which put the boat's nose out of the quiet water into the fast stream, and hurrah! we are off at a swinging pace. the sun, now shining exactly up stream, was an exceedingly uncomfortable addition to the difficulties; for its glancing beams confounded all the horizon in one general band of light, so that rocks, waves, solid water, and the most flimsy foam were all the same at a little distance. this, the sole disadvantage of a cloudless sky, was so much felt in my homeward route that i sometimes prolonged the morning's work by three or four hours (with sun behind or on one side), so as to shorten the evening's _quota_ where it was dead in the eye of the sun. on the present occasion, when it was of great moment to hit the channel exactly, i could not see it at all, even with my blue spectacles on. they seemed to be utterly powerless against such a fiery blaze; and, what was almost worse, my eyes were thereby so dazzled that on looking to nearer objects i could scarcely see them either. this unexpected difficulty was so serious that i thought for a moment of keeping on in my present course (directed straight across the river), so as to attain the opposite side, and there to wait for the sun to go down. but it was already too late to adopt this plan, for the current had been swiftly bearing me down stream, and an instant decision must be made. "now," thought i, "judging by the number of paddle-strokes, we must surely be opposite the channel in the middle, and now i must turn to it." by a happy hit, the speed and the direction of the canoe were both well fitted, so that when the current had borne us to the breakers the boat's bow was just turned exactly down stream, and i entered the channel whistling for very loneliness, like a boy in the dark. but it was soon seen to be "all right, englishman;" so in ten minutes more the canoe had passed the rapids, and we floated along pleasantly on that confused "bobbery" of little billows always found below broken water,--a sort of mob of waves, which for a time seem to be elbowing and jostling in all directions to find their proper places. i saw here two fishermen by one of the salmon traps described above, and at once pulled over to them, to land on a little white bank of sand, that i might rest, and bale out, and hear the news. the men asked if i had come down the rapids in that boat. "yes." "by the middle channel?" "yes." they smiled to each other, and then both at once commenced a most voluble and loud-spoken address in the vilest of patois. their eagerness and energy rose to such a pitch that i began to suppose they were angry; but the upshot of all this eloquence (always louder when you are seen not to understand one word of it) was this, "there are other rapids to come. you will get there in half an hour. they are far worse than what you have passed. your boat _must_ be carried round them on land." to see if this was said to induce me to employ them as porters, i asked the men to come along in their boat, so as to be ready to help me; but they consulted together, and did not by any means agree in admiring this proposal. then i asked them to explain the best route through the next rapids, when they drew such confused diagrams on the sand, and gave such complicated directions, that it was impossible to make head or tail of their atrocious jargon; so i quietly bowed, wiped out the sand pictures with my foot, and started again happy and free; for it is really the case that in these things "ignorance is bliss." the excitement of finding your way, and the satisfaction when you have found it yourself, is well worth all the trouble. just so in mountain travel. if you go merely to work the muscles, and to see the view, it will do to be tied by a rope to three guides, and to follow behind them; but then _theirs_ is all the mental exertion, and tact, and judgment, while yours is only the merit of keeping up with the leaders, treading in their steps. and therefore i have observed that there is less of this particular pleasure of the discoverer when one is ascending mont blanc, where by traditional rule one must be tied to the guides, than in making out a path over a mountain pass undirected, though the heights thus climbed up are not so great. when the boat got near the lower rapids, i went ashore and walked for half a mile down the bank, and so was able to examine the bearings well. it appeared practicable to get along by the shallower parts of one side, so this was resolved upon as my course. it is surely quite fair to go by the easiest way, provided there is no carrying overland adopted, or other plan for shirking the water. the method accordingly used in this case was rather a novel mode of locomotion, and it was quite successful, as well as highly amusing. in the wide plain of breakers here, the central district seemed radically bad, so we cautiously kept out of the main current, and went where the stream ran fast enough nevertheless. i sat stridelegs on the deck of the boat near its stern, and was thus floated down until the bow, projecting out of the water, went above a ridge of rocks, and the boat grounded. thus i received the shock against my legs (hanging in the water), so that the violence of its blow was eased off from the boat. then i immediately fixed both feet on the rock, and stood up, and the canoe went free from between my knees, and could be lowered down or pushed forward until the water got deeper, and when it got too deep to wade after her i pulled the boat back between my knees, and sat down again on it as before. [illustration: "astride the stern."] the chief difficulty in this proceeding was to be equally attentive at once to keep hold of the boat, to guide it between rocks, to keep hold of the paddle, and to manage not to tumble on loose stones, or to get into the water above the waist. thus by successive riding and ferrying over the deep pools, and walking and wading in the shallows, by pushing the boat here, and by being carried upon it there, the lower rapids of rheinfelden were most successfully passed without any damage. it will be seen from the description already given of the rapids at bremgarten, and now of these two rapids on the rhine, that the main difficulties are only for him who goes there uninformed, and that these can be avoided by examining them on the spot at the cost of a walk and a short delay. but the pleasure is so much enhanced by the whole thing being novel, that, unless for a man who wishes simply to _get past_, it is better to seek a channel for oneself, even if a much easier one has been found out by other people. the town of rheinfelden was now in view, and i began to wonder how the english four-oar boat we had traced as far as lauffenburg could have managed to descend the rapids just now passed. but i learned afterwards that the four-oar had come there in a time of flood, when rocks would be covered, and probably with only such eddies as i have already noticed higher up the river where it was deep. so they pulled on bravely to bâle, where the hotel folks mentioned that when the five moist britons arrived their clothes and baggage were all drenched, and the waiter said, with a malicious grin, that thereby his friend the washerwoman had earned twenty-seven francs in one night. on the left bank of the river was a large building with a smooth gravel shore in front, to which i steered at once. this was the great salt-water baths of rheinfelden--a favourite resort for crippled invalids. the salt rock in the earth beneath impregnates the springs with such an intensity of brine that eighty per cent. of fresh water has to be added before the saline mixture can be medicinally employed as a bath. if you take a glass of the water as it proceeds from the spring, and put a little salt in it, the salt will not dissolve, the water is already saturated. a drop of it put on your coat speedily dries up and leaves a white stain of minute crystals. in fact, this water seemed to me to be far more saline than even the water of the dead sea, which is in all conscience salt enough, as every one knows who has rubbed it on his face in that reeking-hot death-stricken valley of jericho. though the shore was pleasant here and the water was calm, i found no one to welcome me now, and yet this was the only time i had reason to expect somebody to greet the arrival of the canoe. for in the morning a worthy german had told me he was going by train to rheinfelden, and he would keep a look out for the canoe, and would surely meet me on the beach if i "ever got through the rapids." but i found afterwards that he _had_ come there, and with his friends, too, and they had waited and waited till at last they gave up the rob roy as a "missing ship." excellent man, he must have had some novel excuses to comfort his friends with as they retired, disappointed, after waiting in vain! there was however, not far off, a poor woman washing clothes by the river, and thumping and bullying them with a wooden bludgeon as if her sole object was to smash up the bachelor's shirt-buttons. a fine boy of eight years old was with her, a most intelligent little fellow, whose quick eye at once caught sight of the rob roy as it dashed round the point into the smooth water of the bay, and landed me there a tired, tanned traveller, wet and warm. this juvenile helped me more than any man ever did, and with such alacrity, too, and intelligence, and good humour, that i felt grateful to the boy. we spread out the sails to dry, and my socks and shoes in the sun, and sponged out the boat, and then dragged her up the high bank. here, by good luck, we found two wheels on an axle left alone, for what purpose i cannot imagine; but we got a stick and fastened it to them as a pole, and then put the boat on this extemporized vehicle, and with the boy (having duly got permission from his mamma) soon pulled the canoe to the gates of the old town, and then rattling through the streets, even to the door of the hotel. a bright franc in the lad's hand made him start with amaze, but he instantly rose to the dignity of the occasion, and some dozens of other urchins formed an attentive audience as he narrated over and over the events of the last half-hour, and ended always by showing the treasure in his hand, "and the herr gave me this!" the krone hotel here is very prettily situated. it is a large house, with balconies overlooking the water, and a babbling _jet d'eau_ in its garden, which is close by the river. the stream flows fast in front, and retains evidence of having passed through troublous times higher up; therefore it makes no small noise as it rushes under the arches of the covered wooden bridge, but though there are rocks and a few eddies the passage is easy enough if you look at it for five minutes to form a mental chart of your course. my german friend having found out that the canoe had arrived after all, his excitement and pleasure abounded. now he was proved right. now his promises, broken as it seemed all day, were all fulfilled. he was a very short, very fat, and very hilarious personage, with a minute smattering of english, which he had to speak loudly, so as to magnify its value among his allemand friends, envious of his accomplishment. his explanations of the contents of my sketch-book were truly ludicrous as he dilated on it page by page, but he well deserved all gratitude for ordering my hotel bedroom and its comforts, which were never more acceptable than now after a hard day's work. music finished the evening, and then the hum of the distant rapids sung me a lullaby breathing soft slumber. next morning, as there was but a short row to bâle, i took a good long rest in bed, and then carried the canoe half way across the bridge where a picturesque island is formed into a terraced garden, and here we launched the boat on the water. although the knocks and strains of the last few days were very numerous, and many of them of portentous force, judging by the sounds they made, the rob roy was still hale and hearty, and the carpenter's mate had no damages to report to the captain. it was not until harder times came, in the remainder of the voyage, that her timbers suffered and her planks were tortured by rough usage. a number of ladies patronized the start on this occasion, and as they waved their parasols and the men shouted hoch! and bravo! we glided down stream, the yellow paddle being waved round my head in an original mode of "salute," which i invented specially for returning friendly gratulations of this kind. speaking about rheinfelden, baedeker says, "below the town another rapid of the rhine forms a sort of whirlpool called the höllenhaken," a formidable announcement, and a terrible name; but what is called here a "whirlpool" is not worth notice. the sound of a railway train beside the river reminds you that this is not quite a strange, wild, unseen country. reminds you i say, because really when you are in the river bed, you easily forget all that is beyond it on each side. let a landscape be ever so well known from the road, it becomes new again when you view it from the level of the water. for before the scene was bounded by a semicircle with the diameter on the horizon, and the arch of sky for its circumference. but when you are seated in the canoe, the picture changes to the form of a great sector, with its point on the clear water, and each radius inclining aloft through rocks, trees, and mossy banks, on this side and on that. and this holds good even on a well worn river like the thames. the land-scenes between oxford and london get pretty well known and admired by travellers, but the views will seem both fresh and fair if you row down the river through them. nay, there are few rivers which have such lovely scenery as the thames can show in its windings along that route. but our canoe is now getting back to civilization, and away from that pleasant simplicity where everything done in the streets or the hotel is strange to a stranger. here we have composite candles and therefore no snuffers; here the waiter insists on speaking english, and sitting down by me, and clutching my arm, he confidentially informs me that there are no "bean green," translating "haricots verts," but that perhaps i might like a "flower caul," so we assent to a cauliflower. this is funny enough, but far more amusing is it when the woman waiter of some inland german village shouts louder german to you, because that she rattles out at first is not understood. she gazes with a new sensation at a guest who actually cannot comprehend her voluble words, and then guest and waiter burst into laughter. here too i saw a boat towed along the rhine--a painful evidence of being near commerce, even though it was in a primitive style; not that there was any towing-path, but men walked among the bushes, pulling the boat with a rope, and often wading to do so. this sight told me at once that i had left the fine free forests where you might land anywhere, and it was sure to be lonely and charming. after a few bends westward we come in sight of the two towers of bâle, but the setting sun makes it almost impossible to see anything in its brightness, so we must only paddle on. the bridge at bâle was speedily covered by the idle and the curious as the canoe pulled up at an hotel a few yards from the water on sept. th. it was here that the four-oared boat had arrived some weeks ago with its moist crew. the proprietor of the house was therefore much pleased to see another english boat come in, so little and so lonely, but still so comfortable and so dry. i walked about the town and entered a church (protestant here of course), where a number of people had assembled at a baptism. the baby was fixed on a sort of frame, so as to be easily handed about from mother to father, and from clerk to minister; i hereby protest against this mechanical arrangement as a flagrant indignity to the little darling. i have a great respect for babies, sometimes a certain awe. the instant the christening was done, a happy couple came forward to be married, an exceedingly clumsy dolt of a bridegroom and a fair bride, not very young, that is to say, about fifty-five years old. there were no bridesmaids or other perplexing appurtenances, and after the simple ceremony the couple just walked away, amid the titters of a numerous crowd of women. the bridegroom did not seem to know exactly what to do next. he walked before his wife, then behind her, and then on one side, but it did not somehow feel quite comfortable, so he assumed a sort of diagonal position, and kept nudging her on till they disappeared in some house. altogether, i never saw a more unromantic commencement of married life, but there was this redeeming point, that they were not bored by that dread infliction--a marriage breakfast--the first meeting of two jealous sets of new relations, who are all expected to be made friends at once by eating when they are not hungry, and listening when there is nothing to say. but, come, it is not proper for me to criticise these mysteries, so let us go back to the inn. in the coffee-room a frenchman, who had been in london, has just been instructing two mexicans, who are going there, as to hotels, and it is excessively amusing to hear his description of the london "caffy hous," and the hotels in "lyces-ter-squar." "it is pronounced squar," he said, "in england." chapter xi. private concert--thunderer--la hardt forest--mulhouse canal--river ill--reading stories--madame nico--night noises--pets--ducking--vosges--admirers--boat on wheels--new wine. bâle is, in every sense, a turning-point on the rhine. the course of the river here bends abruptly from west to north, and the character of the scenery beside it alters at once from high sloping banks to a widespread network of streams, all entangled in countless islands, and yet ever tending forward, northward, seaward through the great rich valley of the rhine with mountain chains reared on each side like two everlasting barriers. here then we could start anew almost in any direction, and i had not settled yet what route to take, whether by the saone and doubs to paddle to the rhone, and so descend to marseilles, and coast by the cornici road, and sell the boat at genoa; or--and this second plan must be surely a better alternative, if by it we can avoid a sale of the rob roy--i could not part with her now--so let us at once decide to go back through france. we were yet on the river slowly paddling when this decision was arrived at, and the river carried me still, for i determined not to leave its pleasant easy current for a slow canal, until the last possible opportunity. a diligent study of new maps procured at bâle, showed that a canal ran northward nearly parallel to the rhine, and approached very near to the river at one particular spot, which indeed looked hard enough to find even on the map, but was far more dubious when we got into a maze of streamlets and little rivers circling among high osiers, so thick and close that even on shore it was impossible to see a few yards. but the line of tall poplars along the canal was visible now and then, so i made a guesswork turn, and it was not far wrong, or at any rate we got so near the canal that by winding about for a little in a pretty limpid stream, i brought the rob roy at last within carrying distance. a song or two (without words) and a variation of the music by whistling on the fingers would be sure to bring anybody out of the osiers who was within reach of the outlandish concert, and so it proved, for a woman's head soon peered over a break in the dense cover. she wished to help to carry the boat herself, but the skipper's gallantry had scruples as to this proposal, so she disappeared and soon fetched a man, and we bore the canoe with some trouble through hedges and bushes, and over dykes and ditches, and at last through deep grassy fields, till she was safely placed on the canal. the man was delighted by a two-franc piece. he had been well paid for listening to bad music. as for the boat she lay still and resigned, awaiting my next move, and as for me i sighed to give a last look backward, and to say with byron-- "adieu to thee, fair rhine! how long delighted the stranger fain would linger on his way! thine is a scene alike where souls united or lonely contemplation thus might stray; and could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey on self-condemning bosoms, it were here, where nature, nor too sombre nor too gay, wild but not rude, awful yet not austere, is to the mellow earth as autumn to the year. adieu to thee again! a vain adieu! there can be no farewell to scene like thine; the mind is colour'd by thy every hue; and if reluctantly the eyes resign their cherish'd gaze upon thee, lovely rhine! 'tis with the thankful glance of parting praise; more mighty spots may rise, more glaring shine, but none unite in one attaching maze the brilliant, fair, and soft--the glories of old days. the negligently grand, the fruitful bloom of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen, the rolling stream, the precipice's gloom, the forest's growth, and gothic walls between, the wild rocks shaped as they had turrets been in mockery of man's art; and these withal a race of faces happy as the scene, whose fertile bounties here extend to all, still springing o'er thy banks, though empires near them fall. but these recede. above me are the alps, the palaces of nature, whose vast walls have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, and throned eternity in icy halls of cold sublimity, where forms and falls the avalanche--the thunderbolt of snow! all that expands the spirit, yet appals, gather around these summits, as to show how earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below." --_childe harold, canto iii._ to my surprise and satisfaction the canal had a decided current in it, and in the right direction too. it is true that this current was only about two miles an hour, but even that is something; and though the little channel was hardly twelve feet wide, yet it was clear and deep, and by no means stupid to travel on. after a few miles i came to a drawbridge, which rested within a foot of the water. a man came to raise the bridge by machinery, and he was surprised to see my way of passing it instead, that is, to shove my boat under it, while i quietly walked over the top and got into the boat at the other side. this was, without doubt, the first boat which had traversed the canal without the bridge being raised, but i had passed several very low bridges on the danube, some of them not two inches above the surface of the water. the very existence of these proves that no boats pass there, and mine only passed by pulling it over the bridge itself. it may be asked, how such a low bridge fares in flood times? and the answer is, that the water simply flows all over it. in some cases the planks which form the roadway are removed when the water rises, and then the wayfaring man who comes to the river must manage in some other mode. his bridge is removed at the very time when the high water makes it most necessary. the bridge man was so intelligent in his remarks that we determined to stop there and breakfast, so i left the canoe in his charge and found my way to a little publichouse at the hamlet of gros kembs, and helped the wizened old lady who ruled there to make me an omelette--my help, by the bye, consisted in ordering, eating, and paying for the omelette, for the rest she was sure to do well enough, as all french women can, and no english ones. the village gossips soon arrived, and each person who saw the boat came on to the inn to see the foreigner who could sail in such a _batteau_. the courteous and respectful behaviour of continental people is so uniform that the stranger among them is bound, i think, to amuse and interest these folk in return. this was most easily done by showing all my articles of luggage,[xxviii.] and of course the drawings. a testament with gilt leaves was, however, the chief object of curiosity, and all the _savants_ of the party tried in turn to read it. [xxviii.] see an inventory of these in the appendix. one of these as spokesman, and with commendable gravity, told me he had read in their district newspaper about the canoe, but he little expected to have the honour of meeting its owner. fancy the local organ of such a place! is it called the "news of the wold," or the "gros kembs thunderer"? well, whatever was the title of the gazette, it had an article about pontius pilate and my visit to the titisee in the black forest, and this it was no doubt which made these canal people so very inquisitive on the occasion. the route now lay through the great forest of la hardt, with dense thickets on each side of the canal, and not a sound anywhere to be heard but the hum now and then of a dragon fly. one or two woodmen met me as they trudged silently home from work, but there was a lonely feeling about the place without any of the romance of wild country. in the most brilliant day the scenery of a canal has at best but scant liveliness, the whole thing is so prosaic and artificial, and in fact stupid, if one can ever say that of any place where there is fresh air and clear water, and blue sky and green trees. still i had to push on, and sometimes, for a change, to tow the boat while i walked. the difference between a glorious river encircling you with lofty rocks and this canal with its earthen walls was something like that between walking among high mountains and being shut up by mistake in bloomsbury-square. no birds chirped or sung, or even flew past, only the buzzing of flies was mingled with the distant shriek of a train on the railway. it is this railway which has killed the canal, for i saw no boats moving upon it. the long continued want of rain had also reduced its powers of accommodation for traffic, and the traffic is so little at the best that it would not pay to buy water for the supply. for in times of drought canal water is very expensive. it was said that the regent's canal, in london, had to pay , _l._ for what they required last summer, in consequence of the dryness of the season. at length we came to a great fork of the canal in a wide basin, and i went along the branch to the town of mulhouse, a place of great wealth, the largest french cotton town--the manchester of france. the street boys here were very troublesome, partly because they were intelligent, and therefore inquisitive, and partly because manufacturing towns make little urchins precocious and forward in their manners. i hired a truck from a woman and hired a man to drag it, and so took the boat to the best hotel, a fine large house, where they at once recognized the canoe, and seemed to know all about it from report. the hotel porter delayed so long next morning to wheel the boat to the railway, that when we took her into the luggage office as usual and placed the boat on the counter with the trunks and band-boxes, the officials declined to put it in the train. this was the first time it had been refused on a railroad, and i used every kind of persuasion, but in vain, and this being the first application of the kind on french soil we felt that difficulties were ahead, if this precedent was to hold good. subsequent experience showed that the french railways will not take a canoe as baggage; while the other seven or eight countries we had brought the boat through were all amenable to pressure on this point. we had desired to go by the railway only a few miles, but it would have enabled me to avoid about fifty locks on the canal and thus have saved two tedious days. as, however, they would not take the boat in a passenger train we carried her back to the canal, and i determined to face the locks boldly, and to regard them as an exercise of patience and of the flexor muscles, as it happens sometimes one's walk is only "a constitutional." the superintendent of the rhine and rhone canal was very civil, and endeavoured to give me the desirable information i required, but which he had not got, that is to say, the length, depth, and general character of the several rivers we proposed to navigate in connexion with streams less "canalizé," so i had to begin again as usual, without any knowledge of the way. with rather an ill-tempered "adieu" to mulhouse, the rob roy set off again on its voyage. the water assumed quite a new aspect, now that one _must_ go by it, but it was not so much the water as the locks which were objectionable. for at each of these there is a certain form of operations to be gone through--all very trifling and without variety, yet requiring to be carefully performed, or you may have the boat injured, or a ducking for yourself. when we get to a lock i have to draw to the bank, open my waterproof covering, put my package and paddle ashore, then step out and haul the boat out of the water. by this time two or three persons usually congregate. i select the most likely one, and ask him to help in such a persuasive but dignified manner that he feels it an honour to carry one end of the boat while i take the other, and so we put her in again above the barrier, and, if the man looks poor, i give him a few sous. at some of the locks they asked me for a "carte de permission," or pass for travelling on their canal, but i laughed the matter off, and when they pressed it with a "mais monsieur," i kept treating the proposal as a good joke, until the officials were fairly baffled and gave in. the fact is, we had got into the canal as one gets over the hedge on to a public road, and as i did not use any of the water in locks or any of the lock-keepers' time, and the "pass" was a mere form, price _d._, it was but reasonable to go unquestioned; and besides, this "carte" could not be obtained except at the beginning. having set off late, we went on until about sunset, when the route suddenly passed into the river ill, a long dull stream, which flows through the vosges into the rhine. this stream was now quite stagnant, and a mere collection of pools covered by thick scum. it was therefore a great comfort to have only a short voyage upon it. when the rob roy again entered the canal, an acquaintance was formed with a fine young lad, who was reading as he sauntered along. he was reading of canoe adventures in america, and so i got him to walk some miles beside me, and to help the boat over some locks, telling him he could thus see how different actual canoeing was from the book stories about it made up of romance! he was pining for some expansion of his sphere, and specially for foreign travel, and above all to see england. we went to an _auberge_, where i ordered a bottle of wine, the cost of which was twopence halfpenny. after he left, and as it was now dark, i halted, put my boat in a lock-keeper's house, and made his son conduct me to the little village of illfurth, a most unsophisticated place indeed, with a few vineyards on a hill behind it, though the railway has a road station near. it was not easy to mistake which was the best house here even in the dark, so i inquired of madame at "the white horse" if she could give me a bed. "not in a room for one alone; three others will be sleeping in the same chamber." this she had answered after glancing at my puny package and travel-worn dress, but her ideas about the guest were enlarged when she heard of how he had come, and so she managed (they always do if you give time and smiles and show sketches) to allot me a nice little room to myself, with two beds of the hugest size, a water-jug of the most minute dimensions, and sheets very coarse and very clean. another omelette was consumed while the customary visitors surrounded the benighted traveller; carters, porters, all of them with courteous manners, and behaving so well to me and to one another, and talking such good sense, as to make me feel how different from this is the noisy taproom of a roadside english "public." presently two fine fellows of the gendarmerie came in for their half bottle of wine, at one penny, and as both of them had been in the crimea there was soon ample subject for most interesting conversation. this was conducted in french, but the people here usually speak a patois utterly impossible for one to comprehend. i found they were discussing me under various conjectures, and they settled at last that i must be rather an odd fish, but certainly "a gentleman," and probably "noble." they were most surprised to hear i meant to stop all the next day at illfurth, simply because it was sunday, but they did not fail to ask for my passport, which until this had been carried all the way without a single inquiry on the subject. the sudden change from a first-rate hotel this morning to the roadside inn at illfurth, was more entertaining on account of its variety than for its agreeables; but in good health and good weather one can put up with anything. the utter silence of peaceful and cool night in a place like this reigns undisturbed until about four o'clock in early morn, when the first sound is some matutinal cock, who crows first because he is proud of being first awake. after he has asserted his priority thus once or twice, another deeper toned rooster replies, and presently a dozen cocks are all in full song, and in different keys. in half an hour you hear a man's voice; next, some feminine voluble remarks; then a latch is moved and clicks, the dog gives a morning bark, and a horse stamps his foot in the stable because the flies have aroused to breakfast on his tender skin. at length a pig grunts, his gastric juice is fairly awake, the day is begun. and so the stream of life, thawed from its sleep, flows gently on again, and at length the full tide of village business is soon in agitation, with men's faces and women's quite as full of import as if this french stoke pogis were the capital of the world. while the inmates prepare for early mass, and my bowl of coffee is set before me, there are four dogs, eight cats, and seven canaries (i counted them) all looking on, moving, twittering, mewing, each evidently sensible that a being from some other land is present among them; and as these little pets look with doubtful inquiring eyes on the stranger, there is felt more strongly by him too, "yes, i am in a foreign country." on sunday i had a quiet rest, and walk, and reading, and an englishman, who had come out for a day from mulhouse to fish, dined in the pleasant arbour of the inn with his family. one of his girls managed to fall into a deep pond and was nearly drowned, but i heard her cries, and we soon put her to rights. this briton spoke with quite a foreign accent, having been six years in france; but his lancashire dialect reappeared in conversation, and he said he had just been reading about the canoe in a manchester paper. his children had gone that morning to a sunday-school before they came out by railway to fish in the river here; but i could not help contrasting their rude manners with the good behaviour of the little "lady and gentleman" children of my host. one of these, philibert, was very intelligent, and spent an hour or two with me, so we became great friends. he asked all kinds of questions about england and america, far more than i was able to answer. i gave him a little book with a picture in it, that he might read it to his father, for it contained the remarkable conversation between napoleon and his marshal at st. helena concerning the christian religion, a paper well worth reading, whoever spoke the words. this sunday being an annual village fête a band played, and some very uncouth couples waltzed the whole day. large flocks of sheep, following their shepherds, wandered over the arid soil. the poor geese, too, were flapping their wings in vain as they tried to swim in water an inch deep, where usually there had been pleasant pools in the river. i sympathized with the geese, for i missed my river sadly too. my bill here for the two nights, with plenty to eat and drink, amounted to five shillings in all, and i left good madame nico with some regret, starting again on the canal, which looked more dully and dirty than before. after one or two locks this sort of travelling became so insufferable that i suddenly determined to change my plans entirely--for is not one free? by the present route several days would be consumed in going over the hills by a series of tedious locks; besides, this very canal had been already traversed by the four-oar boat waterwitch some years ago. a few moments of thought, and i got on the bank to look for a way of deliverance. far off could be seen the vine-clad hills of the vosges, and i decided at once to leave the canal, cross the country to those hills, cart the canoe over the range, and so reach the source of the moselle, and thus begin to paddle on quite another set of rivers. we therefore turned the prow back, went down the canal, and again entered the river ill, but soon found it was now too shallow to float even my canoe. once more i retraced my way, ascending the locks, and, passing by illfurth, went on to reach a village where a cart could be had. desperation made me paddle hard even in the fierce sun, but it was not that this so much troubled me as the humiliation of thus rowing back and forward for miles on a dirty, stagnant canal, and passing by the same locks two or three times, with the full conviction that the people who gazed at the procedure must believe me not only to be mad (this much one can put up with), but furiously insane, and dangerous to be at large. whether we confess it or not we all like to be admired. the right or wrong of this depends on for what and from whom we covet admiration. but when the deed you attract attention by is neither a great one, nor a deed which others have not done or cannot do, but is one that all other people could but would not do, then you are not admired as remarkable but only stared at as singular. the shade of a suspicion that this is so in any act done before lookers-on is enough to make it hateful. nay, you have then the sufferings of a martyr, without his cause or his glory. but i fear that instead of getting a cart for the canoe i am getting out of depth in metaphysics, which means, you know, "when ane maun explains till anither what he disna understaun himsel, that's metapheesics." well, when we came to the prescribed village, named haidwiller, we found they had plenty of carts, but not one would come to help me even for a good round sum. it was their first day with the grapes, and "ancient customs must be observed"; so we went on still further to another village, where they were letting out the water from the canal to repair a lock. [illustration: "the rob roy on wheels."] here was a position of unenviable repose for the poor rob roy! no water to float in, and no cart to carry her. to aid deliberation i attacked a large cake of hot flour baked by the lock-keeper's dirty wife, and we stuck plums in it to make it go down, while the man hied off to the fields to get some animal that could drag a clumsy vehicle--cart is too fine a name for it--which i had impressed from a ploughman near. the man came back leading a gloomy-looking bullock, and we started with the boat now travelling on wheels, but at a most dignified pace.[xxix.] [xxix.] the sketch represents the lady cow which dragged the cart at lauffenburg, but it will do almost equally well for the present equipage. this was the arrangement till we reached another village, which had no vineyards, and where therefore we soon found a horse, instead of the gruff bullock; while the natives were lost in amazement to see a boat in a cart, and a big foreigner gabbling beside it. the sun was exceedingly hot, and the road dusty; but i felt the walk would be a pleasant change, though my driver kept muttering to himself about my preference of pedestrianism to the fearful jolts of his cart. we passed thus through several villages on a fine fruitful plain, and at some of them the horse had to bait, or the driver to lunch, or his employer to refresh the inner man, in every case the population being favoured with an account by the driver of all he knew about the boat, and a great deal more. at one of the inns on the road some new wine was produced on the table. it had been made only the day before, and its colour was exactly like that of cold tea, with milk and sugar in it, while its taste was very luscious and sweet. this new wine is sometimes in request, but especially among the women. "corn shall make the young men cheerful, and new wine the maids." (zech. ix. .) chapter xii. bonfire--my wife--matthews--tunnel picture--imposture--fancy--moselle--cocher--"saturday review" tracts--gymnastics--the paddle--a spell--overhead--feminine forum--public breakfast. as evening came on the little flag of the rob roy, which was always hoisted, even in a cart, showed signs of animation, being now revived by a fresh breeze from the beautiful vosges mountains when we gradually brought their outline more distinctly near. then we had to cross the river thur, but that was an easy matter in these scorching days of drought. so the cavalcade went on till, the high road being reached, we drove the cart into the pretty town of thann. the driver insisted on going to _his_ hotel, but when there i saw it could not be the best in a town of this size (experience quickens perception in these matters), and i simply took the reins, backed out of the yard, and drove to a better one. here the hotel-keeper had read of the rob roy, so it was received with all the honours, and the best of his good things was at my disposal. in the evening i burned some magnesium-wire signals to amuse the rustics, who came in great crowds along the roads, drawing home their bullock-carts, well loaded with large vats full of the new grapes, and singing hoarsely as they waved aloft flowers and garlands and danced around them,--the rude rejoicings for a bounteous vine harvest. it is remarkable how soon the good singing of germany is lost trace of when you cross into france, though the language of the peasant here was german enough. at night we went to see an experiment in putting out fires. a large bonfire was lighted in the market-place, and the inventor of the new apparatus came forward, carrying on his back a vessel full of water, under the pressure of "six atmospheres" of carbonic acid gas. he directed this on the fire from a small squirt at the end of a tube, and it was certainly most successful in immediately extinguishing the flames.[xxx.] this gentleman and other _savants_ of the town then visited the boat, and the usual entertainment of the sketch-book closed a pleasant day, which had begun with every appearance of being the reverse. [xxx.] this invention, l'extincteur, has since been exhibited in london, and it seems to be a valuable one. although this is a busy place, i found only one book-shop in it, and that a very bad one. a priest and two nuns were making purchases there, and i noticed that more images and pictures than printed books were kept for sale. next morning a new railroad enabled me to take the boat a little further into the hills; but they fought hard to make her go separate, that is, in a "merchandise" train, though i said the boat was "my wife," and could not travel alone. at last they put their wise heads together, filled up five separate printed forms, charged double fare, and the whole thing cost me just ninepence. verily, the french are still overloaded with forms, and are still in the straitwaistcoat of _système_. the railway winds among green hills, while here and there a "fabrik," or factory, nestles in a valley, or illumines a hill-side at night with its numerous windows all lighted up. these are the chief depôts of that wonderful industry of taste which spreads the shawls and scarfs of france before the eyes of an admiring world, for ladies to covet, and for their husbands to buy. i was informed that the designs for patterns here cost large sums, as if they were the oil paintings of the first masters, and that three times as much is paid in france for cutting one in wood as will be given by an english manufacturer. at wesserling we managed to mount the rob roy on a spring vehicle, and we set off gaily up the winding road that passes the watershed of the vosges mountains. i never had a more charming drive. for six hours we were among woods, vineyards, bright rivulets, and rich pastures. walking up a hill, we overtook a carriage, and found one of the occupants was an englishman. but he had resided in france for more than twenty years, and really i could scarcely understand his english. he spoke of "dis ting," and "ve vill go," and frequently mingled french and german words with his native tongue. in a newspaper article here we noticed after the name "matthews," the editor had considerately added, "pronounced, in english, massious." this is well enough for a frenchman, but it certainly is difficult to conceive how a man can fail in pronouncing our "th," if he is a real live englishman. when he found out my name, he grasped my hand, and said how deeply interested he had been in a pamphlet written by one of the same name.[xxxi.] [xxxi.] the loss of the kent east indiaman by fire in the bay of biscay, by general sir d. macgregor, k.c.b. (religious tract society, paternoster-row.) see a further note on this in the appendix. the spring carriage had been chartered as an expensive luxury in this cheap tour, that is to say, my boat and myself were to be carried about thirty-five miles in a comfortable four-wheeled vehicle for twenty-six francs--not very dear when you consider that it saved a whole day's time to me and a whole day's jolting to the canoe, which seemed to enjoy its soft bed on the top of the cushion, and to appreciate very well the convenience of springs. after a good hard pull up a winding road we got to the top of the pass of this "little switzerland," as it is called, and here was a tunnel on the very crest of the watershed. the arch of this dark tunnel made an excellent frame to a magnificent picture; for before me was stretched out broad france. all streams at our back went down to the all-absorbing rhine, but those in front would wend their various ways, some to the mediterranean, others into the bay of biscay, and the rest into the british channel. a thousand peaks and wooded knolls were on this side and that, while a dim panorama of five or six villages and sunny plains extended before us. this was the chain of the vosges mountains and their pleasant vales, where many valorous men have been reared. the most noted crusaders came from this district, and from here too the first of the two great napoleons drew the best soldiers of his army.[xxxii.] most of the community are protestants. [xxxii.] the giant called "anak," who has been exhibiting in london, is from the vosges mountains. high up on one side of us was a pilgrim station, where thousands of people come year by year, and probably they get fine fresh air and useful exercise. the french seem to walk farther for superstitious purposes than for mere pedestrian amusement.[xxxiii.] [xxxiii.] among other celebrated french "stations" there is the mountain of la salette, near grenoble, where, even in one day, , pilgrims have ascended to visit the spot where the virgin mary was said to have spoken to some shepherds. on the occasion of my pilgrimage there i met some donkeys with panniers bringing down holy water (in lemonade bottles) which was sold throughout europe for a shilling a bottle, until a priest at the bottom of the mountain started a private pump of his own. the woman who had been hired to personate the holy saint confessed the deception, and it was exploded before the courts of law in a report which i read on the spot; but the roman catholic papers, even in england, published attractive articles to support this flagrant imposture, and its truth and goodness were vehemently proclaimed in a book by the romish bishop of birmingham, with the assent of the pope. methinks it is easier to march barefoot miles over sharp stones than to plod your honest walk of life on common pavement and with strong soled boots. my english friend now got into my carriage, and we drove a little way from the road to the village of bussang to see the source of the moselle. this river rises under the "ballon d'alsace," a lofty mountain with a rounded top, and the stream consists at first of four or five very tiny trickling rivulets which unite and come forth in a little spring well about the size of a washing-tub, from which the water flows across the road in a channel that you can bridge with your fingers. but this bubbling brook had great interest for me, as i meant to follow its growth until it would be strong enough to bear me on its cool, clear water, now only like feathers strewed among the grass, and singing its first music very pretty and low. we like to see the source of a great river; a romantic man must have much piquant thought at the sight, and a poetic man must be stirred by its sentiment. every great thought must also have had a source or germ, and it would be interesting to know how and when some of the grand ideas that have afterwards aroused nations first thrilled in the brain of a genius, a warrior, a philosopher, or a statesman. and besides having a source, each stream of thought has a current too, with ripples and deep pools, and scenery as it were around. some thoughts are lofty, others broad; some are straight, and others round about; some are rushing, while others glide peacefully; only a few are clear and deep. but this is not the place to launch upon fancy's dreams, or even to describe the real, pretty valleys around us in the vosges. we go through these merely to find water for the rob roy, and in this search we keep descending every hour. when the bright stars came out they glittered below thick trees in pools of the water now so quickly become a veritable river, and i scanned each lagoon in the darkness to know if still it was too small for the boat. we came to the town of remiremont and to a bad sort of inn, where all was disorder and dirt. the driver sat down with me to a late supper and behaved with true french politeness, which always shows better in company than in private, or when real self-denial or firm friendship is to be tested. so he ate of his five different courses, and had his wine, fruit, and neat little etceteras, and my bill next day for our united entertainment and lodging was just _s._ _d._ this _cocher_ was an intelligent man, and conversed on his own range of subjects with considerable tact, and when our conversation was turned upon the greater things of another world he said, "they must be happy there, for none of them have ever come back"--a strange thought, oddly phrased. as he became interested in the subject i gave him a paper upon it, which he at once commenced to read aloud.[xxxiv.] [xxxiv.] some days previously a stranger gave me a bundle of papers to read, for which i thanked him much. afterwards at leisure i examined the packet, which consisted of about thirty large pages sewn together, and comprising tracts upon politics, science, literature, and religion. the last subject was prominent, and was dealt with in a style clever, caustic, and censorious, which interested me much. these tracts were printed in england and with good paper and type. they are a weekly series, distributed everywhere at six shillings a dozen, and each page is entitled "the saturday review." next morning, the th of september, the rob roy was brought to the door in a handcart, and was soon attended by its usual levee. as we had come into the town late at night the gazers were ignorant of any claims this boat might have upon their respect, and some of them derided the idea of its being able to float on the river here, or at any rate to go more than a mile or two. but having previously taken a long walk before breakfast to examine the moselle, i was convinced it could be begun even here and in this dry season. the porter was therefore directed to go forward, and the boat moved towards the river amid plaudits rather ambiguous, until a curious old gentleman, with green spectacles and a white hat, kindly brought the sceptical mob to their senses by telling them he had read often about the boat, and they must not make fun of it now. then they all chopped round and changed their minds in a moment--the fickle french--and they helped me with a will, and carried the rob roy about a mile to the spot fixed upon for the start, which was speedily executed, with a loud and warm "adieu!" and "bon voyage!" from all the spectators. it was pleasant again to grasp the paddle and to find pure clear water below, which i had not seen since the danube, and to have a steady current alongside that was so much missed on the sluggish river ill and the basel canal. pretty water flowers quivered in the ripples round the mossy stones, and park-like meadows sloped to the river with fruit trees heavy laden. after half an hour of congratulation that we had come to the moselle rather than the saone and the doubs, i settled down to my day's work with cheerfulness. the water of this river was very clear and cool, meandering through long deep pools, and then over gurgling shallows; and the fish, waterfowl, woods, and lovely green fields were a most welcome change from the canal we had left. the sun was intensely hot, but the spare "jib," as a shawl on my shoulders, defied its fierce rays, and so i glided along in solitary enjoyment. the numerous shallows required much activity with the paddle, and my boat got more bumped and thumped to-day than in any other seven days of the tour. of course i had often to get out and to tow her through the water; sometimes through the fields, or over rocks, but this was easily done with canvas shoes on, and flannel trousers that are made for constant ducking. the aspect of the river was rather of a singular character for some miles, with low banks sloping backwards, and richly carpeted with grass, so that the view on either side was ample; while in front was a spacious picture of successive levels, seen to great advantage as the rob roy glided smoothly on crystal waters lipped with green. again the playful river descends by sudden leaps and deep falls, chiefly artificial, and some trouble is caused in getting down each of these, for the boat had to be lowered by hand, with a good deal of gymnastic exercise among the slippery rocks; the mosses and lichens were studied in anything but botanical order. at this period of the voyage the paddle felt so natural in my hands from long use of it every day, that it was held unconsciously. in the beginning of my practice i had invented various tethers and ties to secure this all-important piece of furniture from being lost if it should fall overboard, and i had practised what ought to be done if the paddle should ever be beaten out of my hand by a wave, or dropped into the water in a moment of carelessness. but none of these plans were satisfactory in actual service. the strings got entangled when i jumped out suddenly, or i forgot the thing was tied when it had to be thrown out on the shore, so it was better to have the paddle perfectly loose; and thus free, it never was dropped or lost hold of even in those times of difficulty or confusion which made twenty things to be done, and each to be done first, when an upset was imminent, and a jump out had to be managed instead.[xxxv.] [xxxv.] the bamboo mast was meant originally to serve also as a boat-hook or hitcher, and had a ferrule and a fishing gaff neatly fastened on the end, which fitted also into the mast step. i recollect having used the boat-hook once at gravesend, but it was instantly seen to be a mistake. you don't want a boat-hook when your canoe can come close alongside where it is deep, and will ground when it is shallow. besides, to use a boat-hook you must drop the paddle. the movement of the paddle, then, got to be almost involuntary, just as the legs are moved in walking, and the ordinary difficulties of a river seemed to be understood by the mind without special observation, and to be dealt with naturally, without hesitation or reasoning as to what ought to be done. this faculty increased until long gazes upwards to the higher grounds or to the clouds were fully indulged without apparently interrupting the steady and proper navigation of the boat, even when it was moving with speed. on one of these occasions i had got into a train of thought on this subject, and was regretting that the course of the stream made me turn my back on the best scenery. i had spun round two or three times to feast my eyes once more and again upon some glowing peaks, lit up by the setting sun, until a sort of fascination seized the mind, and a quiet lethargy crept over the system; and, moreover, a most illogical persuasion then settled that the boat always _did_ go right, and that one need not be so much on the alert to steer well. this still held me as we came into a cluster of about a dozen rocks all dotted about, and with the stream welling over this one and rushing over that, and yet i was spellbound and doggedly did nothing to guide the boat's course. but the water was avenged on this foolish defiance of its power, for in a moment i was driven straight on a great rock, only two inches below the surface, and the boat at once swung round, broadside on to the current, and then slowly but determinedly began to turn over. as it canted more and more my lax muscles were rudely aroused to action, for the plain fact stared out baldly that i was about to get a regular ducking, and all from a stupid, lazy fit. the worst of it was i was not sitting erect, but stretched almost at full length in the boat, and one leg was entangled inside by the strap of my bag. in the moments following (that seem minutes in such a case) a gush of thoughts went through the mind while the poor little boat was still turning over, until at last i gave a spring from my awkward position to jump into the water. the jerk released the canoe from the rock, but only the head and arms of its captain fell into the river--though in a most undignified _pose_, which was soon laughed off, when my seat was recovered, with a wet head and dripping sleeves! however, this little _faux pas_ quite wakened and sobered me, and i looked in half shame to the bank to see if any person had witnessed the absurd performance. and it was well to have done with sentiment and reveries, for the river had now got quite in earnest about going along. permit me again to invite attention to the washerwomen on the river; for this institution, which one does not find thus floating on our streams in england, becomes a very frequent object of interest if you canoe it on the continent. [illustration: "washing barge."] as the well in eastern countries is the recognised place for gossiping, and in colder climes a good deal of politics is settled in the barber's shop, so here in fluvial districts the washing barge is the forum of feminine eloquence. the respectability of a town as you approach it is shadowed forth by the size and ornaments of the _blanchisseuses'_ float; and as there are often fifty faces seen at once, the type of female loveliness may be studied for a district at a time. while they wash they talk, and while they talk they thump and belabour the clothes; but there is always some idle eye wandering which speedily will catch sight of the rob roy canoe. in smaller villages, and where there is no barge for them to use, the women have to do without one, and kneel on the ground, so that even in far-off parts of the river we shall find them there. a flat sounding whack! whack! tells me that round the corner we shall come upon at least a couple of washerwomen, homely dames, with brown faces and tall caps, who are wringing, slapping, and scrubbing the "linge." though this may encourage the french cotton trade, i rejoice that my own shirts are of strong woollen stuff, which defies their buffeting. i always fraternized with these ladies, doffing my hat, and drawing back my left foot for a bow (though the graceful action is not observed under the macintosh). other travellers, also, may find there is something to be seen and heard if they pass five minutes at the washing-barge. but even if it were not instructive and amusing thus to study character when a whole group is met with at once, surely it is to be remembered that the pleasure of seeing a new sight and of hearing a foreigner speak cheerful and kind words, is to many of these hard-working, honest mothers a bright interlude in a life of toil. to give pleasure is one of the best pleasures of a tourist; and it is in acting thus, too, that the lone traveller feels no loneliness, while he pleases and is pleased. two englishmen may travel together agreeably among foreigners for a week without learning so much of the life, and mind, and manners of the people as would be learned in one day if each of the tourists went alone, provided he was not too shy or too proud to open his eyes, and ears, and mouth among strangers, and had sense enough to be an exception to the rule that "every englishman is an island." merely for a change, i ran the rob roy into a long millrace in search of breakfast. this stream having secured hold of the boat stealthily ran away with us in a winding course among the hayfields, and quite out of reach of the river, until it seemed that after all we were only in a streamlet for irrigation, which would vanish into rills an inch deep in a water meadow. however, i put a bold face on it, and gravely and swiftly sped through the fields, and bestowed a nod now and then on the rural gazers. a fine boy of twelve years old soon trotted alongside, and i asked him if he was an honest lad, which he answered by a blush, and "yes." "here is a franc, then. go and buy me bread and wine, and meet me at the mill." a few of the "hands" soon found out the canoe, moored, as it was thought, in quiet retirement, with its captain resting under a tree, and presently a whole crowd of them swarmed out, and shouted with delight as they pressed round to see. the boy brought a very large bottle of wine, and a loaf big enough to dine four men; and i set to work with an oarsman's appetite, and that happy _sang froid_ which no multitude of gazers now could disturb. however, one of the party invited me into her house, and soon set delicate viands before the new guest, while the others filled the room in an instant, and were replaced by sets of fifty at a time, all very good-humoured and respectful. but it was so hot and bustling here that i resolved to go away and have a more pleasant and sulky meal by myself on some inaccessible island. the retreat through the crowd had to be regularly prepared for by military tactics; so i appointed four of the most troublesome boys as "policemen" to guard the boat in its transit across the fields, but they discharged their new duties with such vigour that two little fellows were soon knocked over into the canoe, and so we launched off, while the manager of the factory called in vain to his cottonspinners, who were all now in full cry after the boat, and were making holiday without leave. chapter xiii. river moselle--epinal--the tramp--halcyon--painted woman--beating to quarters--boat in a hedge--the meurthe--moving house--tears of a mother--five francs. under a dark arbour-like arch of foliage, where the water was deep and still, i made fast to the long grass, cast my tired limbs into the fantastic folds of ease, and, while the bottle lasted and the bread, i watched the bees and butterflies, and the beetles and rats, and the coloured tribes of airy and watery life that one can see so well in a quiet half hour like this. how little we are taught at school about these wondrous communities of real life, each with its laws and instincts, its beauties of form, and marvellous ingenuities! how little of flowers and insects, not to say of trees and animals, a boy learns as school-lessons, while he has beaten into him at one end and crammed in at the other the complicated politics of heathen gods, and their loves and faction fights, which are neither real nor possible. the moselle rapidly enlarged in volume, though one could easily see that it had seldom been so low before. it is a very beautiful river to row on, especially where we began. then it winds to the west and north, and again, turning a little eastwards, traverses a lovely country between treves and coblentz, where it joins the ancient rhine. my resting-place for this evening was epinal, a town with little to interest; and so we could turn to books and pencils until it was time for bed. next day the scenery was by no means so attractive, but i had plenty of hard work, which was enjoyed very much, my shoes and socks being off all day, for it was useless to put them on when so many occasions required me to jump out. here it was a plain country, with a gravel soil, and fast rushings of current; and then long pools like the serpentine, and winding turns leading entirely round some central hill which the river insisted upon circumventing. at noon we came upon a large number of labourers at work on a milldam, and as this sort of crowd generally betokens something to eat (always, at any rate, some drinkable fluid), i left my boat boldly in mid-stream, and knocked at a cottage, when an old woman came out. "madame, i am hungry, and you are precisely the lady who can make me an omelette." "sir, i have nothing to give you." "why," said i, "look at these hens; i am sure they have laid six eggs this morning, they seem so conceited." she evidently thought i was a tramp demanding alms, and when told to look at the boat which had come from england, she said she was too old and too blind to see. however, we managed to make an omelette together, and she stood by (with an eye, perhaps, to her only fork) and chatted pleasantly, asking, "what have you got to sell?" i told her i had come there only for pleasure. "what sort of pleasure, monsieur, can you possibly hope to find in _this_ place?" but i was far too gallant to say bluntly that her particular mansion was not the ultimate object of the tour. after receiving a franc for the rough breakfast, she kept up a battery of blessings till the rob roy started, and she ended by shrieking out to a navvy looking on, "i tell you every englishman is rich!" next day was bright and blue-skyed as before, and an early start got the fine fresh morning air on the water. the name of this river is sometimes pronounced "moselle," and at other times "mosel," what we should call "mozle." when a frenchman speaks of "la moselle," he puts an equal emphasis on each of the three syllables he is pronouncing; whereas generally we englishmen call this river mosélle. the name of a long river often indeed goes through changes as it traverses various districts and dialects; for instance, the missouri, which you hear the travellers in kansas call "mzoory," while they wend along the californian road. when the scenery is tame to the canoist, and the channel of the river is not made interesting by dangers to be avoided, then one can always turn again to the animals and birds, and five minutes of watching will be sure to see much that is curious. here, for instance, we have the little kingfisher again, who had met us on the danube and the reuss, and whom we knew well in england before; but now we are on a visit to _his_ domain, and we see him in his private character alone. there are several varieties of this bird, and they differ in form and colour of plumage. this "royal bird," the _halcyon_ of antiquity, the _alcedo_ in classic tongue, is called in german "eis fogl," or "ice bird," perhaps because he fishes even in winter's frost, or because his nest is like a bundle of icicles, being made of minnows' bones most curiously wrought together. but now it is on a summer day, and he is perched on a twig within two inches of the water, and under the shade of a briar leaf, his little parasol. he is looking for fish, and is so steady that you may easily pass him without observing that brilliant back of azure, or the breast of blushing red. when i desired to see these birds, i quietly moved my boat till it grounded on a bank, and, after it was stationary thus for a few minutes, the halcyon fisher got quite unconcerned, and plied his task as if unseen. he peers with knowing eye into the shallow below him, and now and then he dips his head a bit to make quite sure he has marked a fish worth seizing; then suddenly he darts down with a spluttering splash, and flies off with a little white minnow, or a struggling sticklebat nipped in his beak. if it is caught thus crosswise, the winged fisherman tosses his prey into the air, and nimbly catches it in his mouth, so that it may be gulped down properly. then he quivers and shakes with satisfaction, and quickly speeds to another perch, flitting by you with wonderful swiftness, as if a sapphire had been flung athwart the sunbeam, flashing beauteous colours in its flight. or, if bed-time has come, or he is fetching home the family dinner, he flutters on and on, and then with a little sharp note of "good-bye," pops into a hole, the dark staircase to his tiny nest, and there he finds mrs. halcyon sitting in state, and thirteen baby kingfishers gaping for the dainty fish. this pretty bird has an air of quiet mystery, beauty, and vivid motion, all combined, which has made him a favourite with the rob roy. strangely enough, the river in this part of its course actually gets less and less as you descend it. every few miles some of the water is drawn off by a small canal to irrigate the neighbouring land, and in a season of drought like this, very little of the abstracted part returns. they told me that the moselle river never has been so "basse" for years, and i was therefore an unlucky _voyageur_ in having to do for the first time what could have been done more easily in any other season. as evening fell we reached the town of chatel, and the rob roy was sent to bed in the washhouse of the hotel. but five minutes had not elapsed before a string of visitors came for the daily inspection of the boat. as i sauntered along the bridge a sprightly youth came up, who had not seen the canoe, but who knew i was "one of her crew." he was most enthusiastic on the subject, and took me to see _his_ boat, a deadly-looking flat-bottomed open cot, painted all manner of patterns; and as he was extremely proud of her i did not tell him that a boat is like a woman, too good to paint: a pretty one is spoiled by paint, and a plain one is made hideous. then he came for a look at the rob roy, and, poor fellow, it was amusing to observe how instantly his countenance fell from pride to intense envy. he had a "boating mind," but had never seen a really pretty boat till now. however, to console himself he invited me to another hotel to drink success to the canoe in bavarian beer, and to see my drawings, and then i found that my intelligent, eager, and, we may add, gentlemanly friend was the waiter there! a melancholy sensation pervaded the rob roy to-day, in consequence of a sad event, the loss of the captain's knife. we had three knives on board in starting from england; one had been given away in reward for some signal service, and this which was now lost was one with a metal haft and a curious hook at the end, a special description made in berlin, and very useful to the tourist. it is not to be wondered that in so many leaps and somersaults, and with such constant requirements for the knife to mend pencils, &c., &c., the trusty blade should at last have disappeared, but the event suggests to the next canoeman that his boat-knife should be secured to a lanyard. one singular conformation of the river-bed occurred in my short tour upon this part of the moselle. without much warning the banks of rock became quite vertical and narrowed close together. they reminded me of the rock-cutting near liverpool, on the old railway to manchester. the stream was very deep here, but its bed was full of enormous stones and crags, very sharp and jagged, which, however, could be easily avoided, because the current was gentle. a man i found fishing told me that a little further on there was an "impossible" place, so when after half a mile the well-known sound of rushing waters came (the ear got marvellous quick for this), we beat to quarters and prepared for action. the ribbon to keep my hat was tied down. sleeves and trousers were tucked up. the covering was braced tight and the baggage secured below; and then came the eager pleasures of anticipating, wishing, hoping, fearing, that are mixed up in the word excitement. the sound was quite near now, but the river took the strangest of all the forms i had yet seen. if you suppose a trench cut along oxford-street to get at the gas-pipes, and if all the water of a river which had filled the street before suddenly disappeared in the trench, that would be exactly what the moselle had now become. the plateau of rock on each side was perfectly dry, though in flood times, no doubt, the river covers that too. the water boiled and foamed through this channel from to feet deep, but only in the trench, which was not five feet wide. an intelligent man came near to see me enter this curious passage, but when we had got a little way in i had to stop the boat, and this too by putting my hands on both sides of the river! then i got out and carefully let the boat drive along the current, but still held by the painter. soon it got too narrow and fast even for this process, so i pulled the canoe upon the dry rock, and sat down to breathe and to cool my panting frame. two other gentlemen had come near me by this time, and on a bridge above were several more with two ladies. i had to drag the boat some hundred yards over most awkward rocks, and these men hovered round and admired, and even talked to me, and actually praised my perseverance, yet not one offer of any help did any one of them give! in deep water again, and now exactly under the bridge i looked up and found the whole party regarding the rob roy with curiosity and smiles. within a few yards was a large house these people had come from, and i thought their smiles were surely to preface, "would you not like a glass of wine, sir, after your hour of hard work?" but as it meant nothing of the sort i could not help answering their united adieux! by these words, "adieu, ladies and gentlemen. many to look, but none to help. the exhibition is gratuitous!" was it wrong to say this? it was utterly impossible not to think as much. one or two other places gave trouble without interest, such as when i had to push the boat into a hedge point foremost, and to pull it through by main force from the other side, and then found, after all, it was pushed into the wrong field, so the operation had to be done over again in a reverse direction. but never mind, all this counted in the day's work, and all the trouble of it was forgotten after a good night's sleep, or was entirely recompensed by some interesting adventure. the water of the moselle is so clear that the scenery under the surface continually occupied my attention. in one long reach, unusually deep and quiet, i happened to be gazing down at some huge trout, and accidentally observed a large stone, the upper part of a fine column, at the very bottom of the water, at least ten feet below me. the capital showed it to be ionic, and near it was another, a broken pediment of large dimensions, and a little further on a pedestal of white marble. i carefully examined both banks, to see if a roman villa or bridge, or other ruin, indicated how these subaqueous reliques had come into this strange position, and i inquired diligently at charmes, the next town; but although much curiosity was shown on the subject, no information was obtained, except that the romans had built a fort somewhere on the river (but plainly not at that spot), so we may consider that the casual glance at the fish revealed a curious fragment of the past hitherto probably unnoticed. after pulling along the moselle, from as near to its source as my canoe could find water, until the scenery became dull at charmes, we went by railway from thence to blainville, on the river meurthe, which is a tributary of the moselle, for i thought some new scenery might be found in this direction. the rob roy was therefore sent by itself in a goods-train, the very first separation between us for three months. it seemed as if the little boat, leaning on its side in the truck, turned from me reproachfully, and we foreboded all sorts of accidents to its delicate frame, but the only thing lost was a sponge, a necessary appendage to a boat's outfit when you desire to keep it perfectly dry and clean. two railway porters, with much good-humoured laughing, carried the rob roy from the station to the river's edge, and again we paddled cheerily along, and on a new river, too, with scenery and character quite different from that of the moselle. the meurthe winds through rich plains of soft earth, with few rocks and little gravel. but then in its shallows it has long thick mossy weeds, all under the surface. these were found to be rather troublesome, because they got entangled with my paddle, and since they could not be seen beforehand the best channel was not discernible, as where rocks or gravel give those various forms of ripples which the captain of a canoe soon gets to know as if they were a chart telling the number of inches of depth. moreover, when you get grounded among these long weeds, all pointed down stream, it is very difficult to "back out," for it is like combing hair against the grain. the larger rivers in france are all thoroughly fished. in every nook you find a fisherman. they are just as numerous here as in germany they are rare. and yet one would think that fishing is surely more adapted to the contemplative german than to the vivacious french. yet, here they are by hundreds, both men and women, and every day, each staring intently on a tiny float, or at the grasshopper bait, and quite satisfied if now and then he can pull up a gudgeon the size of your thumb. [illustration: "french fishers."] generally, these people are alone, and when they asked me at hotels if i did not feel lonely in the canoe, the answer was, "look at your fishermen, for hours by choice alone. they have something to occupy attention every moment, and so have i." sometimes, however, there is a whole party in one clumsy boat. the _pater familias_ sits content, and recks not if all his time is spent in baiting his line and lighting his pipe. the lazy "hopeful" lies at full length on the grass, while a younger brother strains every nerve to hook a knowing fish that is laughing at him under water, and winking its pale eye to see the fisher just toppling over. mademoiselle chatters whether there are bites or not, and another, the fair cousin, has got on shore, where she can bait her hook and set her cap and simper to the bold admirer by her side. not one of these that i have spoken to had ever seen an artificial fly. then besides, we have the fishers with nets. these are generally three men in a boat, with its stem and its stern both cocked up, and the whole affair looking as if it must upset or sink. such boats were painted by raphael in the great cartoons, where all of us must have observed how small the boat is compared with the men it carries. again, there are some young lads searching under the stones for _ecrevisses_, the freshwater prawns, much in request, but giving very little food for a great deal of trouble. near these fishers the pike plies his busy sportsman's life below the surface, and i have sometimes seen a poor little trout leap high into the air to escape from the long-nosed pursuer, who followed him even out of the water, and snapped his jaws on the sweet morsel impudently. this sound, added to the very suspicious appearance of the rob roy gliding among the islands, decides the doubtful point with a duck, the leader of a flock of wild ducks that have been swimming down stream in front of me with a quick glance on each side, every one of them seemingly indignant at this intrusion on their haunts; at last they find it really will not do, so with a scream and a spring they flap the water and rise in a body to seek if there be not elsewhere at least some one nook to nestle in where john bull does not come. that bell you hear tinkling is at the ferry, to call the ferryman who lives at the other side, and he will jump into his clumsy boat, which is tied to a pulley running on a rope stretched tight across the river. he has only to put his oar obliquely on the gunwale, and the transverse pressure of the current brings the boat rapidly to the other bank. paddling on, after a chat with the ferryman (and he is sure to be ready for that), a wonderful phenomenon appears. we see a house, large, new, and of two stories high, it has actually moved. we noticed it a few minutes ago, and now it has changed its position. i gaze in astonishment, and while we ponder, lo! the whole house entirely disappears. now, the true explanation of this is soon found when we get round the next corner of the reach;--the house is a great wooden bathing "etablissement," built on a barge, and it is being slowly dragged up the stream. after wonder comes sentiment. three women are seen on the river-bank evidently in great alarm: a mother, a daughter, and a servant maid, who searched in vain for two boys, supposed to have gone away to fish, but now missing for many hours. they eagerly inquired if i had seen the lads, and implored me with tears to give them advice. i tried all i could to recollect, but no! i had not seen the boys, and so the women went away distracted, and left me sorrowful--who would not be so at a woman's tears, a mother's too? but suddenly, when toiling in the middle of a very difficult piece of rock-work, lowering the boat, i remembered having seen those boys, so i ran over the fields after the anxious mamma and soon assured her the children had been safe an hour ago, and their faithful servant with them, but that _he_ had become the fisherman, and they, like boys, had got tired of the rod, and were playing with a goat. when the poor mother heard we had seen the little fellows and they were safe, her tears of joy were quite affecting, and they vividly recalled one's schoolboy days, when the thoughtless playtime of childhood so often entails anxiety on a loving mother's heart. such, then, are the river sights and river wonders, ever new, though trifling perhaps when told, but far more lively and entertaining than the common incidents of a dusty road, or a whirring, shrieking train. with a few wadings and bumpings, and one or two "vannes," or weirs, we slipped along pleasantly until evening came. still it was only a slow stream, and the towers of st. nicholas, long visible on the horizon, seemed ever to move from side to side without being any nearer, so much does this river wind in its course. i paddled at my best pace, but the evening rapidly grew darker, until we overtook two french youths in a boat, the first occasion on which we had noticed frenchmen rowing for exercise. they could not keep up with the canoe, so we had to leave them ingloriously aground on a bank, and yet too lazy to get out and help their boat over the difficulty. soon after i came to a great weir about fifteen feet in height, the deepest we had yet encountered, and half a sigh was heaved when it was evident that there was no escape from all the bother of getting out and gymnasticizing here after a long day's work. it was a matter of some time and trouble to get the boat over this weir in the dark; but what was far worse immediately followed, as i found myself in a maze of shallows, without light to see how to get through them. whenever we stopped, too, for rest, there was only darkness, silence, and no motion--not even the excitement of a current to arouse. finally, i had to wade and haul the boat along, and jump in and ferry myself over the pools, for nearly half a mile, until at length the "look-out" man of our starboard watch shouted, "a bridge and a house on the lee bow!" and a joyous cheer burst forth from the crew. all this, which may be told in a few sentences, took a full hour of very tiresome work, though, as there was no current, there was no danger, and it was merely tedious, wet, unlighted, and uncomfortable. nevertheless i sang and whistled all the time. when the bridge was arrived at, i was sure it must be a town, and then there happened a scene almost an exact counterpart of that which took place at gegglingen, on the danube. i pulled up my boat on the dark shore, and, all dripping wet, i mounted to the house above, and speedily aroused the inmates. a window opened, and a worthy couple appeared in their night-dresses, holding a candle to examine the intruder. the tableau was most comical. the man asked, "is it a farce?" he could scarcely expect a traveller from england to arrive there at such an hour. but he soon helped me to carry the boat to a little restaurant, where a dozen men were drinking, who rushed out with lamps to look at the boat, but entirely omitted to help the forlorn captain. nor was there any room in this restaurant, so we had to carry the boat through the dark streets to another house, where another lot of topers received me in like style. we put the rob roy into a garden here, and her sails flapped next morning while a crowd gazed over the walls with anxious curiosity. the worthy husband who had thus left his spouse that he might carry my wet boat, all slippery with mud, was highly pleased with a five-franc piece, which was the least i thought him to deserve, though it was like a five-pound note to him in such a cheap country. next morning in the light of day we had a survey of the scene of last night's adventure. it was very amusing to trace the various channels we had groped about in the darkness. here i met a french gentleman, of gay and pleasant manner, but who bemoaned his lot as secretary of a great factory in this outlandish place, instead of being in joyous, thoughtless, brilliant paris, where, he said, often for days together he did not sleep in bed, but ran one night into the next by balls, theatres, and supper parties. he kindly took me to see the great salt works, that send refined salt all over europe. this rock salt is hoisted out of a deep mine, in blocks like those of coal, having been hewn from the strata below, which are pierced by long and lofty galleries. then it is covered in tanks by water, which becomes saturated, and is conducted to flat evaporating pans, when the water is expelled by the heat of great furnaces, and the salt appears in masses like snow-drift. salt that is sold by weight they judiciously wet again, and other qualities sold by measure they cleverly deposit in crooked crystals, so as to take up as much space as possible! we found a canal here, and as the river was so shallow i mounted to the artificial channel, and with a strong and fair wind was soon sailing along rapidly. this canal has plenty of traffic upon it, and only a few locks; so it was by no means tedious. they asked for my card of permission, but i smiled the matter off as before. however, an officer of the canal who was walking alongside looked much more seriously at the infringement of rules, and when we came to a lock he insisted we must produce the "carte." as a last resort, i showed him the well-worn sketch-book, and then he at once gave in. in fact, after he had laughed at the culprit's caricatures, how could he gravely sentence him to penalties? it is wonderful how a few lines of drawing will please these outlying country people. sometimes we gave a small sketch to a man when it was desirable to get rid of him: he was sure to take it away to show outside, and when he returned i had departed. once we gave a little girl a portrait of her brother, and next morning she brought it again all crumpled up. her mother said the child had held it all night in her hand. chapter xiv. ladies in muslin--officers shouting--volunteers' umbrella--reims--leaks--wet--madame clicquot--heavy blow--dinner talk--the elephant--cloud. the canal brought me to nancy, a fine old town, with an archbishop, a field-marshal, a good hotel, large washhand basins, drums, bugles, ices, and all the other luxuries of life. in the cathedral there was more tawdry show about the mass than i ever remarked before, even in italy. at least thirty celebrants acted in the performance, and the bowings and turnings and grimaces of sedate old men clad in gorgeous, dirty needlework, fumbling with trifles and muttering latin, really passed all bounds: they were an insult to the population, who are required to attend this vicarious worship, and to accept such absurdities as the true interpretation of "this do in remembrance of me." a large and attentive congregation, nearly all women, listened first to an eloquent sermon from a young priest who glorified an old saint. it is possible that the ancient worthy was a most respectable monk, but probably he was, when he lived, a good deal like the monks one meets in the monasteries, and now that i have lived pretty frequently with these gentlemen i must say it makes one smile to think of canonizing such people, as if any one of them had unapproachable excellence; but perhaps this monk distinguished himself by proper daily ablutions, and so earned the rare reputation of being reasonably clean. in the afternoon the relics of the monk were borne through the streets by a procession of some thousand women and a few men. these ladies, some hundreds of whom were dressed in white muslin, and in two single ranks, chanted as they slowly marched, and all the bystanders took off their hats, but i really could not see what adoration was due to the mouldering bones of a withered friar, so my excellent straw hat was kept on my head. but the french, who live in public, must have a public religion, a gregarious worship, with demonstrative action and colours and sounds. deep devotion, silent in its depth, is for the north and not for this radiant sun, though you will find that quiet worship again in lower latitudes where the very heat precludes activity. some twenty years ago, one of the ablest men of the university of cambridge read a paper on the influence which the insular position and the climate of britain has upon our national character, and it appeared to be proved clearly that this influence pervades every feature of our life. in a third-rate french town like nancy, nearly all the pleasant _agrements_ depend on the climate, and would be sadly curtailed by rain or snow. so, again, when a frenchman visits england and gets laughed at for mistakes in our difficult language, and has to eat only two dishes for dinner, and drinks bad coffee, and has no evening lounge in the open air, and is then told to look at our domestic life, and finds he cannot get an entrance there (for how very few french do enter there), his miseries are directly caused by our climate, and no wonder his impression of albion is that we are all fog and cotton and smoke, and everything _triste_. from nancy we sent the canoe by rail to meet me on the river marne, and while the slow luggage-train lumbered along i took the opportunity of visiting the celebrated camp of châlons, the aldershot of france. an omnibus takes you from the railway station, and you soon enter a long straggling street of very little houses, built badly, and looking as if one and all could be pushed down by your hand. these are not the military quarters, but the self-grown parasite sutlers' town, which springs up near every camp. here is "place solferino," and there "rue malakhoff," where the sign of the inn is a chinaman having his pigtail lopped off by a français. the camp is in the middle of a very large plain, with plenty of dust and white earth, which "glared" on my eyes intensely, this being the hottest day i have experienced during the vacation. but there are trees for shade, and a good deal of grass on these extensive downs where great armies can manoeuvre and march past the emperor as he sits enthroned under a bower on that hill-crest overlooking all. the permanent buildings for the troops consist of about separate houses, substantial, airy, and well lighted, all built of brick, and slated, and kept in good repair; each of these is about seventy feet long, twenty broad, and of one story high. a million and a-half pounds sterling have already been expended on this camp. behind the quarters are the soldiers' gardens, a feature added lately to the camps in england. there were only a few thousand soldiers at the place, so we soon saw all that was interesting, and then adjourned to a restaurant, where i observed about twenty officers go in a body to breakfast. this they did in a separate room, but their loud, coarse, and outrageously violent conversation really amazed me. the din was monstrous and without intermission. we had never before fallen in with so very bad a specimen of french manners, and i cannot help thinking there may have been special reasons for these men bellowing for half an hour as they ate their breakfast. the "mess system" has been tried in the french army several times, but it seems to fail always, as the french clubs do, on the whole. it is not wise, however, for a traveller to generalize too rapidly upon the character of any portion of a great people if he has not lived long among them. a hasty glance may discern that a stranger has a long nose, but you must have better acquaintance with him before you can truly describe the character of your friend. in a little book just published in france about the english bar two facts are noted, that barristers put the name of their "inn" on their visiting cards, and that the temple volunteers are drilled admirably by a serjeant-at-law, who wields "an umbrella with a varnished cover, which glances in the sun like a sword"! another interesting town in this department of france is rheims (spelt reims, and pronounced very nearly rens). having still an hour or two free, i went there, and enjoyed the visit to the very splendid cathedral. it is one of the finest in europe, very old, very large, very rich, and celebrated as the place of coronation for the french sovereigns. besides all this it is kept in good order, and is remarkably clean. the outside is covered with stone figures, most of them rude in art, but giving at a distance an appearance of prodigal richness of material. a little periodical called _france illustrated_ is published at fourpence each number, with a map of the department, several woodcuts of notable places or events, and a brief history of the principal towns, concluding with a _résumé_ of the statistics of the department. a publication of this kind would, i think, be very useful in england; and for travellers especially, who could purchase at the county town the particular number or part then required. in one of the adjoining departments, according to this publication, it appears that there are about a hundred suicides in the year among a population of half a million. surely this is an alarming proportion; and what should we say if manchester had to report men and women in one year who put themselves to death? but we are subsiding, you see, into the ordinary tales of a traveller, because i am waiting now for the train and the rob roy, and certainly this my only experience of widowerhood made me long again for the well-known yellow oaken side of the boat and her pink-brown cedar varnished top. well, next morning here is the canoe at epernay, arrived all safe at a cost of _s._ _d._ all safe we thought at first, but we soon found it had been sadly bruised, and would surely leak. i turned it upside down on the railway platform in the hot sun, and bought two candles and occupied three good hours in making repairs and greasing all the seams. but after all this trouble, when we put the boat into the marne, the water oozed in all round. it is humiliating to sit in a leaky boat--it is like a lame horse or a crooked gun; of all the needful qualities of a boat the first is to keep out the water. so i stopped at the first village, and got a man to mix white lead and other things, and we carefully worked this into all the seams, leaving it to harden while i had my breakfast in the little auberge close by the shore, where they are making the long rafts to go down to paris, and where hot farmers come to sip their two-penny bottle of wine. the raft man was wonderfully proud of his performance with the canoe, and he called out to each of his friends as they walked past, to give them its long history in short words. when i paid him at last, he said he hoped i would never forget that the canoe had been thoroughly mended in the middle of france, at the village of ----, but i really do not remember the name. however, there were not wanting tests of his workmanship, for the rob roy had to be pulled over many dykes and barriers on the marne. some of these were of a peculiar construction, and were evidently novel in design. a "barrage" reached across the stream, and there were three steps or falls on it, with a plateau between each. the water ran over these steps, and was sometimes only a few inches in depth on the crest of each fall, where it had to descend some eight or ten inches at most. this, of course, would have been easy enough for the canoe to pass, but then a line of iron posts was ranged along each plateau, and chains were tied from the top of one post to the bottom of another, diagonally, and it will be understood that this was a very puzzling arrangement to steer through in a fast current. in cases of this sort i usually got ashore to reconnoitre, and having calculated the angle at which we must enter the passage obliquely (down a fall, and across its stream), i managed to get successfully through several of these strange barriers. we came at length to one which, on examination, i had to acknowledge was "impassable," for the chains were slack, and there was only an inch or two of "law" on either side of the difficult course through them. [illustration: "the chain barrier."] however, a man happened to see my movements and the canoe, and soon he called some dozen of his fellow navvies from their work to look at the navigator. the captain was therefore incited by these spectators to try the passage, and i mentally resolved at any rate to be cool and placid, however much discomfiture was to be endured. the boat was steered to the very best of my power, but the bow of the canoe swerved an inch in the swift oblique descent, and instantly it got locked in the chains, while i quietly got out (whistling an air in slow time), and then, in the water with all my clothes on, i steadily lifted the boat through the iron network and got into her, dripping wet, but trying to behave as if it were only the usual thing. the navvies cheered a long and loud bravo! but i felt somewhat ashamed of having yielded to the desire for ignorant applause, and when finally round the next corner i got out and changed my wet things, a wiser and a sadder man, but dry. this part of the river is in the heart of the champagne country, and all the softly swelling hills about are thickly covered by vineyards. the vine for champagne is exceedingly small, and grows round one stick, and the hillside looks just like a carding-brush, from the millions of these little sharp-pointed rods upright in the ground and close together, without any fence whatever between the innumerable lots. the grape for champagne is always red, and never white, so they said, though "white grapes are grown for eating." during the last two months few people have consumed more grapes in this manner than the chief mate of the rob roy canoe. on one of these hills we noticed the house of madame clicquot, whose name has graced many a cork of champagne bottles and of bottles not champagne. the vineyards of ai, near epernay, are the most celebrated for their wine. after the bottles are filled, they are placed neck downwards, and the sediment collects near the cork. each bottle is then uncorked in this position, and the confined gas forces out a little of the wine with the sediment, while a skilful man dexterously replaces the cork when this sediment has been expelled. one would think that only a very skilful man can perform such a feat. when the bottles are stored in "caves," or vast cellars, the least change of temperature causes them to burst by hundreds. sometimes one-fourth of the bottles explode in this manner, and it is said that the renowned madame clicquot lost , in the hot autumn of , before sufficient ice could be fetched from paris to cool her spacious cellars. every year about fifty million bottles of genuine champagne are made in france, and no one can say how many more millions of bottles of "french champagne" are imbibed every year by a confiding world. the marne is a large and deep river, and its waters are kept up by barriers every few miles. it is rather troublesome to pass these by taking the boat out and letting it down on the other side, and in crossing one of them i gave a serious blow to the stern of the canoe against an iron bar. this blow started four planks from the sternpost, and revealed to me also that the whole frame had suffered from the journey at night on an open truck. however, as my own ship's carpenter was on board, and had nails and screws, we soon managed to make all tight again, and by moonlight came to dormans, where i got two men to carry the boat as usual to an hotel, and had the invariable run of visitors from that time until everybody went to bed. it is curious to remark the different names by which the canoe has been called, and among these the following:--"_batteau_," "_schiff_," "_bôt_," "_barca_," "_canôt_," "_caique_" (the soldiers who have been in the crimea call it thus), "_chaloupe_" "_navire_," "_schipp_" (low german), "_yacht_" ("jacht"--danish, "jaht," from "jagen," to ride quickly--properly a boat drawn by horses). several people have spoken of it as "_batteau à vapeur_," for in the centre of france they have never seen a steamboat, but the usual name with the common people is "_petit batteau_" and among the educated people "_nacelle_" or "_perissoir_;" this last as we call a dangerous boat a "coffin" or "sudden death." an early start next morning found me slipping along with a tolerable current and under sail before a fine fresh breeze, but with the same unalterable blue sky. i had several interesting conversations with farmers and others riding to market along the road which here skirts the river. what most surprises the frenchman is that a traveller can possibly be happy alone! not one hour have i had of _ennui_, and, however selfish it may seem, it is true that for this sort of journey i prefer to travel entirely _seul_. pleasant trees and pretty gardens are here on every side in plenty, but where are the houses of the gentlemen of france, and where are the french gentlemen themselves? this is a difference between france and england which cannot fail to "knock" the observant traveller (as artemus ward would say)--the notable absence of country seats during hours and hours of passage along the best routes; whereas in england the prospect from almost every hill of woodland would have a great house at the end of its vista, and the environs of every town would stretch into outworks of villas smiling in the sun. the french have ways and fashions which are not ours, but their nation is large enough to entitle them to a standard of their own, just as the americans, with so great a people agreed on the matter, may surely claim liberty to speak with a twang, and to write of a "plow." i am convinced that it is a mistake to say we britons are a silent people compared with the french or americans. at some hundred sittings of the table d'hôte in both these countries i have found more of dull, dead silence than in england at our inns. an englishman accustomed only to the pleasant chat of a domestic dinner feels ill at ease when dining with strangers, and so he notices their silence all the more; but the french table d'hôte (not in the big barrack hotels, for english tourists, we have before remarked upon) has as little general conversation, and an american one has far less than in england. here in france come six or seven middle-class men to dine. they put the napkin kept for each from yesterday, and recognized by the knots they tied on it, up to their chins like the pinafore of a baby, and wipe plate, fork, and spoons with the other end, and eat bits and scraps of many dishes, and scrape their plates almost clean, and then depart, and not one word has been uttered. then, again, there is the vaunted french climate. bright sun, no doubt, but forget not that it is so very bright as to compel all rooms to be darkened from ten to four each day. at noon the town is like a cemetery; no one thinks of walking, riding, or looking out of his window in the heat. from seven to nine in the morning, and from an hour before sunset to any time you please at night, the open air is delicious. but i venture to say that in a week of common summer weather we see more of the sun in england than in france, for we seldom have so much of it at once as to compel us to close our eyes against its fierce rays. in fact, the sensation of life in the south, after eleven o'clock in the morning, is that of _waiting for the cool hours_, and so day after day is a continual reaching forward to something about to come; whereas, an english day of sunshine is an enjoyable present from beginning to end. once more, let it be remembered that twilight lasts only for half an hour in the sunny south; that delicious season of musing and long shadows is a characteristic of the northern latitudes which very few southerners have ever experienced at all. the run down the marne for about miles was a pleasant part of the voyage, but seldom so exciting in adventure as the paddling on unknown waters. long days of work could therefore be now well endured, for constant exercise had trained the body, and a sort of instinct was enough, when thus educated by experience, to direct the mind. therefore the rob roy's paddle was in my hands for ten hours at a time without weariness, and sometimes even for twelve hours at a stretch. after a comfortable night at chateau thierry in the elephant hotel, which is close to the water, i took my canoe down from the hayloft to which it had been hoisted, and once more launched her on the river. the current gradually increased, and the vineyards gave place to forest trees. see, there are the rafts, some of casks, lashed together with osiers, some of planks, others of hewn logs, and others of great rough trees. there is a straw hut on them for the captain's cabin, and the crew will have a stiff fortnight's work to drag, push, and steer this congeries of wood on its way to the seine. the labour spent merely in adjusting and securing the parts is enormous, but labour of that kind costs little here. further on there is a large flock of sheep conducted to the river to drink, in the orthodox pastoral manner of picture-books. but (let us confess it) they were also driven by the sagacious shepherd's dogs, who seem to know perfectly that the woolly multitude has come precisely to drink, and, therefore, the dogs cleverly press forward each particular sheep, until it has got a place by the cool brink of the water. in the next quiet bay a village maid drives her cow to the river, and chats across the water with another, also leading in a cow to wade knee deep, and to dip its broad nose, and lift it gently again from the cool stream. on the road alongside is a funny little waggon, and a whole family are within. this concern is actually drawn along by a goat. its little kid skips about, for the time of toil has not yet come to the youngling, and it may gambol now. but here is the bridge of nogent, so i leave my boat in charge of an old man, and give positive pleasure to the cook at the auberge by ordering a breakfast. saints' portraits adorn the walls, and a "sampler" worked by some little girl, with only twenty-five letters in the alphabet, for the "w" is as yet ignored in classic grammars, though it has now to be constantly used in the common books and newspapers. why, they even adopt our sporting terms, and you see in a paper that such a race was only "un walkover," and that another was likely to be "un dead heat." suddenly in my quiet paddling here the sky was shaded, and on looking up amazed i found a cloud; at last, after six weeks of brilliant blue and scorching glare, one fold of the fleecy curtain has been drawn over the sun. the immediate effect of this cooler sky was very invigorating, though, after weeks of hot glare (reflected upwards again into the face from the water), it seemed the most natural thing to be always in a blaze of light, for much of the inconvenience of it was avoided by a plan which will be found explained in the appendix, with some other hints to "boating men." the day went pleasantly now, and with only the events of ordinary times, which need not be recounted. the stream was steady, the banks were peopled, and many a blue-bloused countryman stopped to look at the canoe as she glided past, with the captain's socks and canvas shoes on the deck behind him, for this was his drying-place for wet clothes. now and then a pleasure-boat was seen, and there were several canoes at some of the towns, but all of them flat-bottomed and open, and desperately unsafe--well named "perissoirs." some of these were made of metal. the use of this is well-known to be a great mistake for any boat under ten tons; in all such cases it is much heavier than wood of the same strength, considering the strains which a boat must expect to undergo. "la ferté sous jouarre" is the long name of the next stopping-place. there are several towns called by the name la ferté (la fortifié), which in some measure corresponds with the termination "caster" or "cester" of english names. millstones are the great specialty of this la ferté. a good millstone costs _l._, and there is a large exportation of them. the material has the very convenient property of not requiring to be chipped into holes, as these exist in this stone naturally. at la ferté i put the boat into a hayloft; how often it has occupied this elevated lodgings amongst its various adventures; and at dinner with me there is an intelligent and hungry bourgeois from paris, with his vulgar and hearty wife, and opposite to them the gossip of the town, who kept rattling on the stupid, endless fiddle-faddle of everybody's doings, sayings, failings, and earnings. some amusement, however, resulted from the collision of two gossips at our table of four guests, for while the one always harped upon family tales of la ferté, its local statistics, and the minute sayings of its people, the other kept struggling to turn our thoughts to shoes and slippers, for he was a commercial traveller with a cartful of boots to sell. but, after all, how much of our conversation in better life is only of the same kind, though about larger, or at any rate different things; what might sound trifles to our british cabinet would be the loftiest politics of honolulu. when we started at eight o'clock next day i felt an unaccountable languor; my arms were tired, and my energy seemed, for the first time, deficient. this was the result of a week's hard exercise, and of a sudden change of wind to the south. give me our english climate for real hard work to prosper in. one generally associates the north wind with cool and bracing air, and certainly in the mediterranean it is the change of wind to the south, the hated _sirocce_, that enervates the traveller at once. but this north wind on the marne came over a vast plain of arid land heated by two months of scorching sun, whereas the breezes of last week, though from the east, had been tempered in passing over the mountains of the vosges. forty-two miles lay before me to be accomplished before arriving to-night at my resting-place for sunday, and it was not a pleasant prospect to contemplate with stiff muscles in the shoulders. however, after twelve miles i found that about twenty miles in turnings of the river could be cut off by putting the boat on a cart, and thus a league of walking and _s._ _d._ of payment solved the difficulty. the old man with his cart was interesting to talk to, and we spoke about those deep subjects which are of common interest to all. at a turn in the road we came upon a cart overturned and with a little crowd round it, while the earth was covered with a great pool of what seemed to be blood, but was only wine. the cart had struck a tree, and the wine-cask on it instantly burst, which so frightened the horse that he overset the cart. the rob roy was soon in the water again, and the scenery had now become much more enjoyable. i found an old soldier at a ferry who fetched me a bottle of wine, and then he and his wife sat in their leaky, flat, green-painted boat, and became very great friends with the englishman. he had been at the taking of constantine in algeria, a place which really does look quite impossible to be taken by storm. but the appearance of a fortress is deceptive except to the learned in such matters. who would think that comorn, in hungary, is stronger than constantine? when you get near comorn there is nothing to see, and it is precisely because of this that it was able to resist so long. the breeze soon freshened till i hoisted my sails and was fairly wafted on to meaux, so that, after all, the day, begun with forebodings, became as easy and as pleasant as the rest. chapter xv. meaux on the marne--hammering--popish forms--wise dogs--blocked in a tunnel--a dry voyage--arbour and garret--odd fellows--dream on the seine--almost over--no admittance--charing-cross. there are three hemispheres of scenery visible to the traveller who voyages thus in a boat on the rivers. first, the great arch of sky, and land, and trees, and flowers down to the water's brink; then the whole of this reflected beautifully in the surface of the river; and then the wondrous depths in the water itself, with its animal life, its rocks and glades below, and its flowers and mosses. now rises the moon so clear, and with the sky around it so black that no "man in the moon" can be seen. at the hotel we find a whole party of guests for the marriage-dinner of a newly-wedded pair. the younger portion of the company adjourn to the garden and let off squibs and crackers, so it seems to be a good time to exhibit some of my signal lights from my bedroom-window, and there is much cheering as the englishman illumines the whole neighbourhood. next day the same people all assembled for the marriage breakfast, and sherry, madeira, and champagne flowed from the well-squeezed purse of the bride's happy father. i have noticed that the last sound to give way to the stillness of the night in a village is that of the blacksmith's hammer, which is much more heard abroad than at home. perhaps this is because much of their execrable french ironwork is made in each town; whereas in england it is manufactured by machinery in great quantities and at special places. at any rate, after travelling on the continent long enough to become calm and observant, seeing, hearing, and, we may add, scenting all around, the picture in the mind is full of blue dresses, white stones, jingling of bells, and the "cling, cling" of the never idle blacksmith. this town of meaux has a bridge with houses on it, and great mill-wheels filling up the arches as they used to do in old london-bridge. pleasant gardens front the river, and cafés glitter there at night. these are not luxuries but positive necessaries of life for the frenchman, and it is their absence abroad which--we believe--is one chief cause of his being so bad a colonist, for the frenchman has only the expression "with me" for "home," and no word for "wife" but "woman." the cathedral of meaux is grand and old, and see how they masquerade the service in it! look at the gaunt "suisse," with his cocked-hat kept on in church, with his sword and spear. the twenty priests and twelve red-surpliced boys intone to about as many hearers. a monk escorted through the church makes believe to sprinkle holy water on all sides from that dirty plasterer's brush, and then two boys carry on their shoulders a huge round loaf, the "pain benit," which, after fifty bowings, is blessed, and escorted back to be cut up, and is then given in morsels to the congregation. these endless ceremonies are the meshes of the net of popery, and they are well woven to catch many frenchmen, who must have action, show, the visible tangible outside, whatever may be meant by it. this service sets one a-thinking. some form there must be in worship. one may suppose, indeed, that perfect spirit can adore god without attitude, or even any sequence or change. yet in the bible we hear of seraphs veiling their bodies with their wings, and of elders prostrate at certain times, and saints that have a litany even in heaven. mortals must have some form of adoration, but there is the question, how much? and on this great point how many wise and foolish men have written books without end, or scarcely any effect! the riverside was a good place for a quiet sunday walk. here a flock of sheep had come to drink, and nibble at the flowers hanging over the water, and the simple-hearted shepherd stood looking on while his dogs rushed backward and forward, yearning for some sheep to do wrong, that their dog service might be required to prevent or to punish naughty conduct. this "berger" inquires whether england is near africa, and how large our legs of mutton are, and if we have sheep-dogs, and are there any rivers in our island on the sea. meanwhile at the hotel the marriage party kept on "breakfasting," even until four o'clock, and non-melodious songs were sung. the french, as a people, do not excel in vocal music, either in tone or in harmony, but then they are precise in time. afloat again next morning, and quite refreshed, we prepared for a long day's work. the stream was now clear, and the waving tresses of dark green weeds gracefully curved under water, while islands amid deep shady bays varied the landscape above. i saw a canal lock open, and paddled in merely for variety, passing soon into a tunnel, in the middle of which there was a huge boat fixed, and nobody with it. the boat exactly filled the tunnel, and the men had gone to their dinner, so i had first to drag their huge boat out, and then the canoe proudly glided into daylight, having a whole tunnel to itself. at lagny, where we were to breakfast, i left my boat with a nice old gentleman, who was fishing in a nightcap and spectacles, and he assured me he would stop there two hours. but when i scrambled back to it through the mill (the miller's men amazed among their wholesome dusty sacks), the disconsolate rob roy was found to be all alone, the first time she had been left in a town an "unprotected female." to escape a long serpent wind of the river, we entered another canal and found it about a foot deep, with clear water flowing pleasantly. this seemed to be very fortunate, and it was enjoyed most thoroughly for a few miles, little knowing what was to come. presently weeds began, then clumps of great rushes, then large bushes and trees, all growing with thick grass in the water, and at length this got so dense that the prospect before me was precisely like a very large hayfield, with grass four feet high, all ready to be mowed, but which had to be mercilessly rowed through. this on a hot day without wind, and in a long vista, unbroken by a man or a house, or anything lively, was rather daunting, but we had gone too far to recede with honour, and so by dint of pushing and working i actually got the boat through some miles of this novel obstruction (known only this summer), and brought her safe and sound again to the river. at one place there was a bridge over this wet marsh, and two men happened to be going over it as the canoe came near. they soon called to some neighbours, and the row of spectators exhibited the faculty so notable in french people and so rarely found with us, that of being able to keep from laughing right out at a foreigner in an awkward case. the absurd sight of a man paddling a boat amid miles of thick rushes was indeed a severe test of courteous gravity. however, i must say that the labour required to penetrate this marsh was far less than one would suppose from the appearance of the place. the sharp point of the boat entered, and its smooth sides followed through hedges, as it were, of aquatic plants, and, on the whole (and after all was done!), i preferred the trouble and muscular effort required then to that of the monotonous calm of usual canal sailing. [illustration: "canal miseries."] fairly in the broad river again the rob roy came to neuilly, and it was plain that my sunday rest had enabled over thirty miles to be accomplished without any fatigue at the end. with some hesitation we selected an inn on the water-side. the canoe was taken up to it and put on a table in a summer-house, while my own bed was in a garret where one could not stand upright--the only occasion where i have been badly housed; and pray let no one be misled by the name of this abode--"the jolly rowers." next day the river flowed fast again, and numerous islands made the channels difficult to find. the worst of these difficulties is that you cannot prepare for them. no map gives any just idea of your route--the people on the river itself are profoundly ignorant of its navigation. for instance, in starting, my landlord told me that in two hours we should reach paris. after ten miles an intelligent man said, "distance from paris? it is six hours from here;" while a third informed me a little further on, "it is just three leagues and a half from this spot." the banks were now dotted with villas, and numerous pleasure-boats were moored at neat little stairs. the vast number of these boats quite astonished me, and the more so as very few of them were ever to be seen in actual use. the french are certainly ingenious in their boat-making, but more of ingenuity than of practical exercise is seen on the water. on several rivers we remarked the "walking machine," in which a man can walk on the water by fixing two small boats on his feet. a curious mode of rowing with your face to the bows has lately been invented by a frenchman, and it is described in the appendix. we stopped to breakfast at a new canal cutting, and as there were many _gamins_ about, i fastened a stone to my painter and took the boat out into the middle of the river, and so left her moored within sight of the arbour, where i sat, and also within sight of the ardent-eyed boys who gazed for hours with wistful looks on the tiny craft and its fluttering flag. their desire to handle as well as to see is only natural for these little fellows, and, therefore, if the lads behave well, i always make a point of showing them the whole affair quite near, after they have had to abstain from it so long as a forbidden pleasure. strange that this quick curiosity of french boys does not ripen more of them into travellers, but it soon gets expended in trifling details of a narrow circle, while the sober, sedate, nay, the _triste_, anglian is found scurrying over the world with a carpet-bag, and pushing his way in foreign crowds without one word of their language, and all the while as merry as a lark. among the odd modes of locomotion adopted by englishmen, we have already mentioned that of the gentleman travelling in germany with a four-in-hand and two spare horses. we met another briton who had made a tour in a road locomotive which he bought for _l._, and sold again at the same price. one more john bull, who regarded the canoe as a "queer conveyance," went himself abroad on a velocipede. none of these, however, could cross seas, lakes, and rivers like the canoe, which might be taken wherever a man could walk or a plank could swim. it seemed contrary to nature that, after thus nearing pretty paris, one's back was now to be turned upon it for hours in order to have a wide, vague, purposeless voyage into country parts. but the river willed it so; for here a great curve began and led off to the left, while the traffic of the marne went straight through a canal to the right,--through a canal, and therefore i would not follow it there. the river got less and less in volume; its water was used for the canal, and it could scarcely trickle, with its maimed strength, through a spacious sweep of real country life. here we often got grounded, got entangled in long mossy weeds, got fastened in overhanging trees, and, in fact, suffered all the evils which the smallest brook had ever entailed, though this was a mighty river. the bend was more and more inexplicable, as it turned more round and round, till my face was full in the sunlight at noon, and i saw that the course was now due south. rustics were there to look at me, and wondering herdsmen too, as if the boat was in mid germany, instead of being close to paris. evidently boating men in that quarter never came here by the river, and the rob roy was a _rara avis_ floating on a stream unused. but the circle was rounded at last, as all circles are, however large they be; and we got back to the common route, to civilization, fishing men and fishing women, and on the broad marne once more. so here i stopped a bit for a ponder. and now we unmoor for the last time, and enter the rob roy for its final trip--the last few miles of the marne, and of more than a thousand miles rowed and sailed since we started from england. i will not disguise my feeling of sadness then, and i wished that paris was still another day distant. for this journey in a canoe has been interesting, agreeable, and useful, though its incidents may not be realized by reading what has now been described. the sensation of novelty, freedom, health, and variety all day and every day was what cannot be recited. the close acquaintance with the people of strange lands, and the constant observation of nature around, and the unremitting attention necessary for progress, all combine to make a voyage of this sort improving to the mind thus kept alert, while the body thoroughly enjoys life when regular hard exercise in the open air dissipates the lethargy of these warmer climes. these were my thoughts as i came to the seine and found a cool bank to lie upon under the trees, with my boat gently rocking in the ripples of the stream below, and the nearer sound of a great city telling that paris was at hand. "here," said i, "and now is my last hour of life savage and free. sunny days; alone, but not solitary; worked, but not weary"--as in a dream the things, places, and men i had seen floated before my eyes half closed. the panorama was wide, and fair to the mind's eye; but it had a tale always the same as it went quickly past--that vacation was over, and work must begin. up, then, for this is not a life of mere enjoyment. again into the harness of "polite society," the hat, the collar, the braces, the gloves, the waistcoat, the latch-key--perhaps, the razor--certainly the umbrella. how every joint and limb will rebel against these manacles, but they must be endured! the gradual approach to paris by gliding down the seine was altogether a new sensation. by diligence, railway, or steamer, you have nothing like it--not certainly by walking into paris along a dusty road. for now we are smoothly carried on a wide and winding river, with nothing to do but to look and to listen while the splendid panorama majestically unfolds. villas thicken, gardens get smaller as houses are closer, trees get fewer as walls increase. barges line the banks, commerce and its movement, luxury and its adornments, spires and cupolas grow out of the dim horizon, and then bridges seem to float towards me, and the hum of life gets deeper and busier, while the pretty little prattling of the river stream yields to the roar of traffic, and to that indescribable thrill which throbs in the air around this the capital of the continent, the centre of the politics, the focus of the pleasure and the splendour of the world. in passing the island at notre dame i fortunately took the proper side, but even then we found a very awkward rush of water under the bridges. this was caused by the extreme lowness of the river, which on this very day was three feet lower than in the memory of man. the fall over each barrier, though wide enough, was so shallow that i saw at the last bridge the crowd above me evidently calculated upon my being upset; and they were nearly right too. the absence of other boats showed me (now experienced in such omens) that some great difficulty was at hand, but i also remarked that by far the greater number of observers had collected over one particular arch, where at first there seemed to be the very worst chance for getting through. by logical deduction i argued, "that must be the best arch, after all, for they evidently expect i will try it," and, with a horrid presentiment that my first upset was to be at my last bridge, i boldly dashed forward--whirl, whirl the waves, and grate--grate--my iron keel; but the rob roy rises to the occasion, and a rewarding bravo! from the frenchmen above is answered by a british "all right" from the boat below. no town was so hard to find a place for the canoe in as the bright, gay paris. i went to the floating baths; they would not have me. we paddled to the funny old ship; they shook their heads. we tried a coal wharf; but they were only civil there. even the worthy washerwomen, my quondam friends, were altogether callous now about a harbour for the canoe. in desperation we paddled to a bath that was being repaired, but when my boat rounded the corner it was met by a volley of abuse from the proprietor for disturbing his fishing; he was just in the act of expecting the final bite of a _goujon_. relenting as we apologized and told the rob roy's tale, he housed her there for the night; and i shouldered my luggage and wended my way to an hotel. here is meurice's, with the homeward tide of britons from every alp and cave of europe flowing through its salons. here are the gay streets, too white to be looked at in the sun, and the _poupeé_ theatres under the trees, and the dandies driving so stiff in hired carriages, and the dapper, little soldiers, and the gilded cafés. yes, it is paris--and more brilliant than ever! i faintly tried to hope, but--pray pardon me--i utterly failed to believe that any person there had enjoyed his summer months with such excessive delight as the captain, the purser, the ship's cook, and cabin boy of the rob roy canoe. eight francs take the boat by rail to calais. two shillings take her thence to dover. the railway takes her free to charing cross, and there two porters put her in the thames again. a flowing tide, on a sunny evening, bears her fast and cheerily straight to searle's, there to debark the rob roy's cargo safe and sound and thankful, and to plant once more upon the shore of old england the flag that braved a thousand miles, the rapid and the snag. [illustration] appendix. gossip ashore about things afloat. those who intend to make a river voyage on the continent--and several canoes are preparing for this purpose--will probably feel interested in some of the following information, while other readers of these pages may be indulgent enough to excuse the relation of a few particulars and technical details. it is proposed, then, to give, first, a description of the canoe considered to be most suitable for a voyage of this sort after experience has aided in modifying the dimensions of the boat already used; second, an inventory of the cargo or luggage of the rob roy, with remarks on the subject, for the guidance of future passengers. next there will be found some notes upon rocks and currents in broken water; and lastly, some further remarks on the "kent," and a few miscellaneous observations upon various points. although the rob roy and its luggage were not prepared until after much cogitation, it is well that intending canoists should have the benefit of what experience has since proved as to the faults and virtues of the arrangements devised for a first trip, after these have been thoroughly tasted in so pleasant a tour. the best dimensions for the canoe appear to be--length, feet [ ][xxxvi.]; beam, inches [ ], six inches abaft the midship; depth outside, from keel to deck, inches; camber, inch [ ]; keel, inch, with a strip of iron, half an inch broad, carefully secured all the way below, and a copper strip up the stem and stern posts, and round the top of each of them. [xxxvi.] the figures in [ ] are the dimensions of the old rob roy. the new canoe now building will have the beam at the water's edge, and the upper plank will "topple in," so that the cedar deck will be only inches wide. the "well" or opening in the deck should be feet long [ feet inches] and inches wide, with a strong combing all round, sloping forward, but not more than inch [ ] high at the bow end. this opening should be semicircular at the ends, both for appearance sake and strength and convenience, so as to avoid corners. the macintosh sheet to cover this must be strong, to resist constant wear, light coloured, for the sun's heat, and so attached as to be readily loosened and made fast again, say times a day, and by cords which will instantly break if you have to jump out. in the new canoe this macintosh (the most difficult part of the equipment to arrange) is inches long, and a light wooden hatch covers the fore part, an arrangement found to be most successful. a water-tight compartment in the hull is a mistake. its partition prevents access to breakages within, and arrests the circulation of air, and it cannot be kept long perfectly staunch. there should be extra timbers near the seat. the canoe must be so constructed as to endure without injury, ( ) to be lifted by any part whatever; ( ) to be rested on any part; ( ) to be sat upon while aground, on any part of the deck, the combing, and the interior. wheels for transport have been often suggested, but they would be useless. on plain ground or grass you can readily do without them. on rocks and rough ground, or over ditches and through hedges, wheels could not be employed, and at all times they would be in the way. bilge pieces are not required. strength must be had without them, and their projections seriously complicate the difficulties of pushing the boat over a pointed rock, both when afloat and when ashore; besides, as they are not parallel to the keel they very much retard the boat's speed. the paddle should be feet long (not more), weight, lbs. oz., strong, with blades inches broad, ends rounded, thick, and banded with copper. there should be conical cups of vulcanised india rubber to catch the dribbling water, and, if possible, some plan (not yet devised) for preventing or arresting the drops from the paddle ends, which fall on the deck when you paddle slowly, and when there is not enough centrifugal force to throw this water away from the boat. the painter ought to be of the best flexible rope, not tarred, well able to bear lb. weight; more than feet of rope is a constant encumbrance. the ends should be silk-whipped and secured through a hole in the stem post and another in the stern post (so that either or both ends can be readily cast off); the slack may be coiled on deck behind you. there should be a back support of two wooden slips, each inches by inches, placed like the side strokes of the letter h, and an inch apart, but laced together with cord, or joined by a strip of cloth. rest them against the edge of the combing, and so as to be free to yield to the motion of the back at each stroke, without hurting the spine. if made fast so as always to project, they are much in the way of the painter in critical times. they may be hinged below so as to fold down as you get out, but in this case they are in the way when you are getting in and wish to sit down in an instant ready for work. the mast should be feet long, strong enough to stand gales without stays, stepped just forward of the stretcher, in a tube an inch above deck, and so as to be struck without difficulty in a squall, or when nearing trees, or a bridge, barrier, ferry-rope, bank, or waterfall, or when going aground. the sail, if a lug, should have a fore leach of feet inches, a head of feet inches, and a foot of feet inches; yard and boom of bamboo. the boat can well stand more sail than this at sea, or in lakes and broad channels, but the foregoing size for a lug is quite large enough to manage in stiff breezes and in narrow rocky tortuous rivers. a spritsail would be better in some respects, but no plan has, as yet, been suggested to me for instantly striking the sprit without endangering the deck, so i mean to use a lug still. the material of the sail should be strong cotton, in one piece, without any eyelet or hole whatever, but with a broad hem, enclosing well-stretched cord all round. a jib is of little use as a sail. it is apt to get aback in sudden turns. besides, you must land either to set it or to take in its outhaul, so as to be quite snug. but the jib does well to tie on the shoulders when they are turned to a fierce sun. the boom should be attached by a brass shackle, so that when "topped" or folded its end closes on the top of the mast. the sails (with the boom and yard) should be rolled up round the mast compactly, to be stowed away forward, so that the end of the mast resting on the stretcher will keep the roll of sails out of the wet. the flag and its staff when not fast at the mast-head (by two metal loops) should fit into the mast-step, and the flag-staff, inches long, should be light, so as not to sink if it falls overboard, as one of mine did. the floor-boards should be strong, and easily detachable, so that one of them can be at once used as a paddle if that falls overboard. they should come six inches short of the stern end of a light seat, which can thus rest on the timbers, so as to be as low as possible, and its top should be of strong cane open-work. the stretcher should have only one length, and let this be carefully determined after trial before starting. the two sides of its foot-board should be high and broad, while the middle may be cut down to let the hand get to the mast. the stretcher should, of course, be moveable, in order that you may lie down with the legs at full length for repose. one brass cleat for belaying the halyard should be on deck, about the middle, and on the right-hand side. a stud on the other side, and this cleat will do to make the sheet fast to by one turn on either tack. list of stores on board the rob roy. . _useful stores._--paddle, painter ( feet at first, but cut down to feet), sponge, waterproof cover, feet by feet inches, silk blue union jack, inches by inches, on a staff feet long. mast, boom, and yard. lug sail, jib, and spare jib (used as a sun shawl). stretcher, two back boards, floor boards, basket to sit on ( inches by inches, by inch deep), and holding a macintosh coat. for repairs--iron and brass screws, sheet copper and copper nails, putty and whitelead, a gimlet, cord, string, and thread, one spare button, needle, pins, canvas wading shoes (wooden clogs would be better); all the above should be left with the boat. black bag for months' luggage, size, inches by inches, by inches deep (just right), closed by three buttons, and with shoulder-strap. flannel norfolk jacket (flaps not too long, else they dip in the water, or the pockets are inverted in getting out and in); wide flannel trousers, gathered by a broad back buckle belt, second trousers for shore should have braces, but in the boat the back buttons are in the way. flannel shirt on, and another for shore. a straw hat is the very best for use--while writing this there are various head covers before me used in different tours, but the straw hat is best of all for boating. thin alpaca black sunday coat, thick waistcoat, black leather light-soled spring-sided shoes (should be strong for rocks and village pavements), cloth cap (only used as a bag), collars, pocket handkerchiefs, ribbon tie, pair of cotton socks (easily got off for sudden wading, and drying quickly when put on deck in the sun). brush, comb, and tooth-brush. testament, passport (will be scarcely needed this season), leather purse, large (and _full_), circular notes, small change in silver and copper for frequent use, blue spectacles in strong case, book for journal and sketches, black, blue, and red chalk, and steel pen. maps, cutting off a six inch square at a time for pocket reference. pipe, tobacco-case, and light-box (metal, to resist moisture from without and within), guide books and pleasant evening reading book. you should cut off covers and all useless pages of books, and every page as read; no needless weight should be carried hundreds of miles; even a fly settling on the boat must be refused a free passage. illustrated papers, tracts, and anecdotes in french and german for sunday reading and daily distribution (far too few had been taken, they were always well received). medicine (rhubarb and court plaister), small knife, and pencil. messrs. silver's, in bishopsgate, is the place for stores. . _useless articles._--boathook, undervest, waterproof helmet, ventilated cap, foreign conversation books, glass seltzer bottle and patent cork (for a drinking flask), tweezers for thorns. . _lost or stolen articles._--bag for back cushion, waterproof bag for sitting cushion, long knife, necktie, woven waistcoat, box of quinine, steel-hafted knife. these, except the last of them, were not missed. i bought another thick waistcoat from a jew. rocks and currents. a few remarks may now be made upon the principal cases in which rocks and currents have to be dealt with by the canoist. even if a set of rules could be laid down for the management of a boat in the difficult parts of a river, it would not be made easier until practice has given the boatman that quick judgment as to their application which has to be patiently acquired in this and other athletic exercises, such as riding or skating, and even in walking. the canoist, who passes many hours every day for months together in the earnest consideration of the river problems always set before him for solution, will probably feel some interest in this attempt to classify those that occur most frequently. steering a boat in a current among rocks is not unlike walking on a crowded pavement, where the other passengers are going in various directions, and at various speeds; and this operation of threading your way in the streets requires a great deal of practice, and not a few lessons enforced by collisions, to make a pedestrian thoroughly _au fait_ as a good man in a crowd. after years of walking through crowds, there is produced by this education of the mind and training of the body a certain power--not possessed by a novice--which insensibly directs a man in his course and his speed, but still his judgment has had insensibly to take cognizance of many varying _data_ in the movements of other people which must have their effect upon each step he takes. after this capacity becomes, as it were, instinctive, or, at any rate, acts almost involuntarily, a man can walk briskly along fleet-street at p.m., and, without any distinct thought about other people, or about his own progress, he can safely get to his journey's end. indeed, if he does begin to think of rules or how to apply them systematically, he is then almost sure to knock up against somebody else. nay, if two men meet as they walk through a crowd, and each of them "catches the eye" of the other, they will probably cease to move instinctively, and, with uncertain data to reason from, a collision is often the result. as the descent of a current among rocks resembles a walk along the pavement through a crowd, so the passage _across_ a rapid is even more strictly in resemblance with the course of a man who has to cross a street where vehicles are passing at uncertain intervals and at various speeds, though all in the same direction. for it is plain that the thing to be done is nearly the same, whether the obstacles (as breakers) are fixed and the current carries you towards them, or the obstacles (as cabs and carts) are moving, while you have to walk through them on _terra firma_. to cross park-lane in the afternoon requires the very same sort of calculation as the passage across the stream in a rapid on the rhine. the importance of this subject of "boating instinct" will be considered sufficient to justify these remarks when the canoist has by much practice at last attained to that desirable proficiency which enables him to steer without thinking about it, and therefore to enjoy the conversation of other people on the bank or the scenery, while he is rapidly speeding through rocks, eddies, and currents. we may divide the rocks thus encountered in fast water into two classes--( ) those that are _sunk_, so that the boat can float over them, and which do not deflect the direction of the surface current. ( ) those that are _breakers_, and so deflect the current, and do not allow the boat to float over them. the currents may be divided into--( ) those that are equable in force, and in the same direction through the course to be steered. ( ) those that alter their direction in a part of that course. in the problems before the canoist will be found the combinations of every degree and variety of these rocks and currents, but the actual circumstances he has to deal with at any specified moment may--it is believed--be generally ranged under one or other of the six cases depicted in the accompanying woodcut. [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] [illustration: fig. .] in each of the figures in the diagram the current is supposed to run towards the top of the page, and the general course of the canoe is supposed to be with the current. the particular direction of the current is indicated by the dotted lines. the rocks when shaded are supposed to be _sunk_, and when not shaded they are _breakers_. thus the current is uniform in figs. , , ; and it is otherwise in figs. , , . the rocks are all sunk in figs. , , , and ; whereas in figs. and there are breakers. the black line in these figures, and in all the others, shows the proper course of the centre of the boat, and it is well to habituate oneself to make the course such as that this line shall never be nearer to the rock than one-half of the boat's length. the simplest case that can occur is when the canoe is merely floating without "way" through a current, and the current bears it near a rock. if this be a breaker, the current, being deflected, will generally carry the boat to one side. the steering in such cases is so easy, and its frequent occurrence gives so much practice, that no more need be said about it. but if the rock be a sunk rock, and if it be not quite plain from the appearance of the water that there is depth enough over the rock to float the boat, then it is necessary to pass either above the rock, as in fig. , or below it, as in fig. . a few days' practice is not thrown away if the canoist seizes every opportunity of performing under easy circumstances feats which may at other times have to be done under necessity, and which would not be so well done if attempted then for the first time. let him, therefore, as soon as possible, become adept in crossing above or below a single sunk rock with his _boat's bow pointed to any angle of the semicircle before him_. next we have to consider the cases in which more than one rock will have to be avoided. now, however great the number of the rocks may be, they can be divided into sets of three, and in each of the figures , , , it is supposed that (for reasons which may be different in each case, but always sufficient) the canoe has to pass between rocks _a_ and _b_, and then between _b_ and _c_, but must not pass otherwise between _a_ and _c_. in fig. the course is below _b_, and above _c_, being a combination of the instance in fig. with that in fig. . the precise angle to the line of the course which the boat's longer axis ought to have will depend upon what is to be done next after passing between _b_ and _c_, and hence the importance of being able to effect the passages in fig. and fig. with the axis at any required angle. we may next suppose that one of the three rocks, say _b_, as in fig. , is a breaker which will deflect the current (as indicated by the dotted stream lines), and it will then be necessary to modify the angle of the boat's axis, though the boat's centre has to be kept in the same course as before. it will be seen at once that if _a_ were a breaker the angle would be influenced in another manner, and that if _c_ were a breaker the angle at which the boat should emerge from the group of rocks would be influenced by the stream from _c_ also; but it is only necessary to remind the reader that all the combinations and permutations of breakers and sunk rocks need not be separately discussed,--they may be met by the experience obtained in one case of each class of circumstances. fig. represents a _circular current_ over the group of three rocks. this is a very deceptive case, for it looks so easy that at first it is likely to be treated carelessly. if the boat were supposed to be a substance floating, but without weight, it would have its direction of motion instantly altered by that of the current. but the boat has weight, and as it has velocity (that of the current even if the boat is not urged also by the paddle so as to have "way" through the water), therefore it will have _momentum_, and the tendency will be to continue the motion in a straight line, instead of a curve guided solely by the current. in all these cases, therefore, it will be found (sometimes inexplicably unless with these considerations) that the boat _insists_ upon passing between _a_ and _c_, where it must not be allowed to go on the hypothesis we have started with; and if it effects a compromise by running upon _c_, this is by no means satisfactory. this class of cases includes all those in which the river makes a quick turn round a rock or a tongue _b_, where the boundary formed by the rock _a_ on the outer bend of the stream is a solid bank, or a fringe of growing trees, or of faggots artificially built as a protection against the erosion of the water. this case occurs, therefore, very frequently in some fast rivers, say, at least, a hundred times in a day's work, and perhaps no test of a man's experience and capacity as a canoist is more decisive than his manner of steering round a fast, sharp bend. the tendency of the canoist in such cases is always to bring the boat round by paddling forward with the outer hand, thereby adding to the "way," and making the force of the current in its circular turn less powerful relatively. whereas, the proper plan is to back with the inner hand, and so to stop all way in the direction of the boat's length, and to give the current its full force on the boat. repeated lessons are needed before this is learned thoroughly. the case we have last remarked upon is made easier if either _a_ or _c_ is a breaker, but it is very much increased in difficulty if the rock _b_ is a breaker or is a strong tongue of bank, and so deflects the current outwards at this critical point. the difficulty is often increased by the fact that the water inside of the curve of the stream may be shoal, and so the paddle on that side strikes the bottom or grinds along it in backing. when the curve is all in deep water, and there is a pool after _b_, the boat ought not to be turned too quickly in endeavouring to avoid the rock _c_, else it will sometimes then enter the eddy below _b_, which runs up stream sometimes for fifty yards. in such a case the absurd position you are thereby thrown into naturally causes you to struggle to resist or stem this current; but i have found, after repeated trials of every plan i could think of, that if once the back current has taken the canoe it is best to let the boat swing with the eddy so as to make an entire circuit, until the bow can come back towards _b_ (and below it), when the nose of the boat may be again thrust into the main stream, which will now turn the boat round again to its proper course. much time and labour may be spent uselessly in a wrong and obstinate contest with an eddy. in fig. , where the three rocks are in a straight line, and the middle one is a breaker, an instance is given when the proper course must be kept by _backing_ during the first part of it. we must suppose for this that the canoist has attained the power of backing with perfect ease, for it will be quite necessary if he intends to take his boat safely through several hundred combinations of sunk rocks and breakers. presuming this, the case in fig. will be easy enough, though a little reflection will show that it might be very difficult, or almost impossible, if the canoist could give only a forward motion to the boat. to pass most artistically, then, through the group of rocks in fig. the stern should be turned towards _a_, as shown in the diagram, and the passage across the current, between _a_ and _b_, is to be effected solely by backing water (and chiefly in this case with the left hand) until the furthest point of the right of the curve is reached, with the boat's length still as before in the position represented in the figure. then the forward action of both hands will take the canoe speedily through the passage between _b_ and _c_. cases of this sort are rendered more difficult by the distance of _c_ from the point above _a_, where you are situated when the decision has to be made (and in three instants of time) as to what must be done; also, it would usually be imprudent to rise in the boat in such a place to survey the rock _c_ from a better position. if it is evident that the plan described above will not be applicable, because other and future circumstances will require the boat's bow to emerge in the opposite direction (pointing to the right), then you must enter forwards, and must back between _b_ and _c_, so as to be ready, after passing _c_, to drive forward, and to the right. it is plain that this is very much more difficult than the former case, for your backing now has to be done against the full stream from the breaker _b_. in all these instances the action of the wind has been entirely omitted from consideration, but it must not be forgotten that a strong breeze materially complicates the problem before the canoist. this is especially so when the wind is aft; when it is ahead you are not likely to forget its presence. a strong fair wind (that has scarcely been felt with your back to it) and the swift stream and the boat's speed from paddling being all in one direction, the breeze will suddenly become a new element in the case when you try to cross above a rock as in fig. , and find the wind carries you broadside on against all your calculations. nor have i any observations to make as to sailing among rocks in a current. the canoe must be directed solely by the paddle in a long rapid, and in the other places the course to be steered by a boat sailing is the same as if it were being merely paddled, though the action of the wind has to be carefully taken into consideration. in all these things boldness and skill come only after lessons of experience, and the canoist will find himself ready and able, at the end of his voyage, to sail down a rapid which he would have approached timidly, even with the paddle, at the beginning. but perhaps enough has been said for the experienced oarsman, while surely more than enough has been said to shew the tyro aspirant what varied work he has to do, and how interesting are the circumstances that will occupy his attention on a delightful river tour. note on the "kent."--the narrative of a shipwreck referred to at page has been published years ago, and in many foreign languages, but its circulation is very large at the present time. the following letter about one of the incidents related in the little book, appeared in the "times" of march , :-- "letters from the deep. "_to the editor of the 'times.'_ "sir,--as attention has been drawn to the letters written on board the ship london, and washed ashore, it may be interesting to notice the following remarkable incident respecting a letter from another ship wrecked in the bay of biscay. in march, , the kent, east indiaman, took fire in the bay of biscay during a storm while persons were on board, most of them soldiers of the st regiment. when all hope was gone, and before a little vessel was seen which ultimately saved more than people from the kent, major ---- wrote a few lines and enclosed the paper in a bottle, which was left in the cabin. nineteen months after this the writer of the paper arrived in the island of barbadoes, in command of another regiment, and he was amazed to find that the bottle (cast into the sea by the explosion that destroyed the kent) had been washed ashore on that very island. the paper, with its faint pencil lines expressing christian faith, is still preserved; and this account of it can be authenticated by those who were saved. "i am, your obedient servant, "one of them." the bottle, after its long immersion, was thickly covered with weeds and barnacles. the following are the words of the "letter from the deep," which it contained:-- "the ship the kent, indiaman, is on fire--elizabeth joanna and myself commit our spirits into the hands of our blessed redeemer--his grace enables us to be quite composed in the awful prospect of entering eternity. "d. m'gregor. "_ st march, , bay of biscay._" the writer of that letter lives now with blessings on his venerable head, while he who records it anew is humbly grateful to god for his own preservation. and may we not say of every one who reads such words, written in such an hour, that his life would be unspeakably happy if he could lay hold now of so firm a surety, and be certain to keep fast hold to the end? the following notes are on miscellaneous points:-- (_a_) we are sometimes asked about such a canoe voyage as this, "is it not very dangerous?" there seems to me to be no necessary danger in the descent of a river in a canoe; but if you desire to make it as safe as possible you must get out at each difficult place and examine the course, and if the course is too difficult you may take the boat past the danger by land. on the other hand, if the excitement and novelty of finding out a course on the spur of the moment is to be enjoyed, then, no doubt, there is more danger to the boat. as for danger to the canoist, it is supposed, _imprimis_, that he is well able to swim, not only in a bath when stripped, but when unexpectedly thrown into the water with his clothes on, and that he _knows_ he can rely on this capacity. if this be so, the chief danger to him occurs when he meets a steamer on rough water (rare enough on such a tour); for if his boat is upset by that, and his head is broken by the paddle floats, the swimming powers are futile for safety. the danger incurred by the boat is certainly both considerable and frequent, but nothing short of the persuasion that the boat would be smashed if a great exertion is not made will incite the canoist to those very exertions which are the charm of travelling, when spirit, strength, and skill are to be proved. men have their various lines of exercise as they have of duty. the huntsman may not understand the pleasures of a rapid, nor the boatman care for the delights of a "bullfinch." certainly, however, the waterman can say that a good horse may carry a bad rider well, but that the best boat will not take a bad boatman through a mile of broken water. in each case there is, perhaps, a little of _populus me sibilat_, and it may possibly be made up for by a good deal of _at mihi plaudo_. (_b_) it has been said that the constant use of a canoe paddle must contract the chest, but this is certainly a mistake. if, indeed, you merely dabble each blade of the paddle in the water without taking the full length of the stroke the shoulders are not thrown back, and the effect will be injurious; but exactly the same is true if you scull or row with a short jerky stroke. in a proper use of the paddle the arms ought to be in turn fully extended, and then brought well back, so that the hand touches the side, and the chest is then well plied in both directions. in using the single-bladed paddle, of which i have had experience in canada and new brunswick with the indians in bark canoes and log canoes, there seems to be a less beneficial action on the pectoral muscles, but after three months' use of the double paddle i found the arms much strengthened, while clothes that fitted before were all too narrow round the chest when put on after this exercise. (_c_) in shallow water the paddle should be clasped lightly, so that if it strikes the bottom or a rock the hand will yield and not the blade be broken. great caution should be used when placing the blade in advance to meet a rock, or even a gravel bank, otherwise it gets jammed in the rock or gravel, or the boat overrides it. it is better in such a case to retard the speed rather by dragging the paddle (tenderly), and always with its flat side downwards, so that the edge does not get nipped. (_d_) m. farcôt, a french engineer, has lately exhibited on the thames a boat which is rowed by the oarsman sitting with his face to the bow, who by this means secures one of the advantages of the canoe--that of seeing where you are going. to effect this, a short prop or mast about three feet high is fixed in the boat, and the two sculls are jointed to it by their handles, while their weight is partly sustained by a strong spiral spring acting near the joint, and in such a manner as to keep the blade of the scull a few inches from the surface of the water when it is not pressed down purposely. the sculler then sits with his face towards the mast and the bow, and he holds in each hand a rod jointed to the loom of the corresponding scull. by this means each scull is moved on the mast as a fulcrum with the power applied between that and the water. the operation of feathering is partially performed, and to facilitate this there is an ingeniously contrived guide. this invention appears to be new, but it is evident that the plan retains many of the disadvantages of common sculls, and it leaves the double paddle quite alone as a simple means for propelling a canoe in narrow or tortuous channels, or where it has to meet waves, weeds, rocks, or trees, and moreover has to sail. however, the muscular power of the arms can be applied with good effect in this new manner, and i found it not very difficult to learn the use of this french rowing apparatus, which is undoubtedly very ingenious, and deserves a full trial before a verdict is pronounced. (_e_) in a difficult place where the boat is evidently going too near a rock, the disposition of the canoist is to change the direction by a _forward_ stroke on one side, but this adds to the force with which a collision may be invested. it is often better to _back_ a stroke on the other side, and thus to lessen this force; and this is nearly always possible to be done even when the boat appears to be simply drifting on the stream. in fact, as a maxim, there is always steerage way sufficient to enable the paddle to be used exactly as a rudder. (_f_) when there is a brilliant glare of the sun, and it is low, and directly in front, and it is impossible to bear its reflection on the water, a good plan is to direct the bow to some point you are to steer for, and then observe the reflection of the sun on the cedar deck of the boat. having done this you may lower the peak of your hat so as to cut off the direct rays of the sun, and its reflected rays on the water, while you steer simply by the light on the deck. (_g_) when a great current moves across a river to a point where it seems very unlikely to have an exit, you may be certain that some unusual conformation of the banks or of the river bed will be found there, and caution should be used in approaching the place. this, however, is less necessary when the river is deep. such cross currents are frequent on the rhine, but they result merely from unevenness in the bottom far below, and thus we see how the rapids, most dangerous when the river is low, become quite agreeable and safe in high flood time. (_h_) the ripple and bubbles among weeds are so totally different from those on free water that their appearance at a distance as a criterion of the depth, current, and direction of the channel must be learned separately. in general, where weeds are under water, and can sway or wave about, there will be water enough to pass--the requisite inches. backing up stream against long weeds is so troublesome, and so sure to sway the stern round athwart stream, that it is best to force the boat forward instead, even if you have to get out and pull her through. (_i_) paddling through rushes, or flags, or other plants above the water, so as to cut off a corner, is a mistake. much more "way" is lost then by the friction than might be supposed. (_j_) i noticed a very curious boat-bridge across the rhine below basle. it seemed to open wide without swinging, and on coming close to it the plan was found to be this. the boats of one half of the bridge were drawn towards the shore, and a stage connecting them ran on wheels along rails inwards from the river, and up an incline on the bank. this system is ingenious, convenient, and philosophical. (_k_) double-hulled boats have often been tried for sailing, but their disadvantages are manifest when the craft is on a large scale, though for toy-boats they answer admirably, and they are now quite fashionable on the serpentine. the double boat of the nautical tinman on the rhine, before described, was a "fond conceit." but there are many double-hulled boats on french rivers, and they have this sole recommendation, that you sit high up, and so can fish without fearing you may "turn the turtle." when the two hulls are reduced as much as possible, this sort of boat becomes an aquatic "walking machine," for one foot then rests on each hull. propulsion is obtained either by linking the hulls together with parallel bars moving on studs, while vanes are on each side, so as to act like fins, and to collapse for the alternate forward stroke of each foot bound to its hull--or a square paddle, or a pole works on the water or on the bottom. i have always noticed that the proprietors of such craft are ingenious, obstinate men, proud of their peculiar mode, and very touchy when it is criticised. however, it is usually best, and it is fortunately always easy, to paddle away from them. (_l_) the hard exercise of canoe paddling, the open-air motion, constant working of the muscles about the stomach, and free perspiration result in good appetite and pleasant sleepiness at night. but at the end of the voyage the change of diet and cessation of exercise will be apt to cause derangement in the whole system, and especially in the digestion, if the high condition or "training" be not cautiously lowered into the humdrum "constitutionals" of more ordinary life. still i have found it very agreeable to take a paddle in the rob roy up to hammersmith and back even in december and march. the last public occasion on which she appeared was on april , when the captain offered her aid to the chief constructor of the navy in the effort of the admiralty to launch the ironclad northumberland. the offer was eagerly accepted, and the launch was accordingly successful. the rob roy has since departed for a voyage to norway and iceland in the schooner yacht sappho, whose young owner, mr. w. f. lawton, has promised "to be kind to her." it is intended that a new rob roy should make a voyage next summer with another canoe called the "robin hood." (_m_) other pleasant voyages may be suggested for the holiday of the canoist. one of these might begin with the thames, and then down the severn, along the north coast of devon, and so by the river dart to plymouth. another on the solent, and round the isle of wight. the dee might be descended by the canoe, and then to the left through the menai straits. or a longer trip may be made through the cumberland lakes by windermere and the derwent, or from edinburgh by the forth, into the clyde, and through the kyles of bute to oban; then along the caledonian canal, until the voyager can get into the tay for a swift run eastward. but why not begin at gothenburg and pass through the pretty lakes of sweden to stockholm, and then skirt the lovely archipelago of green isles in the gulf of bothnia, until you get to petersburg? for one or other of such tours a fishing-rod and an air rifle, and for all of them a little dog, would be a great addition to the outfit. in some breezy lake of these perhaps, or on some rushing river, the little rob roy may hope to meet the reader's canoe; and when the sun is setting, and the wavelets ripple sleepily, the pleasures of the paddle will be known far better than they have been told by the pen. c. a. macintosh, printer, great new-street, london. _milton house, ludgate hill, april, ._ a list of sampson low & co.'s new works. _a biography of admiral sir b.p.v. broke, bart., k.c.b._ by the rev. john g. brighton, rector of kent town. dedicated by express permission to his royal highness prince alfred. vo., price _s._ _the great schools of england._ a history of the foundation, endowments, and discipline of the chief seminaries of learning in england; including eton, winchester, westminster, st. paul's, charterhouse, merchant taylors', harrow, rugby, shrewsbury, &c.; with notices of distinguished scholars. by howard staunton, esq. with numerous illustrations. vo., handsomely bound in cloth, price _s._ "the book is as full of solid matter as of gossiping narrative and pleasant anecdote. as a handbook to our great schools mr. staunton's volume will have a wide class of readers."--_athenæum._ _social life of the chinese_; with some account of their religion, government, educational, and business customs and opinions. by the rev. j. doolittle, fourteen years member of the fuhchou mission of the american board. with illustrations. vols. vo., _s._ "we have no hesitation in saying that from these pages may be gathered more information about the social life of the chinese than can be obtained from any other source. the importance of the work as a key to a right understanding of the character of so vast a portion of the human race ought to insure it an extensive circulation."--_athenæum._ _captain hall's life with the esquimaux._ new and cheaper edition, with coloured engravings and upwards of woodcuts. with a map. price _s._ _d._, cloth extra. forming the cheapest and most popular edition of a work on arctic life and exploration ever published. "this is a very remarkable book; and unless we very much misunderstand both him and his book, the author is one of those men of whom great nations do well to be proud."--_spectator._ _the cruise of the frolic._ by w. h. g. kingston. a story for young yacht-loving people. illustrated edition, price _s._ "who does not welcome mr. w.h.g. kingston? here he is again with an admirable boys' book. if boys do not love this book there is no truth in boyhood, and no use in reviewing; it is just the book for a present."--_illustrated times._ _under the waves;_ or, the hermit crab in society. a book for the seaside. _s._ _d._; or gilt edges, _s._ "this is one of the best books we know of to place in the hands of young and intelligent persons during a visit to the seaside."--_reader._ _a walk from london to the land's end_; with notes by the way. by elihu burritt. with illustrations. vo., price _s._ _a walk from london to john o'groat's._ by the same author. a new and cheaper edition. price _s._ _essays by montaigne._ choicely printed. with vignette portrait. small post vo., price _s._ _a second series of the gentle life._ uniform with the first series. second edition. small post, price _s._ _the gentle life;_ essays on the formation of character of gentlemen and gentlewomen. sixth edition. price _s._ _like unto christ._ a new translation of the 'de imitatione christi,' usually ascribed to thomas à kempis. beautifully printed on toned paper, with a vignette, from an original drawing by sir thomas lawrence. mo. cloth extra, price _s._; or, handsomely bound in calf antique, _s._ _bees and bee-keeping._ by the 'times beemaster.' a manual for all who keep, or wish to keep, bees. with numerous illustrations. crown vo. cloth, _s._ "few letters that have appeared in these columns have been more popular than those addressed to us by the beemaster. we do not wish to detract from this praise in saying that they were popular because the subject is popular. bees have always been interesting to mankind, and no man of ordinary intelligence can describe in any detail their natural history without unfolding a little romance--a kind of fairy annals, that fills us with wonder and insures our attention. but our friend the beemaster has the knack of exposition, and knows how to tell a story well; over and above which, he tells a story so that thousands can take a practical and not merely a speculative interest in it."--_times._ london: sampson low, son, & marston, milton house, ludgate hill. a list of books publishing by _sampson low, son, and marston._ _milton house, ludgate hill, london._ [illustration] ** _when the price is not given, the work was not ready at the time of issuing this list._ [_february , ._ new illustrated works. the great schools of england. a history of the foundation, endowments, and discipline of the chief seminaries of learning in england; including eton, winchester, westminster, st. paul's, charterhouse, merchant taylors', harrow, rugby, shrewsbury, &c; with notices of distinguished scholars. by howard staunton, esq. with numerous illustrations. one volume vo., handsomely bound in cloth, price _s._ "_the book is as full of solid matter as of gossiping narrative and pleasant anecdote. as a handbook to our great schools mr. staunton's volume will have a wide class of readers._"--athenæum. "_cannot fail to be interesting to all fathers and mothers, and it appeals to the sympathies of everyone who has been a boy, and has been educated at a public school. good store of anecdote, amusing and pathetic, has been provided; and the exquisite letters written to the famous poet, soldier, and gentleman, sir philip sydney, by his father and mother, when the future 'scipio, cicero, and petrarch of his time' was a boy at shrewsbury, are wonderfully moving, and worthy of the attention of every father, every mother, and every son._"--illustrated london news. "_the work is so full of practical information on the details of school life at these great foundations that it may be regarded as a guide book to all who contemplate sending their sons thither. for all such the volume must have a solid value, as enabling them to compare the several systems prevailing at different places, and to determine beforehand which offers the greatest advantages. the subject, however, is interesting to all intelligent englishmen, and the book has, therefore, a general attraction beyond the circle which it specially addresses._"--london review. the pleasures of memory. by samuel rogers. illustrated with twenty designs, forming a volume of "cundall's choice of choice books." small to. price _s._ the divine and moral songs of dr. watts: a new and very choice edition. illustrated with one hundred woodcuts in the first style of the art, from original designs by eminent artists; engraved by j. d. cooper. small to. cloth extra, price _s._ _d._ pictures of society, grave and gay; comprising one hundred engravings on wood, from the pictures of eminent artists; including j. e. millais, a.r.a., f. w. pickersgill, r.a., c. w. cope, r.a., j. d. watson, george thomas, marcus stone, &c. illustrated by the pens of popular authors; including mrs. s. c. hall, e. k. harvey, barry cornwall, tom hood, edward levein, noel jones, cuthbert bede, j. h. friswell, walter thornbury, &c. beautifully printed by messrs. dalziel brothers. handsomely bound in cloth, with an elaborate and novel design, by messrs. leighton and co. royal vo. price one guinea. the twenty-third psalm: with richly-coloured emblematic borders. small to. bevelled boards, price _s._ the three kings of orient: a christmas carol. illuminated. small to. bevelled boards, price _s._ christ was born on christmas day: a carol. with illustrations by john a. hows. illustrated and illuminated. small to. bevelled boards, price _s._ an entirely new edition of edgar a. poe's poems. illustrated by eminent artists. small to. cloth extra, price _s._ _d._ poems of the inner life. selected chiefly from modern authors, by permission. small vo. _s._ choicely printed. a history of lace, from the earliest period; with upwards of one hundred illustrations and coloured designs. by mrs. bury palliser. one volume, vo. choicely bound in cloth. _s._ _d._ pictures of english life; illustrated by ten folio page illustrations on wood, by j. d. cooper, after drawings by r. barnes and e. m. whimperis, with appropriate descriptive poems, printed in floreated borders. imperial folio, cloth extra, _s._ "_this handsome volume is entirely in the english taste._"--spectator. "_pictures that do you good to look at them._"--illustrated times. "_an elegant volume, containing speaking pictures that might have owned the parentage of gainsborough or morland; thoroughly national in character and detail._"--reader. pictures for the people: the same engravings beautifully printed on thick paper. adapted by their price to the adornment of cottage walls, and by their artistic beauty to the drawing-room portfolio. one shilling each. favourite english poems. _complete edition._ comprising a collection of the most celebrated poems in the english language, with but one or two exceptions unabridged, from chaucer to tennyson. with illustrations by the first artists. two vols. royal vo. half bound, top gilt, roxburgh style, _l._ _s._; antique calf, _l._ _s._ ** either volume sold separately as distinct works. . "early english poems, chaucer to dyer." . "favourite english poems, thomson to tennyson." each handsomely bound in cloth, _l._ _s._; or morocco extra, _l._ _s._ "_one of the choicest gift-books of the year. "favourite english poems" is not a toy book, to be laid for a week on the christmas table and then thrown aside with the sparkling trifles of the christmas tree, but an honest book, to be admired in the season of pleasant remembrances for its artistic beauty; and, when the holydays are over, to be placed for frequent and affectionate consultation on a favourite shelf._"--athenæum. schiller's lay of the bell. sir e. bulwer lytton's translation; beautifully illustrated by forty-two wood engravings, drawn by thomas scott, and engraved by j. d. cooper, after the etchings by retszch. oblong to. cloth extra, _s._ "_a very elegant and classic christmas present._"--guardian. "_the work is a standard picture-book, and of its success there can be no doubt._"--examiner. the poetry of nature. selected and illustrated with thirty-six engravings by harrison weir. small to. handsomely bound in cloth, gilt edges, _s._; morocco, _l._ _s._ a new edition of choice editions of choice books. illustrated by c. w. cope, r.a., t. creswick, r.a., edward duncan, birket foster, j. c. horsley, a.r.a., george hicks, r. redgrave, r.a., c. stonehouse, f. tayler, george thomas, h. j. townshend, e. h. wehnert, harrison weir, &c. crown vo. cloth, _s._ each; bevelled boards, _s._ _d._; or, in morocco, gilt edges, _s._ _d._ bloomfield's farmer's boy. campbell's pleasures of hope. cundall's elizabethan poetry. coleridge's ancient mariner. goldsmith's deserted village. goldsmith's vicar of wakefield. gray's elegy in a churchyard. keat's eve of st. agnes. milton's l'allegro. roger's pleasures of memory. shakespeare's songs and sonnets. tennyson's may queen. wordsworth's pastoral poems. "_such works are a glorious beatification for a poet. such works as these educate townsmen, who, surrounded by dead and artificial things, as country people are by life and nature, scarcely learn to look at nature till taught by these concentrated specimens of her beauty._"--athenæum. literature, works of reference, and education. the english catalogue of books: giving the date of publication of every book published from to , in addition to the title, size, price, and publisher, in one alphabet. an entirely new work, combining the copyrights of the "london catalogue" and the "british catalogue." one thick volume of pages, half morocco, _s._ like unto christ. a new translation of the de imitatione christi, usually ascribed to thomas à kempis--forming a volume of _the gentle life_ series. small post vo. _s._ the gentle life: essays in aid of the formation of character of gentlemen and gentlewomen. small post vo. seventh edition, _s._ a second volume of the gentle life. uniform with the first series. second edition, _s._ about in the world: essays uniform with, and by the author of "the gentle life." small post vo. _s._ essays by montaigne. with vignette portrait. small post vo. _s._ familiar words; an index verborum, or dictionary of quotation of sentences and phrases which have become embedded in our english tongue. second edition, revised and enlarged. post vo. [_shortly._ "_not only the most extensive dictionary of quotations which we have yet met with, but it has, moreover, this additional merit, that in all cases an exact reference is given to every chapter, act, scene, book, and number of the line._"--notes and queries. the complete poetical works of john milton, with a life of the author: and a verbal index containing upwards of , references to all the poems. by charles dexter cleveland. new edition. vo. _s._; morocco, _s._ life portraits of shakspeare; with an examination of the authenticity, and a history of the various representations of the poet. by j. h. friswell, member of the national shakspeare committee. illustrated by photographs of authentic and received portraits. square vo. _s._; or with photograph of the will, _s._ memoirs of the life of william shakespeare. with an essay toward the expression of his genius, and an account of the rise and progress of the english drama. by richard grant white. post vo. cloth, _s._ _d._ her majesty's mails: a history of the post office, and an industrial account of its present condition. by wm. lewins, of the general post office. nd edition, revised, and enlarged, with a photographic portrait of sir rowland hill. small post vo. _s._ "_a book we strongly recommend to those who wish to be fully informed on the subject, as an interesting and generally accurate account of the history and working of the post office._"--edinburgh review. "_will take its stand as a really useful book of reference on the history of the post. we heartily recommend it as a thoroughly careful performance._"--saturday review. a history of banks for savings; including a full account of the origin and progress of mr. gladstone's recent prudential measures. by william lewins, author of 'her majesty's mails.' with a photograph of the chancellor of the exchequer. vo. cloth. varia: rare readings from scarce books. reprinted by permission from the _saturday review_ and _spectator_. beautifully printed by whittingham. fcap. cloth. the origin and history of the english language, and of the early literature it embodies. by the hon. george p. marsh, u. s. minister at turin, author of "lectures on the english language." vo. cloth extra, _s._ lectures on the english language; forming the introductory series to the foregoing work. by the same author. vo. cloth, _s._ this is the only author's edition. man and nature; or, physical geography as modified by human action. by george p. marsh, author of "lectures on the english language," &c. vo. cloth, _s._ "_mr. marsh traces the history of human industry as shown in the extensive modification and extirpation of animal and vegetable life in the woods, the waters, and the sands; and, in a concluding chapter, he discusses the probable and possible geographical changes yet to be wrought. the whole of mr. marsh's book is an eloquent showing of the duty of care in the establishment of harmony between man's life and the forces of nature, so as to bring to their highest points the fertility of the soil, the vigour of the animal life, and the salubrity of the climate, on which we have to depend for the physical well-being of mankind._"--examiner. english and scotch ballads, &c. an extensive collection. designed as a complement to the works of the british poets, and embracing nearly all the ancient and traditionary ballads both of england and scotland, in all the important varieties of form in which they are extant, with notices of the kindred ballads of other nations. edited by f. j. child, new edition, revised by the editor. vols. fcap. cloth, _s._ _d._ each. the handy-book of patent and copyright law, english and foreign. by james fraser, esq. post vo. cloth, _s._ _d._ a concise summary of the law of english and french copyright law and international law, by peter burke. mo. _s._ index to the subjects of books published in the united kingdom during the last twenty years-- - . containing as many as , references under subjects, so as to ensure immediate reference to the books on the subject required, each giving title, price, publisher, and date. two valuable appendices are also given--a, containing full lists of all libraries, collections, series, and miscellanies--and b, a list of literary societies, printing societies, and their issues. one vol. royal vo. morocco, _l._ _s._ the american catalogue, or english guide to american literature; giving the full title of original works published in the united states of america since the year , with especial reference to the works of interest to great britain, with the size, price, place, date of publication, and london prices. with comprehensive index. vo. _s._ _d._ also supplement, - . vo. _d._ dr. worcester's new and greatly enlarged dictionary of the english language. adapted for library or college reference, comprising , words more than johnson's dictionary, and pages more than the quarto edition of webster's dictionary. in one volume, royal to. cloth, , pp. price _s._ _d._ the cheapest book ever published. "the volumes before us show a vast amount of diligence; but with webster it is diligence in combination with fancifulness,--with worcester in combination with good sense and judgment. worcester's is the soberer and safer book, and may be pronounced the best existing english lexicon."--_athenæum_, july , . the publishers' circular, and general record of british and foreign literature; giving a transcript of the title-page of every work published in great britain, and every work of interest published abroad, with lists of all the publishing houses. published regularly on the st and th of every month, and forwarded post free to all parts of the world on payment of _s._ per annum. the ladies' reader: with some plain and simple rules and instructions for a good style of reading aloud, and a variety of selections for exercise. by george vandenhoff, m.a., author of "the art of elocution." fcap. vo. cloth, _s._ the clerical assistant: an elocutionary guide to the reading of the scriptures and the liturgy, several passages being marked for pitch and emphasis: with some observations on clerical bronchitus. by george vandenhoff, m.a. fcap. vo. cloth, _s._ _d._ the art of elocution as an essential part of rhetoric, with instructions in gesture, and an appendix of oratorical, poetical and dramatic extracts. by george vandenhoff, m.a. third edition. _s._ latin-english lexicon, by dr. andrews. th edition. vo. _s._ the superiority of this justly-famed lexicon is retained over all others by the fulness of its quotations, the including in the vocabulary proper names, the distinguishing whether the derivative is classical or otherwise, the exactness of the references to the original authors, and in the price. "_every page bears the impress of industry and care._"--athenæum. "_the best latin dictionary, whether for the scholar or advanced student._"--spectator. "_we never saw such a book published at such a price._"--examiner. the farm and fruit of old. from virgil. by a market gardener. _s._ usque ad coelum; or, the dwellings of the people. by thomas hare, esq., barrister-at-law. fcap. _s._ domestic servants, their duties and rights. by a barrister. _s._ signals of distress, in refuges and houses of charity; in industrial schools and reformatories; at invalids' dinner tables, and in the homes of the little sisters of the poor, &c. &c.; among the fallen, the vicious, and the criminal; where missionaries travel, and where good samaritans clothe the naked. by blanchard jerrold, author of "the life of douglas jerrold," &c. crown vo. _s._ _d._ the children of lutetia; or, life amongst the poor of paris. by blanchard jerrold. vols, post vo. cloth, _s._ the charities of london: an account of the origin, operations, and general condition of the charitable, educational, and religious institutions of london. with copious index. also an alphabetical appendix corrected to may . fcap. cloth, _s._ ** the latter also as a separate publication, forms "low's shilling guide to the charities of london." prince albert's golden precepts. _second edition_, with photograph. a memorial of the prince consort; comprising maxims and extracts from addresses of his late royal highness. many now for the first time collected and carefully arranged. with an index. royal mo. beautifully printed on toned paper, cloth, gilt edges, _s._ _d._ our little ones in heaven: thoughts in prose and verse, selected from the writings of favourite authors; with frontispiece after sir joshua reynolds. fcap. vo. cloth extra, _s._ _d._ new books for young people. the great fun toy books: a series of eight new one shilling story books for young people. by thomas hood and thomas archer. each illustrated by six of edward wehnert's well-known great fun pictures. printed in colours, with an appropriate cover by charles bennett. the cherry-coloured cat and her three friends. the live rocking-horse. master mischief and miss meddle. cousin nellie's stories after school. harry high-stepper. grandmamma's spectacles. how the house was built. dog toby and artistical arthur. the frog's parish clerk; and his adventures in strange lands. a tale for young folk. by thomas archer. numerous illustrations. small post vo. _s._ choice editions of children's fairy tales. each illustrated with highly-finished coloured pictures in facsimile of water-colour drawings. square, cloth extra, price _s._ _d._ each. cinderella and the glass slipper. puss in boots. beauty and the beast. under the waves; or the hermit crab in society. by annie e. ridley. impl. mo. cloth extra, with coloured illustration. cloth, _s._; gilt edges, _s._ _d._ "_this is one of the best books we know of to place in the hands of young and intelligent persons during a visit to the seaside._"--reader. _also beautifully illustrated:--_ little bird red and little bird blue. coloured, _s._ snow-flakes, and what they told the children. coloured, _s._ child's book of the sagacity of animals. _s._; coloured, _s._ _d._ child's picture fable book. _s._; or coloured, _s._ _d._ child's treasury of story books. _s._; or coloured, _s._ _d._ the nursery playmate. pictures. _s._; coloured, _s._ the boy's own book of boats. by w. h. g. kingston. illustrations by e. weedon, engraved by w. j. linton. fcap. vo. cloth, _s._ "_this well-written, well-wrought book._"--athenæum. how to make miniature pumps and a fire-engine: a book for boys. with seven illustrations. fcap. vo. _s._ the cruise of the frolic. by w. h. g. kingston. illustrated. large fcap. vo. cloth, _s._ "_who does not welcome mr. w. h. g. kingston? here he is again with an admirable boys' book. if boys do not love this book, there is no truth in boyhood, and no use in reviewing; it is just the book for a present._"--illustrated times. _also by the same author, well illustrated,_ the boy's own book of boats. illustrated by weedon. _s._ ernest bracebridge; or, the boy's book of sports. _s._ jack buntline: the life of a sailor boy. _s._ the fire ships. [_shortly._ golden hair; a story for young people. by sir lascelles wraxall, bart. with eight full page illustrations, _s._ "_full of incident and adventure, and sure to please boys home from school quite as much as his 'black panther' of last year._"--reader. "_a thoroughly good boy's book; the story is full of incident and always moves on._"--spectator. _also, same price, full of illustrations:--_ black panther: a boy's adventures among the red skins. life among the indians. by george catlin. the voyage of the constance. by mary gillies. stanton grange. by the rev. c. j. atkinson. boyhood of martin luther. by henry mayhew. stories of the woods. from cooper's tales. the story of peter parley's own life. noodle-doo. by the author of "the stories that little breeches told." with large engravings on steel. plain, _s._; coloured, _s._ _d._ "_among all the christmas bookmen mr. charles bennett ranks first, for he who best pleases children has the best right to priority in a notice of christmas books, and to all his productions we venture to prefer 'noodle-doo;' it will make the youngsters crow again with delight._"--standard. _also, now ready, same size and price, and full of illustrations._ great fun for our little friends. by harriet myrtle. more fun for our little friends. by the same author. the book of blockheads. by charles bennett. the stories that little breeches told. by the same author. mr. wind and madame rain. illustrated by charles bennett. paul duncan's little by little; a tale for boys. edited by frank freeman. with an illustration by charles keene. fcap. vo. cloth _s._; gilt edges, _s._ _d._ also, same price, boy missionary; a tale for young people. by mrs. j. m. parker. difficulties overcome. by miss brightwell. the babes in the basket: a tale in the west indian insurrection. jack buntline; the life of a sailor boy. by w. h. g. kingston. the swiss family robinson; or, the adventures of a father and mother and four sons on a desert island. with explanatory notes and illustrations. first and second series. new edition, complete in one volume, _s._ _d._ geography for my children. by mrs. harriet beecher stowe. author of "uncle tom's cabin," &c. arranged and edited by an english lady, under the direction of the authoress. with upwards of fifty illustrations. cloth extra, _s._ _d._ stories of the woods; or, the adventures of leather-stocking: a book for boys, compiled from cooper's series of "leather-stocking tales." fcap. cloth, illustrated, _s._ "_i have to own that i think the heroes of another writer, viz. 'leather-stocking,' 'uncas,' 'hard heart,' 'tom coffin,' are quite the equals of sir walter scott's men;--perhaps 'leather-stocking' is better than any one in scott's lot._"--w. m. thackeray. child's play. illustrated with sixteen coloured drawings by e. v. b., printed in fac-simile by w. dickes' process, and ornamented with initial letters. new edition, with india paper tints, royal vo. cloth extra, bevelled cloth, _s._ _d._ the original edition of this work was published at one guinea. child's delight. forty-two songs for the little ones, with forty-two pictures. _s._; coloured, _s._ _d._ goody platts, and her two cats. by thomas miller. fcap. vo. cloth, _s._ little blue hood: a story for little people. by thomas miller, with coloured frontispiece. fcap. vo. cloth, _s._ _d._ mark willson's first reader. by the author of "the picture alphabet" and "the picture primer." with pictures. _s._ the picture alphabet; or child's first letter book. with new and original designs. _d._ the picture primer. _d._ history and biography. the conspiracy of count fieschi: an episode in italian history. by m. de celesia. translated by david hilton, esq., author of a "history of brigandage." with portrait. vo. [_shortly._ a biography of admiral sir b. p. v. broke, bart., k.c.b. by the rev. john brighton, rector of kent town. dedicated by express permission to his royal highness prince alfred. [_shortly._ a history of brigandage in italy; with adventures of the more celebrated brigands. by david hilton, esq. vols, post vo. cloth, _s._ a history of the gipsies, with specimens of the gipsy language. by walter simson. post vo. a history of west point, the united states military academy and its military importance. by capt. e. c. boynton, a. m. with plans and illustrations. vo. _s._ the twelve great battles of england, from hastings to waterloo. with plans, fcap. vo. cloth extra, _s._ _d._ george washington's life, by washington irving. vols. royal vo. _s._ each library illustrated edition. vols. imp. vo. _l._ _s._ plutarch's lives. an entirely new library edition, carefully revised and corrected, with some original translations by the editor. edited by a. h. clough, esq. sometime fellow of oriel college, oxford, and late professor of english language and literature at university college. vols. vo. cloth. _l._ _s._ "_mr. clough's work is worthy of all praise, and we hope that it will tend to revive the study of plutarch._"--times. life of john adams, nd president of the united states, by c. f. adams. vo. _s._ life and works complete, vols. _s._ each. life and administration of abraham lincoln. fcap. vo. stiff cover, _s._; with map, speeches, &c. crown vo. _s._ _d._ travel and adventure. a walk from london to the land's end. by elihu burritt, author of "a walk from london to john o'groats:" with several illustrations. large post vo. uniform with the first edition of "john o'groats." _s._ a walk from london to john o'groats. with notes by the way. by elihu burritt. second and cheaper edition. with photographic portrait of the author. small post vo. _s._ social life of the chinese: with some account of their religious, governmental, educational, and business customs and opinions. by the rev. justus doolittle. with over illustrations, in two vols. demy vo. cloth, _s._ a thousand miles in the rob roy canoe, or rivers and lakes of europe. by john macgregor, m.a. with numerous illustrations. post vo. cloth, _s._ captain hall's life with the esquimaux. new and cheaper edition, with coloured engravings and upwards of woodcuts. with a map. price _s._ _d._ cloth extra. forming the cheapest and most popular edition of a work on arctic life and exploration ever published. "_this is a very remarkable book, and unless we very much misunderstand both him and his book, the author is one of those men of whom great nations do well to be proud._"--spectator. "_if capt. hall should survive the perils of the journey on which he is now engaged, we are convinced he will bring home some news, be it good or bad, about the franklin expedition. he can hardly be expected back before the autumn of . but if he has gone he has left us his vastly entertaining volumes, which contain much valuable information, as we have said, concerning the esquimaux tribes. these volumes are the best that we have ever met with, concerning the people and things to be found among 'the thick ribb'd ice.'_"--standard. 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"_we have waited for the publication of the second and last volume of this interesting, we may well say entertaining, biography, before introducing it to our readers. it is now complete, and furnishes one of the most various and delightful portraits of a fine, sturdy, old representative of antient theology and earnest piety, relieved by very sweet and engaging pictures of new england society in its religious circles, and the ways and usages of the men and women who lived, and loved, and married, and had families, nearly a century since.... and now we must lay down these very delightful volumes. we trust we have sufficiently characterized them, while there are, of course, reminiscences, pictures of places and of persons, we have been unable even to mention. it was an extraordinary family altogether; a glow of bright, affectionate interest suffuses all in charming sunshine. it was a life of singular purpose, usefulness, and determination; and we think ministers especially, and of ministers young students especially, might read it, and read it more than once, to advantage.... without attempting any more words, we hope we have sufficiently indicated our very high appreciation of, and gratitude for, this charming and many-sided biography of a most robust and healthy life._"--the eclectic. 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"welcome to this wild north land! welcome to our happy home in the land of the north wind! welcome, thrice welcome, all and each one of you!" thus excitedly and rapidly did mr ross address a trio of sunburnt, happy boys, who, with all the assurance of a joyous welcome, had burst in upon him in his comfortable, well-built home, or "hunting lodge," as he preferred to call it, on the banks of the nelson river. this cozy but isolated home was situated some hundreds of miles up in the interior of the country from york factory, on the hudson bay. mr ross had named his house "sa-gas-ta-wee-kee," a beautiful indian word which literally means a house full of sunshine. mr ross had spent many years as an official in the hudson bay company's service, as had his father before him. a few years before this, being possessed of abundance of means, he had retired from active work in the great fur- trading company. he had tried to settle down in an older, civilised land, but had found it impossible to content himself away from those regions where he had spent the best years of his life. his wife and family were of the same mind, and so, after some years of travel in various lands, they returned to this northern country where they had spent so many happy years. every year or so mr ross with some members of his family was in the habit of visiting what he loved to call the mother country. so full was his life of varied and startling adventures, that he was often asked to give addresses on some of the fascinating experiences, through which he had passed. among the crowds who listened to him with intense interest, as he gave a series of addresses in one of the great historic schools in the home land, were the three boys who are to be the heroes of this book. although they were from different families and nationalities, yet they were congenial spirits, and were equally filled with the love of sport and spirit of exciting adventure. for such boys mr ross's addresses about the indians, the wild animals, and the excitements of the hunt had the greatest fascination. with mr ross they had become personally acquainted, and had induced him to visit their different towns, where he lectured, and to be the guest at their homes, where his delightful stories had charmed every member of their households. in some way or other they had persuaded their parents to consent to their spending a year or so in the wilds of the northern part of the great dominion of canada under the guidance of mr ross, who most importunately pleaded for this arrangement on behalf of the boys. as it was impossible for them to return with mr ross on account of their studies, several months passed away ere it was possible for them to begin their journey; so he had returned alone to his home, and had made all preparations for entertaining them as members of his household for an indefinite period. letters had been sent on in advance notifying mr ross of the probable time of the arrival of the boys. but, as often happened in that wild country, where there was no postal service, the letters never arrived, and so the first intimation mr ross had of the coming of the boys was their bursting in upon him. abrupt as was their coming, of course they were welcome. in all new lands there is an open-hearted hospitality that is very delightful, and this was emphatically so in the vast lonely region of the hudson bay territory, where the white men in those days were so few and so widely scattered apart from each other. and now that they are snugly ensconced in the home of their good friend mr ross and his hospitable family, ere we begin to describe their many sports and adventures let us find out something about our heroes, and have them describe some of the exciting incidents of the long trip which they had already made on their journey to this wild north land. frank, the eldest of the three, was the son of a liverpool banker. his friends had vainly tried to divert his mind from wild adventure and exciting sports, and persuade him to settle down to steady routine office work. failing in this, they had listened to mr ross's pleadings on his behalf, and had commented to let him have the year in the wild north land, hoping that its trials and hardships would effectually cure him of his love of adventure and cause him to cheerfully settle down at his father's business. alec was from scotland, a genuine son of "the mountain and the flood." while a good student when at school, yet, when at home on his holidays, his highest joy had ever been under the guidance of the faithful old gillie to follow on the trail of the mountain deer. for a wider field than that offered by his native highlands he had been so longing that his friends yielded to his importunities, and so now here he is with his comrades, full of eager anticipations. sam was from what his mother used to call "dear, dirty dublin." he was full of life and fun; a jolly irish boy of the finest type. storms and privations might at times depress the spirits of the others; but sam, true to his nationality, never lost his spirits or his good nature. so rapid had been his progress in his studies that he had pushed himself beyond his years, and so even his tutors had joined in his request that he should have the year off, which, spent in the invigorating air and healthful adventures in the wild north land, would doubtless be a blessing to both mind and body: in the good ship _prince arthur_, of the hudson bay company, our three young adventurers set sail in the month of may from the london docks. they met with no adventures worth recording until after they had left the orkney islands, where they had called for their last consignment of supplies and the latest mails. here they also shipped some hardy orkney men and highlanders, who were going out in the employment of the hudson bay company. the _prince arthur_ was a stanch sailing vessel, built especially for the hudson bay company's trade. she was employed in carrying out to that country the outfit of goods required in the great fur trade. her return cargoes were the valuable furs obtained in barter from the indians. her port was york factory, on the western side of the hudson bay. here her cargo was discharged and carried by scores of inland boats and canoes to the various trading posts in the different parts of that great country, which is larger than the whole continent of europe. so remote were some of those posts from the seaboard, and so difficult and slow were the methods of transporting the goods, that several years passed ere the fur secured from them reached the london markets, to which they were all consigned and where they were carried each year in the company's ships. although the _prince arthur_ was far from being a first-class passenger ship, yet she was a good, seaworthy vessel, with plenty of room for the few passengers who travelled by her each year. these were principally gentlemen of the hudson bay company's service and their friends, or missionaries going out or returning home. letters from influential friends secured for our three boys the considerate attention of the captain and the ship's officers, and their own bright ways won the friendship of all the sailors on board. on the whole they had a glorious passage. some fogs at times perplexed them, and a few enormous icebergs were so near that careful tacking was required, to prevent accidents. the boys were filled with admiration at these great mountains of ice; some of them seemed like great islands, while others more closely resembled glorious cathedrals built in marble and emerald. at times, as the western sun shone upon them, they seemed to take on in parts every colour of the rainbow. with intense interest were they watched as they slowly drifted beyond the southern horizon. one of the most exciting incidents of the journey was a battle between a great whale and a couple of swordfish. the unwieldy monster seemed to be no match for his nimble antagonists. his sole weapon seemed to be his enormous tail; but vain were his efforts to strike his quicker enemies. as far as could be judged from the deck of the ship, the swordfish were masters of the situation, and the blood-stained waters seemed to indicate that the battle would soon be over. in the southern part of davis strait they encountered great fields of floating ice, on which were many herds of seals. the captain had the ship hove to and three boats lowered. in each one he permitted one of the boys to go with the sailors on this seal-hunting expedition. the seals, which are so very active in water, where they can swim with such grace and rapidity, are very helpless on land or ice, and so large numbers were killed by the sailors. while the boys were excited with the sport, they could not but feel sorry for the poor, helpless creatures as they looked at them out of their great eyes that seemed almost human. some hundreds of skins were secured, much to the delight of the captain and crew, as the profit coming to them from their sale would be no inconsiderable item. at the mouth of hudson strait the captain again had the ship hove to for a day or so to trade with a number of esquimaux, who had come in their curious canoes, called kayaks, from along the coasts of labrador. their insatiable curiosity and peculiar fur clothing very much interested the boys. these esquimaux were shrewd hands at a bargain, but their principal desire seemed to be to obtain implements of iron in exchange for their furs. they cared nothing for flour, rice, tea, coffee, or sugar. they knew no other food than meat and oil, and so craved no other things than those that could be utilised in improving their weapons. guns were unknown among them, but they were very skillful in the use of the harpoon and the spear. when they are able to secure iron from the white man they make their harpoon heads, spears, and knives out of this metal, but when unable to secure it they manufacture their weapons out of the horns of the reindeer or the tusks of the walrus or narwhal. they had among their other furs some splendid bear skins, and the boys were very much interested in hearing them tell through an interpreter how they, with their rude weapons, aided by their clever dogs, had been able to kill these fierce animals. all were very much delighted when told by these friendly esquimaux how that with two well-trained dogs nipping at the hind legs of a great bear they could keep him turning round and round from one to the other and thus get him so wild and excited that in his efforts to catch hold of the nimble animals, which were able to keep out of his grasp, he did not notice the arrival of the hunters, who were able to approach so closely that they could easily kill him. the ship crossed the great hudson bay, which is about six hundred miles in width, without any mishap, and safely dropped anchor in what the hudson bay officers call "the six fathom hole," some distance out from the rude primitive wharf. the signal gun was fired, and soon a brigade of boats came out, and the work of unloading the cargo began. our boys, eager as they were to land, were sorry after all to leave their snug berths in the good ship, where they had had some very delightful times during the thirty days that had elapsed since they had left the docks in old england. a few gifts were bestowed among their particular sailor friends, and then, with the "god bless you" from all; they entered a small boat rowed by indians, and were soon on the land that skirts this great inland sea. great indeed was the change which they saw between the populous cities of the home land and this quiet, lonely region upon whose shores they had now landed. here the only inhabitants were the fur traders, with their employees, and the dignified, stoical indians. the only signs of habitations were the few civilised dwellings, called in courtesy the fort, where dwelt and traded the officers and their families and servants of the great fur-trading company, and not very far off was the indian village of the natives, where the most conspicuous buildings were the church and parsonage of the missionary, who had been marvellously successful in planting the cross in these northern regions, and in winning from a degrading superstition, to the blessings of christianity, some hundreds of these red men, whose consistent lives showed the genuineness of the work wrought among them. this great region, stretching from the atlantic to the pacific, far north of the fertile prairie region where millions will yet find happy and prosperous homes, has well been called "the wild north land." the indians call it keewatin, "the land of the north wind." it has not many attractions for the farmer or merchantman, but it is the congenial home of the red man. on its innumerable lakes and broad rivers he glides along during the few bright summer months in his light canoe. every waterfall or cataract has associated with it some legend or tradition. its dense forests are the haunts of the bear and wolf, of the moose and reindeer, and many other valuable animals, in the excitement of hunting which he finds his chief delight. to this land had come our three lads for sport and adventure, and we shall see how fully all their expectations were realised. three boys in the wild north land--egerton ryerson young chapter two. hudson bay company--frank's canoe mishap--duck shooting--clever koona-- goose hunting--queer battles. as our boys had come out to this great country for wild adventure and exciting sport, they were rather pleased than otherwise at the contrast it thus presented in comparison with the lands they had left behind. the fact was, they were simply delighted with the absence of the multitude, to whom they had been so accustomed, and were at once filled with high expectations. sam's explanation seemed to be the sentiment of them all when he exclaimed, "sure if there are so few people in the country, there will be the more bears and wolves for us all to kill!" the work of unloading the ship was necessarily slow, and so some days would elapse ere a brigade of boats could be prepared to take the first cargo to fort garry, on the red river. the boys had been most cordially welcomed by mr mctavish, the principal officer in charge at the fort, and by him they were all entertained most hospitably at his home. mr mctavish was an old sportsman himself, as nearly all the hudson bay company's officials are; and so, as soon as the boys had made the acquaintance, as they call it, of their land legs; after the heaving and rolling of the vessel, he had an old clever indian hunter clean up some guns and take the boys out in the birch canoe on their first wild hunting expedition. this first excursion was not to be a very formidable one; it was only a canoe trip several miles up the coast, to a place where the wild ducks and geese were numerous. like all white people, on their first introduction to the birch canoe, they thought it a frail, cranky boat, and were quite disgusted with it, and some of the tricks it played upon them, on some of their first attempts to manage it. for example, frank, who prided himself on his ability in pulling an oar, and in managing the ordinary small skiffs or punts on his native waters, seeing the light, buoyant canoe at the side of the little launch, boldly sprang into it, as he would into an ordinary boat of its size in the mersey. to his utter amazement, and the amusement of the others he suddenly found himself overbalanced and struggling in the waves on the other side. fortunately, the water was not more than four feet deep, and he, being a good swimmer, was soon up and at once gave chase for the canoe, which had now floated out several yards from the shore. in this he was encouraged by the laughter and shouts of his comrades and others, who, seeing that no harm had come to him from his sudden spill out of the light boat, were eager to observe how he would ultimately succeed. quickly did he catch up to the boat; but, instead of listening to the indian, who, in broken english, tried to tell him to get in over the end of the canoe, he seized it by the side, and there attempted to climb in. vain were his efforts. very skillful indeed is the indian who can in this manner get into a birch-bark canoe, and of course it is out of the question to expect an inexperienced white person to accomplish the feat. so light is the canoe, that, when thus seized hold of, it yields to the slightest pull, and often causes the person who thus takes hold of it to tumble over ignominiously in the water. poor frank was disgusted but not conquered, and so, amid the laughter of those on shore, he now listened to the advice and direction of the wise old indian, who was the only one in the company who had not even smiled at the boy's mishap. at the indian's advice he again caught hold of the canoe, but this time by the end, and carefully bearing his weight upon it he was at length enabled to work himself into it. cautiously balancing himself, and seizing a paddle that happened to have been fastened in it, he paddled himself ashore amid the cheers of the onlookers. "well done, frank!" said the old indian. he had done what some take months to accomplish. he had conquered the canoe in his first attempt, and never after in his many adventures was he afraid of that bonny craft, in which he spent many happy hours, and in the paddling of which, he became the equal of many a clever indian. of course, there was some delay in the departure of the hunting party, as frank had to return to his quarters at the post and get on a dry suit of clothing. this is, however, an operation that does not take a boy full of eager excitement long to accomplish, and so it was not many minutes ere the party set off on their promised excursion. the indian decided that they should first go where the ducks were numerous, and to interest these young english lads they adopted a method of hunting them that was most novel and successful. indeed, it is a very rare method which was here successfully tried, on account of the difficulty of getting a dog so trained as to correctly act his part. but this old native, whose name was ooseemeemou, had by great patience and kindness so drilled his clever dog that he acted his part with extraordinary cleverness and tact. he called the little fellow koona, which is the cree for "snow," and was very appropriate, as the animal was of the purest white. taking the dog into the canoe with them, and giving all necessary directions, they soon were gliding along the coast of the great bay. numerous flocks of ducks flew over their heads; and far away in the distance the water seemed almost alive with the numbers of them on the dancing, sparkling waves. this latter sight seemed to be what the old hunter was looking for, and so the canoe was quickly paddled ashore and carried up on the beach. there he carefully guided the party along. they had to cautiously creep behind some low, dense willow bushes that grew on the shore, with only a broad fringe of white sand between them and the waters. each boy, with his gun and ammunition, was now assigned his post behind a clump of bushes and given his final instructions. they were full of excitement and curiosity, and wondered how it was going to be possible for them to reach with ordinary guns the ducks, which were carelessly swimming in multitudes some hundreds of yards out from the shore. but they had not long to wait or conjecture. when the old indian had seen that all were in their right places he gave a low whistle, which was more like the call of a sea bird than a human voice. so natural was it to a bird call that no bird around was startled by it; but the well- trained koona, who had been left by the boat, fully knew its meaning, and now began his sagacious work. like a little white arctic fox he was, and like one be began his antics on the shore. he frisked and danced around along the sand playing all sorts of antics. he walked on his hind feet, turned somersaults in quick succession, and acted as though possessed with perpetual motion, but not one yelp or bark or any sound did he utter. a stranger would have imagined that his appearance and actions would have driven all the ducks that were near enough to the shore to observe him and his antics farther out to sea. but just the reverse happened. a spirit of curiosity seemed to possess those nearest the shore, and as they began to swim in closer and closer, their movements influenced those farther out, until hundreds of splendid ducks were soon swimming nearer and nearer the sandy beach, on which the cunning dog kept up his unceasing and varied movements. at first he had kept at some distance from the sands, back of which grew the clumps of willows behind which the hunters were hidden; but when he saw that his manoeuvres had attracted the ducks near the shore, he gradually worked down the sandy beach until he had them fairly opposite the muzzles of the guns. a low bird cry from his master was the signal for his change of tactics, and with loud, yelping, fox-like barking he sprang into the waves. the ducks, thus suddenly alarmed, instantly rose up in hundreds, and the simultaneous reports of the guns rang out, and between thirty and forty ducks, dead and wounded, fell back into the waters. our hunters, both the indian and the three boys, sprang from their hiding places, and with koona's aid secured their splendid bag of game. this was rare sport for the boys, and gave them so much delight that old ooseemeemou decided to postpone the goose hunt until the next day, and give the boys another opportunity of seeing the sagacity of koona, the clever little dog that had contributed so much to the success of the expedition. they returned to their places, and were told to keep as much hidden as possible, as the ducks, now alarmed by the reports of the guns, and the death and wounding of so many of their numbers, would be shy and excited; and would keep flying around for some time ere they would again alight. koona in the meantime had curled himself up like a ball of white wool, and was also quite hidden from the sight of the flying ducks. in about half an hour the ducks began to alight again in the water. they were very alert and watchful, and seemed resolved not to be again so easily caught napping. but ducks are silly things and are easily deceived, or have very short memories. anyway it was the case with these. when a goodly number of them were again seen swimming about, a peculiar sound like the cry of a sea gull was heard, and soon koona was observed moving very cautiously out to a little point on the sandy beach, just in front of the clump of bushes behind which his master was hidden. here he curled himself up into a little white bundle and remained perfectly still. soon after the boys were startled by the sounds of the loud quacking of ducks over the very place where koona lay so still and quiet. at first they were very much surprised at this, as not a duck was now seen flying in that direction. a little closer investigation showed them that the quacking sounds were all proceeding from the mouth of the old indian, who, like many of his people, was able to imitate so perfectly the cries and calls of the birds and beasts of the lakes and forests that at times even the most experienced are completely deceived. in addition, this indian was also a ventriloquist, and was able to so correctly throw his voice that the quacking of the ducks seems to be from the spot where the dog, now so motionless, was lying. the old indian afterward explained that the calls were of ducks that had found something of interest, and were invitations for other ducks to come and see, and when he had induced some of the ducks to take up the call they would go on repeating it until so many others took it up, and all would then be anxious to see what the fuss was all about. "ducks," added the old man, "are like people, sometimes curious to see when there is not much after all to look at." so, because of the calls to come and look, the flocks kept flying or swimming nearer and nearer, and all there was to see was only a ball of something very white and still. not an hour before they were curious to see the antics of a lively little white dog; now they were curious to see him apparently motionless and dead. by carefully peering through the dense bushes, the boys, with guns loaded, were able to see the dog quivering with suppressed excitement, as the many quackings of the ducks told him of the success of his ruse. however, he was so well-trained that he would not move until the welcome signal was given him, and then with a bound and a bark he was up, and again, as the startled ducks rose up, the reports of all the guns rang out, and nearly as many more fine ducks fell before the simultaneous discharge. this was capital sport for the boys. koona's sagacity, and thorough training, in being thus able to bring the ducks within range of the guns, first by his comical antics, and then by his perfect quiet, very much delighted them. their only annoyance was that when they wanted to pat and fondle him he resented their familiarity, and growled at them most decidedly. indian dogs do not as a rule take to white people at first, but kindness soon wins them, and they often become fast friends. the canoe was again launched, and the hunters proceeded a couple of miles farther and had some more capital shooting. very proud and happy were they with this, their first day of duck shooting, and often did they in after days have much to say of the marvellous cleverness of the spotless koona. as the brigades were not yet ready to leave for the interior with the supplies for the trading posts, mr mctavish readily consented to another excursion, quietly observing that the return of a few such well- loaded canoes would add materially to the fort's supply of food. this second excursion was to be to a more distant place, where were some favourite feeding grounds of wild geese. they are very fond of a jointed quill-like grass, and when once they have found where their favourite food grows, there they resort in great numbers, and unless very persistently hunted will keep in the neighbourhood until they have about eaten it all. as the distance was so great, it was decided to make an all day trip of it, and so two canoes were requisitioned with two experienced indians in each, one of whom, of course, was ooseemeemou. to him the boys had become very much attached, and, as he had some knowledge of english, they were able to get a good deal of reliable information from him. some food and kettles were taken along with them, and old ooseemeemou put in the bottom of each canoe a good-sized oilcloth and a couple of blankets, saying, as he did so, "fine weather to-day, may not be so very long." frank and alec were given good places in one of the canoes, and sam was placed in charge of the other two indians. each boy was furnished with two guns and plenty of ammunition. being eager to get to the hunting grounds, they each selected a paddle, and were found to be not unskillful in the use of them, even in birch canoes, after a few lessons from their indian attendants. with the best wishes of all who were not too busy to come down to the launch to see them off, they started on their excursion under the skillful, steady strokes of the indians. aided by the boys, they were able to make about seven miles an hour, and so in about three hours they reached their destination. the splendid exercise and the bracing air gave them all good appetites, and so they pulled up in a secluded little bay, where was to be found some dry wood. here a fire was kindled, the kettles were filled with water and boiled, and soon a good, substantial meal of the delicacies of the country were spread before them. what the bill of fare was we know not, except that the principal part consisted of some of the ducks shot on the previous excursion. the dinner thus prepared and eaten on the rocks was much enjoyed by the boys; but they were kept in a perpetual state of excitement by the numerous cries of the wild geese that could be distinctly heard as well as seen, as they kept flying in great lines or triangles to and from their feeding grounds. as this was a favourite resort for the indian hunters, all preparations had been made for the goose hunting. large nest-like piles of dry hay with reeds and rushes had been gathered in certain favourite places. in each of these a hollow had been formed in the centre like a bird's nest, large enough for two persons to cozily ensconce themselves, so low down as only to be observed by the geese when flying directly overhead. after dinner four of these big nest-like affairs were freshened up with some bundles of dry old grass, which was cut in an old disused beaver meadow. a number of old decoys, made to look like geese when feeding, were arranged in the right position, which always varies according to the direction of the wind. then ooseemeemou, taking frank with him, gave alec and sam each in charge of a clever indian hunting companion. one indian, whose name was oostaseemou, had a nest to himself. thus assorted, our party took possession of their four nests and awaited developments. the boys were greatly amused at the queer little white cotton caps which each one had to put on. everything in the shape of colour had to be carefully hidden. geese are not easily alarmed by anything white, and will come quite near to persons thus dressed. while now waiting for the arrival of the game, the boys were each instructed how to act in case the geese should come within range. they generally fly down with the wind and arise facing it. since the decoys are so arranged in the goose grass that the geese in coming down to join those already there must, in availing themselves of the wind to help them to alight, come within range of the nests in which are hidden the hunters. then, when the firing of the guns alarm them, and those unhurt rise to escape, they have to so use the wind to help them that they again come within range, and thus receive a second volley. when the second volley is fired the dead and wounded are quickly secured by the hunters, who jump out of the nests and make chase after them. there is lots of fun and some danger of ugly blows, for an old wounded goose sometimes makes a good fight. fortunately for our young hunters, a good stiff breeze was blowing when they took their places in these queer nests, and, with their two guns apiece in position, patiently waited the arrival of the geese. several flocks had been seen in the distance, and their strange cries were heard on every side. while the men were on the move getting things ready, of course none of the wary birds came within range. however, now that all was quiet in the vicinity of the choicest feeding grounds, a few old out-guards which appeared cautiously flying over, seemed to have reported that nothing was to be seen but some patches of snow in the nests. the indians say that the geese mistake them, when dressed in white, for lumps of snow. soon after a great flock was seen coming with the wind from the south directly toward them. old ooseemeemou began to imitate the call of the geese, and throwing his voice so that it seemed from the decoys, it appeared as if they in the goose grass were saying, "honk: honk: honk:" which the indians say is the goose language for "food, food, food." ooseemeemou knew well how to imitate them, and so the great flock understood it as the call from some of their fortunate companions, and down they came with the wind passing in close range on the left-hand side of the hunters. bang: bang: bang! rang out the guns of the three boys and of the four indians, and five or six great geese tumbled to the ground, some of them dead and others badly wounded. the startled, frightened, surviving geese, that thought they were going to have such a feast among their fellows, had only time to turn round and strive to escape by rising up against the wind on the opposite sides of those dry nests. this was what the clever indians knew they would do, and so, as they came within range, struggling against the wind, each hunter, white and indian, now used his second gun, and nearly as many more plump geese dropped to the ground dead and wounded. now the fun began. there was a hasty springing out of the nests, and every man and boy dashed off for his goose. the indians were wary and experienced, and so knew how to act; but our enthusiastic boys, in the excitement of securing their first wild goose, recklessly rushed in to the attack. alec was the first to come to grief. the old gander that he was pursuing had a broken wing, but as his legs were all right he led him a lively chase of several hundred yards. then, seeing that he was being overtaken, he stopped suddenly and, turning the well wing toward the boy, awaited his coming. alec, seeing him thus standing with one wing hanging broken to the ground, anticipated nothing but an easy capture, and so he thoughtlessly attempted to throw himself on the bird and quickly capture him in his arms. poor fellow, when picked up he could hardly tell what had happened, only that it seemed to him he had been pounded with sledge hammers and had seen some thousands of stars. what had really happened was this: the instant alec sprang forward and stooped to seize his game the goose with his unwounded wing had hit him such a blow on the head as to quite stun him, and this had been followed by several other blows in rapid succession. fortunately old ooseemeemou was not far off. he rushed to alec's rescue and speedily dispatched the goose, and thus delivered the boy from the humiliating position of being badly whipped by a wounded goose. poor fellow, he carried in the black and blue marks on his body the effects of the fierce blows which had been rained upon him. frank had conquered his without any mishap; but sam, in reaching out to seize hold of the one he was chasing, had received such a blow from a wing on his elbow that he fairly howled with the pain, and was not able to fire another shot during the rest of the day's sport. it was news to the boys when the indians told them that an old goose with one blow of his wing has been known to kill a large fox or to break the leg of a man. so the boys, while delighted with the success of their first goose hunt, ever after had a much greater respect for the poor despised goose than before. with the veering of the wind the decoys were changed so as to bring the geese down in the right direction in range of the guns, and sport continued until evening. then, after a hasty supper on the rocks in the glorious gloaming that exists for many hours in those high latitudes in the summer months, the canoes were loaded, and three very tired but happy boys who wanted to paddle went to sleep in the canoes long ere the hospitable home of their host was reached. the indians are the kindest men in the world with whom to travel. hardly knowing how it happened, the boys were carefully helped to their quarters in the fort. here their bruises were bathed, their suppers eaten, their prayers said, and then there was the long nine hours' dreamless sleep, "tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep." when next morning the boys were discussing the, to them, glorious adventures of the two preceding days, it was agreed among them that the accidents and honours were about even--that while alec and sam had had their laugh at frank for his misadventure with the canoe, the tables were completely turned on them in the incidents of the goose hunt. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter three. writing journals--fur-laden brigades--valuable furs--hunting preparations--big tom, the famous guide--the start--first camp on the rocks. soon after breakfast and a glorious plunge bath in the cold waters of hudson bay, the lads were informed by mr mctavish that the ship's cargo was now about unloaded, and that just as soon as the brigades, with the last winter's catch of furs, which were looked for every hour, should arrive she would with the first favourable wind begin the return journey. he suggested that instead of hunting that day they should devote its hours to writing letters to their friends far away, as months would elapse ere another opportunity would be theirs. of course this kind suggestion was most gratefully accepted, and in an unused office in one of the buildings frank, alec, and sam were soon busily engaged in this very interesting work. before leaving home they had been furnished with regulation journals, and had been offered substantial rewards if they would write something in their books every day. readily had they promised; but, alas! when the atlantic storms had for some days assailed them their good resolutions, stimulated by the promised rewards, failed most signally. during the first few days after starting they had so much to write about, and had so filled up the pages, that they all regretted that their books were not larger, or that they had not three or four pages for each day. this, however, had all changed. the pages were now too large, and it was a burden to write even a few sentences. we need not stop here to give any detailed accounts of these letters; suffice it to say they were just such as any of the bright, happy, boyish readers of these pages would have written under similar circumstances to their loved mothers and friends far away. it was noticed that while they were full of fun and laughter while writing to their school chums and other young friends, yet when they came to the writing of the letters to their mothers there was a quiet time among them, and some tears dropped on the pages, and some throats had lumps in them. all right, boys; we think not the less but much the more of you, because of the love and affection for your mothers, between whom and you now rolls the wide atlantic. months will elapse ere letters from home will reach you, or you will have the opportunity of writing again; and so now, while you have the chance, send loving letters to the precious mothers, whose love excels all other earthly love. frank, alec, and sam all have, as you have, good mothers. they never gave bad advice, but always the best counsel. they never led the boys astray, but ever stimulated to a noble life. they always loved and were ever more anxious to forgive and forget than the boys were to be forgiven. great was the noise and excitement at the fort next morning, and very early were the boys astir to see what was the cause. the long-expected brigades of boats had arrived with the cargoes of furs. as they were all sorted in well-packed bales, weighing each about eighty or ninety pounds, the work of transferring them to the ship did not take very long. one boat in running some wild and dangerous rapids had been submerged and nearly lost, with all its crew, who escaped only because they could swim like otters. the cargo of furs had all gone under the waves ere rescued, and so it was necessary to open all the bales of fur, with which the boat had been loaded, and dry them in the bright sun as quickly as possible. this work very much interested the boys, and, as the assortment of furs was a varied one, they had their first opportunity of seeing what rich and valuable furs this wild country could produce. there were no less than six varieties of foxes, the most valuable being the black and silver ones. then there were cross foxes, blue foxes, as well as white and red ones. the rich otters and splendid black beavers very much interested them, and especially the prime bear and wolf skins. and as they looked at them and many other kinds their mouths fairly watered at the prospect of during the few months being engaged in the exciting sport of capturing the comrades of these in their native forests. yes, they would succeed in some instances, as our book will tell; but now as they looked at these splendid skins lying so quiet and still they little imagined the dangers and hardships which would be theirs ere the fierce bears and savage wolves they were to assail would render up their splendid robes. very much interested also were they in the hardy voyageurs, or trip men, who constituted these brigades. dark and swarthy they were, with beardless faces, and long black hair that rested on their shoulders. from remote and different regions had they come. here were brigades from the assiniboine, red river, cumberland, and the saskatchewan region. many of the boatmen were of the metis--half-french and indian; and they spoke a language that was a mixture of both, with some english intermixed that was not always the most polite. from the mighty saskatchewan had come down that great river for a thousand miles, and then onward for several hundred more, brigades that had, in addition to the furs and robes of that land, large supplies of dried meat and tallow, and many bags of the famous food called pemmican, obtained from the great herds of buffalo that still, in those days, like the cattle on a thousand hills, thundered through the land and grazed on its rich pasturage and drank from its beautiful streams. the men of these saskatchewan brigades were warriors who had often been in conflict with hostile tribes, and could tell exciting stories of scalping parties, and the fierce conflict for their lives when beleaguered by some relentless foes. some of them bore on face or scalp the marks of the wounds received in close tomahawk encounter, and, for the gift of a pocketknife or gaudy handkerchief from our eager boys, rehearsed with all due enlargement the story of the fierce encounter with superior numbers of their bitterest enemies, how they had so gloriously triumphed, but had not come off unscathed, as these great scars did testify. thus excited and interested did the boys wander from one encampment of these brigades to another. the word had early gone out from the chief factor, mr mctavish, that these boys were his special friends, and as such were to be treated with consideration by all. this was quite sufficient to insure them a welcome everywhere, and so they acquired a good deal of general information, as they became acquainted with people from places, of which they had heard but little, and from others of some regions until then to them unknown. in addition to those already referred to, there were brigades from lac- la-puie, the lake of the woods, cumberland house, athabasca, and swan river, and other places many hundreds of miles away. as each brigade arrived it formed its own encampment separate from the others. here the fires of dry logs were built on the ground, and the meals prepared and eaten. when the day's work was over, the men gathered around the fire's bright glow and smoked their pipes, laughed and chatted, and then, each wrapping himself in a single blanket, they lay down on the ground to sleep, with no roof above them but the stars. as the goods brought from england in large bulk had to be made up into bundles, called in the language of the country "pieces," each weighing from eighty to one hundred pounds, that could be easily carried around the portages by the indians, several days must elapse ere the return trip would be begun. very interesting were these days to the boys, as from camp fire to camp fire they wandered, making friends everywhere with the indians by their hearty, manly ways. at first the wildest and fiercest looking fellows most attracted them; those wild warriors who could tell of scalping parties and horse- stealing adventures among the warlike tribes of the great plains. after a while, however, they found themselves most interested in the brigades that could travel fastest, that had the record of making the fastest trip in the shortest time. what at first was a surprise to them was that the brigades that held these best records were the christian ones, who took time to say their prayers morning and evening and always rested on the sabbath. this proved that these hard-working men, who rested one day in seven, could do and did better and faster work than those who knew no sabbath, but pushed on from day to day without rest. man as a working animal needs the day of rest, and with one off in seven will, as has been here and in other places proved, do better work in the remaining six than the one who takes no day of rest. soon after the arrival of the brigades with the furs, which were estimated as being worth in london over three hundred thousand pounds, they were all safely stowed away in the vessel, and a favourable wind springing up from the south-west, the anchor was lifted, the sails hoisted, and the good ship _prince arthur_ started on her return voyage to the old land. the boys waved their handkerchiefs and shouted their farewells until the vessel was far out on the dancing waves like a thing of life and beauty. to big tom, of the norway house brigade, had been intrusted the responsibility of safely taking the boys up from york factory to the residence of mr ross. his indian name was mamanowatum, which means, "o be joyful," but he had long been called big tom on account of his gigantic size. ample resources had been sent with the boys to pay for all their requirements. mr mctavish had an experienced clerk look after their outfit and select for them everything needed, not only for the journey, but for their requirements during the year of their stay in the country. so they were here furnished with what was called the yearly supplies, as york factory is the best place, keeping as it does large reserve supplies for all the interior trading posts. the english boots were discarded for moccasins; fringed leggings manufactured out of well- tanned skins and various other articles of apparel more suitable to the wild country were obtained. two good hudson bay blankets were purchased for each boy, and, as they had come to rough it, it was thought best to give them no tent, but each one had in his outfit a large piece of oiled canvas in case of a fierce rainstorm assailing them. they were given the usual rations of food, with tea and sugar for so many days, and each lad was furnished with a copper kettle, a tin cup, a tin plate, a knife, fork, and spoon. as luxuries they furnished themselves with towels, soap, brush, and comb. in addition to these supplies for this first trip there were sent up all that would be needed during the long months that they were to spend in the country. the boys were specially anxious that the supply of ammunition should be most liberal. for weapons they each had a good double-barrelled breech-loading gun-- then just beginning to come into use--which had been carefully selected for them ere they left home. in addition they each had a first-class sheath knife with hilt, good for close hand-to-hand encounter with animals, and also useful in skinning the game when killed or in cutting kindling wood for a fire. a first-class knife is an indispensable requisite for a hunter in the north-west. indeed, there is a saying in that country, "give an indian a knife and a string, and he will make his living and his way anywhere." a brigade in the hudson bay service consisted of from four to twenty boats; each boat was supposed to carry from eighty to a hundred pieces of goods or bales of fur in addition to the supplies for the men. they were made out of spruce or balsam, and were like large skiffs, sharp at both ends. they were manned by nine men. the man in charge was called the steersman; standing in the sharp angle of the stern, he steered the boat either by a rudder or a long oar, which he handled with great skill. the other eight men rowed the boat along with great oars, in the use of which they were very clever. each boat was provided with a small mast and a large square sail. when there was no favourable wind the mast was unstepped and lashed on the outside of the boat under the rowlocks. often for days together only the oars were used. this was specially the case in river routes. however, in the great lakes whenever there was any possibility of sailing the mast was stepped, the sail hoisted, and the weary toilers at the oars had a welcome rest; and often did they need it, for the work was most slavish and exhausting. in each brigade there was a boss who had control of all the boats. he gave the word when to start in the morning and when to camp at night. his word was absolute in all matters of dispute. he had the privilege of selecting the best boat in the brigade, and was supposed to always be at the front when dangerous rapids had to be run, or death in any form had to be faced; in storm or hurricane his boat had to be the first to face the trying ordeal, and his hand to be on the helm. only the well- tried old steersman of many years' experience could hope to reach to this position, and when once it was obtained unceasing vigilance was the price paid for the retention of the post. one mistake in running the rapids, or a single neglect to detect the coming of the storm in time to get to shore and the furs securely covered over with the heavy tarpaulins, with which each boat was supplied, was quite sufficient to cause him to lose the much coveted position. about the only liberty taken with him was, if possible, when the boats were crossing a great lake, with each big sail set, to try if possible by superior management of the boat to get to the distant shore ahead of him. the start was made about three o'clock in the afternoon, as is the general custom of these brigades of boats; the idea being only to go a few miles for the first day and thus find out if everything is in thorough working order, and that nothing has been forgotten. the camp was made on the bank of the river where dry wood was abundant, and where there was some sheltered cove or harbour in which the boats could safely be secured in case of violent storms coming up in the night, which was not an infrequent occurrence. big tom appointed one of the indian oarsmen to look after the boys. his duties were to cook their meals and select for their beds as smooth and soft a place as was possible to find on the granite rocks; or, if it happened to be in a soft and swampy place where the boats stopped for the night, he was expected to forage round and find some dry old grass in the used-up beaver meadows, or to cut down some balsam boughs on which the oilcloth would be spread, and then their blanket beds would be made. these boughs of the balsam or spruce, when broken up, make a capital bed. the boys, after a few nights' experiment with various kinds of beds, became so much attached to those made of the spruce or balsam that, unless very weary with some exciting sport during the day, they generally took upon themselves the work of securing them at each night's camping place. tables were considered unnecessary luxuries. the dishes were arranged on a smooth rock if one was to be found. the food was served up by the indian attendant, and the three boys and big tom sat down and enjoyed the plain but hearty meal. it is generally the custom for the commodore of the brigade to take his meals with any travellers he may have in charge. when they have dined, the indian servant or attendant then sits down and has his meal. after supper the indians who have more quickly prepared and eaten their suppers, as they waste but little time in details, gather round the splendid camp fire, and for an hour or so engage in pleasant chat; and while having their evening smoke they show to each other their various purchases secured at york factory. at this post they are allowed to take up in goods half of their wages for their services, and carry them along with them in their boats. after a final visit was made by the different steersmen to their boats to see that everything was snug and tight, and a consultation with big tom as to the likelihood or not of a storm coming up, they all gathered round the camp fire for evening prayers. big tom took charge of the evening service. he first read from his indian testament, translated into his own language and printed in the clear, beautiful syllabic characters invented by one of the early missionaries. after the scriptures were read martin papanekis, a sweet singer, led the company in singing in their own language a beautiful translation of the "evening hymn." when this was sung they all reverently bowed while big tom offered up an appropriate prayer. very sweetly sounded the voices of these christian indians as here amid nature's solitudes arose from their lips and hearts the voice of prayer and praise. the effect on the boys was not only startling but helpful. in their minds there had been associated very little of genuine christianity with the indians, but just the reverse. they expected to meet them with tomahawks and scalping knives, but not with bibles and hymn books; they expected to hear war-whoops, but not the voice of christian song and earnest prayer. as the boys lay that night in their blanket beds on the rocks they could not but talk of the evening prayers, and perhaps that simple but impressive service did more to bring vividly and helpfully before them the memories of their happy christian homes far away than anything else that had occurred since they left them. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter four. the early call--the picturesque route--the toilsome portages--rival brigades--first bear--alec's successful shot. so excited were the boys with their strange romantic surroundings that the first night they lay down in their beds, thus prepared not far from the camp fire on the rocks, they could hardly sleep. it was indeed a new experience to be able to look up and see the stars shining in the heavens above them. then, when they looked around, on one side they saw the indians reclining there in picturesque attitudes, smoking their pipes and engaged in quiet talk. when they turned and looked on the other side there was the dense dark forest peopled in their young imaginations with all sorts of creatures, from the fierce wolf and savage bear to the noisy "whisky jack," a pert, saucy bird, about the size and colour of a turtle dove, that haunts the camp fires and with any amount of assurance helps himself to pemmican and other articles of food, if a bag is left open or the provisions exposed to his keen eye. still sounding in their ears were his strange, querulous notes, forming not half so sweet a lullaby as the music of the waves that beat and broke a few yards from where they lay. but "tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep," came after a time, and in dreamless slumber soon were they wrapped, nor did they stir until early next morning. they were aroused by the musical voice of big tom, from which rang out the boatman's well-known call: "leve, leve, leve!" this is not indian, but french, and has been taken by the indians from the early french voyageurs, who long years before this used to traverse many parts of these wild regions to trade with the indians. quite a number of names still remain in the country as relics of these hardy early french explorers. this ringing call met with a prompt response from all. no one dared to remain for another nap. at once all was hurry and activity. the fires were quickly rekindled, copper tea-kettles were speedily filled and boiled, a hasty breakfast eaten, prayers offered, and then "all aboard!" is the cry of big tom. the kettles, blankets, and all the other things used are hastily stowed away, and the journey is resumed. if the wind is fair the sail is hoisted and merrily they travel on. if not, the heavy oars were brought out, and as they rose and fell in unison the boats were propelled on at the rate of about six miles an hour. three or four times a day did they go ashore, boil the kettles, and have a meal, for the air of that land is bracing and the appetites are always good. the route used for so many years by the hudson bay company to transport their goods into the interior from york factory is utterly unfit for navigation, as we understand that word, as the rivers are full of wild, dangerous rapids and falls. some of these rapids can be run at all times during the summer, others only when the water is high. many of them are utterly impassable at any time. the result is that numerous portages have to be made. as the making of a portage was exceedingly interesting to our boys, we will here describe one. the boats were rowed up against the current as far as possible and then headed for the shore. here at the landing place they were brought in close to the rocks and every piece of cargo was taken out. these pieces were put on the men's shoulders, one piece being fastened at both sides by a carrying strap, which in the middle is drawn across the forehead. then, using the first piece thus fastened, one or two more pieces are piled upon it and the indian starts with this heavy load along the rough and rocky trail to the end of the portage. this end is the place beyond the rapids where safe navigation again commences. in quick succession the men are thus loaded until all the cargoes are thus transported from one side to the other. the boys were very eager to help. so they quickly loaded themselves with their guns and blankets, and, striking out into the trail along which they saw the indians were hurrying, they bravely endeavoured to keep those in sight who had started just before them. to their great surprise they found this to be an utter impossibility. the swinging jog trot of an indian does not seem to be a very rapid pace, but the white man unaccustomed to it finds out very quickly that it takes long practice for him to equal it. at first the boys thought that it was because they had loaded themselves too heavily, and so they quite willingly took a rest on the way; dropping their blankets and guns, and sitting down on a rock beside the trail, they watched with admiration the indians in single file speeding along with their heavy loads. many of these men can carry on each trip three pieces, that is a load of from two hundred and forty to three hundred pounds. as ayetum, the indian who had charge of the white boys' cooking arrangements, was passing them as they sat there in the portage he said, in broken english: "white boys leave guns and blankets, ayetum come for them soon." this was quite agreeable to the tired lads, and so they started up again, frank saying as they did so: "now we will show them that we can keep up to them." gallantly they struck out, but to a white boy running over an indian trail where rocks and fallen trees and various other obstructions abound is a very different thing from a smooth road in a civilised land. for a time they did well, but when hurrying along on a narrow ledge of rock an unnoticed creeping root tripped up and sent sam flying over the side of a steep place, where he went floundering down twenty or thirty feet among the bracken and underbrush. fortunately he was not much hurt, but he needed the assistance of two indians to get him up again. thus rapidly passed the days as the brigade hurried on. not an hour was wasted. it was necessary to move on as quickly as possible, as not twenty-four hours would elapse ere the next brigade would be dispatched from york factory, and not only would it be a great disgrace to be overtaken, but the rivalry and strife of the boats' crews in the portages, in their efforts to see which could get their cargoes over first, would be most intense; and sometimes there is bad blood and quarrelling, especially if the brigades happen to be of rival tribes. hence it was ever the plan of the great company that employed them all to keep them at least a day or two apart on these adventurous and exciting journeys. to big tom and his men had been given the post of honour, and it was well-known that such was his skill as a leader, and so well was he backed up by his well-trained, stalwart men, that unless some great accident happened, no brigade following would have any chance of catching up to him ere his journey was finished. one day when passing through a lakelike expanse of the river they saw a large black bear swimming as fast as he could directly ahead of them. at length a cry was raised, "a bear! a bear!" the men bent to their oars and there was an exciting chase. fortunately for the pursuers, it was a wide open space and the bear was far out from land. even in these heavy boats the men can row faster than a bear can swim. knowing well the habits of the bear, the men's first efforts were to cut him off from the mainland, and thus oblige him to swim for one of the many islands which could be seen on ahead. if they could succeed in this, of course he would have a poor chance, as the boats would speedily surround him there. bears know that they are not safe on islands when hunted, and so cunningly endeavour to keep from them; or, if so unfortunate as to be obliged to take refuge on one when closely pursued, they do not seem able to keep quiet and try to lie hidden and unseen, but just as soon as possible they make the attempt to reach the mainland, and there hide themselves away from their pursuers in the dense forest or underbrush. this peculiarity of the bear is well-known to the indian hunters; so in this case the first object of the men, as they would hardly be able to get near enough to this big fellow to shoot him in the water, was to head him off from the mainland and thus force him on an island. in this they succeeded, as they anticipated. frank, alec, and sam were, of course, intensely excited as the chase advanced. in their zoological gardens they had often seen and watched various species of bears. there, however, they were in captivity and could do no harm. here, however, away ahead of them like a great newfoundland dog, was this big, fierce fellow, wild and free, making the race of his life, to escape from his relentless pursuers. at first he struck out for the mainland, and made the most desperate efforts to reach the shore; but when at length he saw one of the boats surely crawling along so that it would soon be between him and the point of land toward which he was swimming, he accepted the situation and struck off for a large island that seemed to be densely covered with trees and underbrush. nearer and nearer came the boats, propelled so vigorously by the muscular, excited men, whose great oars rose and fell with all the precision of clockwork, as they saw they were sure of gaining on their prey. as big tom's boat was at the front, he said to the excited boys, who could hardly restrain themselves: "you boys want to shoot him?" of course they did. what boy under similar circumstances would not have given almost anything for a shot at a bear in a position like this? so the guns were quickly loaded, and under tom's direction the boys were given a position one after another in the stern of the boat. grandly did the men row so as to bring the bear within range ere the island should be reached. when the bear was about two hundred feet from shore tom, who had had some difficulty in restraining the boys from firing, now ordered the men to cease rowing, and, as had been arranged with the boys, he gave the word to sam to fire. quickly rang out the report of his gun. "did you hit him?" said big tom. "i think i did," was sam's odd reply; "for see, he is swimming faster than he did before i fired." this quaint answer was met by shouts of laughter from all who understood its comical meaning. "now, frank, it is your turn," said big tom. carefully aiming for his head--and really there was not much of it to be seen, for a bear swims low in the water--frank fired, and a howl and a vigorous shaking of the head told that he had been hit somewhere, but not enough to stop his progress. the boat, under the momentum it had received from the oars, was still moving on about as fast as the bear was able to swim. "now, alec," said big tom, as the lad took his position in the stern of the boat, "when he tries to run through the shallow water near those rocks, your turn comes. hit him behind the shoulder, good young scotchman." at the kindly mention of his nationality the blood of alec suddenly rose, and he felt his hand grip that gun and his eye strangely brighten, and he resolved if possible he would make the shot of his life. steadying himself, he waited until the bear was exactly in the place and position mentioned by the experienced old hunter, who stood just behind him. then he fired. as the report rang out there was also heard a dull thud, that told that somewhere the fierce brute had been struck, but to alec's mortification he gave some desperate bounds and finally reached the shore. there among the rocks he suddenly dropped as in a heap. a few seconds after, some of the indians jumped overboard and cautiously waded toward him through the shallow water. their caution, however, was altogether unnecessary. alec's bullet had done its work, and the bear was stone dead. the indians found, when cutting up the body, that the ball had gone completely through him. the wonder was that the great brute had been able to move at all after being so struck. the bears have an immense amount of vitality, as hunters who shoot them often find out to their own cost. so here was the first bear killed; alec was the hero of the hour. while modestly he received the congratulations, he naturally felt very proud over the accuracy of the shot that had brought down a great black bear. speedily did some of the indian hunters get out their knives and begin skinning the great animal. while doing this they made a discovery that very much pleased frank, and that was that his bullet had gone clean through the ear of the bear, and had thus caused his howls and the angry shakings of his head which had been observed by all after frank had fired. as a bear's ear is very small, frank's shot was an exceedingly good one, when we take into consideration that he fired from a moving boat at such a small object as the bear's head. "first blood, anyway, for frank," said alec. so it had turned out to be, although alec's had been the shot that had brought down the game. the beautiful black robe and the meat were soon carried by the stalwart men to the boats, and the journey was resumed. that evening at the camp fire all had abundance of bear's meat for their supper. it was very much enjoyed by all, as the meat of these animals is good, tasting something like young pork, with a gamey flavour. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter five. robinson's portage--gunpowder transportation--hole in the keg--the frightful explosion--ensconced at headquarters--delightful home in the wilderness--sturgeon fishing--involuntary plunges. at robinson's portage there occurred a startling accident of a most unique character. it caused much consternation both among the boys and the indians. in one of the boats, which was most carefully guarded, were quite a number of barrels of gunpowder for the different trading posts. large quantities of this dangerous material are required for the indians all over the country. the company is very particular in its transportation, and only the most experienced men are allowed to have charge of the powder boat. when the brigade reached robinson's portage, which is a long one, some men who had charge of the powder carefully rolled or dragged the barrels across the portage, which has over its whole length a fairly good forest road. the rest of the men, with their carrying straps, conveyed, as usual, the many "pieces," and piled them close to the landing stage. three boatloads of supplies, as well as the cargo of gunpowder, had been taken across and piled up ready for reshipment. before bringing over the other cargoes and dragging the great boats, which were as usual to be dragged overland by the united strength of all the men, it was resolved to have dinner at the end of the portage where they had landed, and then go on with their work. wood was gathered and a fire was kindled and dinner was prepared. while the men were dining it was noticed that the fire had increased, and had at length reached in the dry grass the place where the powder kegs had been placed when they had been taken out of the boats, and from which spot they had been carried to the other end of the portage. soon the indians and boys were interested in seeing a fuselike running of fire spluttering and flashing on the trail. on and on along the road it sped, until at length it disappeared over the hill leading to the other end of the portage, where the barrels of powder and bales of goods were now piled. for a moment or two the men continued their dinners; then suddenly there was a report so loud and so deafening that those who were standing were nearly thrown to the ground, and all were so shaken that it seemed as though a small earthquake had occurred. in an instant the cause was well surmised, and away they hurried as rapidly as possible to the other end of the portage. a strange sight, indeed, met their gaze. some of the trees were badly shattered, and the parts of those left standing, instead of being covered with green foliage, were well decorated with coloured calicoes and ribbons, tattered blankets, men's clothing, and many other things. the well piled up bundles and pieces had disappeared, and the contents seemed to be anywhere within the radius of half a mile. a large quantity had been blown out into the river, and had gone floating down the stream. where stood the piles of powder kegs was an excavation in the ground, but, alas! no powder was left. all had gone to cause that great explosion that had borne such a near approach to an earthquake. of course, big tom and his men were a humiliated lot, as there is a great deal of ambition among these hardy boatmen to deliver their cargoes in as good condition to the hudson bay company's officials as possible. but here was a disaster. three boatloads of supplies, as well as a cargo of gunpowder, were simply annihilated, or nearly so. quickly did they set to work to secure what was in the water, but it was of little value. some of the most adventurous climbed the high trees and managed to pull off a few of the garments there securely lodged, but much was beyond their reach, and for several years the articles fluttered in the winds of winter and of summer, and vividly reminded all who passed over that portage of that singular disaster. and how had it come about? this was easily found out. one of the powder barrels had a little unnoticed hole in it, and from this had silted out a tiny little stream of powder all along the whole length of the portage. when the fire was kindled at the other end, where the dinner was cooked, it touched the beginning of this strangely laid fuse, which in running along had so interested those who had seen it at the beginning, but who had had no idea of there being any danger in it or of the damage it would inflict upon the supplies. "well," said big tom, in his quiet way, "i am sorry for john company to lose so much property; but he is rich, and it will not hurt him. i am glad we did not do as is our general way--come over here and have our dinner near our loads. if we had done so perhaps some of our arms or legs might be now hanging up there in the branches where those red calicoes and other things are." so, while all regretted the great misfortune, they were very thankful that there had been no loss of life or anybody even wounded. with a will they set to work, and soon the other cargoes were carried over, and then the boats were dragged across by the united crews. soon were they launched and loaded, some with only half cargoes on account of the disaster, and then the journey was resumed. how big tom explained the story of the explosion to the hudson bay officials, and what were their answers, we know not; suffice to say, big tom was very glum for some time after, and was not anxious to have many questions put to him in reference to the interview. to the residence of mr ross the boys were escorted by a party of hudson bay clerks, after they had dined at norway house. all their outfits, which fortunately, like their owners, had escaped the explosion, were brought over a few hours later by some of the servants of the company. of the hearty welcome which the boys received from mr ross and his family at sagasta-weekee we have already made mention. during the evening the chief factor and some of the other officials of the fort, who had had advices of the coming of our three young gentlemen, frank, alec, and sam, came over to meet them. they most cordially welcomed them to the country, stating at the same time that they had received, by way of montreal and fort garry, advance letters in reference to them, and would gladly carry out the instructions received, and do all they could to make the year's sojourn in the country as pleasant and interesting as possible. this was good news to the boys, and was especially welcome to mr ross, who, now that he was no longer actively in the employ of the company, was a little nervous about the reception which would be accorded to these young hunters, who in this way had come into the country. strange as it may now appear, yet it is a well-known fact that persons coming into these territories were not welcome unless they came on the invitation and kept themselves completely under the company's direction and guidance. however, the old despotic rules were being relaxed, and especially was it so in the case of our boys, as thoughtful friends at home, who had influence with the london directors, had so arranged matters that everything was most favourable for their having a delightful time. that they had it these pages will surely testify. as we have stated, very cordially were they received and welcomed by mr ross, whose home was on the mighty nelson river, a few miles away from norway house fort. this great establishment of the hudson bay company was for a great many years the great distributing centre for the supplies sent out from england to the many smaller posts throughout the country. the houses were very substantially built of hewn logs, boarded over and painted white. they occupied the four sides of a hollow square, room only being left for two or three massive gateways. the interior was kept during the summer months beautifully green, and was the favourite resort of officials, employees, and servants, and white and indian visitors. the relations between mr ross and the officials from this large establishment were most cordial, and visits were frequently interchanged. the house which mr ross had built was as good as the material of the country afforded. the walls were of squared logs, the interstices between them being made as nearly frost-tight as possible. the outsides were well boarded, and so was the interior. as there is no limestone in that part of the country, the partitions dividing the rooms were all made of timber. in the fall of the year, ere the ground freezes up, the house was banked up to the lower edges of the windows. double sashes were placed in every window. as there is no coal in that part of the country, wood is used altogether in its place. great iron stoves are used, in which roaring fires are kept burning incessantly from october until may. in this genuine native house the three boys were cordially welcomed, and soon felt themselves to be as members of the delightful family. shortly after their arrival, of course, there were many conversations as to the various excursions that could be made, and the different hunting expeditions that would be possible. while they expected to have some good times hunting the bears, beavers, wolves, reindeer, and other animals that were within easy reaching distance of their present headquarters, they were also ambitious enough to hope that they would have time to reach the haunts of the buffalo on the great western prairies, the musk ox in the far north, and even the grizzly bear in the mountain ravines. in the meantime they had much to interest and amuse themselves with in studying the habits and customs of the indians, who were constantly coming to see mr ross, whom they found to be a universal favourite, and the wise counsellor and adviser of all when in trouble or perplexity. with the twelve or fifteen splendid dogs which were owned by their host they soon became fast friends, and with them they had many a run, either in the forests or along the shores of the great water stretches that were near. each boy soon had his favourite dog, and naturally did all he could to develop his intelligence and bring out all of his latent sagacity. while in a measure they succeeded in this, they also found, in some instances, that in some dogs downright mischief and trickery could be about as easily developed as the more noble qualities. the canoes, of course, were tackled, and after a few laughable upsets they all soon became experts in the use of them, and had many a glorious trip and many an exciting adventure. often did they go in the company of mr ross and with some experienced indians to the place still retaining the name of the old fort, although the buildings were destroyed long ago. there the accumulated waters of some scores of rivers that pour into lake winnipeg rush out in one great volume to form the mighty nelson river. here in this picturesque region, rich in indian legends, and the resort of various kinds of game, and a favourite spot for the fishermen, many happy days were spent by our young friends in fishing and hunting. then, when wearied with the varied sport, delightful hours were passed away, as, gathered round the bright, blazing camp fires, they listened to various reminiscences of the past as given by white or indian. these excursions often lasted for a number of days at a time. the party, which often consisted of from eight to a dozen persons, carried with them in their canoes not only their guns and ammunition, but their kettles and supplies and blankets. when the day's hunting was ended the supper was cooked at a fire made on the rocks, the principal item of which was supposed to be some of the game shot or fish caught. as the boys' dexterity in the use of the canoes increased, they became more adventurous in their excursions, and one day they struck out, of course in company with experienced indians, from the old fort and went as far as to the mouth of the great saskatchewan river. the long trip across the north-west end of lake winnipeg was most exhilarating. the boys up to that time had no idea that birch canoes could ride in safety such enormous waves, or be propelled along continuously with such rapidity. they camped on the shores of the great river, near the foot of the rapids, which are the only ones to be found in it for a thousand miles. here they pitched their camp and lay down to sleep. the music of the rapids was a pleasant lullaby that soothed them into refreshing slumber. early the next morning they were visited by a number of friendly indians, who informed them that the sturgeon were very numerous in the river at the foot of the rapids, and that excellent sport could be had in killing some of them. while the usual method of capturing the sturgeon is with large gill nets, a more exciting way is by spearing them at the foot of the rapids, where at times they gather in large numbers, or by shooting them as they spring into the air. to spear a large sturgeon from a birch canoe, and not get an upset, is a difficult matter. for a time the indians alone did the spearing; but after the boys had watched them at it they imagined that it was not such a very difficult matter after all, and so asked to be allowed to try for themselves. the indians at first hesitated, as they well knew how really difficult it was, and thought that the boys had better keep at the safer sport of trying to shoot those that sprang, porpoise-like, out of the water. this itself afforded great amusement, and, while exciting, was not very successful, as it is extremely difficult to strike a sturgeon in this way, so rapid are its movements. the boys had been fairly successful, and as the great fish, which were from five to eight feet long, when shot, floated down the rapid current some old indian men and women, on the lookout in their canoes, were made the richer and happier by being allowed to take possession of the valuable fish as they came along. this was the thought ever in the minds of the boys, that, whenever possible, no matter what they caught in the waters or shot in the forests, or elsewhere, if they could not use it all themselves, to have it reach some old or feeble indians, who would be thankful for the gifts thus bestowed. this conduct on the part of the boys was most commendable, and everywhere secured them the good will of the indians, who are never jealous of those who, visiting their lands for, sport and adventure, do not merely kill the animals for the love of killing, but are also desirous that somebody may be benefited by having for their use the fish or animals thus slaughtered. as the boys were still anxious for an opportunity of trying their skill in spearing, they at length induced the indians to let them make the attempt, even if they should not be very successful. to be ready for any emergency, the cautious indians arranged their canoes so that if any accident should occur to these adventurous boys they could prevent anything more serious than a good ducking taking place. in this method of capturing the sturgeon, the one using the spear takes his position in the front of the canoe, while the other men noiselessly paddle the boat against the current to the spot where sturgeon are seen to be quietly resting or rooting in the gravelly bottom of the shallow places in the current. alec was the first to make the attempt at this new and rather uncertain sport. in a good canoe manned by a couple of skilled indians, he took his position in the bow of the canoe, and with a good strong fishing spear in his hands he steadied himself carefully in the cranky boat, while the men silently paddled him to a spot where the occasional appearance of part of a sturgeon above the water betrayed its presence. the sun shining gloriously made the day delightful, but its very brightness was the cause of alec's discomfiture. nothing more quickly disturbs sturgeon than a sudden shadow thrown on the water. alec, not knowing this, was being quietly paddled against the current, thus facing toward the west. as it was now about noon, the bright sun was on his left. in this position he ought only to have attempted to spear the fish on the left side of his canoe, where he would have thrown no shadow. ignorant of this, as soon as he observed a large sturgeon not far ahead of him he quietly indicated by signs to the canoemen which way he wished them to paddle, so as to bring him close enough to spear the fish. the men from their positions not being able to see the sturgeon paddled as directed, and soon alec was brought close enough to make the attempt. the sturgeon seemed to be an enormous one, and so alec, knowing that only a most desperate lunge would enable him to drive the spear through the thick hide of the fish, which was just now a little before him on the right, made the attempt with all the strength that he could possibly muster. but, alas, how different from what was expected! as alec threw himself forward to plunge the sharp spear into the body of the fish, he found that it met with no firmer substance than the water, and so, instead of the spear being buried in the body of the fish, the momentum of his great effort threw him out of the boat, and down he went head first into the river. fortunately the water was not deep, and as the other canoes were not far behind he was soon pulled into one of them, a bit frightened, but none the worse for his involuntary plunge. nothing daunted, sam was the next to volunteer to try his skill, and on being informed that alec's trouble was that he had raised his arm with the spear so as to cast a shadow which had frightened the fish, he resolved not to make a similar mistake. taking his position as directed in the front of the canoe, his men paddled him where he would be able to strike his fish without casting his shadow. soon the appearance of the fins of a great sturgeon were seen, and noiselessly the indians paddled sam's canoe close up to it. he was resolved if possible to succeed where alec had signally failed. when close enough to the large fish, which seemed to be utterly unconscious of the canoe's presence, sam, taking the spear in both hands, plunged it well and true into the body of the great sturgeon, that up to that instant seemed to have been sound asleep. however, there was a great awakening when it felt that spear thrust. giving a great spring, so strong and sudden that it seemed to fairly lift sam, spear and all, out of the canoe, it started for the great lake. sam let go of the spear when he found himself being dragged over the side of the boat, but the indians afterward declared that he hung on for some time, and had a ride on the back of the great fish. like alec had been before him, he was quickly picked up and dragged into another canoe. the indians imagined that now that two of the boys had come to grief the third would not wish to attempt this risky sport. those lads of ours were not easily daunted, and so without any hesitancy frank asked to be allowed to see what he could do. frank had this advantage, that he had observed what had caused alec and sam to fail in their attempts. arming himself with a sharp spear, he took the position assigned to him, and was paddled up to a place where the fish were numerous. the spear that he had selected, instead of being one of the three-pronged variety, was more of a chisel shape, and exceedingly sharp. with this in his hands, he firmly braced himself in the narrow front of the canoe, while the now intensely interested company watched his efforts. even sam and alec refused to leave until frank had made his attempt. some sturgeon were observed very near, but frank, even in the excitement of the moment, was not to be diverted from his resolve, and so had the indians paddle him on and on until they brought him close to an enormous fellow, lying quiet and still on the gravelly bottom. with all his strength frank struck him a blow, so quick and strong that the first intimation of danger to the fish was the sharp spear crashing through the strong bony scales, through flesh and vertebrae, into the spinal cord, just behind the head. so instantaneous was the death of the great sturgeon under this fatal stroke that there was not even the usual spasmodic spring. like as a log might have lain there on the water, so did the great fish. the only movement was, as is the case with most large fish thus killed, he rolled over, and at once began to float away on the current. "well done, frank!" shouted the dripping boys, who had pluckily refused to be taken ashore until frank had made his attempt, in which he had so well succeeded. the indians were delighted and, in their way, quite demonstrative, and for long after, at many a camp fire, the story of that strong, true, successful spear thrust had to be described and acted out. thoroughly satisfied with these first adventures at sturgeon fishing, the party went ashore, and at a large camp fire alec and sam dried their garments as well as possible. changes, of course, they had not on such an excursion. however, they suffered but little inconvenience, and no bad results followed from their submersions. they spent another day or two at the mouth of the great saskatchewan river, and in the canoes of some of the experienced indians, who there reside, they several times ran the rapids. this was wild and exhilarating sport, and was vastly enjoyed by the boys. during the return trip nothing of very great importance occurred. they shot a number of wild ducks from the canoes as they paddled along, and in due time reached sagasta-weekee tired and bronzed, and full of the adventures of their first outing from the home of their kind host. chapter six. indian implements--canoeing excursion--gunpowder versus jack fish--loon shooting--sam's successful shot. the indians were originally very skillful in the manufacture of the few essential articles that were absolutely necessary for their use. the style and curves of their graceful canoes, although only made of the bark of the birch tree and strengthened by supple bands of cedar or balsam, and made watertight by the gum of the pine or other resinous trees, have never been improved in any boat builder's yard in civilisation. true, fancy canoes are being turned out for the pleasure and enjoyment of canoeists in safe waters, but whenever the experiment has been tried of using these canoes in the dangerous rivers of the indian country they are not found to be at all equal to those manufactured by the natives. in the manufacture of their paddles, and in the spring and lightness of their oars, they have never been surpassed; and, while often imitated, many a skillful white artisan has had to admit that after all his efforts there was a something of completeness and exact fitness for the work required about the indians' production that he felt was in some way lacking in his own handiwork. to the indian women and clever old men were left the duties of making the canoes. our boys were very much interested in watching them at the work of canoe building, but naturally annoyed at the spasmodic way in which they carried on their operations, as while perhaps for some days they would work incessantly from early dawn to dark, they would then lay off for days and do nothing but lounge around and smoke. as the weeks rolled on, and the boys became more and more acquainted with the natives, and acclimated and accustomed to the methods of travel, a more ambitious trip for their pleasure was arranged by mr ross. it was decided to go to the old fort, and after shooting and fishing there in the vicinity of the place previously visited, then to push on to spider islands, and after a short stay in order to enjoy the beauties of that romantic place, then to push on across the north-eastern part of the great lake winnipeg to montreal point, and there to hunt along the coast as far south as poplar point, if the sport were good and the necessary supplies of ammunition and other essentials held out. the boys were wild with delight at the prospect, and were anxious to do all in their power to expedite the undertaking. the indians of all these regions, in which our boys were hunting, do not now give much prominence to the old picturesque style of dress, with which we have all been so familiar. feathers and paints are with them now quite out of date; still their coats, pants, leggings, and moccasins are principally made of the beautifully tanned skins of the moose and reindeer, and handsomely ornamented with bead work, at which the cree women are most skillful. of course frank, alec, and sam were speedily fitted out in the dress of the country, and were quite proud of their appearance. they were also very anxious to have the natives give them indian names, as is quite customary. the indians, however, after some councilling, in which a large quantity of tobacco was smoked, decided that as the boys were to remain some time in the country they had better wait for the development of some strong peculiarities in them, or until some great event occurred that would suggest some expressive name. while disappointed with this decision of the council, the boys had to rest content. at first they found the use of the soft, pliable moccasin very strange, after the heavy boots of civilisation, and for a little while complained of a soreness in the soles of their feet. these, however, soon hardened, and then they much preferred the soft indian shoes to all others. on the contemplated trip mr ross decided that, in addition to some younger indians, he would take with him two old, experienced men, who were perhaps the most famous hunters of their tribe. one of these was our old friend, big tom; the other was called mustagan. he was almost as large as big tom, and had a wonderful record. we shall hear much about him as these pages advance, and will be delighted to have him with us in many an exciting hour. three canoes were employed on this excursion. mr ross had mustagan, another indian, and one of the boys with him; while the other two canoes, which were not quite so large as mr ross's, had in each two indians to paddle them, and one of the boys. so when the party started it consisted of ten persons. everyone was well supplied with guns and ammunition. the guns used were the muzzle-loaders of the country, as after some experiments with the breech-loaders there was found to be a good deal of difficulty in reference to the supplies of cartridges. the usual camping outfit and supplies for a month's outing were taken along with them. while passing through play green lake, they amused themselves one day by catching some very large jack fish, or pike, in the usual way. it seems very surprising that the mere concussion of the air caused by the firing of blank charges of gunpowder could so stun or paralyse such enormous fish. as they journeyed on, a quiet "hush!" from mustagan caused them to look toward the shore, and there, not far up from the sandy beach, were to be seen four beautiful young deer. as mr ross was anxious to get on, and nothing specially was to be gained by hunting these beautiful young creatures, they were not even disturbed or frightened. the boys watched them for some time, and were delighted with their graceful movements as like young lambs they gambolled on the shore. genuine sport is not butchery of inoffensive creatures that cannot be utilised for the benefit of parties shooting them. they had some rare sport in trying to shoot the great northern diver, called in this country the loon. it is a bird as large and heavy as the wild goose. its feathers are so thick and close that they easily turn aside ordinary shot. its bill is long and sharp, and with it in battle can inflict a most ugly wound. the feathers on its breast are of snowy whiteness, while on the rest of the body they are of a dark brown colour approaching to black flecked with white. its peculiar legs are wide and thin; its webbed feet are so large that it can swim with amazing rapidity. on land it is a very awkward and ungainly bird, and can hardly move along; but in the water it is a thing of beauty, and as a diving bird it has, perhaps, no equal. it has a strange mournful cry, and seems to utter its melancholy notes more frequently before an approaching storm than at any other time. the indians, who are most excellent judges of the weather and quick to notice any change, have great confidence in the varied cries of the loon. it is a marvellous diver, and is able to swim great distances under the water with amazing rapidity, only coming up, when pursued, for an instant, at long intervals to breathe. the loon is very hard to kill. a chance long-distance bullet or a shot in the eye does occasionally knock one over, but as a general thing the indians, none too well supplied with ammunition, let them alone, as when shot they are of but little worth. their flesh is tough and tasteless, and the only thing at all prized is the beautiful skin, out of which the indian women manufacture some very picturesque fire-bags. as several of these loons were seen swimming in play green lake as our party paddled along, mr ross decided to give the boys a chance to show their skill and quickness in firing at them, although he hardly imagined any of them would be struck. the sportsman who would strike them must have an alert eye and quick aim to fire the instant they are up, as they are down again so suddenly, only to reappear again some hundreds of yards off in the most unexpected place. the three canoes were paddled to positions about a third of a mile apart, like as at the points of an equilateral triangle. in this large space thus inclosed several loons were surrounded, and the work of trying to shoot them began. before beginning to fire, the boys had been warned never under any circumstance to pull a trigger if one of the other boats should be in line, no matter how distant. bullets even from an ordinary shotgun will sometimes so bound over the waves as to go an immense distance, and very serious injuries have resulted. as has been stated, it is almost impossible to kill a loon even when struck with ordinary shot, so it was decided here to use either buckshot or bullets as the hunters preferred. part of the fun of loon hunting is in the absolute uncertainty as to the spot where the bird, after diving, will next show itself. it may appear a quarter of a mile away, or it may suddenly push up its bright head and look at you out of its brilliant eyes not five yards from the side of your canoe. it has, when hunted, a certain dogged stubbornness against leaving the vicinity it was in when first assailed, and will remain in a small area, even of a large lake, although repeatedly fired at. hardly had the canoe in which were mr ross and frank with their two canoemen taken its position, when a beautiful loon rose up about a hundred yards away, and not having been frightened, as no gun had as yet been fired, he sat there in all his beauty on the water watching them. "fire at him," said mr ross to frank. no sooner said than done, and away sped the bullet well and true on its errand, and fairly and squarely hit the water exactly where the bird had been, but no bird was there. quicker than could that bullet speed across those hundred yards the bird had dived, and ere frank could recover from his chagrin its brilliant eyes were looking at him from a spot not twenty yards away. the loon had been facing the canoe when fired at, and in diving had come on in a straight line toward them, and now here he was, so close to them and looking so intently that he seemed to say by his appearance, "i've come to see what all that noise was about." so sudden was his appearance that no one in the canoe was ready for him, and ere a gun could be pointed he was down again and, swimming directly under the boat, rose again on the other side, more than a hundred yards away. while this had been frank's experience, the others had not been idle. as was quite natural, there was a good deal of good-natured rivalry among them, as to which canoe would come, the honour of killing the first loon. mustagan, who had charge of one of these canoes, was an old hand at this work, and, as he was a keen hunter, had caught this spirit of rivalry that had arisen. he determined to put his long experience with these birds against their cleverness, and it was interesting to watch the contest between him and them. for a time his efforts met with complete failure, and the birds fairly outwitted him. mustagan, however, was not discouraged, and he resolved on one more effort to succeed. he had learned from observation that the loon with its marvellously brilliant eye seemed to be able to see the flash of the gun, and so quick were its movements that it could dive ere the bullets or other missiles reached it. acting on this knowledge, he rigged up in the canoe a kind of a barrier behind which sam was seated, concealed from the sharp-sighted bird. for a time they were not able to get a successful shot, although a great deal of ammunition was expended. alec, with big tom and his other indian canoeman, was equally unsuccessful. the loons themselves seemed to have entered into the spirit of the thing, and kept bobbing up here and there, at most unexpected places, taking good care, however, that each time the bullets struck the spot where they were, they were somewhere else when it arrived. it was at first strange to the boys that the bullets did not follow them in the water, but went bounding off and skipping over the surface often for great distances. at length, when mr ross began to fear that the ammunition had suffered enough, and the boys had had sufficient of this kind of shooting, which, after all, was a most capital drill at quick firing, and was about to stop the sport, mustagan pleaded for time to try one more experiment. he had been watching the movements of a splendid loon, that had saucily and successfully challenged the guns from each boat in succession for quite a time. mustagan's quick eye noticed that the bird was not quite so vigilant as he had been, and resolved that he could be shot, and that sam should have that honour. strange as it may seem to those who have not had the fun of trying to shoot loons, these birds get to know that the hunters they are to watch are those who handle the guns. knowing this, mustagan had sam well load his gun with buckshot and slugs. swinging the canoe so that sam would be completely hid by the barrier prepared, he with his gun rose up in a conspicuous manner flourishing his weapon, and thus kept the eyes of the bird on himself every time he arose. this went on for some minutes, until at length, as mustagan did not fire, although brandishing his gun about, the loon seemed to lose his caution, and remained up longer each time he came to the surface. this was what the wily old indian was expecting, and so, speaking to sam, he told him to be on the watch and soon he would have a successful shot. sam, however, had to wait for quite a time, so erratic were the loon's movements, and in such unexpected places did he suddenly come up. however, success generally comes to those who have patience long enough to wait, and so it was in this case. the fortunate opportunity came at last, for there right in front of the canoe not fifty yards away rose up that beautiful bird, and the same instant from the unseen gun and lad, behind that little barrier, rang out the report which followed the fatal missiles that had done their work, for one of them had cut clean through the neck of the loon, severing the vertebrae, and there he lay in the water with the snowy-white breast uppermost. a rousing cheer told of the successful shot, and at once when the bird was secured the canoes were headed for the shore. there a dinner was quickly prepared, and in glorious picnic style it was enjoyed by all. the loon was skinned by one of the indian men, and subsequently was tanned in native fashion, and a beautiful fire-bag was made from it of which in after years sam was very proud. three boys in the wild north land, by egerton r. young chapter seven. the old fort camp--sam's race with the bear--indian comments. as the day was now advancing, and they had already had so much sport, they decided not to try and reach the old fort on lake winnipeg, where the nelson river begins, that evening. so they paddled their canoes to the ashore and there formed a camp. while the older members of the party remained at the fire, some of the younger and more eager ones took their guns and went off to see what they could shoot. frank succeeded in bringing down a great pelican that, with some others, had been gorging itself with gold-eyes, a beautiful kind of fish, similar in appearance to large herring, but with eyes so bright and golden that the appropriateness of the name is at once evident to all the first time they see it. frank carried to the camp his great bird, but was disappointed when told that as an article of food it was about worthless. one of the indians, however, pleased him when he said that a very beautiful ornamental bag could be made of the great sac that hung down from its enormous bill. alec was more successful, and returned soon after frank with a number of fine ducks, which he carried hanging around him with their heads crowded under his belt in real indian fashion. the different indians, who had also gone off hunting, returned one after another, and so when supper was ready at the camp fire about sunset all were returned but sam. where was he? who had seen him last? these were the questions put, but no one seemed able to give any satisfactory answer. as it was supposed he would return any minute, the supper, which consisted principally of the fish they had caught and game shot, was eaten and much enjoyed. still no signs of sam. mr ross began to feel uneasy, and now, as the shadows of the coming night were beginning to fall around them, he called mustagan and some of the older indians to him, and asked what had better be done. promptly they responded that he must be found ere the last glimmering light faded away and the auroras began to dance and play in the northern sky. "let us at once get on his trail," said an old indian, "and we will soon find him." so the question was again anxiously asked who had last seen him. but there was little need for an answer, as sam, pale, excited, and panting for breath, suddenly dashed into their midst. "what is the matter?" said mr ross, while all the rest, with intense interest, waited for his answer. all poor sam could say was, "the bear! the bear!" as he lay panting on the ground. mustagan, quick to read signs, was the first to see what had happened, and so, hastily catching up his gun, and crowding down the barrel a bullet on the top of the buckshot, with which it was already loaded, he slipped out from the circle of light around the camp fire, in the direction from which sam had come. not five minutes was he gone ere the report of his gun rang out. with all the imperturbable nature of an indian he returned, and when within easy calling distance of the camp fire he asked for a couple of indians to join him. quickly they glided away in the darkness. it was not for a long time, however, that they were required. soon their voices were heard asking that additional wood might be thrown upon the fire in order that they might have a better light. why they needed it was soon evident, as they shortly afterward appeared dragging into the camp a splendid bear, the sight of which at first made sam jump again, as though he would continue the journey he had so abruptly ended when he had dashed into their midst. when sam had quieted down he told the story of his exciting adventure. like the others, he had taken his gun and gone off to see what he could shoot. as at first he did not meet with much success he pushed on and on until he reached a long stretch of sandy beach, on which he detected the fresh footprints of a bear. putting a bullet into his gun, he bravely started off to get that bear. on and on he hurried, reckless and excited, until at length he saw the fine fellow, not two hundred yards away, sitting on a flat rock a little way out from the shore, busily engaged in capturing fish. without any fear sam pushed on until he was, as he thought, near enough to kill the bear that was sitting on his haunches with his back toward him, utterly unconscious of his presence. raising his gun he fired. that he hit him he was sure, as he said he saw the fur fly from a spot on his back. the instant the bear felt the wound he gave a roar of pain, and, turning around, without a moment's hesitation dashed into the water and came for sam. "all at once," said sam in a most comical manner, "as i saw what a big fellow he was and his resolve to try and cultivate a closer acquaintanceship, i thought i had had hunting enough, and would like to go home and see my mother. but, as this was impossible, i decided that the next best thing was to get back to the camp as soon as i could. so i dropped my gun and started at a great rate. however it did not take the bear long to get across that bit of water, and then on he came. "my! but he did run, and quickly did he gain upon me. then i dropped my brightly coloured beaded indian cap, hoping that that would delay him. "but he only seemed to give it a sniff and a tear, and then on he came. finding he was still gaining on me, i pulled off my leather coat and dropped it on the trail and hurried on. glancing behind me, i noticed that that seemed to make him suspicious for a time, as he carefully examined it. this delay was fortunate for me, but soon, to my alarm, i found he was once more coming on after me. "it was now getting dark, but fortunately i knew the way, and so dashed in upon you in the manner i did, just about used up." the recital of sam's adventure and narrow escape very much excited frank and alec, and mr ross looked grave and anxious, and seemed to be thinking of what would have been felt and said in the home land if, during the first few weeks after the boys had arrived in the wild north land, one of them had been killed by a bear. the indians smoked their pipes and listened in silence to sam's story, which was translated for those who did not understand english. it was evident by their clouded faces that they were not pleased. their actions said, even before they uttered a word: "the young white brave should not have run away from a bear. suppose that the bear had not been killed, and after chasing the white hunter into the protection of the camp fire had escaped and gone and told the other bears of his success, what a rejoicing there would have been among the other bears! and how bold and saucy all the bears would have been ever after!" thus the indians thought, for they have queer ideas about bears. because of the handlike appearance of the paws of the bear they say there is a good deal of the human in them. so they talk about them as holding councils and taking advice one from another. and when they attack them, especially the indians of these great algonquin tribes, they always address them as mr bear, and apologise to them for being under the necessity of killing them. thus these indians at this camp fire were simply disgusted with sam for running away from that black bear. so after a good smoke and much cogitation one of them, who was a paddler in sam's canoe, turned to him and said: "you have a good knife?" "yes," said sam, and he drew the keen, sharp, double-edged weapon from its sheath in his leather belt, and handed it to him to examine. the indian took it, and, after carefully examining it, passed it on to the other indians, who all admired it. but it was noticed that in their low utterances among themselves there was much of sarcasm, and even contempt, in some of their expressions. after some more smoking another indian turned to sam, and said: "no tree along the trail where the bear chase you?" "o yes," said sam, "plenty of them. but i was afraid to take time enough to try and climb up into one of them." this answer, which sam gave in all honesty, was too much for the indians, and the look of disgust that passed over their faces was a study. however, the one who had asked the question about the tree spoke up and said: "no good climbing a tree. bear better climber than any hunter. tree only good for you to fight bear at the bottom. put back against tree. black bear rise up and come to hug you to death. he then never bite or tear. only hug. he try to squeeze the life out of you. so with good knife, and your back against a tree, keep cool. let bear come, and when he stand up on his hind legs and try to hug, you just give him your good knife straight in the heart. bear fall over dead. you not hurt at all. all needed, keep cool all the time. no brave white boy with good knife and plenty trees must ever run away from black bear any more." thus he went on in his broken english to sam's mortification, and he found that in using his good legs, that had often carried him in first in many a race at school, he had gone down very much in the estimation of the indians, who think it is simply foolishness, as well as cowardice, if armed with anything like a decent knife, to refuse to give battle to a bear from the trunk of the nearest tree. thus the boys were getting points and learning lessons by experience in reference to hunting. mr ross did not chide the lad, but thought that it would have been better if, when he discovered the fresh track of the bear, he had immediately returned to the camp for assistance. the fact is, mr ross was very thankful that nothing worse had happened. frank and alec listened with intense interest to sam's account of his race back to the camp with the bear at his heels, and both declared that they would have done likewise. later on we will find that they were able to successfully adopt the indian methods, much to their delight. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter eight. preserving meat--cunning partridges--celestial phenomenon--the fearful hurricane--caught in the storm--disaster--the mischievous wolverine-- alec's shot. the sun was shining brightly next morning ere the musical "koos-koos- kah" rang out, calling them from their slumbers. when the boys arose they found the big bear already skinned, and some portions of his hams, cut as steaks, were being broiled, while his spareribs were skidded on a couple of sticks, and were being roasted a nice brown colour, in front of the fire which burned so brightly on the rocks. the savoury odour of the cooking breakfast was welcome to the boys. a hasty plunge in the fresh water of the lake was a refreshing bath, and soon they were ready for their morning meal. indians, if they have the chance, are not bad cooks, especially when working for those whom they respect; and so here, under the eye of mr ross, whom they so loved, they did their best. with some of the supplies from home, added to the fish, duck, bear steaks, and spareribs, they had a breakfast of which any hunters might be proud. the delicious bracing air, the wild romantic surroundings, the congenial friendship, the picturesque, attentive red men, gave to this meal on the rocks under the blue sky such an exhilaration of spirits to the boys that they were fairly wild with delight. even sam had forgotten in some degree his exciting race and fright in the rare enjoyment of the hour. soon after, preparations were begun for continuing the journey. the question was, what was to be done with all the bear's meat, as there was too much to carry in their canoes, with the other supplies considered more necessary. so the indian plan of preserving meat fresh and sweet was adopted. a hole was dug in the fresh earth to a depth of three or four feet, and here the meat, well wrapped up in the bear's skin, was deposited. meat will keep fresh and good in this way for many days. the hole was then carefully covered up and packed down by the indians. then on the top a large fire was kindled, and then allowed to burn itself out. this was done to destroy the scent and thus save the "cache" from being discovered by prowling wolves and wolverines that would in all probability visit the camp not long after the hunters had left. nothing of much importance occurred during the trip to the old fort. their favourite camping ground was reached in due time, and the boys had a couple of hours' duck and partridge shooting ere they sat down on the rocks to dinner. each had something to say, but frank most amused the party by a description of an old partridge that kept tumbling down ahead of him and acting in the queerest manner possible. in fact, so amused was he in the queer antics of the bird that he could not find it in his heart to shoot her. when mr ross heard frank's story he said he was delighted to hear that he had not tried to shoot that partridge, as it was undoubtedly a mother bird with a brood of little ones not far off. then he went on to tell not only of the cleverness he had often witnessed in the old mother birds themselves, but also how cunningly the little ones acted when suddenly disturbed. they would apparently make themselves invisible. some would quickly disappear in little openings or under leaves, others would cleverly catch up old brown leaves in their mouths and suddenly turn over on their backs, and then lie still and quiet thus hidden under the leaves. mr ross said he had seen them do this so quickly that he could hardly believe his eyes until he went and picked up the brown leaf and the little partridge that had so cleverly hid itself out of sight, and not until the little bird was in his hands did it show any sign of life. then, indeed, it was wild enough. during the afternoon the sky became hazy and slightly overcast. the boys were treated to one of the peculiar phenomena not unfrequently seen in those high latitudes. first, a great circle surrounded the sun, and at the east, west, and top and bottom in it were seen very vivid mock suns. shortly after another ring appeared inside this first one, and then another one on the outside of all, and in each circle there appeared four mock suns, clear, distinct, and startling. in all there was the sun himself, in a beautiful halo in the centre, and around him were visible no less than twelve mock suns. while this sight very much interested the boys, the older indians were somewhat troubled, and at once proposed to mr ross the removal of their camp to a sheltered spot where some dense forests of balsam and spruce would be a barrier against the coming storm, which they said was not more than an hour off. marvellously clever are these indians in reading these signs in the heavens, and very rarely do they make mistakes. to the boys there was not in these beautiful visions in the heavens anything that portended a storm, and they were somewhat disappointed when told that in all probability there would be but little hunting for perhaps some days. while this was not pleasant news, they willingly fell to work and did their share in removing to the place appointed. they were very much interested to see how skillfully the indians cut poles, and, taking the oilcloths from the canoes, improvised a watertight roof over a "lean-to," as they called it, against the storm that they said would soon be on them from a certain point indicated. large dry logs were cut and rolled into position to make a fire in the front of this improvised tent, under which they would have to find shelter. kettles, food, and blankets were brought up to this camp, and then the canoes were carried to a sheltered spot and turned over and fastened down with heavy logs and stones. very busily were the men employed, and yet more rapid were the changes that were taking place in the heavens above and around them. one by one the circles with the mock suns disappeared. dark clouds began to arise up in the north-west horizon, and rapidly they came up in the heavens. vivid flashes of lightning were seen and the rumbling thunder was heard from the rapidly darkening clouds all around. the birds that had been singing now seemed to fly off to dense coverts, and uttered only frightened cries. a dense, stuffy sensation seemed to be in the air, and there for a few moments every sound was hushed, and a calm, the most profound and ominous, seemed to fall upon the whole face of nature. not a blade of grass or a tall reed in the marshy places near the shore made the slightest movement. nature was absolutely still. it was the dead, weird quiet before the awful hurricane; the quietude of death before the elemental war. only for a short time did it last, and to judge by the feverish haste with which the indians, under mr ross's stern orders, worked, it was evident they knew the danger of this ominous calm, and what would speedily follow. large logs were piled up as a barrier behind the improvised tent, while every rope available was used to tie down the poles which held up the roof of canvas and oilcloth. poles were lashed across the top, and tied down with the fishing nets, which had to do as substitutes for something better. guns were well wrapped up in the oilcloth covers, and, with the axes, were placed at a distance from the camp. "get under cover, and hold on to something fixed and strong!" shouted mustagan, who had been on the lookout, and saw that the storm was close at hand. and it _was_ a storm! a strange greenish appearance came into the north-west sky, and then suddenly there was heard and seen the oncoming tornado. the clouds that during the calm had apparently become motionless in the heavens for a time suddenly became strangely broken and twisted, and then, as though impelled by some irresistible impulse, started with a speed that seemed incredible on their wild career. there seemed to roll up before them the strange green colour in the sky, which now appeared like a great monster on the crest of the coming clouds. blacker, denser, and darker, on they came. far away the sound of the storm could be heard, while now the forked lightnings and peals of thunder were almost incessant. crouching under the shelter was our party. mr ross and the three boys were in the centre, while the stalwart indians took the outside positions, each man with a grip of iron upon the poles and canvas. very strange and very different were the sensations of the boys. "this is glorious!" said alec, who had often, with his highland friends, been caught in storms amid the hills of his beloved scotland. "wait until it is over," said the other boys, "and then we will tell you whether it is `glorious' or not." "hold on!" shouted mr ross. for, in almost an instant, a dark as like as midnight was on them, broken only by a vivid flash of lightning, while the very ground seemed to shake under the awful thunder. then the storm in all its fury was upon them. how they escaped seemed a miracle. great trees all around them were bent and twisted and broken, and went down in scores, until the air seemed full of the falling trunks and branches. large branches fell upon the frail roof under which they were sheltered, but fortunately, while some holes were made, none of them were large enough to break through or injure them, and those that did fall on them were really a benefit, as they helped to hold down the canvas over them. fortunately these tornadoes are not of long duration. with a speed of perhaps over a hundred miles an hour they sweep along with irresistible power in their wild career. their fury is soon spent, and years may pass ere they occur again. as a very heavy fall of rain immediately followed this hurricane or tornado, our party were obliged to remain under their frail tent, which, in spite of the fury of the winds, thanks to the strong arms of the indians, skillfully directed by mustagan, had been kept from being blown away. however, some of the larger branches that had fallen upon it had pierced the roof in some places, and now, like out of a huge funnel, about a gallon of water suddenly struck alec on the back of the neck, and caused him to change his position, while he fairly howled from the suddenness of the dousing. "is that sousing `glorious,' alec?" asked frank, who was doing his best to dodge the little streams that through some other rents were trying to reach him. "well, no, not exactly," was alec's answer;--"this beats anything i ever saw or heard of in the highlands; and now that the worst is over i would not have missed such a thing for a good deal." "what do you think of it, sam?" said frank. sam had cuddled down between mr ross and mustagan, and, at the advice of the latter, had taken the precaution to double up a blanket like a shawl and throw it over his head and shoulders. very little wet had reached him, yet he had to confess that he had been terrified by this storm, which had excelled any dozen ever witnessed before in his life. "think of it!" said, he; "faith, i have just been thinking which is the worst, being chased by a fierce old bear or frightened out of a year's growth by a tornado. next time, if i am to choose between the two, i'll tackle the bear." this answer caused a hearty laugh, and even the indians, who had remained so quiet, yet alert to watch for any change in the storm, smiled at it and exchanged significant glances, and said that the boy would yet redeem himself. after a time the rain ceased, the blue sky appeared, and the sun shone out again. but what a change met their gaze as they came out from under their quickly improvised tent and wandered about! the beautiful forests seemed about ruined. in one direction, like as though a great reaper had gone through a splendid meadow, and cut clean to the ground a great swath of grass, so had this cyclone gone through the forest. in the centre of its path, not a tree had been left standing. every one had gone down before this irresistible force. fortunately it had swerved a little to the right as it passed by our friends, or they would not have escaped so well. as it was, great trees had fallen all around, and it was a providential escape that had been theirs, and for this they were more than grateful as they saw by investigation more and more of the fury displayed by the effects of the tempest as it passed. the spot where the canoes had been hid away was, of course, one of the first to which their steps were directed. a great tree had fallen across one of them, that had not been placed low enough in the hollow between the rocks, and it was so crushed and broken as to be absolutely worthless. the others, however, had escaped, and were none the worse of the storm, although fallen trees were all around them. blankets, supplies, and other things were overhauled, and everything that had caught the rain was soon drying in the warm sun, which was now smiling serenely upon them. the mock suns, or "sun dogs," as they were commonly called, all disappeared with the storm of which they seemed to have been the harbinger. beautiful as had been their appearance, the boys all agreed that if their coming was to be so speedily followed by such a storm they would gladly dispense with them in the future; nor did they see them again until when, in the depth of winter, they showed up in their weird splendour and heralded forth a blizzard storm which played its wild pranks upon the boys most thoroughly. but we must not anticipate. mr ross and the indians quickly shifted the camp to a pleasant place. a fire was kindled and a hot meal was cooked and eaten, and then there was a consultation as to the future. one canoe was destroyed; could the whole party go in the other two, or had they better return to sagasta- weekee? mr ross was anxious to hear whether the cyclone had done any damage at home, although he had not much fear, for it had apparently come from another direction. however, it was eventually decided that three of the indians should return home, and bring along with them another canoe, as well as news from the home. they were also to call at the camp to take home the bear's robe and meat, which had been cached in the ground as we have described. very soon were they ready to start, and, to the surprise of mr ross, alec asked to be permitted to go with them. this request was readily granted, and soon in one canoe, with their four paddles at work, they were speeding along at a great rate. they pushed on without stopping, until they began to round the point of a narrow tongue of land, which would bring them into full view of their camp, although it was still some hundreds of yards away. the instant the point was turned and the distant camping place came into view the indian in the front of the canoe suddenly ducked down his head and whispered a sharp, quick "hist!" and at once arrested the forward movement of the boat. noiselessly and quickly was the canoe paddled back out of sight. "what is the matter?" said alec, who was surprised by the suddenness of this quick retrograde movement and of the quiet, suppressed excitement of the indians. "wolverine!" was the only word he heard, which was whispered from one indian to the other. the utterance of this one word made alec no wiser until one of the men, who understood a little english, said, "wolverine find the camp; smell the meat; dig him up; carry him away; we kill him." this was no easy matter, as the wolverine is, without exception, the most cunning animal in the woods. he far outstrips in this respect the fox or wolf or bear. what these indians were going to do must be done quickly. the first thing was to see that their guns were well-loaded with bullets. the next was to find out if his quick eyes had seen them when for the few seconds they must have been visible when they rounded the point. the wind was in their favour, as it was blowing from him to them. the oldest of the crew was appointed the leader, the rest were to follow his directions. first of all he quietly went ashore, and, noiselessly crawling through the underbrush across the point, he was able to see that the wolverine was still at work. it was evident that he had not the slightest suspicion that his enemies, the hunters, were near him. returning to the canoe from this inspection, the leader gave orders that they were to paddle back into the deep bay so that there would be a possibility of their landing and getting in behind him, as their old camp which he was robbing was close to the shore. very noiselessly and yet rapidly did they hurry back, and then as quietly as possible they landed at a suitable spot. it was here decided that three of them, with their guns, should try and get into the rear of the camp, while alec, who had not yet the ability to travel with the speed and quietness here essential to success, was to take his place just across the neck of land where, with his gun, he could command the shore if the wolverine, disturbed by those in the rear, should attempt to escape over the rocks in that direction. before leaving, the leader said to alec: "do not fire until you see the whites of his eyes, and then hit him, if possible, between them; or, if it is a side shot, strike him behind the foreshoulders." alec was excited, but he soon conquered his nervousness, and prepared to play his part as well as possible. his instructions were to wait for a few minutes ere he began to crawl to his assigned position. he thus had an opportunity of witnessing the cleverness and alertness of the three indians starting on their critical work. making a deep detour, they were soon out of sight in the forest, without making as much noise as the breaking of a single twig beneath their moccasined feet. more like phantoms they seemed, as so quietly they flitted away. when he thought it was time for him to move he began, indian-like, to advance to his assigned position, imitating as far as possible the movements he had witnessed in the indians. to his great satisfaction, he reached the designated spot without any trouble. carefully looking over the rocks and through some underbrush, he was able to see, through a pocket telescope which he fortunately had with him, the busy wolverine still at work. very interesting it was to watch him, even if it meant the destruction of all the meat. the wolverine is about as large as a first-class retriever dog. his legs, though short, are exceedingly muscular, and he has quite a bushy tail. these animals are very powerful, and in breaking into an indian's "cache" can remove logs and stones much larger and heavier than one man can lift. they are very destructive when they find a "cache" of this description. they not only have an enormous capacity for devouring the meat cached by the indians, but they will carry away, and cunningly hide, large quantities. over the whole they emit an odour so pungent and so disagreeable, that neither hungry indians nor starving dogs will touch it. the indians simply detest the wolverine on account of its thievish propensities and its great cunning. there is always great rejoicing when one is killed. as alec, through his telescope, watched the mischievous, busy animal he became very much interested in his movements. he was amazed at the strength which enabled him to dig out from the ground a hindquarter of the bear and easily carry it away to another place, where he cunningly hid it. his next effort, which much amused alec, was to take the bear's skin in his mouth and attempt to climb up into a tree that he might hide it among the branches. it was laughable to see the skin slipping under his feet, and thus causing him to lose his grip, so that, with it, he fell heavily to the ground. failure, however, was not in his vocabulary. again and again he seized the robe in his mouth, and endeavoured to carry the awkward thing up that tree. but, alas for him, his very determination proved his destruction. so absorbed had he become in his efforts to succeed that he was, for once in his life, caught off his guard. the three indians had succeeded in getting behind him, and had thus cut off his retreat into the forest. the first consciousness he had of his enemies was when three simultaneous shouts, from different parts of the forest behind him, told him of his danger. cunning as he was, the indians had clearly outwitted him. they knew that the loud shouts from different parts at the same time was about the only way by which he could be puzzled, and this plan they had successfully adopted. for an instant only he waited, and then, as rapidly as possible, he started along the only route that seemed open to him, which was the one from which no sound had come. this was the way that led him exactly in the direction where alec was waiting for him. this was what the indians were anticipating. their hope was that alec would make the successful shot; then, even if he failed, so narrow was the tongue of land on which the wolverine was running that they felt that by spreading out they had him so securely hedged in that it would be impossible for him to escape. in the meantime alec had been watching him through his glass, until there fell upon his ears the shouts of the indians. when he saw the effect upon the wolverine he was amused at the sudden change. while busy robbing the "cache" he seemed the monarch of all he surveyed, by his saucy appearance. now he looked and acted as a craven coward, whose one thought was in reference to his escape. alec, watching him, saw him spring upon a fallen log, and for an instant look in different directions toward the deep forest. the prospect did not seem to satisfy him, for, springing down, he at once began his journey directly toward where alec was in hiding. when alec saw this movement, he quickly put up his telescope, and, seizing his gun, prepared for his opportunity. it was fortunate that the distance over which the wolverine had to travel was considerable, as it enabled alec to get his nerves steady and his hands firm. when the wolverine had come about half the distance his cunning suspiciousness seemed to return, and, fearing some danger ahead, he stopped and acted as though he would like to retrace his steps and try some other plan. fortunately for alec, the wind was still blowing toward him, and so the wolverine had not caught his scent. while thus halting and undecided about his movements he was startled by another shout, which told him that his retreat was cut off, and so he quickly resumed his journey. knowing the cleverness of these animals, alec had taken his position behind a rock, and there, with trigger drawn back, he awaited his oncoming. "wait until you can see the white of his eyes," had been his instructions, and faithfully did he obey. with his strange, slouching gait, along came the treacherous, cunning brute until he reached a point where he stood fairly exposed on the lower one of some steplike rocks. with eye keen and nerve firm, alec stepped out from behind his cover, and ere the animal could get over the start of his sudden appearance the report of the gun rang out and the wolverine fell dead, struck by the bullet fairly and squarely between the eyes. alec's shout of triumph brought the indians to him on the run, and they, in their quiet way, congratulated him on doing what but few white hunters have ever done--he had had the honour of shooting one of the largest wolverines that had been killed in the country for a long time. while one of the indians hurried across the tongue of land for the canoe and paddles it around to the camp, the rest of the party dragged the dead wolverine back to the scene of his depredations. here they had an opportunity of seeing the destructiveness of this animal. every pound of meat had been removed from the "cache," and so cunningly hid away that not one piece could be found except the one which alec had seen him hide as he watched him through his telescope, and this piece was so permeated by the offensive odour that it was worthless. fortunately, the bearskin was none the worse for its overhauling. while waiting for the coming of the canoe the men set to work and speedily skinned the wolverine. the fur is not very valuable, but, to encourage the indians to do all they can to destroy them, as they are so destructive on hunters' traps as well as supplies, the hudson bay company always gives a good price for their pelts. a few hours' paddling brought them to sagasta-weekee. here they found all well. fortunately, the cyclone had passed some miles to the west of them, and so they had escaped its fury. hunters, however, had come in who had been exposed to its power, and had some exciting tales to tell of narrow escapes and strange adventures. mrs ross had become alarmed when, from some indians, she had learned that the march of the cyclone, was in the direction, in which mr ross and his party had gone. she was pleased and delighted to welcome alec, and to hear from him and the indians the story of their deliverance and escape from accidents during the great storm. the skins of the bear and wolverine were opened out and much admired, and then handed over to some clever indian women to carefully dress for their home-going. the story of sam's race from the bear very much amused them all. nothing, however, so much delighted the indian hunters who gathered in as the destruction of that old wolverine. it seems that same fellow had haunted that region of country for some years, destroying traps, robbing fish scaffolds and meat "caches," and playing with all the steel traps that the cleverest hunters could set for him. now, however, his reign was over, and here was his hide--and a big one it was. alec was the hero, and, although he modestly disclaimed all the honour except the first-class shot, the indians were very proud of him, and showed it in various expressive ways. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter nine. montreal point--the governor and the iroquois--the herd of deer--ominous sounds--packs of wolves--the fierce battle--welcome reinforcements--the victory--playing "possum". as mr ross was anxious to get news from sagasta-weekee and hear how his family and home had fared during the cyclone, alec and the indians started on their return trip early the next morning, taking with them a new canoe to replace the one that had been destroyed by a falling tree. they tarried not on the way, except to shoot a few ducks that were directly in their route. the result was they arrived early in the forenoon at the old fort, and were glad to bring the good news that all were well at sagasta-weekee, and that the storm had passed by several miles away from them. of course the story of the destruction of the cache by the wolverine, and then his being killed, had to be told, much to the delight of frank and sam, as well as to the satisfaction of the older members of the party, who all rejoiced that at length that cunning fellow, that had so long been a terror and a nuisance, had been destroyed. as the storm had completely died away, and the weather seemed fine and settled, it was decided to have an early dinner, then push on to spider islands, and there camp for the night. the rearrangement of their outfit was soon completed and the journey commenced. lake winnipeg is nearly three hundred miles long, and about eighty wide in its northern part. it is thus like a great inland sea. great storms sweep over it at times with tremendous fury. it has many shallows and sunken rocks. the result is, it requires careful navigation for vessels that need any considerable depth of water. there are some laughable stories afloat about the nervous, excitable captain of the first schooner, who carefully came up to the northern end of the lake from manitoba and pushed on as far as norway house. he had secured as a guide an old hudson bay voyageur, who had piloted many a brigade of boats from fort garry to york factory, on the hudson bay. of course the small boats to which he was accustomed did not draw nearly as many feet of water as this three-masted schooner. still he imagined he knew where all the rocks and shoals were, and quickly accepted the offered position as guide or pilot for the first schooner. in spite of his skill and care several times the vessel bumped against a rock, much to the terror and alarm of the captain, but all the satisfaction he could get out of the imperturbable old native was, as they repeatedly struck them: "ah, captain, i told you there were many rocks, and there is another of them." fortunately these rocks are very smooth, and as the vessel was moving along very slowly, she was not at all injured by the merely touching them. when, however, she had, in passing over some sunken ones, nearly stranded on one or two, the peppery old captain could stand it no longer, and so he shouted to the guide: "look here, old fellow, i'll not have my ship's bottom scratched any more like this." all the answer he could get from the stolid man was: "um, bottom all right, only a few more rocks." and these few more rocks they managed to get over, much to the delight and amazement of the indians, who had never seen such a large vessel before. with birch canoes, our friends had no such troubles among the rocks. as the wind was fair the clever indians fastened two paddles and improvised a sail out of a blanket for each canoe, and they were able to sail along at a great rate. but it requires careful steering, as the canoe is a cranky vessel at the best, and only those thoroughly accustomed to them ought to try to sail them. the trip across to the spider islands was safely accomplished. the boys were pleased with their run, which was most exhilarating. those who travel on the water only in great ships miss much of the healthful excitement and delight that is the portion of those who are brave and adventurous enough to take some of these trips in the light canoes of the indians. the boys were charmed with the few picturesque islands, and had a joyous time of it, for the weather was most glorious. yet, as there was no game, except some passing ducks that lit at times in the little indentations that served as harbours, it was decided to push on to montreal point, which is the first landing stage on the mainland on the east side of lake winnipeg. the point derived its name from the fact that in the old days of long trips made by sir george simpson, in the birch canoes manned by the famous iroquois indians, this was the first stopping place from norway house on their return voyage to montreal, some two thousand miles away. marvellous are the stories told of the skill and endurance of those matchless crews of indians. sir george simpson was a hard master, and pushed them to their very utmost. no dallying along the road was allowed when he was on board. he would put his hand over the side of the canoe into the water, and if with a swish the water did not fly up perpendicularly before him he would reprove in language that could not be misunderstood. very strange does it now appear when we read of those days, or talk to old men who were participants in those events when the officials of the fur-trading company, from the despotic governor himself down to the lowest clerk, travelled over half the continent in birch canoes, manned by indians or half-breeds, looking after the interest of the greatest fur-trading company the world has ever seen. it is after all no wonder that they worked in a hurry when the weather was favourable, as there were times when storms swept over the lakes with such fury that, in spite of all their skill and anxiety to push on, they were detained for days and days together. the wonder ever was that more lives were not lost in the daring recklessness that was often displayed. a characteristic story of sir george simpson, so long the energetic governor of the company, is still repeated at many a camp fire. it seems that on one of his return voyages to montreal from norway house he was, if possible, more arbitrary and domineering than ever, and especially seemed to single out for his spleen a big burly fellow, a half-french and half-iroquois voyageur. this half-breed, who was making his first trip, stood all this abuse for time good-naturedly, and tried to do his best; but one day at one of the camping places, where sir george had been unusually abusive and sarcastic, the big fellow turned on him and gave him one of the handsomest thrashings a man ever received. the rest of the canoemen pretended to be so horror-stricken that they could not, or would not, interfere until the thrashing had been well administered to the governor, and then they made a noisy show of delivering the tyrant out of the clutches of their enraged comrade. when the governor recovered his voice, and was able to get the better of his anger and indignation at the fact that he, the great sir george simpson, had been treated with such indignity by a miserable voyageur, he vented in not very polished french his threats upon his assailant. he said: "just wait until we reach montreal, and i will soon clap this villain into prison, and have him kept there until the flesh rots off his bones." with this and other threats of what he would do, the governor worked off his passion. the imperturbable canoeman, having obtained his satisfaction in the thrashing administered, returned to his duties, and paid no more attention to the threats of sir george. what cared he? it would be many days ere montreal was reached, and there were many rapids to run and portages to cross, and so there was no need of worrying about what was distant. but the governor, although he had ceased to scold, became very glum and distant, and the voyageur began to think that perhaps it would go badly with him and he would have to suffer for his doings. his fears were not allayed or lessened any by his chums, who conjured up all sorts of dire calamities that would befall him, and invented any amount of stories of pains and penalties that had been inflicted on others who had dared to resent his tyrannies. thus the days passed, and at length they reached lachine, at the end of the ottawa river, not very far from montreal. here the company had in those days a large trading establishment. shortly after they landed, and sir george, who had been met by the officials of the company there stationed, went with them into the principal building and was in close consultation, while the feelings of the voyageur were not enviable. as was feared, the big men were not long in consultation ere his name was called in a loud, stern voice. there was nothing for him to do but obey, and so he marched up into the building and met the officials and sir george. to his surprise and astonishment sir george reached out his hand and there made a full apology for his hasty words and petulant temper, and stated that the thrashing he had received he had richly deserved, and that it had done him good, as it had opened his eyes to see that he had grown tyrannical and overbearing and was expecting more than possibilities of the men. then, to show the genuineness of his apology, he ordered the clerk to give to this man the best outfit of clothing and other handsome presents, and to charge the whole to his, sir george's, private personal account. a couple of hours were quite sufficient to take the boys and indians across the wide open expanse of lake that lay between spider island and montreal point on lake winnipeg. when drawing near the coast they were pleased to see some deer sporting on the shore. it is a peculiarity of some animals when on the edge of a lake, that while they are exceedingly alert and watchful against surprises from the land, they seem to have no idea of danger from the water side. the result is, the experienced indians can, by cautious stalking, get quite near to them. this is true of some of the deer tribe, and here the boys had an illustration of it. these deer are called in that country by the indians "wa-was-ka-sew." they are very graceful in their movements and full of play. the canoes were halted two or three hundred yards from the shore, and the movements of the small herd were watched with great interest by the boys. then mr ross quietly passed the word that an effort would be made to get a successful shot or two. as the guns then used were not to be depended upon to accurately carry a bullet more than a hundred yards, it was decided to back up and make a long detour and land some hunters ahead of the deer in a clump of timber toward which they seemed to be moving. noiselessly the paddles were plied, and when they were several hundreds of yards out they rapidly paddled on to the designated place, which was perhaps half a mile ahead of the deer. as alec had had such a successful time with the wolverine, it was decided that this was frank and sam's opportunity, so they, with one of the younger indians from each boat, under the leadership of mustagan, were cautiously landed, each one with his gun, knife, and hunting hatchet. then the boats put out again from the shore to watch the progress of events. not long were they kept waiting, for hardly had they reached a position where they imagined their presence would not be observed before they saw that the deer had become very much excited, and at first had all huddled close together on the shore. mr ross and the rest at first thought that they must have observed the canoes or had caught the scent of those who had landed. a moment's observation revealed that this was not the case. the very position of the deer showed that the fears were caused by enemies behind them, and they had not long to wait ere they were at first heard and then seen. faintly coming on the wind were heard the blood-curdling howls of a pack of wolves. to judge by the movements of the herd of deer it looked as though the beautiful creatures seemed to think of defence. the bucks formed a compact line, with their antlered heads down toward the point, from which the rapidly increasing howls were coming, while the does and young deer crowded in behind. not long did they there remain. a louder chorus of horrid sounds reached them, which seemed to tell of their triumph at having struck the warm scent of their victims. these dreadful howlings were too much for the timid deer, and so with a rush they were off with the speed of the wind, running directly toward the point where mustagan had placed the two boys and the indians. it was very fortunate for them that in this hour of peril they had the cool- headed and courageous mustagan in command. he had been watching the deer from his hiding place and had observed their sudden fear and precipitate retreat. his long experience at once came to his help, and so, before his acute ear had caught the sound of the distant howlings of the wolves, he was certain of their coming. with a celerity most marvellous he gathered in the boys and indians and quickly explained how matters stood, and told them that their bullets would probably be required for other game than deer. taking a hasty survey of the ground along which he was sure the deer would fly, pursued by the wolves, he arranged his men, keeping the boys with himself. his instructions were to let the deer go by unharmed by them; then, as the wolves followed, for each to pick out one and fire. then, if attacked by the rest of the pack, they were to close in together and fight them with their axes and their knives. if, however, they were not attacked after they had fired, they were to again load their guns as quickly as possible. "down to your places!" sternly spoke mustagan. and hardly a moment passed ere the herd of deer flew by, some of them so close to the hidden hunters that they could almost have touched them with their guns. "steady, boys!" were mustagan's whispered words to the white lads, who, crouching down near him with their fingers on the triggers of their guns, had caught his cool, brave spirit; and although the blood-curdling howls of the wolves were now distinctly heard they flinched not in the strain of those trying moments. as frank and sam's guns were on this excursion only single-barrelled, while the rest were double-barrelled, mustagan said: "when first wolf reach that stone, frank, kill him. then sam hit the next one. then i kill some. then other indians fire. perhaps other wolves run away. perhaps not, so have axes handy." this advice was not neglected, for each axe, keen-edged and serviceable, was at the side of its owner. "now here they come!" shouted mustagan. nothing can be more trying to brave hunters than was such a position as this. the travellers in russia and elsewhere who have been assailed by packs of these fierce wolves, sending out their merciless, blood- curdling howlings, can appreciate the position of frank and sam. yet they were true as steel, and when the word was given by the old indian, in whom they had such implicit confidence, the guns were raised, and with nerves firm and strong they fired with unerring accuracy, and two great grey wolves fell dead, pierced through by the death-dealing bullets. then mustagan fired. he was too wise a hunter to waste a bullet on a single wolf, if with it there was a possibility of killing two; and so, as the two leaders who had been a little in advance of the pack had fallen, he fired at two who were running side by side. his bullet first went through the body of the one nearer to him and then broke the back of the second. in a second or two there rang out the reports of the other guns, and as many more of the wolves lay dead or dying on the ground. now was the uncertainty of the battle. wolves are the most treacherous and erratic animals to hunt. sometimes they are the most arrant cowards, and will turn and run away at the slightest appearance of resistance or attack. at other times they will continue to advance against all odds. their courage and ferocity seem to increase with their numbers, and are of course greatest when they are half-famished for food. gaunt and half- starved those fierce ones seemed to be. and so, when the guns suddenly rang out and numbers of them fell, the others were at first somewhat disconcerted; but the hot scent of the deer was close, and the fact that their enemies were invisible made them determined not to yield at this first alarm. with a rush the survivors, perhaps about twenty in number, dashed into the thicket, into which the deer had disappeared, and from which their enemies had fired upon them. sudden as was this rush it was not quicker than the movements of the hunters, who had closed in together, and with axes in hand were ready for their wild, mad attack. mustagan and his three indians were in front, while the two boys were placed a little in the rear. as the pack came on some of them seemed disconcerted by the appearance of the hunters, and especially by the loud shouts which, at mustagan's orders, they now made. all wild animals seem to have a dread of the human voice. and thus it was on this occasion. some of the wolves were startled and fell back, but numbers of them resolutely dashed on to the attack. then it was axe against teeth, and one wolf after another fell dead or badly wounded under the heavy, skillful blows. frank and sam each had the satisfaction of finishing off some of the wounded ones. but the conflict was a fierce one; and how it would have gone with them eventually is hard to say, but it was victoriously ended by a welcome arrival of additional forces. mr ross and the others in the canoe had also been watching the deer, and had seen their startled movements and sudden flight. this had caused them to use their paddles as vigourously as possible and make for the shore. ere they reached it the howling of the wolves fell on their ears. then they had seen the rapid flight of the herd, and soon after the wild rush of the wolves not far behind them. so, as speedily as possible, mr ross and the party had landed in the rear and had hurried on. the firing of the guns of mustagan and his party plainly told them of danger, and also indicated the position of their friends. so they cautiously hurried along, and were in good time to pour, from the side, a volley into the wolves, that were now making a fierce attack on the men and boys. this second attack was too much for the wolves, and so with howls of baffled rage they turned to the east, and soon disappeared in the forest, to be seen no more. many and sincere were the congratulations of all at their success and deliverance. this was the largest pack of wolves that had been seen or heard of in this part of the country for years. the great northern wolves do not, as a general thing, hunt in very large numbers, as do the smaller wolves of the prairies or of the steppes of russia, or as the brown wolf used to do in the new settlements of canada and in some parts of the united states. a pack of eight or ten of these big, fierce northern wolves was considered by the indians as many as generally hunted together; although sometimes, when a few got on the trail of a large moose or reindeer, that led them for a long time, they were apt to be joined by others until they mustered quite a number. so mustagan's idea was that a number of small, separate packs had been on the trail--it may have been for days--of the different deer, which had at length gathered in this herd. all they could do, of course, was thus to conjecture; but here was the startling fact--they had encountered the largest pack of great northern wolves seen in that land for years at least. there was still something to be done. while a number of dead wolves lay where they were shot, others badly wounded were making desperate efforts to escape. these had to be killed, and while some were being dispatched with axes by the indians, to the boys was given the pleasure of sending the deadly bullets into others, and thus quickly putting them out of misery. "be careful," said mustagan, "as you move around among the apparently dead ones. wolves are most treacherous brutes, and sometimes badly wounded ones will feign to be dead when very far from it. by doing this they hope to escape the extra bullet or fatal blow of the axe that would quickly finish them. then when the hunters are off their guard, or night comes on, they hope to be able to skulk away." this cunning feigning of death when wounded or captured is not confined to wolves. there are several other animals that often try to play "possum" in this manner. this warning advice of the old indian did not come too soon, and fortunate indeed it was for one of the party. the skins of some fur-bearing animals are not considered _prime_ when they are killed in the summer months; the bitter cold of winter very much thickens and improves the fur. however, sometimes the bears and wolves are almost as good then as in the colder months, and bring nearly as high a price in some foreign markets. as soon as the work of killing the wounded ones was apparently over, mr ross began feeling the fur of them as they lay around, ere the indians commenced the work of skinning them. to the boys, who were closely following him, he explained the difference between what they called in the fur trade a _prime_ skin and one of inferior value. after several had been tested in this way, and all signs of movements on the part of any of the wolves had ceased, they happened to come to one very large fellow, settled out flat on his belly, apparently stone dead. "here is the finest one we have seen thus far," said mr ross, as he stooped down and began pulling at his dark grey fur, while the boys stood around with their guns held by the barrels in their hands with the butt resting on the ground. while listening to mr ross's explanations in reference to the different grades of skins, sam's sharp eyes fancied they detected a slight quiver in the eyelids of the fierce brute, that was apparently unconscious of the thorough way in which mr ross was pulling his fur and testing it in various places. not wishing to be laughed at, sam said nothing about his suspicions that life was still there, but he nevertheless, without attracting attention, so changed the position of his loaded gun that it would not take him long to fire if necessity arose. and very soon the occasion came. as mr ross moved around to the front of the animal he stooped down to feel the thickness of the fur that grows between the short ears. no sooner had he done this than with the fury of a demon the wolf sprang up at him, and made a desperate attempt to seize him by the throat. mr ross was completely thrown off his guard, but fortunately as the brute sprang at him he threw up his arm, and thus saved his throat. but the arm was pierced by the sharp teeth, that seemed to penetrate through the clothing and flesh to the very bone. however, that was his last spring and his last bite, for before even mustagan or anyone else could seize a weapon the report of sam's gun rang out, and the wolf fell, dead enough this time. sam had put the muzzle within a yard of his side, and the charge had fairly torn its way through him. so savage had been the attack, and so viciously had the wolf fastened onto the arm of mr ross, that, when the brute fell over dead, the jaws remained set with the teeth in the flesh, and so mr ross fell or was dragged to the ground by the weight of the animal. mustagan and the others had to use the handle of an axe to force open the jaws before the wounded arm could be released. "well done, sam," was the chorus that rang out from all. after mr ross's arm had been stripped, and some decoction of indian herbs, which were quickly gathered, had been applied, sam told of his suspicions when the eyelids quivered, and of his precaution in getting his gun ready. of course it would have been better if he had mentioned it at the time, but he feared to be laughed at, and he said that he thought at the time that perhaps the wolf's eyelids had the same habit as a snake's tail, of moving for some time after the animal is dead. the dead wolf was examined for other wounds, and found to be shot through the body, behind the ribs, where no vital organ had been touched. this shot had given it a momentary paralysis, which had caused it to drop so flat upon the ground. the indians' idea was that it recovered itself while they were all around it, and so it cunningly lay still, hoping to get away when they left, but mr ross's handling was too much of an insult to be ignored, and so it suddenly sprang at him as described. of course this wounded arm must be promptly attended to more thoroughly than it could be on this wild spot, and so every indian was set to work to skin the wolves, and then the home trip began. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter ten. romantic courtship--the happy family--a canoe picnic--mustagan--a prowling bear--a woman's shot. when the full details of the battle with the wolves came out, and the fact of the prominent part that sam had played in the rescue of mr ross, his family were at first very much excited at his narrow escape, and then full of congratulations for sam for his shrewdness, and the promptitude with which he acted. we have as yet said but little about this interesting family, and so we will use some of the time while mr ross is recovering from his wounds in giving a few details which we are sure will be most interesting, as some of them partake most decidedly of the romantic. mr ross, like many a hudson bay official, was rather late in life in choosing his wife. his busy life in the service, where on each promotion he was removed from one post to another, made it almost impossible to set up a home. when he decided to do so his plan was very romantic. in those remote, lonely regions there are not many white families from which the young gentlemen in the service can select wives. the result is, many of them marry native women, or the daughters of mixed marriages contracted by the older officials. these women make excellent wives and mothers, and, being ambitious to learn, they often become as clever and bright as their white sisters, to many of whom they are superior in personal appearance. into many a cozy home can the adventurous tourist go, and never would he dream that the stately, refined, cultured woman at the head of the home, honoured by her husband and beloved by her children, if not of pure indian blood, was at least the daughter or granddaughter of a pure indian. very romantic is the story of mr ross's love adventure, and here it is given for the first time. long years before this, when mr ross was comparatively a young man, he saw in one of the indian villages a little dark-eyed native girl, who looked to him as beautiful as a poet's dream. although she was only ten or twelve years old, and he approaching thirty, he fell desperately in love with her, and said she must yet be his wife. he knew her language, and soon found that the bright and beautiful child was willing some time in the future to be his bride. so it was arranged that she should be sent to the old land to be educated. fortunately good bishop anderson was returning to england in connection with his work in the red river settlement, going by the hudson bay company's ship. wenonah was placed in charge of his family on the voyage, and at the journey's end was sent to a first-class school, called "the nest." here at mr ross's expense she was kept for several years, until she was not only highly educated as a student, but loving, interested ladies taught her, in their kindness, the things essential for a good housekeeper to know. when she was about twenty years of age she returned to the hudson bay territories, and was married by the missionary to mr ross, who had so well-earned the skillful, loving wife she ever proved to be. over twenty years of wedded life had been theirs before mr ross retired from the service, and several more had passed ere our story opened. two sons were away from home as clerks in the company's service at some remote stations similar to those in which most of the officials had begun their apprenticeship. at home were two bright girls about ten and eight years of age, and a younger brother hardly six, whose name was roderick. the names of the girls were minnehaha and wenonah. a delightful home was theirs, even if in a place so remote from civilisation. mrs ross had devoted much of her time to the education of her children. the house was furnished with a splendid library, which mr ross himself had gathered with a great deal of care. for music, the piano and harp were their favourite instruments, and several members of the family were able to play exceedingly well. so well cultured were they that they would be considered a well-educated and intellectual family in any land. there was for a time some anxiety about the wounds which mr ross had received when the wolf so savagely sprang at him. however, he was under the careful treatment of memotas, the christian indian doctor, whose fame was in all the land, not only for his marvellous skill, but for his noble, upright character. during the days of mr ross's recovery, when it was thought best for him to keep quiet, so that there might be the more rapid recovery, there were no long excursions made by the boys. the fact was, they had been so surfeited with excitement that they were quite contented to remain at sagasta-weekee and revel in its library, where they found many an interesting volume. of course this did not mean that they were not much out in the canoes and among the wigwams of the indians, who were camped about on the various points within easy reaching distances. the natives were always delighted to see the boys, and utilised what little english they possessed in order to impart to them as much information as possible. the visits to big tom and mustagan were always a great pleasure. as mustagan talked english they were not obliged to have an interpreter, and so enjoyed his company very much, and were always delighted when they could get him talking on his arctic adventures and narrow escapes in polar regions. he was a man with a marvellous history, as he had been employed in no less than five arctic expeditions. he was with sir john richardson and dr ray on their desperate expeditions, when they so courageously and persistently endeavoured to make the sullen north reveal the story of the destruction of sir john franklin and his gallant comrades. some of his wonderful adventures we must have from his own lips after a while. although mrs ross was, as has been stated, such a refined and cultured woman, still she had all her nation's love for the canoe and outdoor life. the result was, many short excursions were undertaken by her and her children to various beautiful and picturesque spots within a few miles from home. on these excursions one or two faithful well-armed old indians were always taken, as it might happen that a fierce old bear or prowling wolf would unexpectedly make his appearance. that this precaution was necessary was clearly proved by an adventure that had occurred some time before the arrival of the boys. mrs ross, accompanied by her three youngest children, had taken a large canoe, manned by a couple of indians, and had gone to spend the day at playground point, which was ever, as its name would imply, a favourite spot for old and young, indians and whites. they had with them a large basket of supplies, and anticipated a very pleasant outing. they reached their destination in good time, and in various ways were intensely enjoying their holiday. they had all wandered some distance from the spot where they had landed, and where the canoe had been drawn up on the beach by the indians. these men, after seeing that everything was made right, and that there were no signs of prowling wild beasts around, had, as mrs ross suggested, taken their axes and penetrated some distance into the interior of the forest, to see if they could find some large birch trees, the bark of which would be suitable for a new canoe. after the young folks had amused themselves for time with their sports they began to think it was time for a raid upon the lunch basket, and so mrs ross, who had been sitting on a rock reading, shut her book and accompanied them back to the canoe, where they had left their supplies. an abrupt turn in the path brought them in plain sight of the canoe, which was about a hundred yards directly in front of them. there was a sight at which they had to laugh, although there was a spice of danger mixed with it. seated up in the canoe, with a large hamper in his lap, was a good-sized black bear deliberately helping himself to the contents. gravely would he lift up in his handlike paws to his mouth the sandwiches and cakes, and then he cleared out with great satisfaction a large bowl of jelly, spilling, however, a good deal of it on his face. mrs ross would have endeavoured to have noiselessly retreated back with the children, but the sight of their dinner disappearing down the bear's throat was too much for them, and so ere the mother could check them, a simultaneous shout from them alarmed the bear and quickly brought his meal to a close. the sudden shouting and the apparition of these people were too much for him, and so, jamming what food he had at that instant in his paws in his mouth, he sprang out of the canoe into the water, and began swimming at a great rate toward a small island that was directly out from the mainland. seeing him thus retreating, and wishing to keep him at it, mrs ross and the children, with all the display and noise they could make, rushed forward, and thus, if possible, caused him to redouble his efforts to get away. this was the wisest thing they could have done. a bear is quick to notice whether his presence causes alarm or not. a bold front will generally cause him to retreat, while on the other hand, if he sees any signs of cowardice, or thinks he can terrify his enemies and cause them to fly from him, he is not slow in being the aggressor and making the attempt. mrs ross, well knowing some of the characteristics of bears and their habits, was not to be taken off her guard, and so she was resolved to be prepared for every emergency. her first precaution was to take out one of the guns and load it well with ball. then she explored the lunch basket to find out the extent of the bear's raid upon it. to the children's sorrow they found that the best part of the contents, from their standpoint, of the hamper was gone. the cakes and most of the jam, which in that country is such a luxury, being imported all the way from england, were all gone. however, there were some packages of bread and butter and cold meats, and so they did not starve. but what about the bear? the island which he had now reached was not more than a quarter of a mile away from them. no other one was near, and a frightened bear dislikes to be on an island. he seems to be conscious of the fact that he is at a disadvantage, and so he will endeavour to leave it for the mainland as quickly as possible. mrs ross knew this, and so she felt, after she had thought it over, that, in all probability, very soon after the bear had reached the island, and observed its limited area and lack of dense forests, in which he could hide himself, he would take it into his head for his own personal safety to quickly return to the mainland. with this knowledge of the bear's habits, she resolved to be ready for him in case he made the attempt. the first thing she did, however, was to endeavour to recall the men who were at work in the forest. this was done by taking the other gun from the boat and heavily loading it with powder. this when fired made a very loud report. three times in quick succession did mrs ross thus heavily load the gun and fire. she well knew that if the men were within hearing the sounds of these three reports, when there were only two guns, would indicate that something was wrong, and that it was necessary for them at once to return. but while the reports were heard by the men and caused them to start on their return at once, as was desired, they also startled the bear, and so alarmed and frightened him that he immediately sprang into the water and began swimming for the mainland. the situation was exciting and decidedly interesting. here on the mainland was a lady and three young children. their indian protectors were a couple of miles or so away in the rear, and directly in front, swimming toward them, was a great black bear. when halfway across from the island he veered a little in order to reach a point of rock that projected out a little from the mainland not two hundred yards away from where were mrs ross and the children. the majority of people would gladly have let the animal escape. mrs ross and her children, however, were not of this opinion. his skin would make a beautiful robe, his flesh was good for food, and his fat was the substitute for lard in that land, and was therefore valuable. then, worst of all, had he not eaten the cakes, and especially the jam? so, of course, mother must shoot him when he comes near the shore, if the indians do not arrive in time. thus thought the children, anyway. mrs ross first took the precaution to load both guns with bullets. then launching the canoe, she had her children get into it, and giving the older two their paddles, which, young as they were, they could handle like the indian children, she gave them their orders. she would go to that point toward which the bear was swimming, keeping herself well hid from his sight. when he was near to the shore she would fire; if she did not kill him with the two shots, or only badly wounded him, she would, after firing, hurry to a spot where they were to wait for her in the canoe, and then embarking with them they would all be safe on the water, as they could paddle much faster than the bear could swim, even if he should try to catch them. these were wise precautions in case things did not go as were anticipated. everything was soon arranged, and then mrs ross, taking the guns, dropped back a little in the rear, and quietly and quickly reached a good position behind a rock, not far from where it was now evident the bear intended to land. carefully arranging her weapons, she waited until the animal was about fifty or sixty yards away, when resting one of the guns on the rock, she took deliberate aim at the spot between the eyes and fired. no second ball was necessary, for suddenly the head went down and a lifeless body rose and fell on the shining waves. the bear was stone dead, and all danger was at once over. a shout from the children caused her to look, and there she saw it was caused by the arrival of the two indians, who, almost breathless, had at that moment come into view. as though it were a matter of everyday occurrence, mrs ross said to her men as they reached her: "please carry the guns back to the landing place; tell the children to come ashore; and then you two take the canoe and go and bring in that dead bear." the anxiety that had been in the minds of these two indians during the last twenty minutes, while they had been running two or three miles, quickly left them, and there was a gleam of pride in their dark eyes to think that this cool, brave woman, whose unerring shot had thus killed the bear, was of their own race and tribe. mrs ross, although cultured and refined and the wife of a great white man, was always the loving friend of her own people, and did very much for their comfort and happiness. here was something done by her that would, if possible, still more exalt her in their estimation; and so this story, with various additions and startling situations added on, long was a favourite one in many a wigwam, and at many a camp fire. the bear was soon dragged ashore and skinned. it was then cut up and the meat packed away in the canoe. and the children rejoiced that that bear would never, never steal any more jam. chapter eleven. the wonderful story of apetak, the grateful indian, and the description of the trip to and view of the silver cave, as told by mr. ross at sagasta-weekee. "tell us a true story to-night," said little roderick, the youngest in the family and the pet of all, as he climbed up on his father's knee. "yes, please, mr ross," said sam, "tell us that wonderful story your father told you about the old indian and the silver cave." it was a capital night for a good story. the rain was pattering against the window panes, while the winds, fierce and wild, were howling around the buildings, making it vastly more pleasant to be inside than out, even on a first-class hunting excursion. as sam's request was re-echoed by all, mr ross cheerfully consented, and so, when they had gathered around him and taken their favourite places, he began: "my father was in the service of the hudson bay company for many years. he began as a junior clerk and worked his way up until he became a chief factor, which is the highest position next to that of the governor. during his long career in the service he was moved about a good deal from one post to another. the result was, he became acquainted with various parts of the country and with different tribes of indians. "many years ago, when he had been promoted to the charge of a fairly good port, the incident i am about to tell you took place. as master in charge my father was, of course, as all hudson bay company's officers are, very anxious to make large returns of fur each year. the dividends were greatest when the sales were largest. "father had perhaps a hundred hunters at his port, who all were more or less skillful and successful in this fur hunting. "there was one old indian whom we will call apetak, who was, by all odds, the most skillful hunter father had. not only was he successful in bringing the greatest quantity of furs to the port, but he was most fortunate in being able to capture more of the valuable black and silver foxes and other of the richest fur-bearing animals. his great success as a hunter thus made him very much of a favourite with my father. but, in addition, he had many very excellent qualities which made him respected and trusted by all, both whites and indians. "one winter, however, he nearly lost his life. shortly after the ice had formed on one of the great lakes in his hunting grounds he shot at and wounded a great moose. the animal, mad with the pain of the wound, dashed out of the forest and made for the lake, on which was but a covering of thin ice. he was only able to run on it a few yards ere it broke under him and let him through into the water. apetak did not like to lose the animal, as there was good meat enough on him to keep his pot boiling for weeks; so he made a noose in a lasso and tried to get near enough to throw it over the moose's head, and thus to burden him until he could get help to get the body out. "but unfortunately for him he ventured too far out on the poor ice and broke in. he managed to get out, but the day was bitterly cold and he suffered very much. a bad cold settled upon his lungs, and it seemed as though he must die. when my father heard of this he sent his own dog- sled and plenty of blankets to apetak's wigwam and brought him to the trading post, and had him put into a warm, comfortable bed and well cared for. he kept him there all winter, and it was not until spring that he was strong and well. he had thus lost that winter's hunt, as he had not been able to set a trap or fire a gun. however, my father gave him the necessary supplies in view of his past services, and for this he was very grateful. "with the bright spring weather he regained his usual health and once more entered upon his work. but he could never forget my father's kindness, and was anxious in some way to show his gratitude. money there was none then in the country, as everything in the way of trade was done by barter. he could not give a present of the rich and valuable furs, as he well knew father would not be allowed to accept of them, as the company had made a very strict law against anything of the kind. they demanded that all the furs should go into their sale shops, and not one of their officials, from the governor to the lowest clerk, dare accept as much as a beaver skin as a present from an indian. "thus was apetak troubled because he had no way of showing his gratitude. the spring passed away and the summer was about half gone when one evening apetak, who had not been seen around the trading post for some weeks, suddenly returned. "during the evening he asked for the privilege of having a few minutes' talk with my father. this, of course, was readily granted. to my father's great surprise he had a strange request to make, and it was this: he wanted my father to allow him to blindfold his eyes, and in that condition take him on a journey of several days' duration into the more remote wilderness. there would be travelling both by the canoe and walking on land. then at the right time he would uncover his eyes and show him a sight that would please him very much indeed. "this was a very strange proposition, and for a time my father hesitated; but knowing so well the reliable character of apetak, and having in his constitution a good deal of the spirit of adventure, he at length consented. apetak imposed some conditions upon him that were very stringent. one was that he was under no circumstances to divulge to anyone the fact that he was going away blindfolded. another was that when the journey was completed, and he was safely back at home, he was not to try and get there again. and the last was that for so many years he was never even to mention or refer to the matter to anyone, white or indian. these seemed rather hard conditions, but as father's curiosity had now been aroused he at length consented, and in a day or two he said to his head clerk:-- "`i think i will go off on a bit of an excursion for a few days.' "as these were of frequent occurrence, there was no stir or curiosity excited. so, leaving orders as to the business for a few days, he and apetak started off with their guns, blankets, and the usual outfit in a birch canoe. when away from the post apetak got out the mask, with which he blindfolded my father. it was a most thorough one, not a ray of light penetrating it. when it was fastened on apetak said:-- "`it will be all right, and you will not be sorry for this trip.' "taking up his paddle again, apetak really began the journey. at first he paddled the canoe round and round, until my father was completely bewildered and knew not the north from the south. then on and on the strong indian paddled for hours. of course he and my father talked to each other, and they laughed and chatted away at a great rate. they landed at some portages, and apetak helped father across, then he went back for the canoe and supplies. thus on they went for several days. at the camp fire long after the sun was down apetak would remove the mask that so blindfolded father, and leave it off until nearly daylight. but he never took it off until he had so confused him that, when his eyes were uncovered he could not tell which way they had come. early in the afternoon of about the fourth day apetak said:-- "`we are nearly at our journey's end. soon i will show you what i have brought you so far to see.' "this was good news to my father, who had begun to feel this travelling so long with the close covering on his face very irksome. "shortly after, apetak stopped paddling, and, after helping my father to land, he lifted his canoe out of the water, and hid it carefully among the bushes. then, placing a large bundle on his back, including his axe and gun, he started on a land journey of some miles. as my father was led along, although he could see nothing, he knew by the rush of air, and the way they went up and down hill, that they were in a very broken country. "`here is the place,' said apetak. `now very soon i will uncover your eyes, but before i do it you must follow me into the earth.' "then he led my father into what seemed to be an opening on the side of a great hill or mountain, and, entering first in, he told my father to walk close behind him and keep his hand on him so that he would not be lost. sometimes the opening was so low that they had to stoop down, and in other places they had to squeeze through between the rocks. after a time they stopped. "`now,' said apetak, `i will take off the covering from your face, but you will see nothing till i make a light.' "so it was just as apetak said. when the covering was removed from the eyes so dense was the darkness that my father saw no better than he did with it on. "however, that great bundle on apetak's back was composed of torches for this place. and so when the indian struck a light with his flint and steel, and lit up some of these torches, they both could see very well. at first sight what my father saw was a great cave, like a large church or cathedral, here in the hill or mountain. strangely broken was it in places, and great columns, like stalactites, were very numerous. there were others that looked like filigree work. "said apetak: `look at these great things that look like old lead bullets.' "said my father: `sure enough, as my eyes became accustomed to the place, lit up by these flaming torches, i discovered that a great deal that i thought was native rock was really metal. at first i thought it was lead, as so long exposed there it looked like old lead pipes. but when i tried to scrape it with my knife i found it was too hard. then apetak used his axe, and managed to cut down a little for me, and to scrape or hack it in some other places, and, lo, it was pure silver. "`at this discovery,' said my father, `i was amazed, for here, visible to the eye, were thousands of pounds of silver.' "we both continued to look around and examine it until we had burnt all but the last torch. it seemed in some places as though the softer rocks had gradually dissolved and left the silver here just as we found it. in other parts it looked as though in some remote period intense fires had melted it, and it had run down and then hardened in these strange formations. anyway there it was in vast quantities and in various forms. "`how did you find it?' asked my father of apetak. "his answer was: `i was hunting in this part of the country, and i caught a fine silver fox by one hind leg in a trap. just as i came up he succeeded in cutting off his leg with his teeth and thus got away. i, of course, ran after him, when he suddenly disappeared in the mouth of this cave. as his skin was so valuable i hurried and got some birch- bark and balsam gum, and made a large torch, and tracked him by the blood from his leg into this place. my torch went out before i caught him, and i was very much frightened for fear i would here die; but i managed to find the opening, and got out. then i made plenty of torches and came in again. i had to search quite a while before i found my fox and succeeded in killing him. then i looked around to see what kind of a place it was into which the fox had led me. for the first time i now saw all this metal. i first thought it was lead and would supply me with bullets. i tried to cut it with my knife and could not succeed. then i saw that it was good metal which you call silver, and i knew you would be pleased to see it. so that is the reason that i have brought you here.' "soon after my father was again blindfolded and brought safely back to his home. he was very much pleased with his wonderful adventure, and honourably carried out his part of the agreement. he never in after years attempted to find the cave, nor did he even speak about it for many years. but it is there, nevertheless, and some day the world will be startled by the story of its discovery, and of the richness of its hidden stores." with intense interest the boys, as well as the others present, listened to this wonderful story. when it was concluded very many were their questions and comments. then sam, springing up on a chair, said: "i move a hearty vote of thanks to mr ross for this splendid story about the cave, and when it is discovered may i be on hand!" alec seconded the motion and added: "with great pleasure i second this motion, and may i be a good second, close at hand when sam rediscovers the cave!" frank put the motion, and it was carried unanimously. mr ross gracefully responded, and as the fierce storms were still raging without, and they listened to the howling of the winds, their thoughts went out to those who were upon the stormy seas, and so they heartily sang the beautiful hymn wherein is the expressive prayer: "o hear us when we cry to thee for those in peril on the sea." three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter twelve. novel fishing--guns and gaff hooks--frank's plunge--light-hearted sam and his story--strange battle--pugnacious jack fish. the boys were quite fascinated by the wonderful story, which is undoubtedly true, of the silver cave. their imaginations were fired, and they longed to start off to find those treasures of silver that in that hidden cave somewhere in the foothills of the northern rockies are still hidden away from man's curious, greedy gaze. uncertain as are the whereabouts of captain kidd's long-sought-for treasures is the locality of the cave of silver. long years ago apetak, the old indian, died and carried with him to the grave the knowledge of its whereabouts, and old mr ross, honourable man that he was, made no attempt to find it; neither did he state his impressions as to its locality beyond what is mentioned in his recital of the story. but it shows how a good providence has his treasures of wealth for the generations to come. by and by, when it is needed, it will be found and utilised, as will the vast resources of other mineral wealth which this great new country has in reserve when the supplies in older lands begin to be exhausted. however, in a few short days the story of the silver cave was less and less talked about, and the lads with indian attendants were more or less busily employed in various undertakings. sam, who was an enthusiastic fly fisherman, was quite amazed and disappointed on finding that there was so little of his favourite kind of fishing in this part of the country. however, although there was a lack of success in that kind of fishing, there were many other methods that were very successful. one plan that very much interested them was fishing with a net attached to the small end of a pole. this they used in the water, in the same method in which they had been accustomed to catch moths and butterflies, with their lighter and frailer nets. they felt quite elated when a large whitefish or lively trout was brought up in the almost invisible net. one day mr ross organised a fishing excursion for them, and equipped three canoes, with a couple of indians in each to paddle them. he placed one boy in charge of each of the canoes, and sent them off in high spirits to see which canoe would return with the largest load of fish. to the boys alone was to be left the work of securing the fish. the indians were only to attend to the paddling, and as the men in the canoe that succeeded in securing the greatest load were to receive, in addition to their wages, a flannel shirt apiece they all keenly entered into the spirit of the expedition. all was needed in each boat for this kind of fishing was a good gun and a gaff hook with a long handle. the boys decided to go to jack river, which takes its name from the number of jack fish that used to swarm in its waters. not many hours' paddling brought them to their destination, and then the fun began. to start even they drew up side by side, and then at the given word away they all paddled toward a distant spot, where the indians knew the fish were likely to be found in large numbers. so evenly matched were the canoemen that they were not far apart when they arrived at the designated locality. so they widened the space between their canoes, and noiselessly paddled up to where the disturbed waters, and many back and tail fins told of the presence of the gamey fish. for the first firing it was decided that it should be simultaneous, and then after that it was each canoe for itself, and they were not to meet till they reached mr ross's launch. this method of fishing is very novel. the guns, heavily loaded with powder, are fired as nearly over the fish as it is possible to be done from the canoe. the concussion of the air seems to so stun them that they stiffen out on their backs, and there lie apparently dead for a minute or so. the men hunting them, aware of this, the instant they have fired immediately set to work with their long-handled gaff hooks, and gather in as many as they can ere the fish return to consciousness, and those not captured instantly swim off. when all have been secured at that place as the result of that one heavy discharge of the gun, the canoe is paddled away to another spot where it is observed that the fish are plentiful near the surface and the process is repeated. so for this kind of fishing all that is necessary is the gun, with a plentiful supply of powder, and the gaff hook. a good deal of skill is required for the efficient management of the hook in seizing the fish so that it can be successfully landed over the side of the canoe. for a time the success of the boys was about equal, but they did not capture after each shot anything like the number of fish that their able-bodied, experienced indians would have done. it is no easy matter to lift a twenty or thirty pound fish by a hook over the side of a canoe. the boat itself is so cranky, and the fish themselves are generally so full of life and fight, that there is a good deal of risk and excitement, after all, about this kind of sport. it is no uncommon thing for an upset to occur in the risk and glorious uncertainty of capturing a large, gamy fellow who makes a stubborn fight. the three canoes gradually separated, and to judge by the frequent reports of the guns they were having a good deal of sport. about eight p.m. they were all back at sagasta-weekee, and each had a different story to tell. frank had over a score of very fine fish, and had had only one fall into the water. he had hooked in his gaff a large, vigorous fish, and was making the most careful efforts to hang on to him and to lift him over the side of the canoe. just as he had him nicely out of the water, the fish, by a sudden furious struggle, wrenched himself off the hook and fell back in the water. frank had been so firmly holding on that when the weight of the fish was so suddenly gone he could not master his balance, and before an indian could seize hold of him he tumbled head first into the water on the other side of the canoe, and the last the indians saw of him for some seconds were the bottoms of his moccasins. quickly did he reappear and was soon helped into the canoe; but while he pluckily stuck to the sport for some time, the prudent indians persuaded him to allow them to early paddle him home. so he had been the first to arrive. sam's canoe arrived somewhat later; he also had a goodly supply of fish. as he was saturated with water, the question was at once asked, what had been his mishap. at first he was a little glum about it, but the cry of "tell us all about it," had to be responded to. it had been decided some time before that on their returning from these different excursions each one was to fairly and squarely give the story of his misadventures, blunders, and failures, as well as of his triumphs and successes. so sam had to own up, and he began by the odd question: "have you any whales in these lakes or rivers?" this odd question was met by a hearty laugh all round. "well, then, i'm after thinking you must have plenty porpoises, or the likes of such things; for i am certain that it was one of such gentry i struck to-day." happy, light-hearted sam, bright and cheery he ever was, it was a joy to hear him when, with a twinkle in his bright eye, he came out with his quaint remarks. his odd question only the more excited the curiosity of his listeners, and so amid the laughter and call for the story of his mishaps, he had to let them have it: "well, the fact is, we were having a good time, and at every discharge of my gun i would stun quite a number and succeeded in getting some of them into our canoe with the gaff hook all right. getting a little careless with my success, i asked the indian sitting before me to let me get in the very front of the canoe. at one place where i saw a big beauty i stood up and reached out as far as i could, and getting the gaff hook under him i gave him a great jerk to be sure and have it well hooked into him, when, lo and behold, before i could say `jack robinson,' i was out head first into the water hanging on to my end of the pole, while the monster of a fish was at the other on his way to york factory, it seemed to me." "why didn't you let go?" said alec. "let go!" he replied, with a comical look, "sure the creature didn't give me time to let go; and then, when i came to my senses, didn't i remember that the gaff hook, pole, and all belonged to mr ross, and how could i face him and his gaff hook on its way to york factory." no one laughed more heartily than mr ross at the quaint answer. he had most thoroughly entered into the enjoyment of this odd adventure. "well, where is the gaff now?" he asked. "sure, it's in the boat, sir, and the fish, too," said sam. "do you think i'd have had the face to come home so early without it?" this answer amused and more deeply interested all, and so sam had to give the full account of his doings after his sudden jerk over the front of the canoe. some of these jack fish grow to be six feet in length, and are very strong. it seems it was one of the very largest that sam had the good or ill fortune to hook. with a tremendous jerk he was fairly lifted out of the boat, and seemed to skim along on the water with the fish like a small tug in front towing him along. fortunately it was in a large, shallow place, where the water was not more than four feet deep, and so the fish was unable to dive and had to keep near the surface. as rapidly as possible the indians used their paddles, and so were soon able to seize hold of sam. they found him holding on to the one end of the gaff hook, while on the other the now about exhausted fish was still securely fastened. this was the indian statement of the adventure. sam's account was that when he went out of that canoe so suddenly he resolved to hang on to his end of that gaff hook as long as the fish did at the other. it was a new sensation, and he enjoyed it amazingly to be thus ploughing along through the water towed by a fish. then he felt sure that the fish could not keep it up very long and the canoe would not be far off; so he resolved to hang on to his fish until the men picked them both up. after the first sensation of the ducking, he said he much enjoyed the fun. the water was warm, and he knew that if he had to let go he could easily swim until the canoe came to his assistance. alec had had no accidents or adventures. he had often gone out with older people fishing in the streams of his native country, where he had helped to land the spent salmon after they had been well played by the fishermen, and this training had come to his help here; so he had the greatest number of the finest fish and the largest, excepting, of course, this one monster of sam's that had played him such a trick. only for a short time in each summer can these jack fish be successfully captured in this way. so during the next few days the boys went out several times and had some rare sport without any very startling adventures. one day, however, when resting on a high rock that overhung the deep waters of the lake they were visiting, they were the spectators of a battle between two fierce jack fish that fought and grappled and tore each other with all the ferocity of bulldogs. as such sights are extremely rare, we will give a description of this marine battle. a number of the female fish were first observed slowly passing through the clear waters and depositing their roe on the gravelly bottom. following in the rear were several of the male fish. they were, as usual, extremely jealous of each other, but for a time made no attempt at hostilities. it is a well-known fact that a person situated some height directly over water can see much farther down into it than those who are close to its edge. so in this case the boys could see the fish distinctly, and also the gravelly bottom of the lake. while interested in watching the movements of the fish, suddenly there was a commotion among them, and the boys were excited and amazed to see two of the largest of the jack fish suddenly seize each other in their enormous jaws and make the most determined efforts to conquer. so securely locked together were their jaws that in their struggles they several times rolled over and over in the water. after a minute or two of this desperate struggling they separated and seemed to be in distress. but their fury was not spent, and so after circling around in the water a little they rushed at each other with the greatest speed, almost like two fierce rams. then with open mouths again they bit and tore each other, until once more locking their jaws they each exerted all their strength to vanquish their opponent. thus it went on until they had had several rounds in this fierce way. how it would have ended we know not. as they fought they moved along the coast, and in order to see them to advantage the boys had to shift their position. one of them unfortunately rose up so high that, the sun being behind him in the heavens, his shadow was cast on the waters over the two fierce combatants. as quick as a flash they let go their grip on each other and dashed off in opposite directions. very much disappointed were the boys that the battle came to such an abrupt termination. they would have liked to see such a strange conflict fought out to the end. three boys in the wild north land, by egerton r. young chapter thirteen. mission village--self-denying toilers--pleasant visits--flourishing school--syllabic characters--competitive sports--archery--foot races-- wrestling--swimming--canoe races. not many miles from sagasta-weekee was an indian mission village. there a devoted missionary, mr evans, with his brave wife and a lady teacher, miss adams, were nobly toiling and were not unsuccessful in their efforts to christianise and then to civilise the indians. they were pursuing the right methods in trying to christianise first, as it has ever seemed an impossibility to get much of an abiding civilisation out of a pagan indian. however, this devoted man with his helpers was not toiling in vain. it is true that there were not many encouragements in their efforts to civilise in a land where hunting and fishing were nearly the only way by which a livelihood could be obtained. one day there came from the mission an invitation to all at sagasta- weekee who could come, to attend the annual examination of the village school, and to observe the progress made by the indian children in the studies both in the indian and english languages. mr ross had taken, since the beginning of the mission, a great interest in the school, and not only attended at these examinations, but donated prizes for competition among the children. frank, alec, and sam were delighted to be included among the invited ones, as their curiosity was aroused to see the indian youngsters in the school. they had seen them at their sports, and had admired their cleverness with their bows and arrows, and had almost envied the skill and daring with which they could, in rapids or on stormy waters, manage their light canoes. when the morning arrived for the visit, mr ross sent on a canoe well- loaded with supplies for a substantial lunch for the children when the examinations were over, and he gave a hint to the boys that if they had anything extra lying around that they did not specially need they would doubtless have an opportunity to make some little dark-eyed, swarthy- faced indian children rejoice. so the hint was taken, and in due time they all embarked in their canoes, and, adding their own strokes to those of the strong indians who had been secured by mr ross, they were at the mission village before nine o'clock. they met with a very cordial greeting from mr and mrs evans, and also from miss adams. it was a great pleasure to the boys to see the indian children in the school. very frequently when the weather was fine had mr ross brought his family and guests to church on sabbath mornings, but, as up to the present time the young white gentlemen had not yet visited the mission on a week day, all they saw now was novel and interesting. it was arranged that the school examinations should take place in the forenoon; then, after they had partaken of the handsome lunch which mr ross had prepared for them, they were to have the usual games and sports in the afternoon. a number of prizes were to be contended for by the young indians. it is true that from a civilised standpoint these prizes would not be considered of much value, but by these young indians they were much valued. and then the honour of being the winner is just as much prized by them as it has ever been in more highly favoured lands. the missionary had the worthy idea in his mind that, as these native races have so little literature in their own language, the sooner they learned english the better for them. the result was that all the lessons were in the two languages, with a decided preference for the english as their studies advanced. this was the first opportunity the boys had had of seeing the methods, by which mr evans's syllabic characters were taught to the indians. with a home-made blackboard, and a very white kind of clay as a substitute for chalk, these syllabic characters were put down upon the board like the alphabet, and there to be studied like the a, b, c's. it was committed to memory. the peculiarity about it, as the name "syllabic" implies, is that each character is a syllable, and so there is really no spelling in the language. these are phonetic in character, and so, when the thirty-six characters are impressed upon the memory, all that remains to be done is to open the book, be it bible, testament, hymn book, prayer book, or catechism, and begin to read; no long, tedious efforts at learning to spell first words of one syllable, then words of two syllables, and so on. each character is a syllable, and thus the method of learning to read is so simple that the intelligent boys and girls learn to read in their own language in a few weeks. even many of the old people, when they renounce their pagan life and become christians, readily get to understand these characters and learn to read. with the mastery of english, and learning to read in the ordinary way, the work is very much slower. still even here there is some progress, and the visitors were all pleased with the intelligence and aptitude of the scholars, both boys and girls. mr ross, who understood their language perfectly, at mr evans's request conducted the examinations, and mrs ross presented the prizes. after the hearty lunch, which was very much enjoyed by the youngsters-- for indians have glorious appetites--the sports and competitions for various prizes began. the highest prize, a good gun, presented by mr ross for archery, was won by a son of mamanowatum, "big tom," and richly did he deserve it. at a hundred yards he sent every arrow of his well-filled quiver whizzing through a paper hoop not three feet in diameter. for this prize there were several competitors, and some of the lads did well; but only the winner sent every arrow through, so this one was easily decided. the "many arrow" prize was not so easily decided, as there were many competitors and they were evenly matched. this was a competition among them to see who could get the greatest number of arrows into the air at the same time. the method is this. only one competes at a time. he fills his quiver with arrows and places it on his back as he would to carry it in hunting. then he steps out a few feet in front of the crowd, who to escape accident from falling arrows are all behind him. he is allowed to feather the first arrow in the bow string, and then at a given signal he instantly shoots. the object is to see how many arrows he can shoot into the air before the first one fired reaches the ground. it is a very interesting sight to watch a contest of this kind. the eye can hardly follow, not only the arrows, but the rapid movements of the archer, as he draws the arrows and shoots them with all his might up into the blue sky above. eight, ten, yes, sometimes even a dozen arrows are thus sent with wondrous rapidity, sometimes following so closely that it seems at times to the eye as though some succeeding would catch up to the ones just on ahead. the greater rapidity of the arrow just leaving the bow than that of those some hundreds of feet up adds to this delusion. this was ever with the indians, ere the introduction of guns, a very favourite sport, not only in these forest regions, but among the wild, warlike tribes of the prairies. exciting contests were numerous, and sometimes rivals from different tribes contended for the honours in this and other kinds of archery practice and feats of skill with the bow and arrow. catlin's brush has given us one of these exciting scenes. after the various kinds of archery competitions the foot races began. the first was the long race over a course that had been marked out for two miles of a shore and back. it was not all an unbroken sandy beach. out in some places there were rock obstructions, and in others dense underbrush. it was a race over a course that could well be styled good, bad, and indifferent. it was one not only to test the endurance of the lads, but to develop their judgment in the quickness of decision when in a part full of difficulties. about a dozen competitors entered for this race, and there were three prizes that were well-earned. then there were races for shorter distances, which were well run. when the half-mile race was about to be run, which was open to all comers, alec rather mischievously suggested to sam that he ought to enter for this, as his practice in that famous escapade with the bear, where he ran with such marvellous rapidity, might have turned out a good training for this occasion. to the surprise of all, when frank added his banter to the others, sam sprang up and asked permission from mr ross, who was somewhat amused at this request, as he felt sure sam would be hopelessly beaten; but he readily granted sam's desire. surprises often come from unexpected quarters. sam quickly stripped off his outer garments and, much to the indians' delight, took his place among them. over twenty competitors started. the race was a spurt from the beginning. to the surprise and delight of the whites, sam came in second, being only beaten by emphasis, a noted runner, and whose name means "the young deer." old kapastick, the chief, was so delighted with sam's success that he presented to him a second prize, which was a pair of beautiful indian moccasins. after these running races were the wrestling matches, and as sam's success had fired the ardour of both alec and frank, and had raised him so much in the eyes of the indians; they asked permission to try their sturdy english and scottish strength against the supple agility of these lithe indians. for good reasons mr ross only permitted one of them to enter into this competition, and as frank had a school reputation among his chums at home he was settled on to uphold the honour of the paleface against the dark-skinned indians. eight competitors entered the lists, so there were four pairs of wrestlers, and the conquerors in each bout would have to wrestle with each other, until eventually the prize winner would have to throw three competitors. at this time there was great interest in wrestling contests, but being objected to by so many they have about disappeared in these later years from the indian mission schools. the competitors were all placed in pairs upon the green, soft grass, and warned not to get angry, but each to do the best he could to down his opponent. it was "catch as you can," and get your opponent down until both of his shoulders at the same time touch the ground. face to face, and with their hands extended so that they just touched their opponent's, they waited the "how" of the chief to begin the exciting struggle. frank was matched against a splendid young fellow, lithe and supple as an eel. so quick was he that, as frank afterward said, "before he had more than heard the word `go,' the fellow seemed to wind himself around me and twist all over me." but frank had what boys know as the "power to hold his feet," and so, in spite of the cyclonic attack, he stood firm and solid merely on the defensive, until he got a home grip that suited him, and then with one quick, skillful twist he laid out his opponent so neatly on the grass that the crowd gave him quite a cheer, a difficult thing for an indian crowd to do. the other three pairs of contestants being indians, and up to all indian wiles, struggled much longer ere the victors were announced. now the four conquerors in these struggles were again matched, two against two. when frank tried his favourite trick, which had won him his first victory, he found that his second competitor had, although busy at the time with his first opponent, observed it, and was not to be so easily caught. then frank, after they had each tried various schemes well- known to good wrestlers, very suddenly seized him fair and square around the waist as they stood face to face, and, by what the boys know as the "back-hold," threw him neatly and cleverly on his back. so frank by throwing the two had thus won the right to contend in the final struggle for the prize with the victor who, like himself, had also thrown two opponents. very excited yet very good-humoured were the people, whites and indians. there was no betting or anything else to make anyone mad or angry. it was a friendly tussle of strength between young lads under the eye of the missionary, who was ever at the front in their sports, and hence his marvellous influence over them for good. the final struggle was a very close and continued one. each had his clever tricks and plans, but they were well met by the other side. after a time frank thought he had a splendid back-hold, and suddenly tried to finish the contest like he had the second one. but he had a different lad this time. his supple _vis-a-vis_ so quickly turned around in his grasp that, when frank landed him on the ground, the laughing indian lad was fair on his face instead of on his shoulders. mr and mrs ross and the mission party led the crowd in the applause as they witnessed the clever trick. up again and at it with varying success. there was one other method sometimes tried elsewhere that frank had in his mind when he had failed in his other plans. he had sometimes tried it, but had not often been successful in doing so, as his white competitors were generally on their guard against it. he hesitated to try it here from the fact that his supple opponent was so slightly clothed there was but little upon which to get much of a grip. all these indian lads had stripped to their moccasins, leggings, and loin cloths, while frank had only taken off his coat and vest. however, as frank was not able to succeed in other ways he determined to try it, but to insure success he must not let his opponent have any suspicion of it. so as they struggled in various ways frank several times so gripped him that he lifted him off his feet in a way that, after the first few times, the indian seemed to be amused at it. this was just what frank wanted, and so he let him have his laugh, while, alert against any surprise, he watched for the right instant, and then suddenly, when it came, he gripped him by the loin cloth and so completely threw him over his head that he had him on his back with both shoulders on the ground ere the crowd, quick and watchful as they were, could realise how it had been done. a cheer greeted this well-earned victory, and frank said he had had enough for one day. frank was the idol of the indian lads from that hour, and to many a one had he to show how that clever feat had been performed, until they were able to do it themselves, to the astonishment of indian boys from other villages with whom they competed. as the spirit of emulation was up in every heart, frank and his comrades went in for the swimming contest, which took place in the beautiful bay not far from the spot where stands the schoolhouse. the white lads held their own for a time, but as the course marked out was new to them and they were out of practice, while the indian lads had been in almost daily drill for the event, until they were as much at home in the water as otters, they gradually forged ahead, and not being so fleshy as their white competitors they nearly all of them came in as victors. however, our boys were glad to have had the glorious swim, and only regretted that, amid the many other sports in which they had had such pleasure since their arrival, they had not given more attention to swimming. alec was not slow in saying that he believed, if they had been in practice for a few days, they would not have all been at the tail end of the string at the close of the race. the closing contests were the canoe races. for them the prizes were given by the hudson bay company's officials. these gentlemen were present at the previous contests, and had been very much interested. first there were races where only one lad was in each canoe. in addition to paddling out to and around a certain island they were to twice, out in deep water, upset their canoe and, unaided, get into it again. this was rare sport, and while to persons unacquainted with these youngsters, who are as much at home in the water as beavers, it would seem dangerous, such a thing as any of them coming to harm is unknown. the cleverness with which they would turn over and upset the canoe and then get into it, never over the side but at the end, was marvellous. these various races, some with two, and others with four, indian lads in them, were well contested, and gave great pleasure to all the spectators. at the close the indian boys, who perhaps were none too well satisfied with the white lads for having carried off both a first and second prize, went to mr ross, and through him challenged the white boys to a canoe race. this our lads promptly accepted, but, of course, demurred against the canoe upsetting process and climbing in again. this was agreed to by the indian boys, and it was decided the race was to be to a large rocky island about a mile out and return. they were, however, both to paddle twice around the island ere they returned on the home stretch. two canoes were selected; and the hudson bay chief factor was appointed the judge. ever since the arrival of the boys in the country they had been learning how to manage the frail but beautiful birch canoe, and so were no unworthy competitors to these young indians, whose summer lives were almost all spent in paddling their light canoes. a good start was made, and while the alert indians secured the advantage the good, steady paddling of the heavier white boys enabled them, ere the island was reached, to have their canoe a good half-length ahead of their dusky opponents. but here at the island the long practice of the indians in the management of the canoe gave them a decided advantage. while alec, who plied the stern paddle, and thus was responsible for the turning round and round the island, was cautiously and safely doing his work, the indians with a flash and a laugh went round and round, cutting off corners where he never dreamed there was sufficient depth of water, and were away on the home stretch with so many lengths to their advantage that, in spite of their magnificent finish, our boys were utterly unable to catch up. the indians winning this race put everybody in the best of humour, and when, after a hearty lunch at the mission house, our party paddled home in the long summer gloaming it was voted to have been one of the most delightful of days. good resulted from this visit in various ways. from that day forward frank and his comrades were very much more interested in mission work. although their families were members of different churches in the home land, and all were interested in missionary operations for the genuine benefit and uplifting of earth's millions who were in the darkness of paganism, here for the first time the boys had the opportunity of seeing for themselves something that was being done for these once degraded red men, around whom such a halo of romantic interest has ever gathered. then it was instructive to these sturdy, active white boys to come in contact with young indians in their sports and hunting, and to observe the points in which each excelled and to study the reasons why. in the management of the canoe the white boys never learn to equal the indian lads, neither could it be expected that they could attain to the accuracy with which they use their bows and arrows; but in all trials of physical strength the anglo-saxon ever excels, and, surprising as it may appear to some, in shooting contests with gun or rifle the pale faces are ever able to hold their own. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter fourteen. conjurers--old tapastanum--boasting--challenge accepted--medicine man's tent--bogus bullet--detected--conjurer's defeat and fall. not long after the visit to the mission and the school mr ross was visited by a number of old pagan medicine men and conjurers, the most noted of them being old tapastanum, who, having heard of the visit of the young gentlemen from across the sea to the family of sagasta-weekee, was anxious to make them a visit of ceremony. tapastanum's principal reason for a ceremonious visit was that he should not be eclipsed by "the black-coat man with the book." mr ross, while receiving these old men as he received all indians, in a civil manner, was not at all kindly disposed toward them, as he knew their influence was harmful and that they were a curse and a malediction to the people. their very presence in an indian village is a source of terror and fear. they never hunt or fish themselves as long as they can frighten other people into being blackmailed by them. the coming of these men very much excited sam and alec, who had heard such extraordinary things about them. some firmly believe that they are in league with the devil, and, by his direct assistance, are able to perform all the wonderful things, of which they boast. others, however, believe that they are rank impostors. the boys, who had heard so many conflicting things about these conjurers, tried to coax mr ross to get them to show off some of their pretended power. for a time mr ross, who considered them only as clever scoundrels or unmitigated humbugs, objected, as he did not wish to seem in any way to encourage them. however, one day as they, from mr ross's reluctance to put them to the test, became exceedingly boastful of their powers to do such wonderful things it was decided to give them an opportunity. "what do you say you can do?" asked frank of old tapastanum. "do," he replied, "i can so conjure that you cannot hit me with a bullet, or tie me so that i cannot spring up loose; and fire will not burn me, or water drown me." "all right," said frank, "one thing at a time. we will try the first, and see if we cannot hit you with a bullet." "what you give?" was the request of the old fellow. "o, indeed, that is what you are after; well, what do you want?" at first his demands were very unreasonable, but after some dickering it was decided that if he stood the ordeal he was to get an agreed amount of flour, tea, sugar, and tobacco. it was also settled that the ordeal should come off the next day. the conjurer said that he would spend the night with his medicine drum and sacred medicine bag, to call back his familiar spirit, who might be away hunting. the boys discussed very much the coming contest, and, of course, were profoundly interested. they had learned much since their coming into the country about these strange, wild, fearsome people, and this with what they had read in other days filled them with great curiosity to see what would be the outcome. with mr ross and the family the matter was well talked over, and it was determined--as mr ross considered the conjurer who was to go through the ordeal an unmitigated fraud--that he should be taught a lesson that he and his cronies would never forget. when the morning arrived the old fellows were there in good time, and the ordeal, which was to-day to be by bullet, was decided upon. the conjurer selected for the ordeal had not proceeded far in his talk before he asked to see laid down at his wife's feet his pay. this was brought out and measured to his satisfaction, with the understanding that it was not to be his unless he succeeded. his preparations were soon completed. aided by his comrades, a small conjuring tent was made by sticking some long green limber poles in the ground, and bending them over like bows until the other ends were also made fast in the earth. then over these poles a skin tent, made by sewing a number of dressed deerskins together, was thrown. taking his medicine bag and magic drum into this tent, the conjurer disappeared. soon the monotonous drumming began. in addition there were heard the barks and howls and cries of nearly all the animals of the forest and prairies. the sounds were like that proceeding from a wild beast show when all the animals are let louse and are uttering their discordant notes. the tent quivered as though in a cyclone. thus, for a time it went on--the drum beating, the beasts howling, the tent quivering--until it seemed utterly inexplicable how one man, could create such a din. among the boys, sam was most excited at these strange proceedings. much to the amusement of those around, he said: "i'm thinking the safest place would be on the top of the house, if all those reptiles should break loose." the conjurer now began crying out in his own language: "to help me he is coming, my own familiar spirit. soon the bullet cannot pierce me; soon waters cannot drown me; soon fires cannot burn me. to help me he is coming! coming! coming!" thus on he went, while the drumming and howlings were almost incessant. mr ross, who had resolved that there should be no nonsense, had asked one of his servants, who was an unerring shot, to do the firing. in the meantime one of the conjurer's associates had asked to see the gun that was to be used, and kindly offered to load it. the suspicions of mr ross were at once aroused by this request, but wishing to see through the man's trick he did not oppose his request. soon after a good gun was sent for, and also some powder and bullets. full measure of powder was poured into the gun, and the usual wadding was well driven down upon it. when mr ross selected a bullet the friend of the conjurer, with a great pretence of awe, asked to see it, and holding it in his hand said, "this is the bullet that the familiar spirit will turn aside." mr ross let him look at it, and saw him handling it with much apparent reverence, but he also saw him quickly and deftly change it for another bullet. "that's your game, is it?" said mr ross but not out loud. after a little more humbuggery the bullet was handed back to be dropped into the muzzle of the gun. if mr ross's thoughts could have been heard they would have been something like this: "i have seen through that little trick, and will show you that two can play at that game." and so without exciting the suspicion of the indian, whose trick he had detected, he changed the bullet for another, and dropped it into the gun. when the wadding was driven in and placed upon it, the confederate of the conjurer asked for the privilege of being allowed also to help ram it down. mr ross saw his meaning and cheerfully granted it. the weapon was now loaded and ready for use. all this time the drumming and the conjuring had continued with all their accompaniments of howls and shrieks. in a short time a shrill, low whistle, like the call of some bird, was heard, and mr ross observed that it was from the lips of the old indian who had pretended to examine the bullet with such awe, but who had in reality exchanged it for a perfectly harmless one. he and the conjurer were associates in their trickery. the bullet had been made in this way: a pair of bullet moulds had been heated quite hot, and then some bear's fat, which is like lard, had been put inside of them. holding the moulds shut, and placing them in very cold water, they kept turning them around until the melted fat had hardened into a thin shell exactly the size of a bullet. then a small puncture was made through this thin casing of fat, and the interior carefully filled up with fine sand. it was not difficult then to stop up the orifice with a little fat. it was then carefully coloured like a bullet, and at a distance could hardly be distinguished from one. when put in a gun and well pounded with a ramrod, of course, it would break all to pieces, and when fired at anything like an ordinary distance for ball firing would be perfectly harmless. but mr ross's cleverness had been too much for the rogues, and so he had changed the bogus affair for a genuine bullet of lead. to his servant, who was to fire, he explained exactly how matters were, and had said to him: "do not kill the rascal, but give him a wound that will forever stop his boastings, and break his power over the poor deluded hundreds, who firmly believe he can do what he has so boastfully declared." the low, shrill whistle call had made a great change upon the conjurer in the tent. he was now all boastfulness, and his cries were like the shouts of triumph: "waters cannot drown me; bullets cannot pierce me; fires cannot burn me." "are you sure you are ready?" said mr ross. shouting his defiance, the conjurer came out from the tent, and walking to a place where he knew the fine sand in the bullet of bear's grease would not hurt him, he boldly stood up, and stretching out his hands defied the shooter to do his best. "you are sure, are you, that bullets will not hurt you?" said mr ross. very haughty was the conjurer's reply. then said mr ross again; "if you are hurt, no one will be to blame." "no, indeed," was the conjurer's reply, "for i have given the challenge, and my familiar spirit has told me that the bullets cannot pierce me." "if you are struck, then you will give up your conjuring, and go and hunt for your own living, like other people?" he hesitated for a moment, but the low, shrill whistle was once more heard, and so he fairly shouted out: "if bullets can pierce me i will forever give up my conjuring, and destroy my magic drum and medicine bag." "all right," said mr ross; then, turning to his servant, he said, "now, baptiste, fire!" taking deliberate aim, the man fired, and, as the report rang out, from one of the uplifted hands of the conjurer who was standing about fifty yards away--there fell a finger, as neatly cut off by the bullet as though a surgeon's knife had done the work. with a howl of rage and pain most decidedly un-indian-like, the conjurer began dancing about, much to the amusement of the boys, who a moment before were pale with pent-up excitement; for it is rather trying to look on and see in the hands of a skillful marksman a gun loaded with ball and pointed at this boastful man, who was willing to put his magic against the skill of the finest shot of the country. much to the surprise of all but mr ross and one or two others who saw through the trick, the old fellow, with his wounded hand still profusely bleeding, rushed over to his confederate and began abusing him most thoroughly for having deceived him. this attack the man resented, and a first-class quarrel was the result. around them gathered numbers of indians, and in the mutual recriminations of these two the truth came out, and the people saw that they had long been deluded by a pair of impostors. from that, day they were discredited men, and never after regained any power or influence. that evening mr ross explained to the boys the whole affair. he showed them the bogus bullet, and explained to them how it was made. the boys admitted that it was a clever trick, and were not satisfied until they had made several of them in the manner described. thus ended their first and last experience with indian conjurers, and it thoroughly convinced them that they are only cunning impostors. chapter fifteen. outing--alec and mustagan's shooting contest, or gun versus bow and arrow-shooting the swans--was sam cross-eyed?--the return trip--the escape of the doe and fawn from the wolf. as mr ross had quite recovered, it was resolved to go again on an extended trip to the country in the region of montreal point, and have some hunting in that section of country. some indian hunters had come in from that place, and reported the entire absence of wolves. this was not to be wondered at, on account of the number that had been shot in the fierce conflict which there took place. it is also a fact well- known to wolf hunters that when a pack has been severely defeated the survivors at once retreat to some distant regions. as the weather was very fine, mrs ross and the younger members of the family accompanied them as far as to the old fort. they travelled in a large and roomy canoe especially made for them. it was manned by four indians, who were very proud of their charge. frank and sam, with an indian hunter, occupied another canoe, while mr ross had with him alec and mustagan. as the ducks and other gamy birds were numerous, they had some good shooting from their canoes as they paddled along. at times they were able to fire into large flocks, then again they tried their skill on a single bird as it rapidly flew by. said mustagan to alec: "you take gun, i take bow and arrow, and we see who shoot best." "all right," said alec, "i'll try." so it was decided that when the next duck flew over them alec was to try first. if he missed, mustagan was to shoot, and thus they would alternately fire--first alec, and then mustagan; then mustagan first, and then alec. the one who killed five ducks or other game first was to be considered victor. mr ross, who entered heartily into the spirit of the contest, took the steering paddle while the white lad and the old indian tried their skill. it was a contest between gun and powder _versus_ bow and arrow. soon a fine mallard duck came flying along. alec let drive at it, and missed. quick as a flash mustagan's bow was up and his arrow sighted and sent after it with such accuracy that it caught it fairly under one of the wings, killing it instantly. "the best shot i ever saw!" shouted alec, in genuine admiration. the head of mustagan's arrow was the thigh bone of the wild swan, which is about solid, and makes a capital arrow head for duck shooting, as it is heavy, and can be made so sharp as to easily pierce the body of the game. the next object was a solitary beaver sitting on a bank quite unconcerned. mr ross said afterward that in all probability it was an old, sullen fellow that had been driven away by the others from some distant beaver house, and had come and dug a burrow somewhere in that bank and was there living alone. as it was mustagan's turn to shoot first, he carefully selected his heaviest arrow, the head of which was a piece of barbed steel. having examined the shaft to see that it was perfectly straight, he shot it with all his strength. no need for alec to fire, for deep down into the skull of the animal had the steel head gone, instantly killing him. when it was lifted into the canoe alec was surprised at the size of its tail, and more than amazed when told that it was one of the luxuries of the country. it was one of the favourite dishes of the supper that evening. the other luxuries, mr ross added, were the bear's paws and the moose's nose. as they paddled on mustagan suddenly shaded his eyes for a moment, then quickly said: "wap-i-sew! wap-i-sew!" ("swans! swans!") word was quickly shouted to the other boats of their coming, and to try and shoot some of them if possible. swans' feathers are much prized in that land for beds. their meat, however, is not considered equal to that of the wild goose. as they fly with great rapidity they were not long in coming within range. there was a large flock of them, and they were flying, as they usually do, in a straight line. this flock must have risen up very recently, as they were not more than fifty feet above the water. "i killed beaver. your turn first now," said mustagan to alec. "but i fire just after you." alec had at mr ross's suggestion dropped a half dozen big buckshot in the barrel of his gun on the top of the charge of duckshot. the instant the first swan of the long straight line was in range he fired. to his amazement, while the first and second passed on unhurt, the third swan dropped suddenly into the water; and a second or two after another, about the twentieth in the line, also fell. soon reports from other guns were heard, as the friends in the other canoes in the rear fired, and mrs ross was delighted to have the feathers of six beautiful white swans to take home with her when she returned. the most perplexed one in the party for the time being was alec. mr ross had observed it, and half suspecting the cause asked what it was that was bothering him. his answer was: "i cannot understand how it should have happened that when i aimed and fired at the first swan it and the second should pass on unhurt and the third fall dead." he was very much surprised when mr ross explained that he had not calculated for the speed with which the wild swan flies. although such a large and heavy bird, the swan flies with a rapidity excelled by very few. the wild ducks and geese are easily left behind by the beautiful and graceful swans. when the swans were picked up the journey was resumed, and the friendly contest between alec and mustagan continued. soon a large flock of ducks flew over them. it being mustagan's turn he fired, and as his arrow returned it was in the heart of a splendid duck. alec, watching his opportunity, fired where a number were flying close together, and had the good fortune to bring down four at the one shot. this, of course, gave him the victory. and no congratulations could have been more kindly or sincere than were those of the big-hearted mustagan. in the meantime those in the other canoes had their own adventures and excitements. sam had the good fortune to kill one of the swans, although he said afterward that he thought he must have been cross-eyed when he fired, as the one which fell was the third or fourth behind the one at which he aimed. in his amusing way sam's irrepressible spirit was up, and, in a half- moralising way at such erratic shooting, he said: "indeed, when i saw that swan fall i began to think i must have been like the old schoolmaster that my father used to tell about, in the old times when he was a boy, that when he was angry would shout out, `will that boy i am looking at stand up?' and do you believe it, ten or a dozen would rise trembling to their feet in different parts of the schoolhouse." the old fort was reached early in the afternoon, and at one of the favourite camping places on the western side of the rushing waters of the great river that comes pouring out of lake winnipeg they went ashore. the active indians soon had an abundance of dry wood cut and gathered. the fires were soon brightly burning, and the meal was prepared. around it clustered the happy hungry ones, and very much did they enjoy their dinner out in the sunshine amid the beauties of this romantic spot. mrs ross and the children, escorted by mr ross and our three lads, went for a long ramble through the woods, looking for some rare and beautiful ferns which here abound. they succeeded in getting quite a number of fine specimens, which they carefully dug up to be planted in the grounds around sagasta-weekee. some beautiful wild flowers were also found, and several small young mountain ash trees were carefully dug up and carried home. after this delightful ramble, which was without any exciting adventure, they all returned to the camp, where they found that tea had already been prepared for them by the thoughtful indian canoemen. when this was partaken of, mrs ross and the young people embarked in their capacious canoe for the return trip, and under the vigorous paddling of their four canoemen reached sagasta-weekee before midnight. the only excitement they had on the way was the seeing a beautiful deer and her young fawn swimming in the water a long way out from the shore. they gave chase and caught up to the beautiful frightened creatures. mrs ross would not allow the men to kill either of them, as she did not want the children to be shocked by the death of such beautiful, timid animals, especially as the solicitude manifested by the mother deer was very interesting to observe. at first even the experienced indians were perplexed at the sight of the deer with her young fawn in this broad water so far from land. generally while the fawns are so small the mother deer keeps them hid in the deep, dark forests, only going to them when it is necessary for them to suckle. it was not very long before these indians had an idea of the cause for the unusual conduct of this deer. so they began watching very carefully the distant shore, from which the deer had come, and after a while one who had been shading his eyes gave a start and whispered earnestly: "wolf! wolf!" and sure enough there was, for trotting up and down on the shore was a great, fierce, northern grey wolf, he must have got on the trail of the deer and alarmed her, but not before she had time to rush from her retreat with the fawn and spring into the water. they must have got quite a distance out from shore before the wolf reached the water, as the indians said, judging by the way the wolf ran up and down on the beach, trying to find the trail; he had not seen them in the water. wolves do not take to water like bears. it is true they can swim when necessary, but they cannot make much of a fight in the water. a full- grown deer can easily drown a wolf that is rash enough to dare to attack him in the deep water. the indians would have liked to have gone ashore and made an effort to get in the rear of the wolf and had a shot at him, but this was at present out of the question. so they only paddled in between the swimming deer and fawn and the shore from whence they had come. this enabled them to escape to the shore opposite from the wolf. shortly after, as the wolf, so angry at being baffled of his prey while the scent was so hot on the shore, came running along in plain sight. the indians carefully fired a couple of bullets at him. these, while not killing him, went near enough to cause him to give a great jump of surprise and alarm, and to suddenly disappear in the forest. "sometime soon we get that wolf," said one of the indians. how he did get it we will have him tell us some time later on. chapter sixteen. the old fort again--aurora borealis--unexpected arrivals--fur traders-- head winds--camp annoyances--camp fire yarns. we must now return to our other friends, whom we left at the old fort. some days were spent at this favourite old hunting ground. with mr ross the boys visited the site of their former camp, where the cyclone wrought such havoc, and where they had had such a narrow escape. they were all amazed as they examined the trunks of the trees twisted off, and saw how, like a swath of grass cut through a meadow, the irresistible hurricane had swept through the dense forest. never had any of them seen anything to equal this, and they were very grateful for providential deliverance. they investigated the rocks and boulders, and mr ross gave them his ideas as to the formation of the great prairies of the west, over which he had so often wandered, and where sam, alec, and frank expected, in a year or so, to spend some happy months. to the boys the evening camp fire on the rocks, with the rippling waters of lake or river at their feet and the dark back ground of unexplored forest, was always intensely interesting, with its review of the day's adventures, the picturesque indians, and preparation for the evening meal, enjoyed with such glorious appetites. then, after the sun had gone down in splendour, and the long twilight began to fade away, the stars came out of their hiding places, one by one, until the whole heavens seemed aglow with them, for they shone with a radiance and beauty that was simply indescribable. then, if not too tired to wait for their arrival, how fascinating often were the auroral displays, the mysterious "northern lights." if they were sleepy and tired, when some of these field night displays began, they soon forgot their weariness as they gazed, at times fairly fascinated by the wondrous visions that were theirs to witness. never did they see a glorious display exactly repeated. there was always a kaleidoscopic change; yet each was very suggestive and beautiful. sometimes they mounted up and up from below the horizon like vast arrays of soldiers, rank following rank in quick succession, arranged in all the gorgeous hues of the rainbow. they advanced, they receded, they fought, they conquered, they retreated, and they faded away into oblivion. then great arches of purest white spanned the heavens, from which streamers red as blood hung quivering in the sky. then, after other transformations, a corona filled the zenith and became a perfect crown of dancing, flashing splendour that long hung suspended there above them, a fit diadem, they thought, for the head of him who was the creator of all these indescribable glories. thus in the beauties of the night visions, and in other sights peculiar to the north, there were compensations for some of the privations incident to being so remote from the blessings of civilisation. these new scenes, both by night and by day, were sources of great pleasure to the boys, as their tastes were fortunately such that these visions had a peculiar charm for them. then, with their full program of delightful sports, they were indeed having a most joyous holiday. but our readers are not to understand that during all these months there was nothing but continued enjoyment without some genuine hardships. there were at times some very serious drawbacks, and the boys had to muster up all their courage and face some annoyances that were exasperating in the extreme. and these hardships and trials were as likely to meet them when they would have rejoiced in refreshing slumber as during the weariness of a heavy day's marching on the trail of some game. one of the great drawbacks to quiet slumber during the sultry hours of the hot summer nights were those intolerable pests, the mosquitoes. at times they were simply unendurable. they came in such multitudes that they were irresistible. they presented their bills so importunately that payment had to be made promptly in blood. some nights the boys could hardly sleep at all. every expedient was tried to drive them off. smoke fires were kindled, and all other known remedies were tried, but all in vain. blistered hands, swollen faces, eyes that would only half open, some mornings told of the long-continued, unsuccessful battles that during the nights past had been fought; and, to judge from appearances, the lads had been most thoroughly defeated. said sam one morning, after a night of misery with the insatiable pests: "i see now why the rascals are called pious animals--because they have been singing over us and preying on us all the night; but in spite of all their efforts i am sure i am none the better, but much the worse, both in body and spirits." "i say, big tom," said alec, "what is the good of mosquitoes anyway?" "to teach young white gentlemen patience, to see what stuff they are made of," said the old man, while all were amused at his apt reply. "we hardly notice them," continued big tom, in his slow, deliberate manner; "and so it will be with you all after a time. mosquitoes are peculiar, and have their likes and dislikes. one of their likes is to be fond of fresh blood, and so they go for the latest arrivals, and one of their dislikes is not to care much for tough old injun. when you have been here some time, and have been bitten by a great many, you will not mind them so much." "how many?" said frank. "about a million," replied big tom, "though i don't know how many that is." this answer was too much for sam, so he sprang up in a hurry and, in a semi-tragic manner, exclaimed: "when does the next train start for home? i want to see my mother." this inquiry from the irrepressible sam provoked roars of laughter, and caused them to forget the mosquitoes and their bills. when the boys arose one morning they were surprised to find a whole brigade of boats drawn up on the shore, and the men at various camp fires, busily preparing their breakfast. they had slept so soundly that they had not heard the slightest sound. mr ross and the men were up quite a time, and had gone over to chat with the two officers of the hudson bay company who had charge of the brigade, which was from the cumberland house and swan river district, and was now on its way up from york factory with its cargo of goods for the next winter's trade. as breakfast was now ready, mr ross invited the two officers of the company, mr hamilton and mr bolanger, to eat with them. this invitation was gladly accepted, and to them were introduced frank, alec, and sam, who became very much interested in them, and in the recital of various adventures and reminiscences of trading with the indians in various parts of the great country. the officers, on their part, were very anxious to hear all about the gunpowder explosion that had occurred at robinson's portage, as all sorts of rumours had gone abroad throughout the country about it, and especially a story that many persons were killed, among them some young english gentlemen, who for a bit of a lark had laid the train of gun powder which caused the general flare-up. the boys were amazed and indignant at first, then vastly amused as they saw by the twinkle in mr ross's eye that he was well acquainted with fondness for banter, which was a strong characteristic of some of those hudson bay gentlemen. at first the boys hardly knew how to reply to this absurd reflection. sam was the first to thoroughly understand them, and so in the richest brogue of his own green isle, which we will not try to produce in all its perfection, he said: "och, thin, it's roight ye are, av course. an' wasn't it too bad intoirely, the spalpeen to the loikes of you, an' he too an englishman! shure, thin, an' didn't he fire the powther through downright invy. do ye believe me now, didn't he, an' alec, the scotchman, sitting there foreninst ye, wish to blow john company, body and breeches, all at wanst into the nelson river for your rascally chating the poor injuns, that they might be after starting a company thimselves." this sally of sam's created roars of laughter, and even the slap he gave them about their close dealings with the indians was much enjoyed. soon all were on the best of terms, and it was a mutual pleasure, in that lonely place, to meet and interchange the news of the country, as well as to have the flashings of wit and fun and pleasant raillery. of course the men of the brigade were anxious to get on, as they still had a journey before them. they had only come from norway house, a distance of twenty miles, the previous day. they had started, as was customary, quite late in the afternoon. the wind was anything but favourable, and so they were obliged to remain where they had drawn up their boats. their old guide, after scanning the heavens and watching the movements of the different strata of clouds, declared that a fierce south wind was brewing, and that if they dared to start they would soon be driven back to that place. this was bad news to all, especially to the young officers, who were very anxious to get on. they very much dislike long delays in their journeys. then it is always in favour of an officer seeking promotion in the service if it is known that he has a good record for making speedy trips with his brigades. here, however, were reports from one whose word was law; so there was no help for it, and thus they were here to remain until the wind changed. as the indication was for high winds, with perhaps heavy rains, orders were issued for the complete safety of the boats and cargoes. in making their preparations for a severe storm the crews of two or three of the boats seized hold of the strong rope which was attached to the stem of each boat, and by their united strength dragged them, one after another, well up on the sand, out of the reach of the waves. as there are no tides in these great american lakes the boats have not to be shifted. heavy tarpaulins were carefully lashed down over the cargo, thus preventing the rain from doing any damage. these precautions turned out to be quite unnecessary, as the threatened storm either did not appear or passed round them. still the wind blew constantly from the south for a number of days, and thus the brigade was obliged to remain. so long, indeed, was it detained that the officers had to order the removal of the cargo from one of the boats and send it back to norway house for an additional supply of food. this delay of the brigade was a glorious time for the boys, for among the men were some remarkable characters from the great prairies and the distant mountains. some of them were full of incidents of thrilling adventures and wonderful stories; and so, while waiting during the long days for the wind to either change or go down, many a capital story was told at the pleasant camp fires. some of them were narrated with wondrous dramatic power. these indians are true sons of nature, and, while not taught in the schools of oratory, have in many instances a kind of eloquence that is most effective, and a dramatic way of speaking that is most telling. there were stories of war parties and of scalping scenes, as well as of thrilling horse-stealing escapades. in addition there was the narration of various kinds of hunting adventure from these bronzed old hunters, who had frequently met in deadly conflict various kinds of fierce animals, from the mountain lion to the grizzly bear. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter seventeen. the story of pukumakunun--loosing his tongue--his early days--excursion for buffalo--treacherous quicksands--sinking mother--sagacious horse-- sneaking wolves--rattlesnake and prairie dog. one old indian with a splendid physique much excited their curiosity. they were specially anxious to know the story of that fearful scar across his face. he was evidently getting up in years, and was treated with much respect by his comrades. however, he was so quiet, and at times so reticent, that hardly a word could be got out of him. that there was some thrilling adventure associated with that scar the boys were very confident. the question among them was how to get him to tell it. they made friends with some of his indian associates, and tried to get from them his history. but all the information they would impart was: "yes, he has a great story. it very much please you. you get him tell it." this, of course, only increased their curiosity to hear his narrative. for a time all their efforts met with poor success. at length alec, the shrewd scottish lad, said: "i have an idea that i can break through his reserve and get him to talk." "let us hear what your scheme is," said frank. "it is this," replied alec. "i have been watching him, and i have noticed that the only two things he seems to have any love for are his red-beaded leggings and his brilliant red neckerchief. so i have been thinking that if i offer him that red tartan shirt of mine it will so please him that it will break through his reserve, and will get his story." "a capital plan!" shouted sam; "and if you succeed in getting the adventure from him we will gladly pay for the shirt." the question now was how to find out if this plan would be successful. some of the indians are very sensitive, and require careful handling. however, mustagan, the famous indian guide, who had become so very friendly with this indian, undertook at the desire of the boys to present their request and, as it were, incidentally to hint at the present of the brilliant shirt. the scheme worked admirably, and here is his interesting story: his name was pukumakun, which means a club or a hammer. he was a kinistenaux indian, and when he was a boy his family and people lived a part of each year on the banks of the assiniboine river. here he grew up as other indian lads, and was early taught the use of the bow and arrows, and how to skillfully throw the lasso. he had his share of excitements and dangers, living in those days when warlike tribes were not far away. the war-whoop was no unusual sound, and so they lived in a state of constant expectation of defence or attack. living on the prairies, he was, as soon as he was large enough, taught how to ride the fiery native horses until he could manage the wildest of them. living such a life, he naturally had many adventures. the one that is most vividly impressed on his mind, and the constant reminder of which he carries in the great scar on his face, is the one that he here gives the boys. it was many years ago when, as a boy of about twelve years of age, he was living with his father and mother in an indian village not far from the assiniboine. as game was not very plentiful that season in that part of the country, it was decided that they should break camp and go on a great buffalo hunt, which would last for several weeks. while the men went to kill the buffalo the women had to go also to dry and pack the meat and to make pemmican. the buffalo herds were far away, and so it was many days' journey before they were found. one day while they were travelling along over the prairies pukumakun had the misfortune to be bitten on his leg by a poisonous snake. his mother, having first killed the snake, then sucked the wound until she had drawn out nearly all the poison. by this brave act she undoubtedly saved his life. however, there was still enough of the poison left in his system to make him very sick and cause his leg to swell greatly. the result was he could not travel as fast as the buffalo hunters, who were anxious to reach the herds. so it was decided that he should be left with his mother to follow as rapidly as they could. so painful became his leg from the exercise of the riding that at length he was unable to mount his horse. his brave mother stuck to him, and continued to help him along for some days. to make matters worse, one of their two horses disappeared one night. still, on they pushed as well as they could with the remaining one, and at length reached a river with many sandbars. here the noble woman, in trying to carry him across, got into the quicksands and began to sink. in vain she tried to pull her feet out of the treacherous sands. when she would try to lift up one foot the other only sank deeper and deeper. failing to succeed in this way, she lifted him off her shoulders, and, placing him gently beside her, tried again to struggle loose from the sands. but it was all in vain. she was held with too tight a grip. seeing this, and fearing that pukumakun might also begin to sink in the sands, she again put him upon her shoulders, and then both of them shouted and called loudly for help. but no help came. no human beings were within many miles' distance. some prairie wolves heard their voices, and came to the river's bank to see what it meant. they found the bundle of meat there and quickly devoured it, but they did not dare to attack the horse, that was eating the grass not two hundred yards away. when they had fought over and devoured the food they came to the bank again, and their howls and yelps seemed to mock the cries for help of the perishing ones, as deeper and deeper they sank in the treacherous quicksands. but that woman never wept, for she was the daughter of a chief. but we must let pukumakun tell the rest of the story, which fairly thrilled and fascinated the boys: "by and by my feet began to touch the water, which ran a few inches deep over the bad sands, that had so caught hold of my mother, and into which she was sunk now nearly up to her waist. still she cried not, but spake brave words to me. hoping some indians might be near, we called and called, but the wolves only answered with their mocking howls. deeper and deeper we sank, until the waters were up to my mother's neck, and my feet were beginning to feel the grip of the treacherous sand. "all at once i saw the horse coming down to the water to drink. around his neck was tied the long indian lariat made of braided deerskin, and therefore very strong. as i saw the horse, hope sprang up in my heart, and i began to feel that we were going to be saved. the water was now close up to my mother's lips, but we both called to the horse, which had been in our camp for years. he raised up his head and seemed startled at first, and then he plunged into the river. it did not take him long to get through the deep water, and then as his feet began to touch the quicksands he seemed at once to know that it was not right, so he kept lifting up his feet one after the other very rapidly. still on he came, until he was so close that i was able to seize hold of the lariat. "then spake my mother: `my son, you will escape. tie the lariat quickly around your waist, and the horse will be able to drag you out. here i must die. the spirits of my ancestors call me away to the happy hunting grounds, and i must obey. remember your mother tried hard to save you, and only failed with her life. tell my people how i perished, and give my message to the avengers of blood, and tell them not to be angry toward you. farewell. remember you are the grandson of a chief.' "at first i wanted to die with my mother. it seemed dreadful to leave her alone, but she would not hear of it. as the waters were coming into her mouth she cried, `obey me, my son; obey me, and do it quickly, for the horse is impatient and knows the place is dangerous.' "so i called sharply to the horse, and he sprang forward, and with a great wrench jerked me from my mother's shoulders out of the quicksands, and dashed through the water with me to the shore. "as soon as i could loose myself from the lariat i turned round to look, and there i saw my mother's head just sinking out of sight. i was wild with terror and sorrow, and bitterly chided myself for not having died with her. but i had the consolation that she herself had insisted on my escaping when the strange chance offered itself. "what was i to do now? my father and other friends were far away; my mother had perished; and here i was an almost helpless cripple on the great prairies, and night was rapidly approaching. "fortunately my horse stuck to me, and i saw that i must keep him close to me all night, or the wolves that were prowling around would, in the darkness, make short work of me. so, miserable and wet though i was, i tied the loose end of the lariat around my waist, and selecting a spot where the grass was good, i sat down in the middle of it, there to pass the night. "it was, indeed, of all nights the saddest and most miserable. i could not sleep. i was full of sorrow. if i tried to shut my eyes, there was before me the sight of my mother, sinking, sinking down, down in that treacherous quicksand. "the wolves were very troublesome. they would sit out in the gloom and howl in their melancholy way. then they would arouse themselves and try to get hold of me. but my horse, well accustomed to fighting these animals, would rush at them as far as the lariat would allow, and would either strike at them with his fore feet, or, swinging around quickly, would so vigorously lash out with his hind legs that the cowardly brutes would quickly skulk back into the gloom. "the long night ended at length, and the welcome morning came. i found that my poor leg, which had caused all the trouble, was much better. perhaps this was from having been so long in the water. i was able to ride, and so i hurried away from the sight of the river that had so cruelly swallowed up my mother. my faithful horse, that had already been my deliverer, was very patient while, in my crippled state, i managed to get up on his back. i had eaten nothing since yesterday, but i thought nothing of that; i only wanted to get my sinking mother out of my eyes, and get away from that dreadful river which we had to cross. horses are very wise about these quicksands, and so i just held on to the lariat, which i had made into a kind of a halter, and let him choose his own course. very quickly and safely did he convey me across, and soon did we find the trail along which my father and the other hunters had travelled. we hurried on very rapidly, until my horse was tired, and then we stopped for a few hours in a ravine where we were well sheltered from hostile indians, if any should be lurking about. the grass was luxuriant and abundant, and my horse enjoyed it very much. "when the hottest part of the day was over we again found the trail and pushed on until sundown. where the grass was good i tethered my horse with the lariat, and for the first time began to feel hungry. but i had nothing to eat, neither had i bow nor arrow. however, i noticed that the burrows of the prairie dogs were quite numerous where we had left the trail. so i took the strings of my moccasins, and making in the ends of each a running noose i fastened them over the burrows that seemed very fresh. returning to my horse, i there waited for a time, and then went back to see if anything had been caught. i was much startled to find that in the first noose a great rattlesnake had been caught. he was lashing the ground at a great rate, while his rattles kept up a constant buzz. with a pole from some dried willows i soon killed him, for i wanted the moccasin string with which he was caught. "i was more fortunate with the other noose, for in it was caught by the neck a fine young plump prairie dog. quickly killing him, i carried him and the two strings back to the protection of my horse. as i had my knife, it did not take me long to skin the prairie dog, and as i had no fire i had to eat him raw. it tasted very good, for i was now feeling very hungry. as i had done the night before, i slept with my horse close to me as a protection from the wolves." three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter eighteen. pukumakun's story continued--searching for friends--pathless prairie-- angry relations--avengers of blood unappeased--race for life-- overtaken--first conflict--arrow against tomahawk--opportune arrival. "thus i travelled on for some days. at times it was i difficult for me to keep the trail, but my horse was very wise, and somehow he seemed to know that he was following-up his comrades. "i was often very hungry, as i had nothing else to depend upon with which to hunt except my two strings, and then i could only use them when my horse was resting. however, i caught a few more prairie dogs, and one night i caught a prairie chicken, which was very good. "one day, as i rode over a big swell like a hill in the prairie, i saw not very far away a herd of buffaloes. so i knew i must be near my friends. while i was pleased at the sight i began to feel very much alarmed. they would say at once, `where is your mother?' then, if they did not believe my story, what then? so i was much troubled in my mind, and, while looking for my people, i dreaded to meet them. i felt that my father would believe my story, but i was afraid of my mother's brothers, the sons of the chief. they had never had any love for me, or i much for them. why this was so i found out one day when they were upbraiding my mother in the wigwam for marrying my father, instead of a chief of another village, to whom they had promised her. they thought i was asleep, or they would not have spoken as they did. i remember that my mother spoke up, and said that she was the daughter of a chief, who had given her the right to choose her own husband; and that she was contented and happy in her choice. just then their sharp eyes seemed to know that i was not very sound asleep, and so their strong words ceased; for indian men and women do not let their children hear their quarrels. "so i now remember their words, and was afraid. not long after i saw some of the hunters, and when i met one whom i knew, i inquired for my father. he told me where i would find him, and so i rode on. my father was resting with some others after a great run, in which they had killed many buffaloes. when i drew near to him, although i was the grandson of a chief, i lifted up my voice and wept. at this he was very much surprised and hurt, for as yet he knew not of our great loss. others jeered and laughed at seeing a young indian weeping. then my father arose and led me away and began to upbraid me, for he knew not the cause of my sorrow, but supposed my mother had joined the other women, who were very busy cutting up and preserving the meat of the buffalo. but i could only continue my weeping, and at length was able to cry out: `my mother! my mother!' "at this my father quickly ceased his reproofs, and becoming alarmed cried out: `tell me what is the matter.' "so i told him all. and as i saw his great sorrow as he listened to my story i knew how great had been his love for my mother, who, in her love for him, had preferred him to the chief whom her brothers wished her to marry. he was crushed to the ground and speechless with sorrow, and as i saw him so overwhelmed with his grief i wished i had died with my mother. "for a time he thus remained, while i, the most miserable, could only sit by and look at him. no words or tears came from him, but the great sorrow had taken such a hold upon him that he seemed as one who would there have died. "suddenly, as voices were heard and we both knew that some persons were coming near, he turned to me and with a great effort said:-- "`my son, you must flee at once. your mother's brothers, who love us not, will not believe your story; and as they are the nearest of kin, the avengers of blood, they will seek your life. you have no witness to your story, not even the body or a grave to show. when they find your mother has not arrived, their suspicions will be aroused. i believe your story, strange as it is. when they demand of me the cause of your mother's non-arrival i will tell them as you have told me; but they will not believe it, and so you must not meet them, as in all probability they will kill you, in spite of all that i can do. so you must flee away from the avengers. you, my only son of your mother, must not fall by the hands of her brothers. meet me here to-night when the moon is at her brightest, and i will then have decided what you must do. flee quickly.' "it was indeed time for me to go, for hardly had i slipped away, and hidden in the deep grass, ere i heard angry voices in reply to my father's quiet words. but i could make out nothing at the time of what was said. for hours i there remained. the day passed on, and the night followed, and yet i waited until the old moon came up to its brightest point. then, returning to the appointed spot, there i found my father waiting for me. his great sorrow was still on him, his love for the son of her whom he had loved so well had shown itself in his acts. he had with him a good horse and a warrior's bow and quiver of arrows. in addition he had a supply of food and some other necessary things. he embraced me more tenderly than i ever remember his having done before, and then for an instant his strong indian nature broke, and with one convulsive sob he said, `kah-se-ke-at' (`my beloved'), which was his pet name for my mother. but quickly he regained his composure, and, pointing to the north star, he said i was to direct my course so much west of that and try to reach the friendly band of maskepetoon, the great chief of the land of the saskatchewan. he commanded me to ride fast, as he feared trouble, as my uncles, to whom he had told my story in the presence of all the relatives, would not be pacified, but had demanded that i be delivered up. so i was armed and mounted, but ere my father would let me go he drew me down to him and kissed me, and then said:-- "`be brave, my son; never begin a quarrel; but if the story of your mother's death is true--and i believe you, for you have never deceived me--then in your innocency, if you are followed and attacked, use your weapons, and if you must die, fall bravely fighting, as does the true warrior.' "in the moonlight there i left him, and dashed away in the direction pointed out. "my horse was a good one, and carried me along without any stumbling, although the prairie was rough and uneven. it was well for me that he was so steady and true, for i was only a boy, and so crushed by my great sorrow that i was hardly able to care for myself. with this good horse i was able to get on rapidly. however, in spite of all the progress i had made, i discovered about the time the day-dawn was coming that i was being followed. my pursuers were my fierce uncles, who had never forgiven my mother for marrying my father; and now that they had heard that she was dead resolved to take vengeance on me, whom they had always hated. they knew that, as was the custom of our people, they as the nearest relatives were the avengers of blood. in vain had my father pleaded for me, and that i was not guilty of her death. they would not be appeased, even though he had offered, as gifts, about all of his possessions. when, in anger and sorrow at their unrelenting spirit, he left them, they cunningly watched him, that they might find where i was hidden away. "but my father was too quick for them, and so was able to get me off, as i have mentioned, before they found my hiding place. however, they were soon on my trail, but they had to ride many a mile before they overtook me, as i had sped on as rapidly as i could. although i was only a boy i was able to see, when i detected them following after me, that they were not coming as friends. then also my father's words had put me on my guard. they seemed so sure of being able to easily kill me that they resorted to no trick or disguise to throw me off my guard. so i remembered my father, and being conscious that i was innocent of my mother's death i was resolved to die as a warrior. carefully stringing my bow, i fixed my quiver of arrows so that i could draw them easily as i needed them. fortunately for me, my father had taught me the trick of riding on the side of my horse and shooting back from under his neck. soon with the yells and warwhoops of my pursuers the arrows began to fly around me. one of their sharp arrows wounded my horse, but instead of disabling him it put such life into him that for the next few miles we were far ahead beyond their arrows. but their horses were more enduring than mine, and so they gradually gained on me once more. i did not shoot an arrow until i could hear the heavy breathings of their horses, which, like mine, were feeling the effects of this fearful race. then, swinging quickly to my horse's side, i caused him by the pressure of my knee to swerve a little to the left, and then, drawing my bow with all my might, i fired back from under his neck at the horse nearer to me. fortunately for me, my arrow struck him in the neck, and so cut some of the great swollen veins that he was soon out of the race. the uncle on the other horse stopped for a moment to see if he could be of any service, but, when he found that the wounded horse would soon bleed to death, he sprang again upon his own and came on, if possible, more furiously than ever. his brief halt had given me time to get another arrow fixed in my bow as on i hurried, but my horse was about exhausted, and soon again the arrows began to sing about me. one unfortunately struck my horse in a mortal place and brought him down. i could only spring to the ground as he fell, and with my bow and arrow quickly turn and face my pursuer. very sudden was the end. he drew his tomahawk and threw it with all the fury of his passionate nature. i did not try to dodge it, but facing him i drew my bow with all my strength and shot straight into his face. our weapons must have crossed each other, for while he fell dead with the arrow in his brain, i fell senseless with the blade of the tomahawk, which, cutting clean through my bow, had buried itself in my face. "when i returned to consciousness my father was beside me. he had sewed up the wounds with sinew, and had succeeded in stopping the flowing of the blood. how he came there seemed strange to me. he told me all about it when i was better. he had found out that the two uncles, well- armed and on good horses, had discovered my trail and had started after me. he was not long in following, and as he had their trail in addition to mine he was able to push on without any delay, and so caught up to the one whose horse i had shot in the neck. "they had no words with each other. they knew that as they joined in battle it was to be a fight unto the death. my father killed my uncle and came out of the battle unwounded. then he hurried on as quickly as he could, and from a distance saw the fight between my uncle and me. when he dashed up, at first he thought i was dead, but soon he discovered that the life was still in me. he at once set to work to help me, but months passed away ere the great wound made by the tomahawk healed up. "this great scar remains with me to this day, and reminds me of that fierce fight, and tells of how terrible in those days were some of the doings of our people." three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter nineteen. "fair wind!"--fish spearing by torchlight--the shining eyes--death of the deer--abundance of game--additional excursions--tradition of nanahboozoo and the flood--was nanahboozoo noah? the boys listened with absorbing interest to this thrilling story. the camp fire had partly burned down and the stars had come out in their splendour, but none seemed to observe these things. the dramatic power with which pukumakun accompanied his narrative, his genuine sorrow at the tragic death of his mother, and then his fierce excitement as he described the last long race and its end, simply fascinated our young friends, and they declared that it was the most wonderful story they had ever heard. of course the bright tartan shirt, with some other gifts, was handed over, and then all wrapped themselves in their blankets and lay down on the rocks to sleep. during the night the strong south wind veered around to the north-east, and the alert indians in charge were quick to observe the change. soon the cry of "meyoo nootin!" ("fair wind!") was heard, and, in a time so brief that it would have seemed almost incredible to persons who have not witnessed it, the boats were afloat, the masts stepped, the sails hoisted, and the journey, so long delayed, was gladly resumed. in the earliest dawn the last of the sails were seen by mr ross and our friends to be sinking below the horizon as they sped along toward the mouth of the great saskatchewan. for the rest of the day they were quite lonesome after the departure of the brigade, and, as the wind was in a bad quarter for them, they decided to rest during the day and then go out spearing fish during the coming night. the indians were set to work preparing the inflammable torches which would be necessary for their success. these were made of various things. the best were of the fine resinous strips of spruce or balsam, taken from those parts that are saturated with the resinous gum. they were secured in handles which prevented the hot melted pitch from running down and burning the hands of those who held them. other torches were made of strips or rolls of birch-bark saturated in the balsam gum, which is gathered by the indians and used so generally in keeping watertight their canoes. the three-pronged barbed spears were fastened in long light handles, and every other preparation was made for having a successful expedition. on account of the long evening twilight they had to wait for some hours after supper ere it was dark enough for them to hope for any measure of success. however, the experienced indians knew when it was best to start, and so, after the inevitable cup of tea and the additional pipe for the smokers, the three canoes were carried down and carefully placed in the water. in each canoe was one of our boys, and they were of course excited at the prospect of this nightly adventure. it seemed so weird to thus embark in this ghostly way and to leave the bright camp fire on the rocks, with the few watchers who remained, mr ross being one of them, and to embark in their canoes and go paddling out in the gloom. their destination was in the western part of playgreen lake, where they expected to find abundance of fish of the varieties that afford excellent sport when caught in this way. after several miles of careful paddling in the darkness, where rocks abounded and rapids were many, they reached a place that seemed familiar to the indians. they easily found a sheltered cove, where they went ashore, and, groping around in the darkness, they soon gathered some dry wood and kindled a fire. fortunately the wind had nearly died away, and so they anticipated a successful night's sport. the inflammable torches were carefully arranged, and a couple of them for each boat were ignited. then all again took their assigned positions in their canoes, and noiselessly paddled to the places where the fish were supposed to be abundant. at first all the boys could see were dark, shadowlike objects in the water that, after remaining under the glare of the lights, suddenly dashed away in the gloom. for fear of accident it was decided that the experienced indians should do the spearing, while the boys looked on and aided with the paddles or helped to hold the torches. the indian spearmen stood up in the canoe, and, gazing intently into the water where it was brilliantly lit up by the blazing torches, were able to see the fish at a depth of several feet beneath the surface. some varieties of fish are not attracted by the light, and so are not to be caught in this way. other kinds, however, seem quite fascinated by the bright light, and will remain perfectly still in its glare, as though under some power they cannot withstand. the experienced spearmen, with a vigorous thrust, are generally very successful in securing large numbers of them. still, in spite of all their skill, many escape. apart from the excitement about this method of fishing, it is not to be compared with the ordinary way of capturing them with gill nets as regards the quantities obtained. the spear cruelly wounds many that escape, and so even the indians only adopt this plan for the sake of its exciting sport, and for the capture of some varieties of fish that are not easily obtained in any other way. after the boys had watched the successful operations of the indians for some time they made their first attempt. for a time they could not understand how it was that when they made a vigorous thrust with their spear at a great big, quiet fish it seemed to strike some place a couple of feet or so away from the fish. so they found that the law of refraction had to be considered, and after a few experiments they did better. each was successful in securing some fine fish. some, indeed, were so large that, after the boys had plunged their spears into them, they required the help of the indians to get them into the canoe. when the torches burned down others were lighted, and thus the sport continued until the boats began to feel the additional weight of the fish thus secured. the boys were loath to think of stopping, and no wonder, for everything was so strange and weird. the three canoes with their picturesque occupants, lit up by the blazing torches, the waters so transparent under the light, and phosphorescent- like on every wave, made a picture never to be forgotten. then so close around was the dense deep darkness of the solitudes that stretched away and away for miles in all directions. no wonder the hearts of the lads were beating loudly, and in the suppressed excitement of such surroundings no thoughts of sleep there troubled them. "o, if our friends could only see us here," said frank, "wouldn't they be pleased with the sight?" "ay," said alec, "and what would not the boys of the old school give to be here for a few hours with us?" "hush! what is that?" said sam, as he pointed his finger to a spot in the dense dark forest of trees that hung down low to the water's edge, not many yards from where they were slowly floating along on the stream. that there was something was very evident, for there were to be seen two great shining eyes that, owing to the dense darkness around them, seemed to be strangely large and brilliant. "will-o'-the-wisp," said frank. "jack-o'-lantern," said alec. "a banshee," said sam. "a big deer," said mustagan. "keep still, and we will soon shoot him." quietly and quickly was a gun lifted up, and with a word to the men, to steady, with their paddles, the canoe in which mustagan was seated, he fired, and the report was followed by the plunge of the body of a great deer, as he fell headlong in the water not thirty yards away. the sound of the gun broke the deathlike solitudes and aroused a chorus; and for a long time the cry of the bittern and the loon mingled with the quacking of ducks and the wakeful calls of the sentinel wild goose. more torches were lit, and the body of the deer was secured with a rope; and, as the night was far spent, it was decided to go ashore, if they could find a safe place, and there rest until morning, as it was utterly impossible with the heavy load of fish to think of returning through the darkness with the additional weight of this splendid deer. as closely as possible the three canoes had kept together. this made it more sociable in the gloom, and was much enjoyed by the boys, as they could thus freely chat with each other and watch each other's success or failure. as the locality was known to some of the indians, a sheltered little sandy beach was soon discovered, and here the now tired party drew up and landed. a fire was speedily built, and a kettle of tea and a lunch were prepared and enjoyed by the hungry ones. then they quickly rolled themselves up in their blankets, and were soon away in the land of dreams. nothing softer had they under them than the rocks, and no roof over them but the starry heavens, yet they slept in a way that thousands of excited, weary, restless ones, tossing about in comfortable beds, might well envy, but could not command. very early were the boys aroused for the home trip, but, early as they were up, the indians had already skinned and cut up the deer, and divided it among the boats. part of the fish were given to some indian women and children who were encamped on some of the islands, near which they passed on the route back to the camp. mr ross was much pleased with the glowing accounts which the boys gave of the night's adventures. much praise was given to sam for having seen the great luminous eyes of the deer, even before any of the indians had observed them. mr ross, in answer to the boys' inquiries, explained how some deer, like fish, seemed to be fascinated by a bright light, and will allow the hunters to get very near, especially if they are on the water, ere they will try to get away. the weather proving favourable, the camp was struck, the canoes loaded, and they all proceeded on the way to montreal point once more. they only stopped for an hour or so at spider islands to melt some pitch, and mend a crack which had opened in the bottom of one of the canoes. the boys, who in their own land had seen the great iron ships being prepared in the dry docks, were quite amused and interested at the primitive way in which these indians made watertight their light canoes. when this was done they were all soon under way again, and, not long after, the shores of the mainland began to loom up plainly before them. they all remembered the last visit, and the battle with the wolves. so they were naturally on the lookout for a herd of deer or the sound of ravening wolves. but not even a "whisky jack" was seen or heard. the desolate land seemed to be much more so by the apparent entire absence of life. selecting a favourable spot, they all landed, and then, while some of the indians made a fire and prepared the supper, mr ross, with frank, alec, sam, and mustagan, visited the scene of the great fight. they took the precaution to carry their guns with them, for who could tell where the rest of those wolves might be, or what other game might not suddenly appear in sight, even if the indians had reported that the wolves had all disappeared. sam and frank took special pride in pointing out to alec and mr ross where they had stood when, under mustagan's directions, they brought down the two leading wolves in that memorable and exciting battle, and then where they fought in the terrible hand-to-hand encounter, where it was hunting-axe against teeth. but little was left to tell of the fray. a few whitened, well-picked bones were to be seen here and there, but nothing more, so they returned to the camp fire, where the supper was now prepared, and ready indeed were they for it. as they had made such a long trip that day, mr ross, who was ever mindful of the welfare of his canoemen, decided that there should be no hunting that evening or night. so they gathered round the camp fire, and, with bright and pleasant chat, the happy hours passed away, one of them being specially interesting as mr ross, who had made the gathering up of indian legends a favourite study or amusement when not absorbed in heavier work, was requested by the boys to tell them an indian legend or story. yielding to this request, he cheerfully consented, and not only had he the boys as interested listeners, but the indians of the party gathered round, curious to hear how well a white man was able to tell one of their favourite stories. "before the general deluge," mr ross began, "there lived two enormous creatures, each possessed of vast power. one was an animal with a great horn on his head, the other was a huge toad. the latter had the whole management of the waters, keeping them secure in his own body; and emitting only a certain quantity when needed for the watering of the earth. between these two creatures there arose a quarrel which terminated in a great fight. the toad in vain tried to swallow its antagonist, but the latter rushed upon it, and with his horn pierced a hole in its side, out of which the waters rushed in floods, and soon overflowed the face of the earth. "nanahboozoo was living at this time on the earth. observing the water rising higher and higher he fled to the loftiest mountain for refuge. perceiving that even this retreat would soon be inundated, he selected a large cedar tree, which he purposed to ascend should the waters come up to him. before the floods reached him he caught a number of animals and fowls and put them into his bosom. at length the waters covered the mountain. nanahboozoo then ascended the cedar tree, and as he went up he plucked its branches and stuck them in his belt, which girdled his waist. "when he reached the top of the tree he sang, and beat the tune with his arrow upon his bow, and as he sang the tree grew, and kept pace with the water for a long time. at length he abandoned the idea of remaining any longer on the tree. so he took the branches he had plucked, and with them constructed a raft, on which he placed himself with the animals and fowls. on this raft he floated about for a long time, till all the mountains were covered and all the beasts of the earth and fowls of the air, except those he had with him, had perished. "at length nanahboozoo thought of forming a new world, but how to accomplish it without any materials he knew not. at length the idea occurred to him that if he could only obtain a little of the earth, which was then under the water, he might succeed in making a new world out of the old one. he accordingly employed the different animals he had with him that were accustomed to diving. first, he sent the loon down into the water in order to bring up some of the old earth; but it was not able to reach the bottom, and, after remaining in the water some time, came up dead. nanahboozoo then took it, blew upon it, and it came to life again. he next sent the otter, which, also failing to reach the bottom, came up dead, and was restored to life in the same manner as the loon. he then tried the skill of the beaver, but without success. having failed with all these diving animals, he last of all took the muskrat. on account of the distance it had to go to reach the bottom it was gone a long time, and came up dead; on taking it up nanahboozoo found, to his great joy, that it had reached the earth and had retained some of the soil in each of its paws and mouth. he then blew upon it, and brought it to life again, at the same time pronouncing many blessings on it. he declared that as long as the world he was about to make should endure, the muskrat should never become extinct. "this prediction of nanahboozoo is still spoken of by some indians when referring to the rapid increase of the muskrat. nanahboozoo then took the earth which he found in the muskrat's paws and mouth, and having rubbed it with his hands to fine dust he placed it on the waters and blew upon it. very soon it began to grow larger and larger, until it was beyond the reach of his eye. thus was spread out the new world after the great flood. in order to ascertain the size of this newly created world, and the progress of its growth and expansion, he sent a wolf to run to the end of it, measuring its extent by the time consumed in the journey. the first journey he performed in one day; the second trip took him five days; the third consumed ten days; the fourth a month; then a year; then five years. thus it went on until the world became so large that nanahboozoo sent a young wolf that could just run. this animal died of old age before he could accomplish his journey. nanahboozoo then decided that the world was large enough, and commanded it to cease from growing. "some time after this nanahboozoo took a journey to view the new world he had made, and as he travelled he created various animals suitable for the different parts of the new world. he then experimented in making man. the first one he burnt too black, and was not satisfied. then he tried again, and was no better pleased, as this one was too white. his third attempt satisfied him, and he left him in this country, while the first two he had made he placed far away. he then gave to the men he had created their various customs and habits and beliefs. "thus nanahboozoo, having finished his work, now sits at the north pole, which the indians used to consider the top of the earth. there he sits overlooking all the transactions and affairs of the people he has placed on the earth. "the northern tribes say that nanahboozoo always sleeps during the winter, but previous to his falling asleep he fills his great pipe and smokes for several days, and that it is the smoke rising from the mouth and pipe of nanahboozoo which at that season of the year produces what is called the indian summer." the boys listened to this indian tradition of the flood with a great deal of interest, and the next sabbath they got out their bibles and tried to see the points of resemblance between the account given of noah and that given of nanahboozoo. they decided that nanahboozoo was the indian name for noah, and the raft was the substitute for the ark. the sending out of the various animals to discover and bring some earth stood for the sending forth of the raven and the dove. in some other conversations with indians on the different traditions about the flood, mustagan told them that, in some of the tribes he had visited, they had, in addition to what has here been narrated, a story of a bird coming with a little twig, and sticking it in the newly formed world of nanahboozoo. this little twig took root and rapidly grew into a large tree, and from it all the other trees and shrubs had come. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter twenty. the call of the moose--preparations for capture--midnight march--rival bulls--a royal battle--frank's shot--big tom, the successful moose hunter--young moose calves--their capture--sam's awkward predicament. in the morning the boys were informed that during the night the call of a great moose bull was heard, and that an effort would be made the next night to kill him if possible. the moose is the largest animal that roams in these northern forests, and is exceedingly difficult to kill. his eyes are small and not very good, but he has the most marvellous powers of hearing and smelling given to almost any animal. then he is so cunning and watchful that very few indians are able, by fair stalking him in his tracks, to get a shot at him. he does not eat grass, but browses on the limbs and branches of several kinds of trees. his horns are often of enormous proportions, but yet the speed and ease with which he can dash safely through the dense forests is simply marvellous. there are various ways of killing them in addition to the sportsmanlike way of following on the trail, and thus by skill and endurance getting within range of them. in the winter, when the snow is deep, they have a poor chance against the hunters, who, on their light snowshoes, can glide on the top of the deep snow, while the great, heavy moose goes floundering in the drift. they have a great weakness for the large, long roots of the water lily, and so are often killed while they are out from the shore and wallowing in the marshy places for these succulent dainties. but the most exciting sport is that which the indians were here going to adopt in trying to bring this big fellow, whose bellowings the night before had so arrested the attention of those who had been awakened by him. mr ross explained that the bellowings of the previous night were his calls to his mates in the forest. perhaps they had been alarmed by some hunters or chased by wolves, and had become widely separated. so nature has not only given to the moose of both sexes this wonderful power of hearing, but to the males this great voice, which in the stillness of the night in those northern solitudes can be heard for a number of miles. the reply call of the female moose is much softer, and the indians have a plan by which they can so successfully imitate it that they can often call the old male moose close enough to them to be shot; and cases are known where the infuriated beast, maddened by the deception played upon him, has rushed upon his deceiver and made it lively work for him to get beyond the reach of his great antlers. for fear of driving the moose out of the neighbourhood, it was decided that there was to be no firing of guns that day, as the indians were certain there had been no answer to the call of the male on the part of the other sex, and judging from their knowledge of the habits of the animal they decided that, if not alarmed, he would be within hearing distance about ten o'clock that evening. the question then was, "how are we to spend the day?" this was speedily answered when the indians reported that there were any number of sturgeon seen jumping in the shallows among the rocks not far out from the shore. the method of securing them was by spearing them from the canoes. a good deal of calculation was required in managing the canoes so that they would not be upset in the excitement of the sport, and then a great deal of strength had to be exerted to hold on to the spears when once the great big sturgeon, from four to six feet long, was transfixed. there were some amusing upsets, and the boys in turn came back to the camp drenched, but happy with the varied adventures of the day. nearly a score of fine sturgeon rewarded them for their efforts. these the indians cut into flakes and dried, while the valuable oil was distilled and put away in most ingeniously constructed vessels made out of the skin of the sturgeon themselves. but in spite of the fun and success of the sturgeon fishing the boys were simply wild in anticipation of the events of the coming night. the very uncertainty and weirdness of it had a fascination for them that made it impossible for them to shut their eyes and have a short sleep in the early hours of the evening, as mr ross suggested. the very idea of sleeping seemed an utter impossibility. so they kept awake, and were alert and watchful on the movements of the indians, who made their final preparations to take advantage of the natural instincts of these great animals to meet each other. these preparations were not very many. from the birch trees that grew near they stripped off long rolls of new bark. these they carefully made into a horn-shaped instrument, the end of which was much wider than the other. then they put on their darkest garments, as the appearance of any thing white would alarm the wary game and frighten them away. the evening was exceedingly favourable. but little wind was blowing, and that was from the land toward the lake; thus the scent would not be carried toward the moose, if they appeared. the next question was, who were to go and where had they better be stationed? so it was decided that as mr ross had caught the contagion of the hour, he and alec should take a position at a designated rock, both well-armed, while out near the lake one of the clever indians, armed with one of these oddly constructed birch-bark horns, should be placed. the reason of this was the expectation that, if the old moose heard the call, while perhaps too wary to come within range of the man sounding it, he might be near enough for a good shot from mr ross and alec. in the same manner frank was stationed with mustagan, and sam with big tom, while two other indians, acting the part of trumpeters to them, were stationed in the rear near the water's edge. for a couple of hours very eerie and weird seemed everything to these excited boys. no moon was in the heavens, but the stars shone down upon them with a splendour and a beauty unknown in a land of fogs and mists. no conversation was allowed, as the hearing of the moose is most acute. for a time the silence was almost oppressive. after watching at their different stations for about half an hour or so, there wailed out on the silent air a cry so wild, so startling, so blood-curdling that it filled with terror and dismay the hearts of our three boys, who had never heard anything like it. strung up as they were to such tension by their surroundings out there in the gloom of that quiet night, and then to be thus startled by such a cry, no wonder each lad clutched his gun and instinctively crowded close to his experienced companion in that trying hour. yet such was their confidence in them that they remained silent, but were soon relieved when they were told, in a whisper, that it was only the cry of the lynx, and, blood-curdling though it was, it was really a good sign for them. when this harsh, doleful sound had died away in the distance, from a tree near them some great owls began their strange hootings, and the indians again said, "good signs." about midnight the first note of the sound for which they were listening was heard. it was far away in the forest directly east from them, with the wind coming from the same direction. the indians remained perfectly still until the roaring became somewhat louder, and then the boys were somewhat startled at hearing, but in a much softer key, a sound very similar in their rear. this latter sound was made by the men through these queer birch-bark horns they had been so industriously working at during the day. from long practice some of these indians can so perfectly imitate the sounds of the female moose that they can deceive the males, and thus bring them toward them. these artificial sounds were not long unanswered. louder and louder still were the roarings that came at intervals from the deep forest. soft and varied were the responses as the indian in the rear of mr ross and alec blew his inviting notes, but in the rear of the others there sounded out the enticing strains. "listen," said mr ross, "there is the roar of another old moose, and we are in for a battle." fortunately the wondrous auroras came shooting up from below the horizon and flashing and dancing along the northern sky; they almost dispelled the darkness, and lit up the landscape with a strange, weird light. this necessitated a quick change of base on the part of the hunters, and so, as soon as possible, they retired under the shadows of some dense balsam trees. hardly were they well hidden from view before a great moose showed himself in full sight in a wide opening, where the fire, years before, had burned away the once dense forest. in response to his loud calls the three indians with their horns replied, and this seemed to greatly confuse him. he would move first a little in one direction and then in another, and then hesitated and sent out his great roar again. quickly, and in a lower strain, did the indians closely imitate the female's call. before there could be the responsive answer on his part to them there dashed into the open space from the forest, not many hundreds of yards from him, another moose bull that roared out a challenge that could not be mistaken. the indians with their birch horns again imitated the calls of the female moose. this they did with the purpose of bringing the bulls within range before they engaged in battle. it is a singular characteristic of many wild animals, that when the rival males battle for the possession of the females, they like to do it in the presence, of those for whom they fight. their presence seems to be a stimulus to nerve them to greater courage. so it is with the moose and other deer species, and so by the light of the dancing auroras the three boys and those with them watched these two great moose, each standing at the foreshoulders over sixteen hands high, as they thus came on toward the spot where mr ross and alec were well hid from observation, and behind whom the indian kept now softly lowing like a moose cow. in their hurried movements they had gradually approached each other, and so when not far from mr ross and alec's hiding place they suddenly appeared in a clear, elevated spot, and supposing they were now close to their companions they turned suddenly and gave each other battle. and a royal battle it was! a moose bull at the best is not handsome, but an angry, infuriated moose bull, when his temper is up, is one of the most hideous of monsters. the long, coarse hair of his head and neck seems to be all turned in the wrong direction, his small eyes have a most wicked gleam in them, and, taking him altogether, we know of no picture more likely to cause a person who sees him to have the next night the nightmare. with a roar they rushed at each other, and as their great antlered heads met in the shock of battle it was a sight not often seen. they each seemed as though they were resolved to conquer in the first round, and appeared surprised at not having been able to succeed. it undoubtedly would have been interesting to some people to have witnessed the battle between these two well-matched moose bulls to a finish, but the practical indians know a thing or two about their meat, and one is that the meat of a moose that has been in battle for a couple of hours or so is apt to be so soft and spongy and full of air bubbles that a hungry dog will hardly eat it. they also know, on the other hand, that moose meat when in prime condition is the finest venison in the world. the indians were also well aware that the bulls now engaged in battle would take but little heed of any other foes. they therefore quickly gathered in with frank and sam to the spot where mr ross and alec were hidden, and there in quiet whispers arranged their plans for the killing of the two great moose ere the fierce battle had much longer continued. the indians were anxious that the boys should have the honour of killing them, but mr ross hesitated to expose any one of them to the fierce rush of an infuriated wounded moose bull in case the bullet had not done its work. the indians, cautious though they are, however, saw here an opportunity such as might not for a long time be theirs, and so pleaded for them, and promised to so place themselves as to be ready with a reserve fire if it should be necessary. to frank and alec the honour of the first fire was given. if this did not immediately bring both of the moose down mr ross and sam were to fire next, while the indians would be as a reserve in case of emergency. mustagan was given charge over all in case of any need arising. after a short survey of the fierce conflict it was decided that they must quietly work round the combatants and fire at them from the forest side. under the guidance of mustagan the single party quietly drew back a little, and then, making a detour, were nearly in the rear of the fighting animals when a quick, sharp word from mustagan caused them all to drop flat upon the ground, for there, clearly visible in the light of the dancing auroras, not two hundred yards away, was a large moose cow with two young calves at her side. so intently was she watching the battle that she had not the slightest suspicion of the presence of these hunters. this was a new complication. what was to be done? if possible she must be killed. the meat of a cow moose is very much superior to that of the bull. gliding past the boys like a panther went big tom from the front to consult with mustagan, who was at the rear. soon it was settled that big tom was to get that cow, while the bulls were to be killed as arranged. but a few seconds for consultation were needed between these two indian hunters, and then to the eyes of the boys it seemed as though big tom, the largest man in the party, literally sank into the ground, so small did he seem to make himself, as with his gun in the fickle light he silently glided away. mustagan then, with the party close behind him, moved on again to the scene of the battle, which was still fiercely raging. the ground was very uneven, and as every advantage was taken of it the boys were able to secure a most advantageous position not more than fifty yards from the combatants. the fierce battle was a sight sufficient to try the nerves of much older persons than our boys. the bulls seemed simply wild with rage, and as in their mad rushes their horns struck together frank and alec declared that they saw fire flash from them; others, however, said it was only auroral reflection as they turned at certain angles. mustagan beckoned the two boys who were to have the honour of the first fire, and placing them side by side he quietly said: "wait until in their fighting they turn their sides to you, then aim to strike them behind the foreshoulders." they had not long to wait ere the double report rang out on the midnight air, and as an echo to it another one was heard not far away. that the balls struck was evident, for the thud of the bullets was heard distinctly by all, so close were they to their game. the effect of the firing on one of the bulls was seen to be immediate, for, although his huge horns seemed almost locked in those of his antagonist, he slowly sank to the ground. the other moose, although badly wounded, gave a last vicious plunge at his opponent. then proudly lifting up his head, and seeing for the first time his new antagonists, and being still mad with the excitement of battle, he, without any hesitancy, rushed to the attack. "fire straight at the centre of his head," were mustagan's words. hardly were they uttered ere from the guns of mr ross and sam the death-dealing bullets flew on their mission and the great, fierce animal stumbled forward a few more yards and fell dead, pierced to the brain by both of the balls. in a few minutes they were joined by big tom, who quickly said: "moose cow shot, and little calves run into woods; catch um next day, if wolves not too quick." it was the report of his unerring shot that rang out so quickly after frank and alec had fired. the reaction after the complete silence and the long-strung-up tension, together with the fierce battle witnessed and the decisive victory, was very great. no need of silence now, but the boys were so excited they hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. frank said he wanted to howl. alec said he wanted to dance. sam said he wanted to swing a shillalah. and they all said, "what would not the boys at home give to be here?" a fire was quickly kindled, and a couple of indians remained as watchers while the rest returned to the not very distant camp. the indian in charge had supper ready for them, which was much enjoyed, and then as speedily as possible they were wrapped up in their blankets and doubly wrapped in sweet, refreshing sleep. very few were their hours of slumber. daylight comes early in the summer time in high latitudes, and so when the boys heard the indians moving about and preparing breakfast they sprang up also, and after a hasty bath in the lake were ready for their breakfast and eager to be off, not only to see where their bullets had struck the moose bulls, but to find out how it was that while one dropped so quickly the other was able to make that fierce charge upon them. when they reached the scene of last night's exciting adventures they hardly recognised that locality, so different does a place look in daylight from what it does when illumined by the ever-changing auroras. however, here was the place sure enough, for some indians had already nearly skinned the great animals, and had traced the bullets that had been fired. frank's bullet had pierced the heart of the one that had so quickly dropped in the fight; alec's had gone through the lungs, and, though the wound was a mortal one, it did not so suddenly result in death; hence his ability to make that fearful charge, which was so promptly stopped by the balls of mr ross and sam, both of which were taken out of his brain. this was very satisfactory to the boys, and so they were bracketed with equal honours all round by mr ross, much to their delight, for three nobler, more unselfish lads never chummed together. the success of one was the success of all, and when one seemed to fail, or make a miss, the others were uneasy until he was at the head in the next adventure. but the question now was, "where are those young moose calves?" the indian watchers could give the boys but little information. all they knew was that after the auroras faded away in the dark hour just before dawn they heard them moving about; but they did not frighten them, as mr ross had left orders that they were not to be disturbed, unless some prowling wolves should appear as though on their trail. none, however, were heard, and so the indians had remained very quiet. so the search for the young moose immediately began, and although it was prosecuted with a good deal of vigour, still not a sign of the young animals was discovered. at length mustagan, who had watched the younger members of the party at work, said: "you want to see those calves quick, just wait." quietly taking up one of the birch-bark horns, he began softly blowing into it. the sounds he made were like those of the mother cow when she calls her young from its secluded retreat, where she has cunningly hid it away from its many enemies while she is off feeding. now high, now low, now prolonged and in different tones, came out from that great birch-bark horn those peculiar notes, some of which were not unlike the sounds made by the domestic cow when separated from her calf. for once in his life mustagan was a complete failure. for blow as much as he would--and great were his exertions--no calf appeared in answer to his calls. said big tom, who was a famous moose hunter, and who had listened to mustagan with a good deal of interest and some amusement: "let me have that horn, and i will show you how it ought to be done. you boys watch the woods and be ready to run." then putting the birch horn to his mouth he cooed out such a tender moo- oo-o-o that the boys were fairly startled by the similarity of its sound to the familiar notes in the barnyards at home; but soon other things excited them, for hardly had the echoes of big tom's mooings died away before there came rushing out from the forest the two moose calves. on they came directly toward the spot where big tom had uttered his call. so sudden had been their appearance that all remained perfectly still to watch their movements. certain that they had heard their mother, they were now anxiously looking for her. they were a pair of fine-looking moose calves, about three months old, and so it was resolved, if possible, to capture them alive and tame them. it turned out not so easy a matter as had been anticipated. with as little display as possible the boys and indians tried to surround them before they become alarmed. so confident did the young creatures seem that they had heard their mother that it was some time before they became suspicious of danger, and then only when they were about encircled by the hunters. then the fun began. turning toward the point in the forest from which they had emerged, they made a dash for liberty. frank and alec threw themselves on one, and getting their arms around its neck made a desperate effort to hold it. they were amazed at its strength, as it easily carried them along, and not until they succeeded in tripping it up and throwing it on the ground were they able to hold it. sam and a young indian tackled the other one, and found him much more pugnacious. with a vicious kick he struck the indian in the stomach, who at once decided that he had had enough of that sport and quickly retired, leaving sam now to struggle with him alone. sam at first seized him by his long ears, but was unable to bring force enough to arrest his progress in that way. then he tried to seize him by the neck, but a few strong blows with his fore feet made that a difficult and dangerous task, and so sam had to let go. this seemed to interest the calf, and so from being the one attacked he became the aggressor. the pugnacity of the calf, and the lively way in which he butted his opponent, caused great amusement to the onlookers. sam could not stand this, and so he threw himself desperately on the animal, and hugging him around his neck, held him so closely that he could neither use his hard little head nor his fore feet, with which he had been fighting so vigorously. sam was in an awkward predicament. gladly would a number of indians have rushed to his help, but mr ross wanted him to have the honour of capturing the young moose alone, and so held them back; but all watched the odd struggle, which was intensely amusing. sam still pluckily held on, but the calf evidently considered himself the aggressor, for he tried hard to shake sam loose from him, his object evidently being to strike him with his head or feet. this sam endeavoured to prevent, until at length he was afraid to let go his grip for fear of the now vicious young animal, and so, in his desperation, he called out most comically: "will somebody come and help me to let go of this calf?" help was soon there, and strong arms quickly captured the spirited young creature. it, as well as its companion, was securely tied and taken back with the party when they returned to sagasta-weekee. so great was the quantity of meat and other things secured that a canoe was hastily sent back to the home, and the next day a large boat, similar to those used by the hudson bay company in the fur trade, arrived with a good crew. everything was placed on board, including the two young moose, that already would eat the young branches gathered for them by the boys. a strong yard, inclosed with planks and logs, was made for them, and they soon became quite tame and gentle. harnessed to a cariole, or dog-sled, they travelled with great speed, and seemed to enjoy the fun. but they drew the line at the saddle, and no texas bronco could more easily rid himself of a tenderfoot than these lively animals with their enormous forequarters could send their would- be riders into the snow or grass. our illustration gives us a good idea of how they looked when ready the next spring to be shipped by the hudson bay ship to one of the big zoological gardens in great britain. chapter twenty one. excursion to sea river falls--the cranberry picking--the contest--"where are the children?"--wenonah and roderick lost in the forest--first night's unsuccessful search--the tracks in the sand--mustagan's startling discovery. thus pleasantly passed the bright weeks away at sagasta-weekee. every day had its duties and amusements. mr ross, although the best of masters, was almost a martinet in his affairs, both in the home circle and among those in his employ. this strict disciplinary method is absolutely essential for comfort and success in such a land. if there is a lax method of living and conducting business, soon everything is in confusion and wretchedness. yet while everything went on with almost military precision in the home life, there was nothing about it to make it otherwise than pleasant and enjoyable. so the boys ever returned to this happy home with delight from the excitements of their various hunting and fishing excursions. one of the great deprivations of living in a land where the summer is so short and the winter so long and cold is the lack of native fruit. no apples, pears, cherries, or peaches grow in that northern land. these fruits must be brought to it in a preserved or dried condition. in some sections wild plums are to be found; in others, abundance of cranberries grow most luxuriously. a few wild strawberries spring up in the clearings where great fires have destroyed the forests. a sweet bilberry also abounds in some parts of the country. this fruit is much prized by the indians, and frequently used, mixed with dried meat, in the manufacture of their finest pemmican. the indian women in the neighbourhood of white settlements or trading posts bring in large quantities of the cranberries, which they gather in the marshes and forests, and sell to those who are able and willing to purchase. sometimes cranberry parties were organised, and nearly all the members of the post and families interested would join together and go off on an excursion of several days to places where the berries were abundant, and thus secure large quantities, which were an acceptable addition to their rather meagre bill of fare. this year, as the berries were reported by the indian women to be very abundant, mr and mrs ross, at the urgent request of their own children, as well as to give the boys the unique experience, decided to have a cranberry outing on quite an extended scale, and one that would last for several days. it turned out to be unique and memorable in various ways. it was decided that they should go into camp below sea river falls, on the nelson, and pick berries at their leisure in the great section of country lying north-west from that point, as there they were to be found in large quantities. for the comfort and convenience of the family a couple of large tents were sent on and pitched by some indians. the various utensils and supplies necessary for a good time were also forwarded, so that when mr and mrs ross, with minnehaha, wenonah, roderick, and our three lads, arrived they found everything arranged for their comfort. it was an ideal place for an outing. before them was the great river with the music of its rushing, roaring rapids, down which it was so exciting to run in the canoes under the skillful guidance of the cautious, experienced indians. the great granite rocks in picturesque beauty were everywhere to be seen. back of the sandy beach and grassy sward, where stood the tents and camp fires, was the deep, dark, unbroken forest, that stretched away and away for hundreds of miles. so delightful were the surroundings, and so good the fishing, as well as novel and interesting this running the rapids, that two or three days were thus spent ere any definite arrangements about the cranberry picking was thought of. to aid in gathering a large quantity of berries mrs ross had engaged a number of indian women, who were famous as noted berry pickers. these women brought with them a large indian vessel called a "rogan." it is made out of birch-bark, and is capable of holding about twenty quarts of berries. there are two kinds of cranberries in this land. one is called the high-bush variety, while the other is known as the moss cranberry, as it is generally found where moss is abundant, and grows on a small vine on the ground. it was this latter kind that here abounded and that they had come to gather. as the outing was not merely for the purpose of gathering berries, they did not pick very steadily. mrs ross well knew that her faithful indian women would see that she had her full supply. so the members of the family picked berries, went fishing or hunting or canoeing, more or less frequently, as their inclinations prompted them. several days thus passed in varied sport and work. one evening as the indian women came in with their heavy loads they reported finding, not very far distant, a splendid place, where the berries were very plentiful, and the ground dry and mossy and free from muskegs and rocks. so it was decided that, with the exception of some of the servants, who would remain and take care of the camp, all should go and have a big day of it at berry picking, and then they would make their arrangements for returning home. the preparations necessary were soon made. a number of large and small rogans were made ready, and, in addition, the men took the precaution to carry with them their guns and ammunition. minnehaha and wenonah were very happy and proud of the honour of taking charge of their little brother roddy, as they loved to call him. as the children were anxious to do their share of picking berries they were each supplied with a little birch-bark vessel, and with great delight did they gather quite a number of the bright red berries that were so abundant. as they had left the camp early in the morning they were able to do a capital forenoon's work. at midday they all assembled at a designated place, and much enjoyed the dinner that the servants had prepared for them. then again they separated, and men, women, and children were once more very busily employed in gathering in the fruit, while pleasant chat and merry laugh would be heard from various parts. to add a little zest and excitement to the pleasant work the whole company had been divided into two parties, and between them there was a lively contest as to which should succeed in gathering the greater quantity of berries. little roderick and wenonah were placed on one side as being equal in their picking abilities to their older sister, minnehaha. very proud were the little folks as they filled their dishes and came and emptied them into the large vessels. thus the contest raged, and, as the two parties were about equal in picking abilities, the excitement rose very high, and all exerted themselves to the utmost that their side might be victorious. it had been previously arranged that the contest was to cease at sundown, so as to give them plenty of time to return to the camp in the beautiful gloaming. some able-bodied indian men were employed to carry the large birch rogans to the selected spots, where the berries were to be measured and the victors announced. some time was spent in this work amid the excitement of all, as the contest was very close. "where is roderick?" said mrs ross. "o, he is with wenonah," said minnehaha. "and where is wenonah?" was the question now. no one seemed to know. and so the cry of the sweet musical name rang out on the air: "wenonah! wenonah!" but to that call, and also to that for the little brother roderick, there was no response. at once there was excitement and alarm. "who saw them last, and where were they?" many more such questions were uttered, while some persons ran one way and some another. several young men seized their guns and fired several shots in quick succession, but mr ross stopped them as quickly as possible. mr ross, although alarmed, was the first to get some order among them, and on the closest questioning it came out that none were certain that they had seen the children since about three o'clock, and that was when they were emptying their little dishes of berries into the larger receptacles. then, excited by the contest, they had rushed off for more. a rumbling of thunder in the west startled them, and so, prompt must be their movements. to the point where the little ones were last seen a dozen or more had hurried, and ere they scattered in the forest to begin the search they were told that the firing of the guns would be the signal of success or failure. one report meant they were not found; two reports, close together, was the signal that they had been found, and for the searchers to return. immediately all those who were able to act as searchers, without themselves becoming lost, scattered to their work. on account of the vastness of the forest mr ross positively refused to allow frank, alec, or sam to go any distance away on the search. this was a keen disappointment to the boys, but mr ross was wise in his decision. the searchers had very little to assist them in their work. there were any number of signs where had walked the busy feet, but the trouble was there had been so many pickers at work, and they had travelled so far, that it was impossible to pick out the tracks of the two lost children. only an hour or so were the searchers able to do anything that night; for the thunderstorm was on them, and in spite of all they could do they were all drenched through and through. mrs ross, although stricken with grief, kept firm control over herself, and, surrounded and comforted by minnehaha and the three boys, huddled under the slight protection which some indian women had hastily prepared against the fierce storm. mr ross had done all that was possible in directing the watchers as they brought all their indian experience to their aid. thus the hours passed. the storm spent its fury in the heavy downpour of rain, and then was gone. the stars came out from behind the flying clouds, and the night again became one of beauty. still there were no signs of the children. somewhere out in the forest, alone, were those little ones whom none as yet had been able to find. the heavy rain had completely obliterated every vestige of a trail. so the searchers, sad and quiet, came in one after another, grieved and vexed at their failure. mr ross tried to induce mrs ross, with minnehaha, to return to the camp and obtain refreshment and rest, but she most positively refused. "my children are out in the wild forest, exposed to many dangers. i cannot go to bed until they are found," she passionately exclaimed. so a great fire was built out of dry logs, blankets were sent for from the tents, and the saddest and longest night to those terrified ones slowly passed away. mr ross had not only sent for food and blankets for all, but he had also dispatched swift runners to go by land and water and cease not until they had found mustagan and big tom and told them of his loss and sorrow. soon after sunrise these grand old men walked into the camp. a hasty council was summoned, and these old men closely questioned the indians who had been present the previous day, and who had searched until the storm and darkness stopped them. when they were told that a number of guns had been fired off in quick succession they were much annoyed, and said: "great mistake. lost children in the woods always hide when they hear guns." but no time must be lost. the country was to be marked out, and a code of signals explained, by which they could communicate with each other, as soon as any trail was found. not in straight lines were they to go, but in enlarging circles until they should cross the trail of the children. when it was found, they were to report as speedily as possible, that there might be a concentration from that point and thus no waste in fruitless search. not until about noon was the first sign struck; then it was a number of miles away from the camp. it is simply marvellous the distances that lost persons, even little children, will travel. the clue discovered by big tom was where the children had left the dry, rocky lands, which left no trail of the little feet, and had crossed a small, shallow stream. here the sands were clearly marked by the little footsteps, and tom's big heart gave a great thump of joy as he saw the signs so clearly indicated before him. at first he feared to fire the signal, lest he should add to the terror of the lost children; but as soon as he examined the footprints he saw that they had been made the evening before, and by little ones who were hurrying on as rapidly as possible. as quickly as he could he followed them up until they were lost again on the dry rocks on the other side; then he fired his gun, and while waiting the coming of others he kept diligently searching for some other signs of the wanderers. not long had he to wait ere he was joined by mr ross, mustagan, and others. they were all excited, and glad to see these footprints, but judged by the hardness of the sand in the steps that the children had passed over the creek some hours before dark the previous evening. this being the case, they might have travelled some miles farther before they were stopped by the storm and darkness. but no needless time was spent in surmises and conjecturing. a new starting point had been found, and from it the search was again renewed with all the vigour possible. if wenonah and roderick had been pure white children, brought up in a civilised land with all the ignorance incident to such regions, they would have been found long ere this; but their part indian blood and thorough training in that wild north land was now really to them a misfortune--first, because they had the strength and training to push on with such wonderful speed and endurance; again, it also made them wary and cunning, and so fearful of being tracked by wild beasts or hostile indians that they carefully, but rapidly, moved along in a way that children not brought up in such a land would never have dreamed of. so, while the indians were looking for traces of the children, the wandering lost ones were doing all they could not to leave behind them the vestige of a trail. thus hours passed on, the sun went down in beauty, the shadows of night began to fall; still not another sign of the wanderers had been found. discouraged and annoyed at failure, one after another of the searchers returned to the spot where the footsteps had been discovered. here the camp had been made, and here had come mrs ross, with the boys and others. the sight of the tiny footsteps of the hurrying feet of her little darlings nearly broke her heart. but she crushed down her great sorrow, that nothing in her should divert anyone, even her husband, in the search for those who were still exposed to so many dangers--lost in the great forest of so many thousands of square miles. the last to come in was mustagan, and his face was that of a man who has bad news but, by intense effort, shows it not in his countenance, but keeps it locked up in his heart. few and yet searching were the words uttered at the camp fire as each one had declared to mustagan that there had been no fresh signs. he himself had not given any answer, and, by asking questions of the others, had thus thrown off suspicion as regarded himself. but nevertheless he had seen signs, and what he had seen had nearly driven him wild. but darkness had come on him almost suddenly from the arising up of a black cloud in the west, and so, in spite of all his experience and anxiety, he had been compelled to return shortly after making this startling discovery. what he had seen had so alarmed him that he dare not tell, even to mr ross. very sad, indeed, was that second night around the camp fire. mr and mrs ross were nearly broken-hearted. frank, alec, and sam spent the night in sleepless sorrow. the indians, who all dearly loved the lost little ones, sat back in the gloom and were still and quiet. a kind of stupor seemed to be over them all, with one exception, and, strange to say, that one was mustagan. sharp eyes were on him, and some wondered why he was so strangely agitated and was so restless and excited. a little after midnight he abruptly sprang up, and speaking to big tom and a couple of other indians they all withdrew some distance back into the darkness of the forest. to them in quiet tones, so as not to be heard by the sorrowing ones at the camp fire, mustagan told what he had seen just as the darkness had set in. when they heard his story they were as much excited as was he. his story was this: he had pushed on in the direction he had selected in the hunt for the children, and toward evening he had reached a part of the country where the berries were very plentiful. here he had found traces that bears were numerous, and as they are fond of these berries they had been feasting on them. this, of course, alarmed him, and so he cautiously began making a circle around this place, and at length, in a depression in the forest, he found the dried-up channel of a creek. he cautiously hurried along on the dry sands, and, after going on only a few hundred yards, he found a number of fresh tracks, not only of bears that had recently crossed but also among them the footsteps of the lost children! three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter twenty two. children's footsteps and bears' tracks--children in the custody of the bears--the plan of rescue--the boys' part--the bird call--success. this was terrible news; and only indians that have such perfect control over themselves could have heard it without making an outcry. as it was, mustagan had to utter some warning words to maintain the perfect silence that was desired. in a few sentences he quietly stated that the children were not then running, and, judging by their footsteps, and the broken branches of berry-bushes, from which they had been picking the fruit, they were not frightened. he judged, also, from the tracks that there were four bears, two large ones and two that were quite small. what astonished him most of all was that the tracks were so numerous, and seemed to say to him that both the bears and the children had crossed and recrossed the place several times. when he made this discovery he hid himself at once, for fear his presence might anger the bears and cause them to destroy the children; he listened, but could hear no sound. after waiting quietly for a time he returned to the trail and followed it until it entered among the dense bushes and great rocks. if the light had not so quickly faded he could have easily followed them; as it was, he was perplexed to know what to do. if he should come up to them in such company, he was not sure how he would be received. so he thought the best thing he could do was not to anger the bears, who were evidently not disposed to hurt the children, and so he quietly withdrew and came back to the camp. old hunters as they were, here was a new experience to almost every one of them. big tom was the first to speak. "my words are," said he, "that we go and tell the master and mistress at once. it will comfort them to know the little ones are alive, even if they are in such company. we shall yet get the children. as the bears did not kill them at first, and there are plenty of berries, they will not kill them soon." to this suggestion of big tom's they all agreed, and immediately after returned to the camp fire, where mustagan, in his simple yet picturesque way, told the story of his discovery. the poor mother could only say: "thank god! he will yet restore to me my children." mr ross's lips quivered, but crushing down his own fears he said, as he comforted his sorrow-stricken wife: "yes, thank god! perhaps he has made even the wild animals of the forest to be their guardian angels." frank, alec, and sam had listened to mustagan with bated breath. as alec said afterward: "my heart seemed to stop beating while i listened." when it came out that the bears were friendly, and not disposed to injure the children, the lads could hardly restrain the hearty cheers that somehow, in spite of themselves, would try to burst out. there was no more sleep that night. as it was at least five miles to the spot where the tracks had been discovered, the strict orders of silence were cancelled, and soon there were noise and activity. food was prepared and eaten with an appetite unknown since wenonah and roderick were of the happy party. the absorbing question with mr and mrs ross, in consultation with mustagan and big tom, was how they were to proceed when the morning came. to follow them up and rush in upon them might anger the bears, and the children might suffer. to stalk them so quietly as to be able to get within range and shoot the bears might terrify the children, or they might be wounded by the bullets. there was much talking and many suggestions. a remark from mustagan gave mrs ross a hint, and so a woman's quick intuition solved the perplexing question. mustagan had said that, as he carefully examined the tracks, he found where the children had evidently filled their birch dishes with berries and fed them to the little bears, whose many tracks had shown that, like young dogs, they had gambolled and played around them. said mrs ross as she heard this: "those bears seem well disposed toward children, so the brave boys will go on ahead with similar dishes of berries, and they will find that the animals will rather eat the fruit than do the lads any harm." this suggestion so delighted the boys that, without a moment's thought of the risks they would run, they gladly consented, and were eager to carry out the suggestion. mr ross and the indians were old bear hunters, and they could not at first think that any such plan would be at all possible. however, think or plan as much as they would, they found it utterly impossible to settle on any other scheme that appeared to them either safe or suitable. the result was that daylight found them still in perplexity, and altogether undecided as to the correct method to adopt in this novel expedition, so unique in all of their experiences. mrs ross, however, and the boys, stuck to her suggestion, and pleaded that it be attempted. as nothing else was suggested the indians and mr ross at length consented. however, they took many precautions to save the lads and prevent disaster, either to them or to the children. the preparations were soon made, even to the rogans of berries, and heavily armed with their guns the party set out under the guidance of mustagan. mrs ross went with them, as her anxieties were so great for the rescue of her darlings. when within a half mile or so of the spot where the tracks had been seen they halted, and, after some final consultation, mustagan and big tom decided to go on and see if there were any further developments. very cautiously and yet rapidly did they advance from covert to covert, until they were so close to the sand of the dried-up stream that it was quite visible to them, although they themselves were well hid from observation. here for a time they waited, for they shrewdly conjectured from mustagan's description of the numerous tracks, crossing and recrossing, that for the present, at least, the bears were abiding in that vicinity. not long had they to wait ere they were convinced of the correctness of these conjectures, for coming out of the forest on the other side of the dried-up stream were to be seen four bears and the two lost children. crouching down low on the ground, and peering through the dense bushes behind which they were hidden, did our two indians watch them for a time, that they might decide on the best method of rescuing the little ones. the wind was blowing from the bears toward the indians, and so there was little fear of the animals scenting danger at that distance, which was still a good quarter of a mile away. why the children had remained so long with the bears was perplexing to these hunters until the mystery was solved by the fact that was now evident to their eyes, that the children were really prisoners and the bears would not let them escape. as the men watched they saw wenonah seize roderick's hand in hers, and, starting on a run, she tried to go up the channel on the sands. this movement was stopped by one of the large bears as speedily as possible by putting himself in the children's way. then children, still hand in hand, turned to the opposite direction, and when trying there to escape were stopped by the other large bear. in the meantime the little ones played around them like lively young dogs. foiled in their efforts to go either up or down in the dried-up channel of the stream, after some time spent on the sands the children and bears came up, and, entering among the berry-bushes, began to eat of the abundant fruit. they were now much nearer to the indians, and it was evident that the young bears were looking to the children to help them in picking their breakfast of berries. when convinced of this the indians' eyes brightened, and they said: "the mistress is right; the boys will feed the young bears, and we will shoot the old ones." noiselessly they withdrew from their hiding place and rejoined the rest of the party, who had with almost feverish impatience awaited their return. quietly and rapidly they reported what they had seen, and then the final preparations were made. quickly they all moved on, and soon were at the brow of the last hill, from the top of which the whole of the great plain, densely covered with the berry-bushes, could be seen, with the thread of shining sand in the distance, already referred to. here on the hilltop mr and mrs ross were seated behind some dense bushes, through which they could look without creating suspicion. then the indians, taking the boys along with them, started on their dangerous course. like panthers they moved quietly along, keeping as close to the ground as possible, until they reached a ledge of rocks. here the indians, with their guns loaded with ball, were placed, while the boys, with nothing but their baskets of berries, in company with mustagan went on a little farther. then mustagan, giving the boys their final instructions and charging them to keep cool and be brave, no matter what might occur, withdrew with his gun, and hid himself behind a rock, a little way in the rear of them. it was an exciting time for the boys, but they had learned to have such confidence in these grand old red men that such a thing as fear was now about unknown in any of them, even at the most trying moments. while there sitting they were startled by a shrill bird call from not far behind them. they could hardly believe their ears when they found it came from the lips of mustagan. in a minute or two it was repeated, and then again and again, with short intervals between. to their surprise another bird call some hundreds of yards ahead of them was heard, and after a time it was repeated. then the blackbird's notes rang out from behind, and then another note came from the front. ere the voice behind could again reply a solemn "hoot-a-hoot-a-hoo" came from the front. for a time all was still, and then the song of the robin was heard in front, and only a chirp was heard in the rear. sharp and quick was the ending. soon after this chirp the boys heard the bushes rustling in front of them not fifty yards away. then they saw in the opening the two children, closely followed by two young bears. as the children slowly moved along they kept plucking the berries and feeding them to the greedy young animals. the children were ragged and sadly changed as, from their still hidden position, the boys watched them; they could see that wenonah, at least, seemed to know that they must act cautiously, and they observed that frequently she spoke to the little fellow at her side. it was her bird notes that had answered mustagan. little did they realise, a year or so before, as he taught wenonah these calls of the birds and what they meant, that her very life would so soon depend upon her knowledge of them. still cautiously advancing with little roderick at her side, and both of them feeding the little bears, she at length reached a spot where she caught a glimpse of the boys. without at all raising her voice she said: "crouch down as well as you can and bring the berries." this they quickly did. "feed these greedy young ones while i give a basket to the old ones, so that while they are eating them we can get away." poor girl! she knew not of the number of guns that were now within range of anything that would dare to harm her, and the boys were warned not to speak. taking one of the baskets of berries, she quickly disappeared among the dense bushes, while the boys, with the other full baskets, had made friends with the young bears. when wenonah returned, she found the young bears were filling themselves with the fruit. so thoroughly terrified had the children become, through fear of the bears, that although the boys by expressive signs urged them at once to hurry in the direction of safety and deliverance, they hesitated, and even when they started kept fearfully looking back. the instant they reached mustagan he shouted to the boys to return, and not a moment too soon, for crashing through the bushes came the two old bears, fierce and savage, and showing that in some way they had become suspicious of danger. coolly picking up the two baskets which the two young bears had upset, the boys, keeping their faces to the fierce, savage brutes, slowly retreated. the bears, at first only seeing the boys, came rushing toward them, but when they reached their young ones they stopped for a time, and then came on to attack the boys. to the ledge of rocks mustagan had carried the now happy children. they had nearly smothered "dear old mustagan," as they loved to call him, with their kisses. wild, indeed, were they with joy as father and mother rushed forward and received them as from the dead. they could only lie clinging to them while they wept out their bliss. from it they were startled, as out rang a volley from the guns, and two great, fierce bears rolled over each other, each shot through more than one vital spot. "capture the little fellows alive!" was the cry. and soon, after a lively chase and some sharp struggling, two four months' old cubs were so tied up as to be unable to do any injury either with teeth or claws. very anxious had the boys been during the search for the lost children. their only regret was that they were so powerless as to be unable to join in the search. very proud, however, were they to have had some share in the exciting events of the last hours of their strange deliverance. tears were in their eyes and dimmed their vision as they first saw them in the company of the wild beasts, showing by their appearance what they must have suffered during the long days and nights of such hardships. the story of the children's account of their adventures and hardships will be given in another chapter. suffice here to say that very quickly was the march taken up, after the half-famished little ones had been fed, for they had had nothing but berries to eat, and, as roderick put it: "naughty bears, they kept me all the time picking berries for them." the return to the camp on the banks at sea river falls, and then to sagasta-weekee, was soon made. great were the rejoicings there as well as at the mission, and at the hudson's bay company's fort, when the news of the finding of the lost ones reached them. a special thanksgiving service was held the next sabbath at the mission church, at which whites and indians from near and far gathered, and entered heartily into the spirit of the service. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter twenty three. wenonah's story of their marvellous adventures with and deliverance from the bears--roderick's comments. it was wisely decided that, as the children were so exhausted, at least a couple of days should be allowed to pass before they were asked to give anything like a full account of their marvellous adventures. wenonah, of course, was the principal speaker, but roderick often put in some quaint remark, which gave additional interest to the story. seated in her father's arms, while roderick monopolised those of his mother, while minnehaha and the boys, with some friends from the fort and mission, gathered round, wenonah told in her own way the story of their strange adventures: "roderick and i were to try and gather as many berries as minnehaha; so we took our rogans, and we went to where the berries were thickest, and once we came back and emptied our dishes, and then we hurried away where we had seen a good many. but we did not find as many there as we hoped, and so we went on and on, and it took us a long time to fill our rogans, and when we did we started to come back, but we did not find the way, and so we hurried on and on. then after a while we called, and called, and nobody answered us. so roddy and i said we would not cry. so we hurried on and on, to try and get back. then we came to some high rocks, and we climbed up as high as we could, and when we called again we thought we heard voices answering us from some other rocks, and so we hurried over there, but there was nobody, and no voice. then we pushed on, and on, and soon we heard the thunder, but we never stopped, but just tried to get back before the rain. "soon we left the rocky land, and went down a long hill where we saw a little stream. this we crossed where the water was not deep. "we wanted to get home, so we tried not to feel tired or to cry; but, although we tried ever so hard, we could not find the way. we had held on to our dishes, but now they were not half full, and so we stopped and ate some of the berries. soon after, it began to thunder very hard, and there was lightning, and so we hurried up to some big trees, and while we were standing under the branches, to be out of the rain, we saw one old tree that was all hollow on one side, and as the rain was coming down through the branches we went and got into this hollow tree. i had roderick go in first so that i could keep him dry, and i stood at the outside." here roderick spoke up and said: "i wanted to stand on the outside because i was the boy, but wenonah said she had better because she was the biggest." "then," continued wenonah, "as it soon got very dark, and none of you came for us, we began to cry, and we could not help it, for there we were all alone in that hollow tree in the dark. "after a while a big owl in one of the trees began to call. i knew what it was for mustagan had taught me. at first roddy said it was somebody calling him." again roddy, who was now nestling in his mother's arms, spoke up and said: "i thought it was somebody saying to me, `who, who, who!' and i said, `we are roddy and wenonah ross, and we are lost.' "then, when it called again, it only said:-- "`oo! oo! oo!' so then we knew what it was, as we had often heard it at night here at home." "we were glad to hear it," said wenonah, "for all was now so dark and lonely. we could not lie down; we just had to stand up there all night. i held roddy up as well as i could. once we heard the cry of the wild cat, and that made us keep very still. i must have nodded some, as i leaned against the inside of that old tree, but it was an awful long night, and we were glad when it was light enough to see. then we left that old hollow tree, and took up our dishes, and as we were very hungry we went out among the berry-bushes and ate some of the berries. we were careful to leave no tracks, because of that wild cat. we ate a lot of berries, but we did miss our good breakfast at home. we filled our dishes, and then started for home; but we could not find it. while we were going on among the bushes we came out into a little opening, and there were the two little bears. we thought at first they were two little black dogs. they came right up to us, and when they sat up so funnily on their little hind legs we saw they were bears, and of course we were afraid. "then they came and smelled our baskets of berries, and as we held them out to them they seemed very hungry, and at once began eating." "but they were so greedy; they were worse than little piggies," said little roderick; "they made such funny little noises all the time they were eating." "but," continued wenonah, "that sound of theirs seemed to call the old bears, that we had not yet seen. they came rushing through the bushes, and we were so frightened we could not even cry out or let go of our baskets. "when they rushed at us the little bears, that were between them and us, seemed to think that all the old bears wanted to do was to get at the berries too, and so they kept so funnily twisting their little bodies between the old bears and us, while all the time they were eating the berries. when the old bears saw this they stopped looking so fierce and savage, and just sat down on their hind legs and looked at us feeding their young ones. "then we began to wonder what would happen when the little bears had eaten all the berries that were in our baskets. "little roddy seemed to know just what to do; for as there were some berries growing close to him, while he held his basket in one hand he picked some more berries and fed them to the little bear. then i did the same to the one that had been eating out of my dish. soon we began moving slowly among the bushes for more berries, to find plenty for the greedy little fellows, but we kept them as well as we could between the old bears and us. "as the old bears kept moving around we could not keep their little ones between them and us very long, and so by and by they came close up to us, but they did not now seem to be very angry. one of them got close up to roddy, and there he stood up and looked so big beside my little brother that i almost screamed out, i was so frightened. but i did not do it for fear he might hurt him. he only moved a little, and then he came down again on all his four legs, and as he put his big mouth close to him roddy just put in it a handful of berries. after that there was no more trouble with him except to get berries enough." "yes," said roderick, "i just thought that if big bears like berries as well as little bears perhaps they would rather have them than eat us little children; so i just chucked that handful in his mouth, and he just did like them." "i was slower in making such good friends with the other bear," continued wenonah, "because the little one i was feeding was such a greedy little pig. he would not, for a long time, let me gather a handful and give to the big bear that, once or twice, got so close to me as to put its cold nose against my face. my! it made me shiver. but i said in my heart, `i will be brave, for i want to save roddy,'" and the child's voice broke. "i did want to see my father, and my mother, and minnehaha again." "but we did not cry here, did we?" said roderick. but the memory of that event was too great for them now, and throwing themselves in each other's arms they burst out in a passionate fit of weeping, that was so contagious no eyes remained dry in that group of loved ones there gathered to hear their pathetic story. when calm again wenonah went on with the story: "after a while the little ones had enough, and then they began wrestling and playing with each other. they acted as if they wanted roddy to play with them, and i told him to do so, but not to hurt them, and perhaps the old father and mother bears would not hurt us before we could run away." "yes," said roddy, "i had great times with them, but they always wanted to wrestle with me more than any other kind of sport." "i kept gathering berries," said wenonah, "while roddy played with the young bears. the old ones kept me busy now and were just about as greedy as the young ones had been. "after a while i said to roddy, `we must try and get away from here,' for we did want to come home and see you all. "we did not talk very much to each other, for our voices seemed to make the bears angry. but we found that when we tried to get away they got right in front of us and stopped us with their big bodies. this made me feel very bad, but i did not tell roddy. some time early in the day i heard some one calling, and i tried to answer, but one of the bears struck me such a blow with one of his paws, and showed his dreadful teeth in such a way, that i was so frightened that i dare not call again." said little roddy, once again: "when i saw that naughty bear hit my sister with his paw i wanted to hit him with a stick." "this voice of whatever it was seemed to frighten the bears, and so off they started," said wenonah, "and they made us go along with them. we had to go; for if we stopped, or tried to go some other way, they growled at us, and pushed us with their noses, and so we had to go with them. soon they came out of the bushes and crossed over the sand, and went up on the other side into the dark woods. we were very much afraid, but we whispered that we would not cry, but just be brave, for we knew you would soon come and fight those great big bears. "the way the bears made us go was this. one big bear went on before, then the little ones followed next, then they made roddy and me follow next. we had to do it, for just behind us was the other big bear, and he would growl at us if we did not just walk right along. "then, after we had travelled some time, we came out of the dark forest among some, o, such big rocks, bigger than houses. among them we had to go, until we came to a dark opening like a big door, and into this we had to go. it must have been the home of the bears. "roddy cried out, with fear, but the bears growled again and showed their great teeth, and so we had to go in." "i didn't want to go in," said the poor boy, as he put his arms around the neck of his mother; "it was worse than a cellar, it looked so dark. but the old bear behind just kept pushing me along with his nose, so i had to go." "it was not such a bad place after all," said wenonah, "when we once got into it. it seemed dark at first as we went in out of the sunshine; but when we were in it, and looked back, there was a good deal of light. in it were big piles of leaves and dry grass, and on them the bears soon lay down. one of the big bears lay down between us and the door, so we could not get out. we sat down by the little bears, and i whispered to roddy to be brave, for god would take care of us and our friends would surely find us. then we lay down on the dry grass and, being very weary, soon went to sleep, with our arms around each other. "how long we slept we knew not, but were suddenly roused up by the little bears playing and tumbling over and around us. so we got up, and the bears made us go back again across the sands into the berry-bushes, and there we all ate berries, as there was nothing else to eat. the little ones kept poking their noses into our hands, and thus begged us to pick berries for them." "the lazy little fellows," said roderick, now smiling as he thought of them; "little greedy piggies that never had enough." "there we stayed in the bushes," said wenonah, "until nearly night, and then they made us go back again with them in the same way to the same place. it seemed so dreadful to have to spend the night in that place with those wild bears; but we whispered, `we will be brave,' and so we lay down between the little bears, for in some way or other we felt the little ones were our best friends, and it was because of them the old ones did not kill us. "i thought we could never spend the night in such a place, but we did. we just whispered our prayers as there we lay, and ended with, `now i lay me down to sleep.' and sleep we did until the little bears woke us up again the next morning. "the old bears were now so friendly that they let us pat them, and so i thought that perhaps they would let us go; and so, when we came to the sand, i whispered to roddy, `let us try and get away.' but those wicked bears would not let us go; for when we tried to go along the sand in one direction one of the big bears got in our way and made us go back; then we tried to go the other way, and they stopped us there. i now felt that we were like prisoners, and that we had to go with them. they led us again into the berry-bushes, and roddy and i ate a good many, for we were very hungry, and the little bears teased us so much we had to pick a lot for them. it was when i was feeling the worst, and fearing that perhaps they would never let us leave them, that i heard the bird note. o, how sweet it sounded! for i knew it was from mustagan, and that it meant we would soon be free. but i saw that the bears had heard it, and were very uneasy, as they had been at all sounds. for a time they stopped eating berries and stood up and listened. however, when it came again and again, so bird-like, they lost their fear and again began eating the berries." said wenonah: "i was afraid to answer, for the bears had always been so angry at us when we made any noise; but i knew that sweet call meant rescue and home, and must be answered, and so, while putting a big handful of berries in the mouth of the fiercest old bear, i gave the answering call. then came the reply. "i must have been trembling, for in my reply i shook in my voice, and the bears were angry and growled at me. how ever, i knew i could correctly give the owl call which mustagan knew was our signal of danger. so when i passed behind a tree i gave it as loud as i could, as though from an owl in the tree above me. when all was right again i gave the robin song, and you all know the rest." chapter twenty four. congratulations--other incidents of lost children--long excursion by the boys--indian legend--"why is the bear tailless?"--oxford lake--black bears as fishermen--the lookout from the trees--fish-stealing bears--the conflict--bears versus boys and indians--sam's successful thrust--plenty of bear meat. the thrilling adventures and escape of wenonah and roderick were, of course, the great sensations that were most talked about for many a day. children have wonderful recuperative powers, and so the two little ones recovered from the effects of their strange mishaps long before mr and mrs ross or even minnehaha did. but time is a great healer, and soon all were well and in good spirits again. the event produced a deep impression upon frank, sam, and alec, and drew out from the older servants at the home and some of the indians some very interesting stories. it is simply amazing what a difference there is in people in respect to their ability to find their way out of a forest when once the trail is lost. some people invariably get lost in as small an area as a hundred-acre forest, and are almost sure to come out on the opposite side to the one desired. indians, perhaps on account of their living so much in the woods, are not so liable to get bewildered and lost as white people. still some of them are as easily perplexed as other people. one of this class went out hunting and lost himself so completely that his friends became alarmed and went searching for him. when they fortunately found him, one, chaffing him, said: "hello, are you lost?" to this he indignantly replied: "no, indian not lost, indian here; but indian's wigwam lost!" it would never do for him to admit that such a thing could possibly happen as his being lost. so popular and beloved were mr ross and his family that not only did the congratulations on the recovery of the children come from the hudson bay company officials and other white people from far and wide, but indians of other tribes, who had known mr ross in the years gone by, when he was in the company's service, came from great distances, and in their quiet but expressive way indicated their great pleasure at the restoration of the little ones to their parents. mustagan was, of course, the hero of the hour, and as usual he received the congratulations with his usual modesty and gave great credit to big tom. he also had nothing but kind words for the brave white lads, who had so coolly and unflinchingly played their part in the closing scene of the rescue. his only regret was that he had not had them take their guns with them when they went to the front with the berries, so that they might have had a share in the grand fusillade that stopped so suddenly the rush of the furious bears. the actions of the bears in thus sparing the children's lives brought out from the indians several remarkable stories of similar conduct known to have occurred elsewhere. one indian told of an old mother bear that boldly attacked an indian woman who, with her young babe, had gone out into the forest to gather wood. the mother fought for her child until unconscious. when she came to herself both the bear and the papoose were gone. she returned to her wigwam and gave the alarm, but as the men were away hunting several days passed ere they could begin the search. when at length they discovered the bear's den they found the child was there alive. in killing the bear they had to take the greatest care lest they hurt the child, as the bear seemed in its ferocity to think more of defending the child from them than of saving its own life. the child when rescued was perfectly naked, yet was fat and healthy, and cried bitterly when taken away from the warm den and the body of the dead bear that it had suckled with evident satisfaction. to this and other wonderful stories the boys listened with the greatest delight. the fact is, while the children were lost they were as miserable a trio as could be found, and now the reaction had come, and they were just bubbling over with delight and ready for any story that had, even in the remotest degree, anything similar to what had so excited them. indians love good companions, and they found them in the boys; so it was not long before some of those who had come from oxford lake invited them to return with them, and they promised them some rare sport. at first mr ross was a bit fearful about letting them go so far, but as big tom and martin papanekis offered to go in charge of the two canoes he at length yielded. so, in company with the indians from that place, they started off in great spirits, well supplied with guns and ammunition, and all the necessary camping outfit for a ten days' or two weeks' excursion. it was with very great delight that the boys set off with their fresh, dusky, red companions on this trip. it was principally down the rapid lakes and rivers up which the boatmen gallantly rowed on their journey from york factory. the running of the rapids, especially a wild, dangerous one through hell's gate, very much excited the boys. on one of the beautiful islands in oxford lake they pitched their tents, and had some capital sport in fishing for the gamy trout which there abound. the only drawback to the fishing in such a land as this, where the fish are so abundant, is that the sportsmen soon get weary with drawing up the fish so rapidly. the finest whitefish in the world are to be found in oxford lake. they, however, will not take the hook, and so are caught only in gill nets. black bears are quite numerous in this part of the country. they are very fond of fishing, and so it was proposed to try and get a shot at one or two, as the indians well knew their favourite resorts. indeed, the indian tradition of why the bear has such a short tail is the result of his preference for fish diet. they say that originally the bear had a beautiful tail, so long that with it he could easily whisk the flies off his ears. one winter a greedy bear, not content to stay in his den and sleep as bears ought to do, wandered out on a great frozen lake. there he met a fox hurrying along with a fine fish in his mouth. the bear being the larger and stronger animal, he rushed at him to capture the fish. the fox, seeing him coming, quietly dropped it on the ice, and, putting his forepaw upon it, said to the bear: "why bother yourself with such an insignificant fish as this, when, if you hurry, you can get any number of fine large ones." "where are they to be found?" asked the bear. "why," said the fox, "did you not hear the thunder of the cracking ice on the lake?" "yes, i heard it, and trembled," said the bear. "well, you need not fear," said the fox, "for it was only the frost king splitting the ice, and there is a great crack, and the fish are there in great numbers. all you have to do is to go and sit across the crack and drop your long, splendid tail in the water, and you will be delighted to see with what pleasure the fish will seize hold of it. then all you will have to do will be to just whisk them out on the ice, and then you will have them." the silly bear swallowed this story, and away he rushed to a crack in the ice. these cracks are very frequently found in these northern lakes in bitter cold weather. they are caused by the ice contracting and thus bursting. down squatted the bear on his haunches, and, dropping his beautiful tail in the water, he patiently waited for the bite. but the water in these cracks soon freezes again, especially when it is fifty or sixty degrees below zero, and so it was not long before in this crack it was solid again. and so when the bear got tired waiting for a bite, or even a nibble, he tried to leave the place, but found it was impossible without leaving his tail behind him. this he had to do, or freeze or starve to death, and so he broke loose, and ever after has been tailless. this is one of the many traditions that abound among the indians. they have traditions to account for almost everything in nature. some of them are interesting, ingenious; others are ridiculous and senseless. it is well-known, however, no matter how the bear lost his beautiful tail, if he ever had one, he is still very fond of fish, and often displays a great deal of ingenuity in capturing them. so it was decided that, if possible, the boys should have a chance to see him at his work, and, if possible, get a shot or two, as this was the favourable time of the year, as certain kinds of fish were spawning in the shallows of the streams, and for them he would be on the lookout. as these regions were the hunting grounds of the oxford indians, whom they had accompanied from mr ross's, they knew every place likely to be frequented by the bears; and so three canoes were fitted out, with one of our boys in each, and away they started, full of pleasurable anticipation, not so much just now to shoot or kill, as to find the place where they could see bruin at what was at this season his favourite occupation, namely, that of catching fish. oxford lake, when no storms are howling over it, is one of the most beautiful in the world. as the weather was now simply perfect, the boys enjoyed very much the canoe excursions, and, in addition, a fair amount of shooting. ducks, partridges and other birds were shot on the wing, or at the points where they stopped to rest and eat. they were rewarded in their search by finding several places where the bears had undoubtedly been at work at their favourite pastime. the shrewd indians were also able to tell as to the success or ill luck of the bears in their fishing efforts. at places where only a few bones or fins were to be seen scattered about, the indians said: "poor fishing here; only catch a few, eat them all up." however, they found other places where only part of the fish had been eaten, and here the indians said: "this looks better. when fish plenty, bear eat only the best part." at length, however, they reached a place that made even the eyes of the generally imperturbable indians flash with excitement. it was on the north-eastern part of the lake, where the river that flows from rat lake enters into oxford lake. here, not far from the mouth of the stream, were some gravelly shallows which were evidently favourite resorts for the fish during the spawning season. just a little way out from the shore were several broad, flat granite rocks that rose but a little above the surface of the water. between these rocks and the shore was quite a current of water that ran over a gravelly bed. on the mainland opposite this flat ridge of granite rocks were to be seen a large number of fish, each ranging in weight from eight to ten pounds. what most excited and pleased the indians was that while the numerous tracks indicated that several bears had been there fishing only the night before, yet each fish had only had one piece bitten out of it, and that was on the back just a little behind the head. bears are very dainty when they have abundance to choose from, and so, when fish are very plentiful, especially the whitefish, they are content with only biting out that portion containing some dainty fat, which is, as we have said, on the swell of the back just behind the head. when this discovery was made the men in the other canoes were notified, and quietly and quickly, plans were made to not only see the bears at work that night, when they would return, but to have some shots at them; for the indians said: "bears not such fools as to leave such a place while food so plenty." the impression among those who knew their habits was that even now the bears were sleeping not very far away in the dense forests. so the place was carefully looked over, and the best spots for observation were selected. an important consideration was to form some idea, as to the direction, from which the bears would come, if they returned that night to this spot. indian cleverness, sharpened by experience in such matters, enabled them to solve this very important question by studying the trail along which they had been cautiously coming and going very recently. this they found to be almost a straight line running directly back into the depths of the dense forest. to climb trees as points of observation from which to view bears is, as a general thing, a dangerous experiment, as bears themselves are such capital climbers. but there are times when it is the only possible course available for those who would observe their action, on account of the flatness of the country thereabout. so, speedily as possible, the trees were selected that were considered most suitable. these were situated a little north and south of the spot where the bears had thrown their fish on the shore. they were a little distant from the trail along which it was likely the bears would come. three trees were thus selected, and it was decided that sam, alec, and frank should each have one indian in his tree with him in case of attack. the other indians were to remain out from the shore in their canoes, sheltered from view by some rocks that were not far distant. they were not so far away as to be beyond call, if they should be needed. all these matters having been decided upon, they entered their canoes again and quietly paddled out to one of the rocky isles, not far distant, and on the side opposite to the mainland they gathered some dry wood and had a good dinner, for which they had capital appetites. then the indians lit their pipes and curled down on the rocks for a smoke and rest, and urged the boys also to try and get some sleep. they at first thought they were too excited, in view of the coming night's adventures, to sleep, but as the indians so desired they lay down near the shore, and the rippling waves were such a soothing lullaby that, strange to say, they were soon in dreamless slumber. a couple of hours was all that could be allowed them, for, as the indians said: "sometimes bears move around early, and we must be all there in the trees before they come." all the preparations were soon made. the guns were freshly loaded with ball, and some extra ammunition was taken in the pockets of each one. their hunting knives were given a few rubs on the stones to see that they were keen and sharp. in addition, much to the boys' surprise, there was given to each one of them a good solid birch club, about eighteen inches in length and an inch and a half thick. as an extra precaution against their being dropped, the indians, who had prepared them while the boys slept, had bored a hole through one end, and inserted a deerskin thong to slip over the wrist. how they were to be used, and the wisdom of preparing them, we shall see later on. the indians were similarly armed, but, in addition, they stuck their hunting hatchets in their belts. a few final instructions were given and the signals decided upon, and then the boys and their indian comrades were noiselessly paddled to the shore. they were landed as closely as possible to the trees into which they were to be ensconced, so as to leave but little scent of their footsteps on the ground. in the two trees selected on the north side were frank and alec, each with an indian hunter, while sam and his comrade took up their assigned station in a fine large tree on the south side. it was about an hour before sundown ere they were all quietly stowed away in these peculiar resting places. the other indians quietly paddled back to the places designated beyond the rocks. for a couple of hours they had to sit there in silence, broken only by the singing of some birds around them, or the call or cry of some wild animal in the forest. they were first aroused by hearing the crunching of bones where they had noticed the fish lying. on peering out from their hiding places they saw an old black fox, with a litter of half- grown ones, making a hasty meal out of the fish. the indians would have loved to have captured them, as the skin of the black fox is very valuable. however, it was not foxes they were now after, but bears; and, besides this, the skin of the fox is only prime in the cold, wintry months. so they had to be content with watching them as there they greedily devoured the fish. suddenly they were disturbed in their repast, and dashed away, each with a piece of fish in its mouth, and the watchers observed that what had caused their sudden retreat was a large wolverine that had quite unexpectedly appeared upon the scene. he, too, seemed to be fond of fish, and at once began to feast upon them. not long, however, was he permitted to thus enjoy himself, for out in the beautiful gloaming a great black bear was seen emerging from the now dark forest upon the shore. at his coming the thievish wolverine at once slunk away. the bear did not attempt to eat any of the fish that were still remaining; but, after a short survey of the coast up and down to see that all was clear, he boldly plunged into the water and crossed over to one of the shallow rocks only a few yards away. hardly had he reached it ere another, and then another, bear came out from the forest along the central trail which the men had earlier in the day discovered. they were not long in joining their comrade on the smooth, wide rocks which we have described. after they had spent a little time in inspection they lay down on the rocks facing the shore, as close to the water as they could without really touching it. these movements could be distinctly seen by the boys, as they were looking out toward the west, where the sky was still bright and the few clouds golden. for a few minutes the bears were very still, then there was a quick movement on the part of one of them as he shot out one of his handlike paws into the water under a passing fish, and threw it from him across the stream, high and dry, up on the shore. soon the other bears were similarly employed, and the fish were rapidly being captured. the boys excitedly watched these sturdy fishermen, and were astonished at the cleverness and quickness with which they were able to throw out the fish upon the shore. although they had to throw them quite a number of yards, they very seldom miscalculated and allowed any to fall short and thus drop back into the water. but before the pile of fish had become very large there happened something else to divert the attention of the spectators from the three four-footed fishermen out on the flat rocks. suddenly they heard the sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bones. on looking down to see who were these new intruders, they were able to see not many yards below them a couple of other bears that, in their prowling around and looking for their supper, had found their way to this capital supply of fish. as the watchers peered down at them it was evident by the greedy way in which they attacked the fish that they were so hungry as not to be at all particular. their sudden appearance and attack on the fish were not at all appreciated by the industrious trio that had been so skillfully catching these fish for their own supper. they had no disposition to be fishermen for others, and so with growls of rage they suddenly dashed into and across the water, and sprang upon the intruders. it was a fierce battle, and but little of it could be distinctly seen, especially when under the shadows of the trees. when, however, in their struggles they came out on the bright, sandy shore, there was still enough of the western twilight in which to witness a good deal of terrific fighting. bears have thick fur and tough hides, and so their battles are generally carried on until one side is shaken into exhaustion or knocked into submission. but so stubborn was the fight here that it continued with but few intermissions until the moon, which was nearly full, had so risen up that everything was made about as bright as in the daytime. it was evident that the two intruding bears were so hungry that, although they had been well shaken, they were loath to consider themselves beaten or to leave so sumptuous a supper, and so they again returned to the conflict. the battle was renewed in all its fury, and when the three were again victorious the vanquished ones, instead of again retreating into the forest, each shaking off his opponent rushed to the nearest tree and began its ascent, one followed by two bears and the other by one. these two trees, up which the five bears were now climbing, happened to be the ones in which frank and alec and their two indian companions were hid. bears are capital climbers, and these two fellows, stimulated by the cuffs and bites of their antagonists behind them, made good time in the ascent. now, for the first time, the boys saw for what purpose they had been armed with those handy birch clubs. a bear's tenderest spot is his nose. this the indians well know, and so, when they are chased by a bear, always defend themselves by there striking him. a bear that will stand heavy blows with a club on his skull, or shoulders, or even paws, gives up the fight at once when rapped over the nose. secrecy was now no longer possible, and so the quiet command of the indians to the boys was: "hit them on the nose whenever you can." the two angry bears were so taken up with the attack of their own species behind them that they little imagined that there were enemies above, and so about the first suspicions they had of the presence of the boys and indians were the smart raps they received on their noses. whack! whack! whack! fell the blows upon their snouts, and down they dropped suddenly to the ground, each of them carrying with him an assailant that happened to be just below him. the sudden discomfiture of the bears brought a cheer from the boys. this, of course, startled and excited the other bears, that were in a very pugnacious mood. the two were additionally angry at the ugly blows that had met them, and the other three fishermen seemed to imagine that fresh assailants were there in the trees ready to come down and rob them of their supper of fish. this they resolved to resist, and so the fight was on in good earnest. the indians declare the bears know how to talk with each other; anyway, these five seemed for the present to proclaim a truce among themselves, that together they might attack their common foes, who were ensconced up there above them in the trees. fortunate was it for our friends that the moon was now so high in the heavens that they could see every movement of the bears as distinctly as though it had been daylight. for a time the bears moved about excitedly below them, and occasionally made a feint, as though they were about to climb the trees and again attack them. they hesitated, however, and kept moving angrily about from tree to tree. sam and his comrade in the third tree were soon discovered, and two or three of the bears made a pretence of climbing it, but soon desisted and dropped back to the ground. in the meantime the rest of the indians out in the canoes had heard the growlings and fightings among the bears, and had paddled in much nearer to the shore. by their expressive calls the indians in the trees had given to those in the canoes some idea of how the conflict stood, and that they were still able to defend themselves. the bears at length seemed to have come to some arrangement among themselves, for they so divided that they began attacking the three trees at once. the two that had come last attacked the tree in which sam and his comrade were ensconced; two of the other three began climbing the tree in which were alec and his comrade; while frank and his companion had only to face the remaining one. "strike them on the nose," was still the cry of the indians. and although the bears made the most desperate efforts to defend their tender nostrils while they still advanced, they eventually had to give up the attempt, one after another, and drop back to the ground fairly howling with rage and pain. angry bears have a great deal of perseverance, and so this phase of the fight was not over until each bear had tried every one of the three trees in succession ere he seemed discouraged. after moving round and round, and growling out their indignation, they tried the plan of as many as possible of them climbing up the same tree together. however, as the trees were not very large this scheme did not succeed any better, and they were again repelled. "what trick will they try next, i wonder?" said frank. "get your guns handy," was the answer, "for you may soon need them." and sure enough the bears, after talking in their whining, growling way to each other again, rushed to the attack; and while three of them began each to climb one of the trees, in which were our friends; the other two began climbing a couple of other trees, whose great branches interlaced with those of the trees in which were two of the boys. the indians were quick to notice this ruse, and said: "the bears must never be allowed to get up those trees above us, for if they do it may go hard with us." very cunning were the bears, for they tried as much as possible to climb up the trees on the sides opposite the places where were hidden frank and alec and their indians. however, they could not keep entirely hid, and so, at the command of one of the indians, there rang out the simultaneous discharge of the four guns. one of the bears suddenly dropped to the ground, but the other one continued his climbing, until he reached a position quite close to frank, on the branch of the tree, in which he had ascended. the boys and men had not time to load their guns, as they were single-barrelled muzzle-loaders. in addition to watching this attack on the two bears, they had to vigorously use their clubs on the noses of those attacking three. as before, these three were speedily defeated, and now the excitement was to see how frank and his comrade would deal with the big fellow that had succeeded in reaching a position on a branch that was in a line with them. they could observe him cautiously working his way on a great branch of the tree which he had ascended, and was endeavouring to get into the branches of the tree, in which they were located. after some clever balancing he managed to get hold of a long branch that reached out horizontally toward him, and steadying himself on it, and holding on to a much smaller one above, he gradually began making his way toward them. the indian at once saw his opportunity, and told frank, who was on this upper branch to which the bear with his forepaws was clinging, to bravely crawl out on it as far as he safely could, and keep up a vigorous attack with his club on the bear's nose. this frank gallantly did, and, while thus employed, the indian drew his axe, and began vigorously chopping the large limb of the tree, on which the bear was standing. assailed by frank's blows he made but little headway, and so, before he knew what was up, the branch suddenly gave way under him and he fell to the ground, a badly stunned and discouraged bear. this gave time for the guns to be carefully reloaded, and then the besieged, thinking they had had excitement enough for one night, became the assailants, and so began firing down upon the bears below them. sam, in his excitement, had put too much powder in his gun, and when he fired the kick of the weapon caused him to lose his balance and he tumbled to the ground. it was fortunate for him that he fell in a soft place, and was not in the least hurt or stunned, for the only unwounded bear soon made a rush for him, but was not quick enough to find him unprepared. sam now knew more about bears than he did when he rushed into the camp with one not far behind him. so here there was no desire to even try and regain his position in the tree, from the branches of which he had so suddenly descended. springing up from the spot where he had fallen, he drew his keen-bladed knife, and placing his back against the tree he awaited the attack. he had not long to wait. the bear, maddened by the battle that had been going on, and doubly excited by the smell of blood from his wounded comrades, rushed at him with the intention of making short work of him by hugging him to death. but he little knew what was before him. with all the nerve and coolness of an old indian hunter, sam waited until the big fore paws, like great, sinewy arms, were almost around him. then with a sudden lunge he drove the knife firm and true into the very heart of the fierce brute. there was one great convulsive shiver, and then the bear fell over dead. the next instant there was a great shout from those who had landed from the canoes in time to witness this brave act. the shout was caught up by the others, who, when they saw sam's unceremonious descent from the tree, began to descend more slowly, and were in good time to see him give the deadly thrust. sam had indeed redeemed himself, and was the hero for many a day. alec and frank were very proud of him, and hearty indeed were their congratulations. sam cheerfully accepted their congratulations, but had his own opinion of himself, first, for putting too much powder into his gun, and secondly, for so ignominiously tumbling out of the tree. on looking over the ground they found four dead bears. one, badly wounded, had managed to crawl away into the forest. they had had enough excitement for that night, so they gathered up some dry wood, made a fire, and cooked some fine whitefish in thorough indian style. they had good appetites for a good supper, and after it were soon sound asleep. as usual the boys were the last to wake up the next morning, and found that the indians had already tracked and killed the wounded bear that had escaped in the night. some time was spent in skinning them, and then, loaded with the robes and meat, they returned in high spirits where they had left big tom and martin papanekis and the other indians. there were great rejoicings at their success, and even quiet big tom had some cheery congratulatory words to say to sam, which sam prized very much indeed. chapter twenty five. a successful mission--peculiar address--the visit to the beavers-- commodious houses--well-constructed dams--the moonlight sight--strange interruption--stealthy wolverine--crouching wolves--more cunning men--a mixed-up battle--delighted boys--return to sagasta-weekee. they rested that day, and then, the next being saturday, they decided to go to the upper end of the lake and there camp, so as to be near the newly formed mission, established by a reverend mr brooking, and thus be able to attend the service on the sabbath. they met with a cordial welcome from mr and mrs brooking, who, living in such a lovely place, were delighted to welcome them, especially the boys, who were all to give them a great deal of information about friends in the old land, which they had not visited for many years. the boys were very much interested in the mission and the school. as they remained camped in the vicinity a few days, they saw and heard a good deal of the genuineness of the work done, and always, in after years, were they strong advocates for foreign missions. and yet there were some amusing things, which showed how wise and patient a missionary has to be in leading a people up from the darkness and ignorance of paganism. the missionary told them many amusing stories. here is a simple one: one of his converts was anxious to preach to his fellow-countrymen, and in this laudable desire he was encouraged by the missionary. as long as he stuck to his subject, and talked about the gospel, he did very well indeed. but soon his ambitions led him to tackle subjects about which he was not very well informed. one day, in addressing a company of his countrymen, he exclaimed: "my friends, the missionary says the world is round, but he is mistaken; it is flat, yes, as flat as the top of that stove," he said, pointing to the great iron stove in the centre of the room. when the missionary heard this of course he had to give metassis a lecture in geography. he showed him a map of the hemispheres, and, as he thought, so fully explained the matter that there could be no further mistake. the next time metassis stood up to speak he said: "friends, i made a mistake. the world is round, but it is flat one way for sure." this he said from having seen the flat maps on the wall. it was thus evident that another lesson in geography was necessary, and a school globe had to be brought into requisition before he could be convinced that it was round. his apology did not much mend matters. here it is: "my friends, i made another mistake. the world is round, but then it stands on three legs." this he said owing to the fact he had had his last lesson in geography from a globe that worked in a frame that was supported by a tripod stand. to see the industrious beavers at work was one of the sights that long had been desired by the boys. at many a camp fire they had heard the indians talk about these most industrious of all animals, and tell such wonderful stories of their cleverness; and so now, as the moon was still bright, it was decided to accept of the very kind invitations of some friendly indians, and go and visit a large beaver dam that they had discovered was being constructed by a large colony of these animals. nothing could have given greater pleasure to the boys than this invitation, and so it was gladly accepted. in view of the fact that the moon was already waning, it was decided to set off that very afternoon in order to reach that place by sundown, so as to be in good positions to see, ere the beavers began the night's varied occupations. of the many wonderful things which have been written and told about the beavers we need not here repeat; suffice to say that those indians who most hunt them, and thus have the best opportunity of studying their ways and doings, are the ones who speak most strongly and enthusiastically about them. of the size of the trees they can cut down with their teeth, and of the length and strength of the dams they can construct, as well as the reason and instinct they seem to exercise in giving the right curve to these dams at the dangerous places, so that they will be most able to resist the force of the current, even when swollen by heavy floods, we need not here describe in detail. it is enough to say that stumps of trees over two feet in diameter are still to be found with the marks of the teeth of the beaver, that had so cleverly and accurately felled the great trees that had stood there defying every storm, proud monarchs of the forests, until these industrious animals laid them low. dams hundreds of yards long, and wide enough and strong enough for great wagons to easily travel over and pass each other, can still be traced out in regions where the beavers have long been destroyed. vast beaver meadows are still prized by the farmers for the hundreds of acres of richest hay land that have been formed by the gradual filling up of the rich lands, brought down in times of freshets from the high regions beyond, and year after year deposited in these beaver ponds, until at length they were so filled up that what was once like a great inland lake has become a prairie or meadow of rich waving grass. their houses were in some instances not only larger, but in every case much more cleverly and thoroughly built than were the habitations of the pagan indians. their forethought in cutting and depositing upon the bottoms of the waters and ingeniously fastening there vast quantities of the birch or willow, the bark of which was to serve as food during the long winter months, was far ahead of the habits of the improvident people, who literally took "no thought for the morrow," and so were often at starvation point, while the industrious beavers in their warm, cozy homes had enough and to spare. as soon as it was decided to go the preparations were soon made, and, bidding farewell to the noble missionary and his heroic wife, from whom they parted with regret, the canoes were pointed to the east again, and after some hours of hard paddling they reached a fairly large river, up which they were to go to a large creek which entered into it, and upon which the beaver dam now being constructed was to be found. at the mouth of the river they went ashore for a rest and supper. here the whole program of the night was talked over and all arrangements made. it was necessary that everything should be thoroughly understood and carried out, as beavers are very watchful and timid animals; the least alarm sends them to their retreat, and it is a long time ere they resume their work. as a precaution against surprise from bears or wolves, or even wolverines, who are very fond of beaver flesh, it was decided to take their guns along. the creek, which was more like a small river, ran through a beautiful valley, and on either side were hills, some of which rose up so precipitously from the water that they formed admirable positions from which the cautious sightseers could watch the operations of the busy toilers when they were at work in the waters below. the wind was everything that could be desired, and so our three boys were able to be together; but they had to wait quite a time in the most complete silence for the appearance of the industrious but timid workers. it is amazing how all animals seem to be acquainted with the natural sounds that come from the woods or prairies, and are but little disturbed by them, while a sound that is unnatural is at once detected. for example, big tom was more than once heard to say in his quiet way that, when hunting moose, he noticed that a storm might be raging, and the great branches of the trees snapping and breaking in the gale, yet the moose seemed to pay no attention to any of these sounds; but just let the hunter be careless enough to let a dry stick snap under his moccasined foot, and the moose was alarmed and off like a shot. so it is with the beaver. the ordinary night sounds disturb them not, but the report of a gun, it may be a mile away, sends them instantly to their retreats, while the slightest evidence of hunters so disturbs them that perhaps for twenty-four hours they will keep under cover without making the slightest movement. the moon was quite high up in the heavens ere the first rippling sounds were heard upon the waters. the first arrivals seemed to be the watchers, who had come to report. they appeared to swim almost from end to end of the great pond that had already been made by the strong dam, which seemed about finished. as soon as they had in some way reported that the coast was clear, others appeared upon the scene, until between twenty and thirty were at the same time visible. some were industriously employed in carrying additional stones and mud to the dam, and carefully filling up every crack and crevice. others were guiding great logs down the current, and fastening them in position where they would strengthen the dam against possible floods and freshets. the majority, and they were principally the smaller ones, were employed in cutting down small birch and willows, which they dragged by their teeth to the edge of the pond, and there they suddenly dived with them to the bottom. the pieces that they could not firmly stick in the mud they fastened down in the bottom by piling stones upon them to keep them from floating. the boys were too far away to see by the moon's light the beavers actually at work among a clump of large trees that stood on the shore some way up the stream, but the crashing down of a couple of trees into the water told very clearly that some were there industriously at work. thus for a couple of hours the boys and indians watched with great interest these clever animals, and then there was an abrupt ending. it was not caused by any of our party, as the indians, having abundance of food, had no desire to now kill the beaver. then, in addition, the skins, so valuable in winter, were now of but little worth. as we have stated, the beavers have many enemies. their flesh is very much prized as food by all the carnivorous animals of that country. and so, while our party was watching with such pleasure the varied movements of the beaver, there were other eyes upon them, full of evil purposes, and, strange to say, they were not very far away from where our boys and indians were hid. as before mentioned, our party was on the top of a hill that abruptly rose up from the pond, caused by the backing up of the waters by the beaver dam. from this point of observation they looked out toward the west. on the left side were some hills much smaller and less abrupt. just about the time they were thinking of retiring, the sharp eyes of one of the indians noticed a dark object on the small hill nearest to them. giving a whispered word of caution, they all lay as low as possible and watched. on and on, and at length out from the shadows of some bushes into the clear moonlight, came the creature, and now the sharp eyes of the indians saw that it was a wolverine. the fact of our party being so high above it was the only reason they had not been detected. it was evident from its actions that it was on a beaver hunt. at every extra noise the busy animals made in the water, as logs were rolled in or the beavers plunged in with birch or willow saplings in their mouths, the wolverine stopped and listened. there was but little wind, and so it was evident that even when the cruel beast had nearly reached the shore, and there crouched behind a small rock, the beavers were still unconscious of his presence. there was only a little strip of land about a yard between this rock and the water; but along this narrow strip of land the beavers had been coming and going while at their varied duties. this, in some way or other, the cunning wolverine seemed to have discovered. but while the boys and some of the indians were intently watching his movements, others of them, as the result of long experience, had occasionally cast a searching glance in every direction around them. "hist!" in a quiet whisper arrested the attention of all. without a word, but by a gesture scarcely perceptible, they were directed to look along the very trail the wolverine had made, and there stealthily moving along, now in the light and now in the shadow, were two large grey wolves. this was complicating matters, and making things interesting indeed. the indians, leaving the boys their guns loaded with ball, and enjoining perfect silence upon them, took up their own weapons and noiselessly withdrew. so gloriously bright was the night in that land where fogs and mists are almost unknown, and where the rays of the moon cast a clear and distinct shadow, that everything passing was distinctly seen. there out in the waters, and around the shore and on the dam, were perhaps thirty beavers hard at work. here to the left below them lay crouching, like a ball of black wool, the savage, alert wolverine, patiently waiting until an unsuspecting beaver, loaded with wood, stones, or gravel, should pass along that trail within reach of his deadly spring. a couple of hundred yards behind the wolverine, and yet high enough up on the hillside to observe his every movements, and yet not be observed by him, were the two wolves, now crouching down flat upon the ground. as they remained so quiet, the boys were surprised and wondered, if they were after the wolverine, why they did not attack him. but, while they watched the wolverine, it was not wolverine meat they were after, but beaver. but their wish and hope was that the wolverine might obtain it for them. how far their expectations were realised we shall soon see. "hush!" said alec, "look!" and sure enough there were the indians, some hundreds of yards behind the wolves, and spread out like a third of a circle, cautiously moving on toward the two wolves, which were intently watching the wolverine, which was watching the beavers. it was to the hunters an interesting sight, and so fascinated the boys that they could hardly keep still. soon the tension was broken and there was a sudden change. a couple of fine large beavers came in sight along the trail on the shore with a large stone, which they were evidently wishing to take to the dam. so intent were they upon their work that they knew not of danger until with a great spring the wolverine had fastened his sharp teeth and claws in the back of one of them, which uttered a cry of pain as he was dashed to the ground. the other beaver instantly sprang into the water, as did all the other beavers within sound of that death-cry. in a few seconds the wolves, with great bounding leaps, had cleared the space between them and the wolverine. they fiercely attacked him and endeavoured to at once secure the beaver. but the wolverine is a plucky animal when thus assailed, and he made a good fight for his hard-earned supper. in the meantime, the instant the wolves started, the indians, who from their higher ground had seen the movements, also began to advance; and so, ere the wolves and wolverine had settled the matter as to the ownership of the dead beaver, a volley of bullets killed the wolves, while the wolverine turned and began climbing up the steep place of the hill where the boys were hid. "shoot him!" shouted the indians. a volley rang out from the guns of the boys, and a dead wolverine with three bullets in him went tumbling back to the bottom of the hill. no need of silence now, and so the long-continued hush was broken with a will, and there were many shouts and congratulations. the boys speedily and safely descended the side of the hill, that sloped downward in the direction of the men, and joined them at the spot where they were examining the dead wolves and beaver. the wolverine had not had much time to kill the latter ere the wolves were upon him, and so he was not very much torn. the splendid broad tail was uninjured, and was eagerly examined by the boys. the dead wolverine was dragged in by the men, and it was decided, as dry wood was abundant, for some of them to make a fire, while others went for kettles, food, and blankets, and there spent the rest of the night. they had two objects in view. one was to be on hand to skin the animals early in the morning, and the other was to have the opportunity of inspecting the beaver dam, and seeing the size of some of the stumps where those wonderful animals, with their teeth alone, had cut down some great trees. a tired, sleepy trio of boys were they even ere their midnight meal was eaten, and so very quickly after they were rolled up in their blankets and stretched out on the smooth rock fast asleep. as there are many wild animals in this part of the country, the indians, ere they lay down to sleep, took the precaution of rolling some of the logs cut down by the beavers on the fire. these would keep up a blaze until at least sunrise, after which there would be no danger. refreshing and invigorating is the sleep which comes to those who have the courage and enterprise to visit these lands, and in this way live out a great deal in the open air. the night was never close and sultry. the air seems full of ozone, and scented with the balm of the great forest. so it was here as in many similar experiences with these hearty, healthy lads. so soundly did they sleep that it was after eight o'clock ere they opened their eyes. as they sprang up, half ashamed of themselves, the indians chided them not, but one, in broken english, comforted them when he said: "plenty sleep, strong men, clear eye, firm grip; good medicine." so they were comforted by this, and ever after when they overslept themselves they called it "good medicine." the wolves and wolverine were already skinned, and so as soon as the boys had had their breakfasts, which had long been waiting them, they set off to visit the beaver dam. when they reached it the boys could hardly realise how it was possible that animals not heavier than an ordinary retriever dog could build such a structure. it was in shape like a crescent, with the outer curve up stream. it was thus able to meet and best resist the force of the great currents in times of freshets and floods. many of the logs used in its construction would have been prized as valuable for timber in saw mills. then, in addition to the large logs, there were great numbers that were smaller. the stones, gravel, and mud used would require many men, with horses and carts, for many days to transport. yet here visible to the eye were gathered all of this material by these animals, that have no tools but their teeth and paws, and all piled up and arranged in a manner so scientific and accurate that the finest engineer in the land would not have lost anything in his reputation to have claimed the work as his most careful planning. the beaver house was also visited. it was apparently all built on the land, but it so overhung the lake at one side that the water ever found access, and there was abundance of room for the beavers to swim out or in whenever they desired. no attempt was made to break it, nor in any way to disturb it, neither would there be in the winter months, when the indians would make the attack upon them. a more clever and successful way for their capture is well known, and this would be put in practice. but we must not anticipate an interesting adventure at this very spot. the return to sagasta-weekee was made in a few days. with the exception of an upset of a canoe in one of the rapids, where they were trying to work up stream instead of making a portage, nothing of a very startling nature occurred. alec was the boy who was in this canoe, and he was quite carried under by the rapid current, and only reappeared above the surface a couple of hundred feet lower down. fortunately there were some canoes near at hand, and he was quickly rescued. but the accident gave them all a great fright. they lost everything in the canoe that would not float. they most regretted the loss of three reliable guns. after this they were much more cautious, and the boys were taught the admonitory lesson that these sports and adventures were not to be enjoyed without many risks, and that there was at all times as great [a] demand for caution and watchfulness as there was on certain occasions for daring and courage. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter twenty six. the excursion in the reindeer country--numerous herds--the battle between reindeer and wolves in the lake--reaching the herds--the long stalk for the leader--alec's successful shot--consternation of the herd--abundance of venison. to see and, if possible, to hunt a herd of reindeer, both on land and in the water, was one of the ambitions of the boys. they had frequently heard some remarkable stories of these animals from northern hunters whose homes were in regions where they occasionally visited in their migrations, and so they were much pleased when mr ross, returning one day from the hudson bay company's fort, informed them that a number of the indians from that land were there trading, and that he had obtained the permission of the hudson bay company's officials for them to return with these indians for some sport in that land. he also added that the indians themselves had stated that the herds of reindeer this year were numerous, and that it would be a very great pleasure to take charge of the young "palefaces," who were so highly spoken of by the red men, and do all they could to assist them in their sports in their country. this was glorious news, and, as the weeks were now rapidly going by, no time was to be lost. alec deeply regretted the loss of his favourite gun, but mr ross speedily replaced it with another; and so, well supplied, and with a couple of mr ross's indians as servants to look after the camp and be on hand in any emergency, the journey was commenced under the happiest auspices. we need not repeat the description of the trip down or up the river and across the portages. there were several nights when they slept as usual at the camp fires on the rocks. there was a good deal of sunshine and a few storms. they passed through some lakes of rarest beauty, that simply fascinated the boys, and drew from them the warmest expressions of admiration, of which they were capable. even sam at some glimpses on these lovely sheets, where the water was so transparent that at times it seemed as though they were paddling through the air, lost his powers of speech for a time, and then when the spell was broken he exclaimed, in almost sorrowful tones, "that beats killarney!" how glorious must have been the sight when even a loyal irish boy would make such an admission! the dominion of canada has in it more fresh-water lakes than any other country in the world. some of them are equal, if not superior, in the clearness and purity of their waters, in the distinctness of the reflections cast upon their limpid surface by surrounding hill or forest, and in the wild, weird beauty of their environments, to any of the world's old favourite ones that have been long praised in song and story. they are slowly being discovered and prized, for some of them are as a poet's dream and a painter's vision. they saw various wild animals, but as they were in charge of the trading outfit for the hudson bay company's post in that region of country they were under obligations to push on as rapidly as possible. the only time they did make a stop of any length was in split lake, where, as they were rowing their boats along, they saw a great commotion in the water a long way ahead of them. when they drew near to it they saw it was a battle between a couple of splendidly antlered reindeer and four wolves. it was evident that the wolves were being badly worsted in the fight, as the reindeer were now the aggressors. from the indians' idea of it, it looked as if the wolves had either chased the deer into the lake or, seeing them in there swimming, had plunged in after them. the deer, at first much alarmed, had boldly struck out into the lake, and were followed by the wolves. of course, it was impossible to say whether the wolves had been able to reach them and make the attack, or whether the reindeer, when they had drawn them a long way out, had not then turned upon them. the reindeer has large lungs, and so swims high on the water. he is not only able to use his antlers, but can turn while swimming and kick most viciously. a wolf can only swim like a dog, and as his head is so low he cannot make much of a fight. and so here the boys had the rare sight of seeing a couple of deer chasing with great delight four of their most dreaded foes on land. they passed across the bows of the boat near enough for them to see quite distinctly the deer suddenly give a spurt and then strike the wolves with their great horns. every effort of the wolves to attack seemed to meet with complete failure, until at length their only ambition seemed to be to reach the shore, and in this way two were successful. the deer succeeded in drowning the other two. the victory of the deer over their cruel and relentless foes gave very much delight to the indians as well as to frank, alec, and sam, and it was decided not to fire at the beautiful creatures, but to leave them to enjoy their victory. after several days more of travel and varied adventure they reached the trading post and burntwood river, and shortly after started off to lake wollaston, as the hunters had reported the reindeer were there in great herds. to that place they now travelled in birch canoes, and in them the boys were much happier, than in the big boats in which, with the company's goods, they had travelled from norway house. they saw traces of bears, beavers, wild cats, and other animals; but they were after reindeer, and just now cared but little for any other kinds of game. at a camp fire, where they were having supper, the old indian who had been appointed captain on account of his experience in this kind of hunting gave the boys some instructions how to act should they discover a large herd. he told them it would not be very difficult to get within range of one or more of them, but they were to crawl up as close to the herd as possible on the leeward side, and there, from their hidden places, watch them until they saw the great one that was the leader of the herd. they would not have any trouble to pick him out. they would soon see how he bossed the rest, and was always at the head when the herd moved. what they were to do was to keep moving along with the herd, skulking from one rock to the shelter of another, and, taking advantage of every inequality in the ground, to get within range of the leader, "but never let him once get sight of you." it was not so very particular about the others, as they would not run until the leader started, unless very much frightened. they were told to take, in addition to the gun and ammunition, some food, a small axe in their belt, as well as their trusty knife. they were not to be discouraged if hours passed before they got a shot at the leader. they were to be patient and they would succeed. the boys were amazed when the old indian told them that sometimes he had followed a great herd for three days before he got at the leader. "but," he added, "it well paid me, as i shot twelve deer ere they had a new leader." how this could happen was a mystery to the boys until he explained to them that when these herds come down fresh from the great barren lands under the guidance of the leader they have such confidence in him, or are in such fear of him, that when he is shot down the whole herd is thrown into confusion, and they run here and there and jump about in such a foolish manner, waiting for their leader to show them the way, that a quick, clever indian, hid behind a rock or standing in some dense bushes, can keep loading and firing until he shoots from six to a dozen of them. then another great deer gives a snort and dashes off, and they all follow him as the new leader. they are now so frightened that, under his leadership, they will generally run a great many miles ere they stop. early one morning, shortly after this information had been imparted by the experienced old indian to the boys, some scouts who had been on the lookout came in with the information that two herds of deer were visible. they were in different parts, and could be hunted at the same time without any difficulty. at once all preparations were made. as but one boy and one indian could go together, it was decided that frank and alec should make the first attempt to show their skill in this kind of hunting. the old captain took alec with him, while another almost equally experienced hunter accompanied frank. sam was left boss of the camp, but he determined to do a little hunting on his own account while the rest were off after the reindeer. the clothing of the boys was inspected by the indians, and everything of a bright nature was discarded. they were all dressed in smoked leather suits, with caps to match. this made them almost the colour of the rocks and dried ferns, or bracken, among which they would have to do a good deal of crawling. the deer hunters left the camp about six o'clock in the morning, alec and the captain going in a north-easterly direction, and frank and his companion about due west. the understanding was to be back, if possible, not later than midnight. each indian, however, took the precaution of strapping on his back a grey blanket in case of delay. the adventures of alec and the captain we will have. they started off in a north-easterly direction, and had to travel several miles ere, from an eminence far away, the herd was sighted. they were feeding as they leisurely moved along, and seemed to have no suspicion of danger. it was in our hunters' favour that the country was very much broken with a succession of hills and dales, rocky ridges and ravines, clumps of spruce forests, and long stretches of marshy lands, in which the dried ferns and bracken were very abundant. the first thing after the discovery of the herd in the distance, was to find out from them, the direction in which they seemed to be moving, and then to notice the direction of the wind, as it is always best to be on the lee side on account of the scent. all arrangements being made, the two started off quite rapidly, as it was possible to push on for quite a time without much precaution, owing to the character of the country. alec's trips to the highlands of his beloved scotland, and his excursions with the experienced gillie there, stood him in good service here. after about an hour's swift travelling the indian said: "we are not far from them; stay here a few minutes while i go to that large rock and see how they are moving, and, if i can, make out the leader. keep where you can see me when i come down a little from the side of the rock, and if i stretch out my arms for a sign come on and join me there." alec was not kept long in waiting, for soon after his companion had crawled to the summit of the rock that rose up before them he speedily drew back a little, so as to be out of sight of the deer, and, gave the signal to advance. it did not take alec long to join him. the indian informed him that the herd was a large one, and that some of the deer were so close that they could easily be shot from the top of the rock. very cautiously did alec with his companion climb to the point of observation, and there, carelessly moving before them, was a magnificent herd of several hundred splendid deer. as their food was abundant they were in splendid condition and were a beautiful sight. numbers of them were very heavily antlered, and as alec tried to count the numerous points he saw many pass muster as "royals" in his beloved highlands. it was evident the leader was not to be distinguished from that position, and so the keen-eyed indian watched for a few minutes the gradually receding herd until he was perfectly satisfied of the direction they intended to keep, and then he indicated to alec their probable route, and stated that in all probability several hours would pass ere they would get a shot. so, carefully retreating, they began their careful march in a line parallel with the herd, but generally from two to four hundred yards distant, according to the cover the country afforded to screen them from observation. several times did the indian leave alec carefully hid from observation while he, as we have once described, took advantage of some high rock, or steep declivity, to crawl forward and observe the position of the herd. on one of these tours of inspection the indian observed that before them was now a long valley, and the appearance of the country was as though two hills were quite close together with only a narrow passage between them. almost as by intuition--perhaps it was the result of long experience--the indian reasoned, "if we can reach that spot ahead of the herd we are almost sure to be successful. but can we do it? is the question." rapidly returning to alec, he told him what he had seen, and what he thought might be accomplished. "let us try," excitedly said alec, and off they started. the indian was amazed at the endurance of this scotch lad, who so generally kept close to him in his rapid march. when well sheltered behind great rocky ridges or in ravines they ran without fear of being discovered, but when it was on a barren plain, with scores of deer in plain sight, it was a different matter. there they had to crawl snakelike along the ground. thus on it went, the indian repeatedly uttering a cheery word of encouragement to alec, who had so won his admiration by his pluck and endurance. "what is that?" they both said, as they crowded as low as possible. "wait till i see," said the indian, as he crawled forward to discover. soon he came back with the word that it was all right; only a big buck crowded up too near the front, and the leader turned on him and they had a battle, in which the intruder was soon conquered and driven back. this delay stopped the herd for a time, and so alec and his companion were now about in a line with the front of the herd. only about a mile more had they to make ere they reached the desired position, and so about half an hour before the deer arrived they were well hidden and ready for action. they had taken the precaution to get out, ready for use, their ammunition, so that, if they threw the herd into confusion, they might have several shots ere the herd dashed away. soon the deer were so close to them that they could hear them very distinctly. cautiously the indian watched them, and then, as arranged, he signalled to alec, who was stretched out behind a rock that had a narrow cleft in it. this break was just large enough for a lookout, and it would also serve as a good rest for the gun. as alec cautiously peeped through this narrow opening his heart gave a great thump, for there within fifty yards of him were the most magnificent deer he had ever seen. there was no difficulty now in picking out the leader. so, pulling himself together, he waited until his heart stopped thumping, and then, carefully and coolly aiming, so as to strike the game immediately behind the fore shoulder, he fired. the deer gave one great bound and dropped dead. instantly there rang out another report, as alec's comrade fired, and another great deer fell dead. now there was one of those panics that occur among these reindeer when the leader is suddenly shot down. they made no attempt to escape. they ran up to where lay the fallen leader, and then they retreated a hundred yards or so. some ran one way and some another, and then veered around and returned again. in the meantime alec and the indian were carefully loading and firing, until perhaps between them a dozen deer had been killed. then the indian gave the signal to stop firing; but they continued to watch them for several minutes more while panic-stricken and bewildered they aimlessly ran from point to point. "look," said the indian, "quick, see the new leader!" and sure enough there was a great, handsome fellow snorting out his notes of authority and defiance. none now disputed his guidance, and so off he started, and in a few seconds not a deer, with the exception of those that were shot, was visible. no hunters could get within range now, nor for many a day to come. "why did you give the word to stop firing?" said alec. "because," answered the indian, "we have killed as many as our people can eat before the meat will spoil, and we must not kill the deer if we do not need the meat. the great spirit gives us these things for food. we must not make him angry by killing more than we need of such animals." well done, red man! would that some white hunters, when bent on the wholesale destruction of valuable animals just for the mad ambition to kill, had some of his wisdom and religion! the deer were bled, and, when the entrails were removed, they were placed where they could be found next day by those who would come for them. the indian cut out a splendid haunch, which he strapped on his back, then the return trip was begun, and the camp was reached in the small hours of the next morning. very tired but very proud was alec as he strode with his indian companion into the camp. the fire was burning low, for all the rest of the party were sound asleep, and it looked as though they had been so for hours. alec, who had been so successful, was anxious to hear how it had fared with frank, who had started off with another indian after the other herd that had been sighted. however, he was too tired and sleepy to say much then, and so alec did not trouble him. alec enjoyed the hastily prepared supper, for which he had a glorious appetite, after such a long, heavy day's exciting sport. then he rolled his blanket around him and cuddled between sam and frank, and was soon wrapped in dreamless slumber. the chief and favourite part of the breakfast the next morning was the broiled steaks of that famous haunch of venison which alec's comrade had brought back to the camp. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter twenty seven. frank's adventures--the reindeer followed--unwelcome interlopers-- cowardly wolves stalking the fawns--repelled by the gallant bucks--close quarters--successful shots--different game than reindeer--visions of splendour. frank's experience was a very different one from that of alec. he and his companion had started out in a westerly direction until they sighted the herd of deer a few miles away. they followed them up until they came so near as to have been able to have shot some, but, like other hunters, they were anxious to kill the leader, so as to throw the herd in confusion. with this object in view they carefully skulked along, hiding behind the clumps of bushes and rocky ridges that were quite numerous. all at once they heard a snorting and a sound of rushing hither and thither among the deer, and so they carefully climbed up some rocks and cautiously looked over to try and find out what was the cause of the commotion. at first they could not make out what was the matter, but after a while they saw that the herd had other hunters than themselves after them. these were a pack of wolves. they were at the front of the herd, and so frank and the indian quickly drew back from the rock, and hurried on to see the battle. fortunately for them, the reindeer were so excited by the presence of the wolves that our two hunters were able to get among some large jagged rocks that rose up fifty or sixty feet, not very distant from them. here they had a capital view of the valley in which were the deer and the wolves. there seemed to be about a dozen wolves in the pack, and perhaps two hundred reindeer in the herd, including about thirty young ones that seemed about five or six months old. the object of the wolves seemed to be to evade the great antlers of the bucks and to capture those very pretty young fawns. it was very interesting to watch the skill and courage, with which the great antlered bucks would close up, like a company of cavalry, and charge the wolves when they ventured too close to the herd. the wolves never waited to receive the charge, but ignominiously turned tail and ran for their lives. they, however, soon returned when no longer pursued. there seemed to be a thorough understanding among the deer as to the position each should take while menaced by the wolves. the large antlered ones formed the outside circle. next inside were the hornless males and the does, while in a compact body in the centre were the fawns. thus on they slowly moved, while the wolves attempted at various parts to break through, but always quickly retreated when a company of the bucks gallantly charged them. this strange conflict was watched by frank and his companion for some time with intense interest, until it had an abrupt ending. it came about this way. in one of the determined charges made upon the wolves by, perhaps, thirty reindeer, they drove their cowardly enemies right up among the rocks just beyond where frank and his companion had hid themselves. the close proximity of the wolves so excited frank that he whispered to the indian: "let us fire at the wolves and never mind the deer." the fact was that frank's sympathies had so gone out for the deer, as he watched the incessant schemings of the wolves to get at the beautiful fawns and the gallant efforts of the older ones to defend them, that he had no heart to fire into the herd. he could well see that their firing into the herd would so terrify and disorganise them that the wolves would easily destroy the little ones. from where they were hid the two hunters noticed that the wolves, now no longer chased by the reindeer, were again clustering near the rocks, utterly unconscious of the fact that between them and the herd were some more dreaded foes than even the antlered deer. "all right," said the indian, in answer to frank's request, "but be sure and kill two with your bullet." simultaneously there rang out the double report, and four wolves fell dead, while the others, terrified by this attack, so unexpected and so close, fled away toward the distant forest. after seeing that the wolves did not stop in their flight, it did not take frank and his indian companion long to reach a position where the herd of deer could again be seen. frank was delighted to observe that, although they seemed to be somewhat startled by the distant report of the guns, they had not broken their formation, but were more quickly hurrying away. to skin the four wolves and return with their pelts to the camp was all the sport they had, or wanted, for that day. at first alec was inclined to boast of a more successful day in reindeer hunting, but when he heard the whole story he was willing to admit that perhaps, after all, frank's had been the nobler experience. sam's characteristic comments were: "man, but i would have liked to have had a crack at that great leader! but, after all, i think i would have preferred to have had the satisfaction of knocking over a couple more of those dirty, thievish, murdering wolves." one more great excursion was arranged ere they returned, and that was to a large lake to which watchers had been sent some days before. a couple of days after frank and alec had had the adventures with reindeer, these watchers returned with word that the deer were numerous on the shores of the lake, and were often seen swimming out in its water. the two days' rest in the camp had been much needed and enjoyed. now all were fresh and eager to be off again. very little time is lost in breaking up a camp when once it is decided to move, and so in a short time the canoes, propelled by the paddles in the hands of the stalwart indians, were dancing over the sunlit waves to their next destination, some twenty miles away. here they found the indians who had been sent as scouts or watchers had already returned and prepared a cozy camp for their reception. a dinner of venison, bear's meat, and ducks was ready for them, and after the score of miles of paddling--for the boys always insisted on each doing his share--they were all, with good appetites, ready to do ample justice to the hunter's fare. as the anticipated sport would be exciting, and was generally considered to be more successful in the forenoons, it was decided to keep quiet that afternoon and evening. so the guns were all cleaned and oiled and many pipes of tobacco were smoked by the indians, while the boys wandered along the shores and enjoyed the sights of that picturesque land. just a little before sunset they had a display of colour such as is seldom given to mortals to see upon this earth of ours. in the west there floated a cloud that seemed to hang in the sky like a great prism. beyond it the sun in his splendour was slowly settling down toward the horizon. through this prism-like cloud there were reflected and settled upon the waters all the colours of the rainbow. every dancing wave seemed at times to be of the deepest crimson, then they all seemed like molten gold, then they were quickly transformed into some other gorgeous hue, until the whole lake seemed literally ablaze with dazzling colours. the boys were awed and silenced amid these glories, and sat down on a rock entranced and almost overwhelmed. by-and-by the prism-like cloud that had hung for perhaps half an hour in that position slowly drifted away, and the sun again shone out in undimmed splendour and the glorious vision ended. then the spell that had so long entranced the boys was broken, and in silence for a time they looked at each other. frank was the first to speak, and his quiet words were: "i have seen the `sea of glass mingled with fire' that john saw in patmos." "and i," said alec, "thought of the city of mansions where the streets are of gold, and the walls jasper, and the gates pearl." "and i," said sam, "thought, `if that is a glimpse of heaven i can understand why one has said, "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which god hath prepared for them that love him."'" with quiet actions, and yet with happy hearts, they returned to the camp from the long stroll. three boys in the wild north land--by egerton ryerson young chapter twenty eight. boys' adventure with reindeer in the lake--gadflies and other deer pests--peculiar weapons--dangerous antagonists--hoofs and horns--frank's success--attack on the leader--canoe smashed--alec and the indians in the water--sam's stratagem--success at last--the return trip-- significant signs--ducks and geese heading southward--indians uneasy-- journey hastened--sagasta-weekee reached--summer ended--winter begun. refreshed and invigorated by the much needed rest, the boys with their appointed indian companions started off early the next morning for the lake, which seemed to have become the reindeer's favourite bathing resort. so early did they arrive at the lake that they had to wait for some hours ere a deer was to be seen. the principal reason why the deer spend so much time in the water seems to be to get rid of a number of troublesome flies that very much annoy them. some species of gadfly have the power not only to sting them, but to insert their eggs under the skin, which soon develops into a large grub. some of the skins of the reindeer are so perforated by these pests that they are absolutely worthless to the indians. another reason why the deer were late in coming out into the lake was the fact that, as the summer was nearly gone, the nights were now long and cool; and the gadflies being only troublesome in the warm hours of bright sunshine, it was nearly noon ere they came out from their forest retreats and plunged into the lake. a herd of reindeer swimming in the water is a very pretty sight. having large lungs, and thus being very buoyant, they swim high in the water, and being good swimmers they make, when a number of them are disporting themselves undisturbed, a very beautiful picture. while our party of hunters were waiting in their shady retreat, secluded from observation, the indians with as little noise as possible cut down and smoothly trimmed for use some poles. when fully prepared they were between ten and twelve feet long and from one to two inches in diameter. to the larger ends of each were securely lashed with deerskin thongs long, sharp, double-edged knives. it was about eleven o'clock ere the indian scouts, sent out to watch the movements of the deer, returned with the report that the greater portion of the herd had taken to the water. in order to be sure of success in the hunt it was decided to carefully carry the canoes through the woods, and embark as near as possible to the spot where the deer had plunged into the lake. this would place the hunters in the rear of their game, and thus give them a very decided advantage. as the indians were anxious to get as many reindeer as possible for the sake of the meat, a large portion of which they decided to make into pemmican, they decided to send out six canoes on this day's expedition. our three boys were each assigned a canoe with some indian hunters who were supposed to be well versed in this exciting sport. each canoe was furnished with one of these newly improvised spears, while each boy and hunter had his gun and axe. the whole six canoes were very noiselessly placed in the water at a spot where some great overhanging branches reached down to the water's edge. all were thus enabled to embark without attracting attention, or in the slightest degree alarming the deer that were now swimming about in the lake. pushing aside the bushes, they all shot out as nearly as possible together, and, vigorously plying their paddles, began the attack. the deer, startled and alarmed by the suddenness of the appearance of the canoes, at first attempted to escape by returning to the shore. finding, however, that their retreat was cut off, all there was left for them to do was to boldly strike out from the land and get, if possible, beyond the reach of their pursuers. as the lake was, however, a very large one there was no possibility of their being able to swim across. the indians well knew they would not attempt it; but after endeavouring to shake off pursuit by swimming out from land, if unsuccessful they would return and give battle in the water, if there was no other course open to them. the three canoes, in each of which was one of the boys, started out side by side, and there was a good deal of excitement and rivalry, as to whom should fall the honour of bagging the first reindeer. fast as the reindeer can swim, indian canoemen can paddle their canoes much faster, and so it was not long ere the deer were overtaken. "kill none but those in prime condition," were the orders received by all; "and let no canoe kill more than four." as on some former occasions in similar hunting adventures, the boys were each assigned the post of honour, which was the position in the very front of the canoe, so that they could be the first to attack the deer when they came within striking distance. as they drew near to the deer, and saw how they swam, the boys were able to see what effective weapons the ones formed by the binding of the knives to the poles really were. of course the terrified deer made the most desperate efforts to escape; but in spite of all they could do their pursuers steadily gained upon them. "do not be in a hurry," said one of the indians in frank's canoe to him when he seemed so eager to throw his newly formed spear, as though it were a javelin, at a great antlered fellow they were approaching, but who, as though conscious of their desires to reach his head, very cleverly and rapidly kept them off. the indians well know, some by bitter experience, the ability of the reindeer to kick out so viciously and effectively behind, even when swimming, as to smash the canoe that has been paddled up close to them by the over-eager, excited hunters. hence experienced indians give that end of a swimming reindeer a wide berth, and endeavour to get within striking distance of his head. "ready now!" the man quickly spoke again, as this time by a quick movement they succeeded in getting beyond his heels, and came rapidly alongside of him. "strike him just behind the head, and strike hard," were the next words frank heard, and with all his strength he plunged his spear into the neck of the great animal. he did not, however, as he should have done, strike across the spine so as to sever the spinal cord, and so he only inflicted an ugly flesh wound which irritated the great animal and caused him to turn round and give battle to the canoe and all its occupants. but, rapidly, as he turned, he was not quicker than were the sharp indians, who, watching every movement and seeing the failure of frank, suddenly began to paddle back from him. rendered furious by the wound, and seeing his enemies retreating, he came on as resolutely and rapidly as possible. "try the gun," said one of the indians, and frank, mortified by his failure with the spear, was not slow to respond. carefully aiming for the curl on the forehead, between the eyes, he pulled the trigger, and as the report rang out the great deer suddenly turned over dead in the water. a cheer rang out, proclaiming the first one thus obtained. alec and his men struck out for one of great size that they supposed was the leader of the herd. he not only had a most magnificent set of antlers, but by the way in which he swam in the water he seemed to possess not only magnificent lungs, but to be still trying to have some control over the frightened deer. when he saw that he was himself being attacked he immediately, as became the leader of the herd, turned to meet the advancing canoe and give battle. it was unfortunate for alec that his indian canoemen, while clever hunters, were inexperienced in the tactics of our old, wily reindeer. it would have been wise on their part if, when they saw him swing round and boldly come on to the attack, they had quickly used their guns; but that is considered the last resort in this kind of sport--the great ambition is to kill the deer with their spears. so here alec and his comrades wished to carry off honours in this contest; and so, when the great fellow came within reaching distance, they tried, with a couple of spears, to kill him; but a clever, rapid twist of his horns seemed to parry their spear thrusts, and before they knew how it happened the side of the canoe was crushed in as an eggshell, and they were all struggling in the water. it was well for them that they were good swimmers; and so they struck out for the other canoes, the occupants of which, seeing the disaster, at once began paddling to their rescue. the greatest danger to be feared was that the infuriated deer would take after one or more of them, in which case they would have a poor chance indeed, as a man swimming is no match for a deer in the water. with horns and sharp, chisel-like hoofs, he is able to make a gallant fight, as we have already seen in the case of the deer and wolves. however, it was soon seen, in this instance, that no danger was to be feared. the deer kept venting his displeasure on the canoe, so that he paid not the slightest notice to those who had so suddenly sprung out of it on the opposite side from him, and were rapidly swimming away. the poor canoe, however, had to be the butt of his ire--as well as of his horns--and soon all there was left of it were a few pieces of splinters floating on the water. the guns, axes, spears, and other heavy articles were at the bottom of the lake. the swimmers were helped into the other canoes, and the sport was resumed. when several deer had been killed they were fastened by long deerskin thongs, like lariats, to the stern of a couple of canoes and towed through the water to the shore. alec and his wet comrades went with them, and at a great fire built up on the beach soon dried themselves, and were none the worse for their involuntary swim. for a time the great deer that had come off so victorious was left swimming around in his glory, none seeming to care to get into close quarters with him. sam, however, was of a different mind, and was eager for a round with him. of course it would not have been difficult to shoot him, but, as has been stated, the indians think there is no honour or skill in shooting a deer in the water, where he cannot swim as fast as they can paddle their canoes. so they were just holding back in each canoe and waiting for some one else to tackle the big fellow. when sam told the indians in his canoe that he wished they would attack him they admired his courage and grit, and one of them, with a bit of a twinkle in his eye, asked: "you able to swim as well as alec?" "yes, indeed," he replied; "but there will be no need for my trying." "how you want to kill him?" asked another indian. sam's quick rejoinder was: "i want to spear him, of course." his enthusiasm was contagious, and the indians said: "all right; we will try." so word was signalled to the other boats that the one in which sam was would try the gallant old fellow. the indians in the other canoes heard this with pleasure, and ceased for a time from their pursuits to see the struggle. the indians in charge of sam's canoe wisely explained to him how, if they were possibly able to get him alongside of the deer, to try to spear him across the spinal column as near the head as possible. they also took the precaution to have a couple of guns and axes handy where, in case of emergency, they could be instantly utilised. when the great reindeer saw them coming down so boldly toward him he at once accepted the situation, and leaving a number of deer that with him had been keeping together for some time he gallantly turned to face them. when within twenty or thirty yards, as decided upon by the indian, they suddenly veered to the right, and kept paddling in eccentric circles around him, keeping him as nearly as possible about the same distance in the centre. that he could not reach the canoe and annihilate it as easily as he did the other one seemed to very much irritate him, and for a time he was furious with rage. yet in spite of his fury they quietly, yet warily, watched him, and kept up their circular movements about him. after a time, seeing it to be an utter impossibility to catch them, he turned and endeavoured to swim to the shore. now the attacked became the aggressors, and so, rapidly, the canoe followed in his wake. several times they tried to draw up alongside to spear him, but a sudden turn of that well-antlered head was enough to cause them to draw back in a hurry. but something must be done, or he would speedily be at the land. so another canoe was signalled to make a feint to attack him from the other side. the one in which frank was paddling with his indians soon came up, and when told what was desired of them quickly responded. the deer, thus worried by the two, had hardly a fair chance, but he gallantly kept up the unequal struggle for quite a time. sam's canoemen at length saw an unguarded place and so dashed in alongside the big fellow, and at the right minute the indian steering called out to sam: "now give it to him in the neck, close up to his head." sam, however, was not quick enough, and therefore his spear, which he plunged with all the force he was capable of into the deer, while it did not instantly kill, so cut down the side of the neck as to sever some large veins. unfortunately for sam, he could not withdraw the spear from the deer, and he was in no humour to lose it, so he hung on to it; but before he knew where he was a great bound of the deer jerked him out of the canoe. however, he fell fairly and squarely on the back of the great deer, and he was not such a fool as not to avail himself of such an opportunity for a ride. so speedily righting himself on this odd steed, amid the laughter of frank and the indians, he was evidently in for a good time. it might have fared badly with him if the deer had been able to have used his horns freely, or have moved with his usual speed in the water; but the additional weight on his back so sank him down that he was powerless to do harm. all he could do, after a few desperate efforts to get rid of his burden, was to start for the shore, and so he speedily continued swimming toward it as though this was his usual employment. sam hung on without much trouble, but as they neared the shore he began to wonder what might happen next. but when his antlered steed reached the shallow waters his strength gave way from the excessive loss of blood from the severed veins in his neck, and soon he dropped dead. the great carcass was dragged ashore, while the bodies of the others killed were towed in by the canoes. they killed altogether ten animals, but the reindeer hunt in the water that day, considering the loss of a fine canoe and all its contents, was not voted an unqualified success. all the indians present at the camp, which they made near the spot from which they had embarked in the morning, went to work at the venison there landed, and in a few hours they had it all cut into strips and broad flakes and hung up on stagings of poles speedily erected. a smokeless fire under [it], and the bright sun above it, in a few days made the meat so hard and dry that, by using the backs of their axes for hammers and pounding this meat on the smooth wooden logs, they thoroughly pulverised it. then packing it in bags made of the green hides of the deer, and saturating the whole mass with the melted fat taken from around the kidneys of the reindeer, they had prepared a most palatable kind of pemmican. if well prepared in this way it was considered fully equal to that made from the buffalo on the great plains. leaving the majority of the indians of that country to continue their capturing of the reindeer and the manufacturing of pemmican while they remained in that section of the land, frank, alec, and sam, with their travelling companions, returned to oxford house. there they made a visit of a few days at the home of the missionary. it was a great joy to meet with this devoted, heroic man and his equally brave and noble wife, who for the sake of christianisation and civilisation of the indians of this section of the country had willingly sacrificed the comforts and blessings of civilisation and come to this land. only twice a year did they hear from the outer world, and only once every year had they any opportunity of receiving any of the so-called "necessaries of life" at this remote station. yet they said and showed that they were very happy in their work, and rejoiced at the success which, not only to themselves but to any unbiased observer, was so visibly manifested in the greatly improved lives and habits of the natives. missions to such people are not failures. they would have been delighted to have lingered longer in this home, and with this delightful missionary and his good wife, who so reminded each of the boys of his own dear mother. but the indians who were to take them back to sagasta-weekee were uneasy at the appearances in the heavens and of the birds in the air, and so it was decided that they must return. four days of rapid paddling were sufficient to make the return journey. at the close of each day the boys remarked, as they cuddled up close to the splendid camp fire, that they seemed to have an additional liking for its glow and warmth; and for the first time they preferred to sleep as close together as possible, and were thankful that the thoughtful indians had in reserve for them an additional blanket apiece. the last day of the home journey was quite a cold one, but the vigorous exercise of paddling saved them from any discomfort. they could not but help noticing the large numbers of geese and ducks that were flying over them, and all were going south. the boys would have liked, where they were specially numerous, to have stopped and had a few hours' shooting, but the indians said: "perhaps to-morrow you will see it was best for us to get home." so "forward" was the word, and on they went and reached home after an exceedingly rapid journey from oxford lake. they met with a right royal welcome at sagasta-weekee. mr and mrs ross and the children were all delighted to have them back again with them. the faithful canoemen were well paid and given a capital supper in the kitchen, and then dismissed to their several homes. frank, alec, and sam had each to give some account of their adventures to the household as they were gathered that evening around the roaring fire, which was much enjoyed. then prayers were offered, and away the boys went to their rooms. they could not but remark to each other how much warmer were their beds than when they last slept in them. however, they found them none too warm as they cuddled down in their downy depths and were soon fast asleep. when they awoke the next morning the sleet and snow were beating with fury against the window panes, and all nature was white with snow. shortly after the wind went down, and then the ice covered over all the open waters, and they saw that that most delightful summer in the wild north land was ended, and the winter, with its cold and brightness and possibilities for other kinds of sports and adventures, had begun. transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. italic text is denoted by _underscores_. historic waterways historic waterways six hundred miles of canoeing down the rock, fox, and wisconsin rivers by reuben gold thwaites secretary of the state historical society of wisconsin other roads do some violence to nature, and bring the traveller to stare at her; but the river steals into the scenery it traverses without intrusion, silently creating and adorning it, and is free to come and go as the zephyr.--thoreau; _a week on the concord and merrimack rivers._ chicago a. c. mcclurg and company copyright by a. c. mcclurg and co. a.d. . this little volume is inscribed by the author to his wife, his messmate upon two of the three vacation voyages herein recorded, and his fellow-voyager down the river of time. preface. there is a generally accepted notion that a brief summer vacation, if at all obtainable in this busy life of ours, must be spent in a flight as far afield as time will allow; that the popular resorts in the mountains, by the seaside, or on the margins of the upper lakes must be sought for rest and enjoyment; that neighborhood surroundings should, in the mad rush for change of air and scene, be left behind. the result is that your average vacationist--if i may be allowed to coin a needed word--knows less of his own state than of any other, and is inattentive to the delights of nature which await inspection within the limits of his horizon. but let him mount his bicycle, his saddle-horse, or his family carriage, and start out upon a gypsy tour of a week or two along the country roads, exploring the hills and plains and valleys of--say his congressional district; or, better by far, take his canoe, and with his best friend for a messmate explore the nearest river from source to mouth, and my word for it he will find novelty and fresh air enough to satisfy his utmost cravings; and when he comes to return to his counter, his desk, or his study, he will be conscious of having discovered charms in his own locality which he has in vain sought in the accustomed paths of the tourist. this volume is the record of six hundred miles of canoeing experiences on historic waterways in wisconsin and illinois during the summer of . there has been no attempt at exaggeration, to color its homely incidents, or to picture charms where none exist. it is intended to be a simple, truthful narrative of what was seen and done upon a series of novel outings through the heart of the northwest. if it may induce others to undertake similar excursions, and thus increase the little navy of healthy and self-satisfied canoeists, the object of the publication will have been attained. i am under obligations to my friend, the hon. levi alden, for valuable assistance in the revision of proof-sheets. r. g. t. madison, wis., december, . contents. page introduction table of distances the rock river chapter i. the winding yahara chapter ii. barbed-wire fences chapter iii. an illinois prairie home chapter iv. the half-way house chapter v. grand detour folks chapter vi. an ancient mariner chapter vii. storm-bound at erie chapter viii. the last day out the fox river (of green bay). first letter. smith's island second letter. from packwaukee to berlin third letter. the mascoutins fourth letter. the land of the winnebagoes fifth letter. locked through sixth letter. the bay settlement the wisconsin river. chapter i. alone in the wilderness chapter ii. the last of the sacs chapter iii. a panoramic view chapter iv. floating through fairyland chapter v the discovery of the mississippi index introduction. historic waterways. introduction. provided, reader, you have a goodly store of patience, stout muscles, a practiced fondness for the oars, a keen love of the picturesque and curious in nature, a capacity for remaining good-humored under the most adverse circumstances, together with a quiet love for that sort of gypsy life which we call "roughing it," canoeing may be safely recommended to you as one of the most delightful and healthful of outdoor recreations, as well as one of the cheapest. the canoe need not be of birch-bark or canvas, or of the rob roy or racine pattern. a plain, substantial, light, open clinker-build was what we used,--thirteen feet in extreme length, with three-and-a-half feet beam. it was easily portaged, held two persons comfortably with seventy-five pounds of baggage, and drew but five inches,--just enough to let us over the average shallows without bumping. it was serviceable, and stood the rough carries and innumerable bangs from sunken rocks and snags along its voyage of six hundred miles, without injury. it could carry a large sprit-sail, and, with an attachable keel, run close to the wind; while an awning, decided luxury on hot days, was readily hoisted on a pair of hoops attached to the gunwale on either side. but perhaps, where there are no portages necessary, an ordinary flat-bottomed river punt, built of three boards, would be as productive of good results, except as to speed,--and what matters speed upon such a tour of observation? it is not necessary to go to the maine lakes for canoeing purposes; or to skirt the gloomy wastes of labrador, or descend the angry current of a mountain stream. here, in the mississippi basin, practically boundless opportunities present themselves, at our very doors, to glide through the heart of a fertile and picturesque land, to commune with nature, to drink in her beauties, to view men and communities from a novel standpoint, to catch pictures of life and manners that will always live in one's memory. the traveler by rail has brief and imperfect glimpses of the landscape. the canoeist, from his lowly seat near the surface of the flood, sees the country practically as it was in pioneer days, in a state of unalloyed beauty. each bend in the stream brings into view a new vista, and thus the bewitching scene changes as in a kaleidoscope. the people one meets, the variety of landscape one encounters, the simple adventures of the day, the sensation of being an explorer, the fresh air and simple diet, combined with that spirit of calm contentedness which overcomes the happy voyager who casts loose from care, are the never-failing attractions of such a trip. to those would-be canoeists who are fond of the romantic history of our great west, as well as of delightful scenery, the fox (of green bay), the rock, and the wisconsin, each with its sharply distinctive features, will be found among the most interesting of our neighborhood rivers. and this record of recent voyages upon them is, i think, fairly representative of what sights and experiences await the boatman upon any of the streams of similar importance in the vast and well-watered region of the upper mississippi valley. of the three, the rock river route, through the great prairies of illinois, perhaps presents the greatest variety of life and scenery. the rock has practically two heads: the smaller, in a rustic stream flowing from the north into swamp-girted lake koshkonong; the larger, in the four lakes at madison, the charming capital of wisconsin, which empty their waters into the avon-like catfish or yahara, which in turn pours into the rock a short distance below the koshkonong lake. our course was from madison almost to the mouth of the rock, near rock island, miles of paddling, as the river winds. the student of history finds the rock interesting to him because of its associations with the black hawk war of . when the famous sac warrior "invaded" illinois, his path of progress was up the south bank of that stream. at prophetstown lived his evil genius, the crafty white cloud, and here the hawk held council with the pottawattomies, who, under good shaubena's influence, rejected the war pipe. dixon is famous as the site of the pioneer ferry over the rock, on the line of what was the principal land highway between chicago and southern wisconsin and the galena mines for a protracted period in each year. here, many a notable party of explorers, military officials, miners, and traders have rendezvoused in the olden time. here was a rallying-point in , as well, when lincoln was a raw-boned militiaman in a scouting corps, and robert anderson, of fort sumter fame, zachary taylor, and jefferson davis were of the regular army under bluff old atkinson. a grove at the mouth of stillman's creek, a rock river tributary, near byron, is the scene of the actual outbreak of the war. the forest where black hawk camped with the white-loving pottawattomies is practically unchanged, and the open, rolling prairie to the south--on which stillman's horsemen acted at first so treacherously, and afterwards as arrant cowards--is still there, a broad pasture-land miles in length, along the river. the contemporaneous descriptions of the "battle" field are readily recognizable to-day. above, as far as lake koshkonong, the river banks are fraught with interest; for along them the soldiery followed up the sac trail, like bloodhounds, and held many an unsatisfactory parley with the double-faced winnebagoes. rock river scenery combines the rustic, the romantic, and the picturesque,--prairies, meadows, ravines, swamps, mountainous bluffs, eroded palisades, wide stretches of densely wooded bottoms, heavy upland forests, shallows, spits, and rapids. birds and flowers, and uncommon plants and vines, delight the naturalist and the botanist. the many thriving manufacturing cities,--such as stoughton, janesville, beloit, rockford, rockton, dixon, sterling, and oregon,--furnish an abundance of sight-seeing. the small villages--some of them odd, out-of-the-way places, of rare types--are worthy of study to the curious in economics and human nature. the farmers are of many types; the fishermen one is thrown into daily communion with are a class unto themselves; while millers, bridge-tenders, boat-renters, and others whose callings are along-shore, present a variety of humanity interesting and instructive. the twenty-odd mill-dam portages, each having difficulties and incidents of its own, are well calculated to vary the monotony of the voyage; there are more or less dangers connected with some of the mill-races, while the lookout for snags, bowlders and shallows must be continuous, sharpening the senses of sight and sound; for a tip-over or the utter demolition of the craft may readily follow carelessness in this direction. the islands in the rock are numerous, many of them being several miles in length, and nearly all heavily wooded. these frequent divisions of the channel often give rise to much perplexity; for the ordinary summer stage of water is so low that a loaded canoe drawing five inches of water is liable to be stranded in the channel apparently most available. the fox and wisconsin rivers--the former, from portage to green bay, the latter from portage to prairie du chien--form a water highway that has been in use by white men for two and a half centuries. in , jean nicolet, the first explorer of the northwest, passed up the fox river, to about berlin, and then went southward to visit the illinois. in the month of june, , joliet and marquette made their famous tour over the interlocked watercourse and discovered the mississippi river. after they had shown the way, a tide of travel set in over these twin streams, between the great lakes and the great river,--a motley procession of jesuit missionaries, explorers, traders, trappers, soldiers and pioneers. new england was in its infancy when the fox and wisconsin became an established highway for enterprising canoeists. since the advent of the railway era this historic channel of communication has fallen into disuse. the general government has spent an immense sum in endeavoring to render it navigable for the vessels in vogue to-day, but the result, as a whole, is a failure. there is no navigation on the fox worthy of mention, above berlin, and even that below is insignificant and intermittent. on the wisconsin there is none at all, except for skiffs and an occasional lumber-raft. the canoeist of to-day, therefore, will find solitude and shallows enough on either river. but he can float, if historically inclined, through the dusky shadows of the past, for every turn of the bank has its story, and there is romance enough to stock a volume. the upper fox is rather monotonous. the river twists and turns through enormous widespreads, grown up with wild rice and flecked with water-fowl. these widespreads occasionally free themselves of vegetable growth and become lakes, like the buffalo, the puckawa, and the poygan. there is, however, much of interest to the student in natural history; while such towns as montello, princeton, berlin, omro, winneconne, and oshkosh are worthy of visitation. lake winnebago is a notable inland sea, and the canoeist feels fairly lost, in his little cockle shell, bobbing about over its great waves. the lower fox runs between high, noble banks, and with frequent rapids, past neenah, menasha, appleton, and other busy manufacturing cities, down to green bay, hoary with age and classic in her shanty ruins. the wisconsin river is the most picturesque of the three. probably the best route is from the head of the dells to the mouth; but the run from portage to the mouth is the one which has the merit of antiquity, and is certainly a long enough jaunt to satisfy the average tourist. it is a wide, gloomy, mountain-girt valley, with great sand-bars and thickly-wooded morasses. settlement is slight. portage, prairie du sac, sauk city, and muscoda are the principal towns. the few villages are generally from a mile to three miles back, at the foot of the bluffs, out of the way of the flood, and the river appears to be but little used. it is an ideal sketching-ground. the canoeist with a camera will find occupation enough in taking views of his surroundings; perplexity as to what to choose amid such a crowd of charming scenes, will be his only difficulty. some suggestions to those who may wish to undertake these or similar river trips may be advisable. traveling alone will be found too dreary. none but a hermit could enjoy those long stretches of waterway, where one may float for a day without seeing man or animal on the forest-bounded shores, and where the oppression of solitude is felt with such force that it requires but a slight stretch of imagination to carry one's self back in thought and feeling to the days when the black-robed members of the company of jesus first penetrated the gloomy wilderness. upon the size of the party should depend the character of the preparations. if the plan is to spend the nights at farmhouses or village taverns, then a party of two will be as large as can secure comfortable quarters,--especially at a farmhouse, where but one spare bed can usually be found, while many are the country inns where the accommodations are equally limited. if it is intended to tent on the banks, then the party should be larger; for two persons unused to this experience would find it exceedingly lonesome after nightfall, when visions of river tramps, dissolute fishermen, and inquisitive hogs and bulls, pass in review, and the weakness of the little camp against such formidable odds comes to be fully recognized. often, too, the camping-places are few and far between, and may involve a carry of luggage to higher lands beyond; on such occasions, the more assistance the merrier. but whatever the preparations for the night and breakfast, the mess-box must be relied upon for dinners and suppers, for there is no dining-car to be taken on along these water highways, and eating-stations are unknown. unless there are several towns on the route, of over one thousand inhabitants, it would be well to carry sufficient provisions of a simple sort for the entire trip, for supplies are difficult to obtain at small villages, and the quality is apt to be poor. farmhouses can generally be depended on for eggs, butter, and milk,--nothing more. for drinking-water, obtainable from farm-wells, carry an army canteen, if you can get one; if not, a stone jug will do. the river water is useful only for floating the canoe, and the offices of the bath. as to personal baggage, fly very light, as a draught of over six inches would at times work an estoppel to your progress on any of the three streams mentioned. in shipping your boat to any point at which you wish to embark upon a river, allow two or three days for freight-train delays. be prepared to find canoeing a rough sport. there is plenty of hard work about it, a good deal of sunburn and blister. you will be obliged to wear your old clothes, and may not be overpleased to meet critical friends in the river towns you visit. but if you have the true spirit of the canoeist, you will win for your pains an abundance of good air, good scenery, wholesome exercise, sound sleep, and something to think about all your life. table of distances.--total, miles. the rock river. miles. madison to stoughton stoughton to janesville janesville to beloit beloit to rockford rockford to byron byron to oregon oregon to dixon dixon to sterling sterling to como como to lyndon lyndon to prophetstown prophetstown to erie ferry erie ferry to coloma coloma to mouth of river mouth of river to rock island (up mississippi river) --- total the fox river (of green bay). miles. portage to packwaukee packwaukee to montello montello to marquette marquette to princeton princeton to berlin berlin to omro omro to oshkosh oshkosh to neenah neenah to appleton appleton to kaukauna kaukauna to green bay --- total the wisconsin river. miles. portage to merrimac merrimac to prairie du sac prairie du sac to arena ferry arena ferry to helena helena to lone rock bridge lone rock bridge to muscoda muscoda to port andrew port andrew to boscobel boscobel to boydtown boydtown to wauzeka (on kickapoo) wauzeka to wright's ferry wright's ferry to bridgeport bridgeport to mouth of river mouth of river to prairie du chien (up mississippi river) --- total note.--the above table of distances by water is based upon the most reliable local estimates, verified, as far as practicable, by official surveys. the rock river. [illustration: map of the rock river to accompany thwaites's "historic waterways"] the rock river. chapter i. the winding yahara. it was a quarter to twelve, monday morning, the d of may, , when we took seats in our canoe at our own landing-stage on third lake, at madison, spread an awning over two hoops, as on a chinese house-boat, pushed off, waved farewell to a little group of curious friends, and started on our way to explore the rock river of illinois. w---- wielded the paddle astern, while i took the oars amidships. despite the one hundred pounds of baggage and the warmth emitted by the glowing sun,--for the season was unusually advanced,--we made excellent speed, as we well had need in order to reach the mouth, a distance of two hundred and eighty miles as the sinuous river runs, in the seven days we had allotted to the task. it was a delightful run across the southern arm of the lake. there was a light breeze aft, which gave a graceful upward curvature to our low-set awning. the great elms and lindens at charming lakeside--the home of the wisconsin chautauqua--droop over the bowlder-studded banks, their masses of greenery almost sweeping the water. down in the deep, cool shadows groups of bass and pickerel and perch lazily swish; swarms of "crazy bugs" ceaselessly swirl around and around, with no apparent object in life but this rhythmic motion, by which they wrinkle the mirror-like surface into concentric circles. through occasional openings in the dense fringe of pendent boughs, glimpses can be had of park-like glades, studded with columnar oaks, and stretching upward to hazel-grown knolls, which rise in irregular succession beyond the bank. from the thickets comes the fussy chatter of thrushes and cat-birds, calling to their young or gossiping with the orioles, the robins, jays, and red-breasted grosbeaks, who warble and twitter and scream and trill from more lofty heights. a quarter of an hour sent us spinning across the mouth of turvill's bay. at ott's farm, just beyond, the bank rises with sheer ascent, in layers of crumbly sandstone, a dozen feet above the water's level. close-cropped woodlawn pastures gently slope upward to storm-wracked orchards, and long, dark windbreaks of funereal spruce. flocks of sheep, fresh from the shearing, trot along the banks, winding in and out between the trees, keeping us company on our way,--their bleating lambs following at a lope,--now and then stopping, in their eager, fearful curiosity, to view our craft, and assuming picturesque attitudes, worthy subjects for a painter's art. a long, hard pull through close-grown patches of reeds and lily-pads, encumbered by thick masses of green scum, brought us to the outlet of the lake and the head of that section of the catfish river which is the medium through which third lake pours its overflow into second. the four lakes of madison are connected by the catfish, the chief wisconsin tributary of the rock. upon the map this relationship reminds one of beads strung upon a thread. as the result of a protracted drought, the water in the little stream was low, and great clumps of aquatic weeds came very close to the surface, threatening, later in the season, an almost complete stoppage to navigation. but the effect of the current was at once perceptible. it was as if an additional rower had been taken on. the river, the open stream of which is some three rods wide at this point, winds like a serpent between broad marshes, which must at no far distant period in the past have been wholly submerged, thus prolonging the three upper lakes into a continuous sheet of water. from a half-mile to a mile back, on either side, there are low ridges, doubtless the ancient shores of a narrow lake that was probably thirty or forty miles in length. in high water, even now, the marshes are converted into widespreads, where the dense tangle of wild rice, reeds, and rushes does not wholly prevent canoe navigation; while little mud-bottomed lakes, a quarter of a mile or so in diameter, are frequently met with at all stages. in places, the river, during a drought, has a depth of not over eighteen inches. in such stretches, the current moves swiftly over hard bottoms strewn with gravel and the whitened sepulchres of snails and clams. in the widespreads, the progress is sluggish, the vegetable growth so crowding in upon the stream as to leave but a narrow and devious channel, requiring skill to pilot through; for in these labyrinthian turnings one is quite liable, if not closely watching the lazy flood, to push into some vexatious cul-de-sac, many rods in length, and be obliged to retrace, with the danger of mistaking a branch for the main channel. in the depths of the tall reeds motherly mud-hens are clucking, while their mates squat in the open water, in meditative groups, rising with a prolonged splash and a whirr as the canoe approaches within gunshot. secluded among the rushes and cat-tails, nestled down in little clumps of stubble, are hundreds of the cup-shaped nests of the red-winged blackbird, or american starling; the females, in modest brown, take a rather pensive view of life, administering to the wants of their young; while the bright-hued, talkative males, perched on swaying stalks, fairly make the air hum with their cheery trills. water-lilies abound everywhere. the blossoms of the yellow variety (nuphar advena) are here and there bursting in select groups, but as a rule the buds are still below the surface. in the mud lakes, the bottom is seen through the crystal water to be thickly studded with great rosettes, two and three feet in diameter, of corrugated ovate leaves, of golden russet shade, out of which are shot upward brilliant green stalks, some bearing arrow-shaped leaves, and others crowned with the tight-wrapped buds that will soon open upon the water level into saffron-hued flowers. the plate-like leaves of the white variety (nymphæa tuberosa) already dot the surface, but the buds are not yet visible. anchored by delicate stems to the creeping root-stalks, buried in the mud below, the leaves, when first emerging, are of a rich golden brown, but they are soon frayed by the waves, and soiled and eaten by myriads of water-bugs, slugs, and spiders, who make their homes on these floating islands. pluck a leaf, and the many-legged spiders, the roving buccaneers of these miniature seas, stalk off at high speed, while the slugs and leeches, in a spirit of stubborn patriotism, prefer meeting death upon their native heath to politic emigration. by one o'clock we had reached the railway bridge at the head of second lake. upon the trestlework were perched three boys and a man, fishing. they had that listless air and unkempt appearance which are so characteristic of the little groups of humanity often to be found on a fair day angling from piers, bridges, and railway embankments. men who imagine the world is allied against them will loll away a dozen hours a day, throughout an entire summer season, sitting on the sun-heated girders of an iron bridge; yet they would strike against any system in the work-a-day world which compelled them to labor more than eight hours for ten hours' pay. in going down a long stretch of water highway, one comes to believe that about one-quarter of the inhabitants, especially of the villages, spend their time chiefly in fishing. on a canoe voyage, the bridge fishermen and the birds are the classes of animated nature most frequently met with, the former presenting perhaps the most unique and varied specimens. there are fishermen and fishermen. i never could fancy izaak walton dangling his legs from a railroad bridge, soaking a worm at the end of a length of store twine, vainly hoping, as the hours went listlessly by, that a stray sucker or a diminutive catfish would pull the bob under and score a victory for patience. now the use of a boat lifts this sort of thing to the dignity of a sport. second lake is about three miles long by a mile in breadth. the shores are here and there marshy; but as a rule they are of good, firm land with occasional rocky bluffs from a dozen to twenty feet high, rising sheer from a narrow beach of gravel. as we crossed over to gain the lower catfish, a calm prevailed for the most part, and the awning was a decided comfort. now and then, however, a delightful puff came ruffling the water astern, swelling our canvas roof and noticeably helping us along. light cloudage, blown swiftly before upper aerial currents, occasionally obscured the sun,--black, gray, and white cumuli fantastically shaped and commingled, while through jagged and rapidly shifting gaps was to be seen with vivid effect, the deep blue ether beyond. the bluffs and glades are well wooded. the former have escarpments of yellow clay and grayish sand and gravel; here and there have been landslides, where great trees have fallen with the débris and maintain but a slender hold amid their new surroundings, leaning far out over the water, easy victims for the next tornado. one monarch of the woods had been thus precipitated into the flood; on one side, its trunk and giant branches were water-soaked and slimy, while those above were dead and whitened by storm. as we approached, scores of turtles, sunning themselves on the unsubmerged portion, suddenly ducked their heads and slid off their perches amid a general splash, to hidden grottos below; while a solitary king-fisher from his vantage height on an upper bough hurriedly rose, and screamed indignance at our rude entry upon his preserve. a farmer's lad sitting squat upon his haunches on the beach, and another, leaning over a pasture-fence, holding his head between his hands, exhibited lamb-like curiosity at the awning-decked canoe, as it glided past their bank. through openings in the forest, we caught glimpses of rolling upland pastures, with sod close-cropped and smooth as a well-kept lawn; of gray-blue fields, recently seeded; of farmhouses, spacious barns, tobacco-curing sheds,--for this is the heart of the wisconsin tobacco region,--and those inevitable signs of rural prosperity, windmills, spinning around by spurts, obedient to the breath of the intermittent may-day zephyr; while little bays opened up, on the most distant shore, enchanting vistas of blue-misted ridges. at last, after a dreamy pull of two miles from the lake-head, we rounded a bold headland of some thirty feet in height, and entered catfish bay. ice-pushed bowlders strew the shore, which is here a gentle meadow slope, based by a gravel beach. a herd of cattle are contentedly browsing, their movements attuned to a symphony of cow-bells dangling from the necks of the leaders. the scene is pre-eminently peaceful. the catfish connecting second lake with first, has two entrances, a small flat willow island dividing them. through the eastern channel, which is the deepest, the current goes down with a rush, the obstruction offered by numerous bowlders churning it into noisy rapids; but the water tames down within a few rods, and the canoe comes gayly gliding into the united stream, which now has a placid current of two miles per hour,--quite fast enough for canoeing purposes. this section of the catfish is much more picturesque than the preceding; the shores are firmer; the parallel ridges sometimes closely shut it in, and the stream, here four or five rods wide, takes upon itself the characteristics of the conventional river. the weed and vine grown banks are oftentimes twenty feet in height, with as sharp an ascent as can be comfortably climbed; and the swift-rushing water is sometimes fringed with sumachs, elders, and hazel brush, with here and there willows, maples, lindens, and oaks. occasionally the river apparently ends at the base of a steep, earthy bluff; but when that is reached there is a sudden swerve to the right or left, with another vista of banks,--sometimes wood-grown to the water's edge, again with openings revealing purplish-brown fields, neatly harrowed, stretching up to some commanding, forest-crowned hill-top. the blossoms of the wild grape burden the air with sweet scent; on the deep-shaded banks, amid stones and cool mosses, the red and yellow columbine gracefully nods; the mandrake, with its glossy green leaves, grows with tropical luxuriance; more in the open, appears in great profusion, the old maid's nightcap, in purplish roseate hue; the sheep-berry shrub is decked in masses of white blossoms; the hawthorn flower is detected by its sickly-sweet scent, and here and there are luxuriously-flowered locusts, specimens that have escaped from cultivation to take up their homes in this botanical wilderness. there are charming rustic pictures at every turn,--sleek herds of cattle, droves of fat hogs, flocks of sheep that have but recently doffed their winter suits, well-tended fields, trim-looking wire fences, neat farm-houses where rows of milkpans glisten upon sunny drying-benches, farmers and farmers' boys riding aristocratic-looking sulky drags and cultivators,--everywhere an air of agricultural luxuriance, rather emphasized by occasional log-houses, which repose as honored relics by the side of their pretentious successors, sharply contrasting the wide differences between pioneer life and that of to-day. the marshes are few; and they in this dry season are luxuriant with coarse, glossy wild grass,--the only hay-crop the farmer will have this year,--and dotted with clumps of dead willow-trees, which present a ghostly appearance, waving their white, scarred limbs in the freshening breeze. the most beautiful spot on this section of the catfish is a point some eight miles above stoughton. the verdure-clad banks are high and steep. a lanky norwegian farmer came down an angling path with a pail-yoke over his shoulders to get washing-water for his "woman," and told us that when this country was sparsely settled, a third of a century ago, there was a mill-dam here. that was the day when the possession of water-power meant more than it does in this age of steam and rapid transit,--the day when every mill-site was supposed to be a nucleus around which a prosperous village must necessarily grow in due time. nothing now remains as a relic of this particular fond hope but great hollows in either bank, where the clay for dam-making purposes has been scooped out, and a few rotten piles, having a slender hold upon the bottom, against which drift-wood has lodged, forming a home for turtles and clumps of semi-aquatic grasses. w---- avers, in a spirit of enthusiasm, that the catfish between second and first lakes is quite similar in parts to the immortal avon, upon which shakespeare canoed in the long-ago. if she is right, then indeed are the charms of avon worthy the praise of the muses. if the catfish of to-day is ever to go down to posterity on the wings of poesy, however, i would wish that it might be with the more euphonious title of "yahara,"--the original winnebago name. the map-maker who first dropped the liquid "yahara" for the rasping "catfish" had no soul for music. darting under a quaint rustic foot-bridge made of rough poles, which on its high trestles stalks over a wide expanse of reedy bog like a giant "stick-bug," we emerged into first lake. the eastern shore, which we skirted, is a wide, sandy beach, backed by meadows. the opposite banks, two or three miles away, present more picturesque outlines. a stately wild swan kept us company for over a mile, just out of musket-shot, and finally took advantage of a patch of rushes to stop and hide. a small sandstone quarry on the southeast shore, with a lone worker, attracted our attention. there was not a human habitation in sight, and it seemed odd to see a solitary man engaged in such labor apparently so far removed from the highways of commerce. the quarryman stuck his crowbar in a crack horizontally, to serve as a seat, and filled his pipe as we approached. we hailed him with inquiries, from the stone pier jutting into the lake at the foot of the bluff into which he was burrowing. he replied from his lofty perch, in rich norsk brogue, that he shipped stone by barge to stoughton, and good-humoredly added, as he struck a match and lit his bowl of weed, that he thought himself altogether too good company to ever get lonesome. we left the philosopher to enjoy his pipe in peace, and passed on around the headland. an iron railway bridge, shut in with high sides, and painted a dullish red, spans the lower catfish at the outlet of first lake. a country boy, with face as dirty as it was solemn, stood in artistic rags at the base of an arch, fishing with a bit of hop-twine tied to the end of a lath; from a mass of sedge just behind him a hoarse cry arose at short intervals. "hi, johnny, what's that making the noise? "bird!" sententiously responded the stoic youth. he looked as though he had been bored with a silly question, and kept his eyes on his task. "what kind of a bird, johnny?" "d'no!" rather raspishly. he evidently thought he was being guyed. we ran the nose of the canoe into the reeds. there was a splash, a wild cry of alarm, and up flew a great bittern. circling about until we had passed on, it then drifted down to its former location near the uninquiring lad,--where doubtless it had a nest of young, and had been disturbed in the midst of a lecture on domestic discipline. wide marshes again appear on either side of the stream. there are great and small bitterns at every view; plovers daintily picking their way over the open bogs, greedily feeding on countless snails; wild ducks in plenty, patiently waiting in the secluded bayous for the development of their young; yellow-headed troopials flitting freely about, uttering a choking, gulping cry; while the pert little wren, with his smart cock-tail, views the varied scene from his perch on a lofty rush, jealously keeping watch and ward over his ball-like castle, with its secret gate, hung among the reeds below. but interspersing the marshes there are often stretches of firm bank and delightfully varied glimpses of hillside and wood. three miles above stoughton, we stopped for supper at the edge of a glade, near a quaint old bridge. while seated on the smooth sward, beside our little spread, there came a vigorous rustling among the branches of the trees that overhang the country road which winds down the opposite slope to the water's edge to take advantage of the crossing. a gypsy wagon, with a high, rounded, oil-cloth top soon emerged from the forest, and was seen to have been the cause of the disturbance. halting at one side of the highway, three men and a boy jumped out, unhitched the horses at the pole and the jockeying stock at the tail-board, and led them down to water. two women meanwhile set about getting supper, and preparations were made for a night camp. we confessed to a touch of sympathy with our new neighbors on the other shore, for we felt as though gypsying ourselves. the hoop awning on the canoe certainly had the general characteristics of a gypsy-wagon top; we knew not and cared not where night might overtake us; we were dependent on the country for our provender; were at the mercy of wind, weather, and the peculiarities of our chosen highway; and had deliberately turned our backs on home for a season of untrammeled communion with nature. it was during a golden sunset that, pushing on through a great widespread, through which the channel doubles and twists like a scotched snake, we came in sight of the little city of stoughton. first, the water-works tower rises above the mass of trees which embower the settlement. then, on nearer approach, through rifts in the woodland we catch glimpses of some of the best outlying residences, most of them pretty, with well-kept grounds. then come the church-spires, the ice-houses, the barge-dock, and with a spurt we sweep alongside the foundry of mandt's wagon-works. depositing our oars, paddle, blankets, and supplies in the office, the canoe was pulled up on the grass and padlocked to a stake. the street lamps were lighting as we registered at the inn. stoughton has about two thousand inhabitants. a walk about town in the evening, revealed a number of bright, busy shops, chiefly kept by norwegians, who predominate in this region. nearly every street appears to end in one of mandt's numerous factory yards, and the wagon-making magnate seems to control pretty much the entire river front here. chapter ii. barbed-wire fences. we were off in the morning, after an early breakfast at the stoughton inn. our host kindly sent down his porter to help us over the mill-dam,--our first and easiest portage, and one of the few in which we received assistance of any kind. below this, as below all of the dams on the river, there are broad shallows. the water in the stream, being at a low stage, is mainly absorbed in the mill-race, and the apron spreads the slight overflow evenly over the width of the bed, so that there is left a wide expanse of gravel and rocks below the chute, which is not covered sufficiently deep for navigating even our little craft, drawing but five inches when fully loaded. we soon grounded on the shallows and i was obliged to get out and tow the lightened boat to the tail of the race, where deeper water was henceforth assured. this experience became quite familiar before the end of the trip. i had fortunately brought a pair of rubbers in my satchel, and found them invaluable as wading-shoes, where the river bottom is strewn with sharp gravel and slimy round-heads. below stoughton the river winds along in most graceful curves, for the most part between banks from six to twenty feet high, with occasional pocket-marshes, in which the skunk-cabbage luxuriates. the stream is often thickly studded with lily-pads, which the wind, blowing fresh astern, frequently ruffles so as to give the appearance of rapids ahead, inducing caution where none is necessary. but every half-mile or so there are genuine little rapids, some of them requiring care to successfully shoot; in low water the canoe goes bumping along over the small moss-grown rocks, and now and then plumps solidly on a big one; when the stream is turbid,--as often happens below a pasture, where the cattle stir up the bank mud,--the danger of being overturned by scarcely submerged bowlders is imminent. there are some decidedly romantic spots, where little densely-wooded and grape-tangled glens run off at right angles, leading up to the bases of commanding hillocks, which they drain; or where the noisy little river, five or six rods wide, goes swishing around the foot of a precipitous, bush-grown bluff. it is noticeable that in such beauty-spots as these are generally to be found poverty-stricken cabins, the homes of small fishermen and hunters; while the more generous farm-houses seek the fertile but prosaic openings. all of a sudden, around a lovely bend, a barbed-wire fence of four strands savagely disputed the passage. a vigorous back-water stroke alone saved us from going full tilt into the bayonets of the enemy. we landed, and there was a council of war. as every stream in wisconsin capable of floating a saw-log is "navigable" in the eye of the law, it is plain that this obstruction is an illegal one. being an illegal fence, it follows that any canoeist is entitled to clip the wires, if he does not care to stop and prosecute the fencers for barring his way. the object of the structure is to prevent cattle from walking around through the shallow river into neighboring pastures. along the upper catfish, where boating is more frequently indulged in, farmers accomplish the same object by fencing in a few feet of the stream parallel with the shore. but below stoughton, where canoeing is seldom practiced, the cattle-owners run their fences directly across the river as a measure of economy. taking into consideration the fact that the lower catfish is seldom used as a highway, we concluded that we would be charitable and leave the fences intact, getting under or over them as best we might. i am afraid that had we known that twenty-one of these formidable barriers were before us, the council would not have agreed on so conciliatory a campaign. having taken in our awning and disposed of our baggage amidships, so that nothing remained above the gunwale, w----, kneeling, took the oars astern, while i knelt in the bow with the paddle borne like a battering-ram. pushing off into the channel we bore down on the centre of the works, which were strong and thickly-posted, with wires drawn as tight as a drum-string. catching the lower strand midway between two posts, on the blade end of the paddle, the speed of the canoe was checked. then, seizing that strand with my right hand, so that the thick-strewn barbs came between my fingers, i forced it up to the second strand, and held the two rigidly together, thus making a slight arch. the canoe being crowded down into the water by sheer exercise of muscle, i crouched low in the bow, at the same time forcing the canoe under and forward through the arch. when half-way through, w---- was able similarly to clutch the wires, and perform the same office for the stern. this operation, ungraceful but effective, was frequently repeated during the day. when the current is swift and the wind fresh a special exertion is necessary on the part of the stern oar to keep the craft at right angles with the fence,--the tendency being, as soon as the bow is snubbed, to drift alongside and become entangled in the wires, with the danger of being either badly scratched or upset. it is with a feeling of no slight relief that a canoeist emerges from a tussle with a barbed-wire fence; and if hands, clothing, and boat have escaped without a scratch, he may consider himself fortunate, indeed. before the day was through, when our twenty-one fences had been conquered without any serious accident, it was unanimously voted that the exercise was not to be recommended to those weak in muscle or patience. eight miles below stoughton is dunkirk. there is a neat frame grist-mill there; and up a gentle slope to the right are four or five weather-beaten farm-houses, in the corners of the cross-roads. it was an easy portage at the dam. after pushing through the shallows below with some difficulty, we ran in under the shadow of a substantial wagon-bridge, and beached. going up to the corners, we filled the canteen with ice-cold water from a moss-grown well, and interviewed the patriarchal miller, who assured us that "nigh onter a dozen year ago, dunkirk had a bigger show for growin' than stoughton, but the railroad went 'round us." a few miles down stream and we come to stebbinsville. the water is backset by a mill-dam for two miles, forming a small lake. the course now changing, the wind came dead ahead, and we rowed down to the dam in a rolling sea, with much exertion. the river is six rods wide here, flowing between smooth, well-rounded, grass-grown banks, from fifteen to thirty feet in height, the fields on either side sloping up to wood-crowned ridges. there are a mill and two houses at stebbinsville, and the country round about has a prosperous appearance. a tall, pleasant-spoken young miller came across the road-bridge and talked to us about the crops and the river, while we made a comfortable portage of five rods, up the grassy bank and through a close-cropped pasture, down to a sequestered little bay at the tail of an abandoned race, where the spray of the falls spattered us as we reloaded. we pushed off, with the joint opinion that stebbinsville was a charming little place, with ideal riverside homes, that would be utterly spoiled by building the city on its site which the young man said his father had always hoped would be established there. a quarter of a mile below, around the bend, is a disused mill, thirty feet up, on the right bank. there is a suspended platform over a ravine, to one side of the building, and upon its handrail leaned two dusty millers, who had doubtless hastened across from the upper mill, to watch the progress down the little rapids here of what was indeed a novel craft to these waters. they waved their caps and gave us a cheery shout as we quickly disappeared around another curve; but while it still rung in our ears we were suddenly confronted by one of the tightest fences on the course, and had neither time nor disposition to return the salute. and so we slid along, down rapids, through long stretches of quiet water and scraping over shallows, plying both oars and paddle, while now and then "making" a fence and comparing its savagery with that of the preceding one. here and there the high vine-clad banks, from overshadowing us would irregularly recede, leaving little meadows, full of painted-cups, the wild rose-colored phlox and saxifrage; or bits of woodland in the dryer bottoms, radiant, amid the underbrush, with the daisy, cinque-foil, and puccoon. kingfishers and blue herons abound. great turtles, disturbed by the unwonted splash of oars, slide down high, sunny banks of sand, where they have been to lay their eggs, and amid a cloud of dust shuffle off into the water, their castle of safety. these eggs, so trustfully left to be hatched by the warmth of the sun, form toothsome food for coons and skunks, which in turn fall victims to farmers' lads,--as witness the rows of peltries stretched inside out on shingles, and tacked up on the sunny sides of the barns and woodsheds along the river highway. as we begin to approach the valley of the rock, the hills grow higher, groups of red cedar appear, the banks of red clay often attain the height of fifty or sixty feet, broken by deep, staring gullies and wooded ravines, through which little brooklets run, the output of back-country springs; while the pocket-meadows are less frequent, although more charmingly diversified as to color and background. we had our mid-day lunch on a pleasant bank, that had been covered earlier in the season with hepatica, blood-root, and dicentra, and was now resplendent with solomon's seal, the dark-purple water-leaf, and graceful maidenhair ferns, with here and there a dogwood in full bloom. behind us were thick woods and an overlooking ridge; opposite, a meadow-glade on which herds of cattle and black hogs grazed. a bell cow waded into the water, followed by several other members of the herd, and the train pensively proceeded in single file diagonally across the shallow stream to another feeding-ground below. the leader's bell had a peculiarly mournful note, and the scene strongly reminded one of an ecclesiastical procession. in the middle of the afternoon the little village of fulton was reached. it is a dead-alive, moss-grown settlement, situated on a prairie, through which the river has cut a deep channel. there are a cheese-factory, a grist-mill, a church, a school-house, three or four stores, and some twenty-five houses, with but a solitary boat in sight, and that of the punt variety. it was recess at the school as we rowed past, and boys and girls were chiefly engaged in climbing the trees which cluster in the little schoolhouse yard. a chorus of shouts and whistles greeted us from the leafy perches, in which we could distinguish "shoot the roof!"--an exclamation called forth by the awning, which doubtless seemed the chief feature of our outfit, viewed from the top of the bank. at the mill-dam, a dozen lazy, shiftless fellows were fishing at the foot of the chute, and stared at our movements with expressionless eyes. the portage was somewhat difficult, being over a high bank, across a rocky road, and down through a stretch of bog. when we had completed the carry, w---- waited in the canoe while i went up to the fishermen for information as to the lay of the country. "how far is it to the mouth of the catfish, my friend?" i asked the most intelligent member of the party. "d'no! never was thar." he jerked in his bait, to pull off a weed that had become entangled in it, and from the leer he gave his comrades it was plain that i had struck the would-be wag of the village. "how far do you think it is?" i insisted, curious to see how far he would carry his obstinacy. "don' think nuthin' 'bout 't; don' care t' know." "didn't you ever hear any one say how far it is?" and i sat beside him on the stone pier, as if i had come to stay. "nah!" "suppose you were placed in a boat here and had to float down to the rock, how long do you imagine you'd be?" "aint no man goin' t' place me in no boat! no siree!" pugnaciously. "don't you ever row?" "nah!" contemptuously; "what i want of a boat? bridge 's good 'nough fer us fellers, a-fishin'." "whose boat is that, over there, on the shore?" "schoolmaster's. he's a dood, he is. bridge isn't rich 'nough fer his blood. boats is fer doods." and with this withering remark he relapsed into so intent an observation of his line that i thought it best to disturb him no longer. below fulton, the stream is quite swift and the scenery more rugged, the evidences of disastrous spring overflows and back-water from the rock being visible on every hand. at five o'clock, we came to a point where the river divides into three channels, there being a clump of four small islands. a barbed-wire fence, the last we were fated to meet, was stretched across each channel. selecting the central mouth,--for this is the delta of the catfish,--we shot down with a rush, but were soon lodged on a sandbank. it required wading and much pushing and twisting and towing before we were again off, but in the length of a few rods more we swung free into the rock, which was to be our highway for over two hundred miles more of canoe travel. the rock river is nearly a quarter of a mile wide at this point, and comes down with a majestic sweep from the north, having its chief source in the gloomily picturesque lake koshkonong. the banks of the river at and below the mouth of the catfish, are quite imposing, rising into a succession of graceful, round-topped mounds, from fifty to one hundred feet high, and finely wooded except where cleared for pasture or as the site of farm-buildings. while the immediate edges of the stream are generally firm and grass-grown, with occasional gravelly beaches, there are frequent narrow strips of marsh at the bases of the mounds, especially on the left bank where innumerable springs send forth trickling rills to feed the river. a stiff wind up-stream had broken the surface into white caps, and more than counteracted the force of the lazy current, so that progress now depended upon vigorous exercise at the oars and paddle. three miles above janesville is pope's springs, a pleasant summer resort, with white tents and gayly painted cottages commingled. it is situated in a park-like wood, on the right bank, while directly opposite are some bold, rocky cliffs, or palisades, their feet laved in the stream. we spread our supper cloth on the edge of a wheat-field, in view of the pretty scene. the sun was setting behind a bank of roseate clouds, and shooting up broad, sharply defined bands of radiance nearly to the zenith. the wind was blowing cold, wraps were essential, and we were glad to be on our way once more, paddling along in the dying light, past palisades and fields and meadows, reaching prosperous janesville, on her rolling prairie, just as dusk was thickening into dark. chapter iii. an illinois prairie home. we had an early start from the hotel next morning. a prospect of the situation at the upper janesville dam, from a neighboring bridge, revealed the fact that the mill-race along the left bank afforded the easiest portage. reloading our craft at the boat-renter's staging where it had passed the night, we darted across the river, under two low-hung bridges, keeping well out of the overflow current and entered the race, making our carry over a steep and rocky embankment. below, after passing through the centre of the city, the river widens considerably, as it cuts a deep channel through the fertile prairie, and taking a sudden bend to the southwest, becomes a lake, formed by back-water from the lower dam. the wind was now dead ahead again, and fierce. white caps came savagely rolling up stream. the pull down brought out the rowing muscles to their fullest tension. the canoe at times would appear to scarcely creep along, although oars and paddle would bend to their work. the race of the carding-mill, which we were now approaching, is by the left bank, the rest of the broad river--fully a third of a mile wide here--being stemmed by a ponderous, angling dam, the shorter leg of which comes dangerously close to the entrance of the race, which it nearly parallels. overhead, fifty feet skyward, a great railway bridge spans the chasm. the disposition of its piers leaves a rowing channel but two rods wide, next the shore. through this a deep, swift current flows, impelling itself for the most part over the short leg of the chute, with a deafening roar. its backset, however, is caught in the yawning mouth of the race. it so happens then that from either side of an ugly whirling strip of doubting water, parallel with the shorter chute, the flood bursts forth,--to the left plunging impetuously over the apron to be dashed to vapor at its foot; to the right madly rushing into the narrow race, to turn the wheels of the carding-mill half a mile below. this narrow channel, under the bridge and next the shore, of which i have spoken, is the only practicable entrance to the race. we had landed above and taken a panoramic view of the situation from the deck of the bridge; afterward had descended to the flood-gates at the entrance of the race, for detailed inspection and measurements. one of the set of three gates was partly raised, the bottom being but three feet above the boiling surface, while the great vertical iron beams along which the cog-wheels work were not over four feet apart. it would require steady hands to guide the canoe to the right of the whirl, where the flood hesitated between two destinations, and finally to shoot under the uplifted gate, which barely gave room in either height or breadth for the passage of the boat. but we arrived at the conclusion that the shoot was far more dangerous in appearance than in reality, and that it was preferable to a long and exceedingly irksome portage. so we determined to make the attempt, and walked back to the canoe. disposing our baggage in the centre, as in the barbed-wire experience of the day before, w---- again took the oars astern and i the paddle at the bow. a knot of men on the bridge had been watching our movements with interest, and waved their hats at us as we came cautiously creeping along the shore. we went under the bridge with a swoop, waited till we were within three rods of the brink of the thundering fall, and then strained every muscle in sending the canoe shooting off at an angle into the waters bound for the race. we went down to the gate as if shot out of a cannon, but the little craft was easily controlled, quickly obeying every stroke of the paddle. catching a projecting timber, it was easy to guide ourselves to the opening. we lay down in the bottom of the boat and with uplifted hands clutched the slimy gate; slowly, hand over hand, we passed through under the many internal beams and rods of the structure, with the boiling flood under us, making an echoing roar, amid which we were obliged to fairly shout our directions to each other. in the last section the release was given; we were fairly hurled into daylight on the surface of the mad torrent, and were many a rod down the race before we could recover our seats. the men on the bridge, joined by others, now fairly yelled themselves hoarse over the successful close of what was apparently a hazardous venture, and we waved acknowledgments with the paddle, as we glided away under the willows which overhang the long and narrow canal. at the isolated mill, where there is one of the easiest portages on the route, the hands came flocking by dozens to the windows to see the craft which had invaded their quiet domain. the country toward beloit becomes more hilly, especially upon the left bank, along which runs the chicago and northwestern railway, all the way down from janesville. at the beloit paper-mill, which was reached at three o'clock in the afternoon, it was found that owing to the low stage of water one end of the apron projected above the flood. with some difficulty as to walking on the slimy incline, we portaged over the face of the dam and went down stream through the heart of the pretty little college town, getting more or less picturesque back-door views of the domestic life of the community. beloit being on the state line, we had now entered illinois. for several miles the river is placid and shallow, with but a feeble current. islands begin to appear, dividing the channel and somewhat perplexing canoeists, it being often quite difficult to decide which route is the best; as a rule, one is apt to wish that he had taken some other than the one selected. the dam at rockton was reached in a two hours' pull. it was being repaired, stone for the purpose being quarried on a neighboring bank and transported to the scene of action on a flat-boat. we had been told that we could save several miles by going down the race, which cuts the base of a long detour. but the boss of the dam-menders assured us that the race was not safe, and that we would "get in a trap" if we attempted it. deeming discretion the better part of valor, with much difficulty we lifted the canoe over the high, jagged, stone embankment and through a bit of tangled swamp to the right, and took the longest way around. it was four or five miles by the bend to the village of rockton, whose spires we could see at the dam, rising above a belt of intervening trees. it being our first detour of note, we were somewhat discouraged at having had so long a pull for so short a vantage; but we became well used to such experiences long before our journey was over. it was not altogether consoling to be informed at rockton--which is a smart little manufacturing town of a thousand souls--that the race was perfectly practicable for canoes, and the tail portage easy. beaching near the base of a fine wagon-bridge which here spans the rock, we went up to a cluster of small houses on the bank opposite the town, to have some tea steeped, our prepared stock being by this time exhausted. the people were all employed in the paper-mills in the village, but one good woman chanced to be at home for the afternoon, and cheerfully responded to our request for service. a young, neat, and buxom little woman she was, though rather sad-eyed and evidently overworked in the family struggle for existence. she assured us that she nowadays never went upon the water in an open boat, for she had "three times been near drowndid" in her life, which she thought was "warnin' enough for one body." inquiry developed that her first "warnin'" consisted of having been, when she was "a gal down in kansis," taken for a row in a leaky boat; the water came in half-way up to the thwarts, and would have eventually swamped the craft and drowned its occupants, in perhaps half an hour's time, if her companion had not luckily bethought himself to run in to shore and land. another time, she and her husband were out rowing, when a stern-wheel river steamer came along, and the swell in her wake washed the row-boat atop of a log raft, and "she stuck there, ma'am, would ye believe, and we'd 'a' drowndid sure, with a storm a-comin' up, hadn't my brother-in-law, that was then a-courtin' of sister jane, come off in a dug-out and took us in." her last and most harrowing experience was in a boat on the republican river in kansas. she and another woman were out when a storm came up, and white-capped waves tossed the little craft about at will; but fortunately the blow subsided, and the women regained pluck enough to take the oars and row home again. the eyes of the paper-maker's wife were suffused with tears, as, seated in her rocking-chair by the kitchen stove and giving the teapot an occasional shake, doubtless to hasten the brew, she related these thrilling tales of adventure by flood, and called us to witness that thrice had providence directly interposed in her behalf. we were obliged to acknowledge ourselves much impressed with the gravity of the dangers she had so successfully passed through. her sympathy with the perils which we were braving, in what she was pleased to call our singular journey, was so great that the good woman declined to accept pay for having steeped our tea in a most excellent manner, and bade us an affecting god-speed. we had our supper, graced with the hot tea, on a pretty sward at the river end of the quiet lane just around the corner; while a dozen little children in pinafores and short clothes, perched on a neighboring fence, watched and discussed us as eagerly as though we were a circus caravan halting by the wayside for refreshment. the paper-maker's wife also came out, just as we were packing up for the start, and inspected the canoe in some detail. her judgment was that in her giddiest days as an oarswoman, she would certainly never have dared to set foot in such a shell. she watched us off, just as the sun was disappearing, and the last rockton object we saw was our tenderhearted friend standing on the beach at the end of her lane, both hands shading her eyes, as she watched us fade away in the gloaming. i have no doubt she has long ago given us up for lost, for her last words were, "i've heerd 'em tell it was a riskier river than any in kansis, 'tween here an' missip'; tek care ye don't git drowndid!" in the soft evening shadows it was cool enough for heavy wraps. in fact, for the greater part of the day w---- had worn a light shoulder cape. we had a beautiful sunset, back of a group of densely timbered islands. we would have been sorely tempted to camp out on one of these, but the night was setting in too cold for sleeping in the open air, and we had no tent with us. the twilight was nearly spent, and the banks and now frequent islands were so heavily wooded that on the river it was rapidly becoming too dark to navigate among the shallows and devious channels. w---- volunteered to get out and look for a farmhouse, for none could be seen from our hollow way. so she landed and got up into some prairie wheatfields back away from the bank. after a half-mile's walk parallel with the river she sighted a prosperous-looking establishment, with a smart windmill, large barns, and a thrifty orchard, silhouetted against the fast-fading sunset sky. the signal was given, and the prow of the canoe was soon resting on a steep, gravely beach at the mouth of a ravine. armed with the paddle, for a possible encounter with dogs, we went up through the orchard and a timothy-field sopping with dew, scaled the barnyard fence, passed a big black dog that growled savagely, but was by good chance chained to an old mowing-machine, walked up to the kitchen door and boldly knocked. no answer. the stars were coming out, the shadows darkening, night was fairly upon us, and shelter must be had, if we were obliged to sleep in the barn. the dog reared on his hind legs, and fairly howled with rage. a row of well-polished milk-cans on a bench by the windmill well, and the general air of thrifty neatness impelled us to persevere. an old german, with kindly face and bushy white hair, finally came, cautiously peering out beneath a candle which he held above his head. english he had none, and our german was too fresh from the books to be reliable in conversation. however, we mustered a few stereotyped phrases from the "familiar conversations" in the back of the grammar, which served to make the old man smile, and disappearing toward the cattle-sheds he soon returned with his daughter and son-in-law, a cheerful young couple who spoke good english, and assured us of welcome and a bed. they had been out milking by lantern-light when interrupted, and soon rejoined us with brimming pails. it did not take long to feel quite at home with these simple, good-hearted folk. they had but recently purchased the farm and were strangers in the community. the old man lived with his other children at freeport, and was there only upon a visit. the young people, natives of illinois, were lately married, their wedding-trip having been made to this house, where they had at once settled down to a thrifty career, surrounded with quite enough comforts for all reasonable demands, and a few simple luxuries. w---- declared the kitchen to be a model of neatness and convenience; and the sitting-room, where we passed the evening with our modest entertainers,--who appeared quite well posted on current news of general importance,--showed evidences of being in daily use. they were devout catholics, and i was pleased to find the patriarch drifting down the river of time with a heartfelt appreciation of the benefits of democracy, fully cognizant of what american institutions had done for him and his. immigrating in the noon-tide of life and settling in a german neighborhood, he had found no need and had no inclination to learn our language. but he had prospered from the start, had secured for his children a good education at the common schools, had imbued them with the spirit of patriotism, had seen them marry happily and with a bright future, and at night he never retired without uttering a bedside prayer of gratitude that god had turned his footsteps to blessed america. as the old man told me his tale, with his daughter's hands resting lovingly in his while she served as our interpreter, and contrasted the hard lot of a german peasant with the independence of thought and speech and action vouchsafed the german-american farmer, who can win competence in a state of freedom, i felt a thrill of patriotism that would have been the making of a fourth-of-july orator. i wished that thousands such as he originally was, still dragging out an existence in the fatherland, could have listened to my aged friend and followed in his footsteps. chapter iv. the half-way house. the spin down to roscoe next morning was delightful in every respect. the air was just sharp enough for vigorous exercise. these were the pleasantest hours we had yet spent. the blisters that had troubled us for the first three days were hardening into callosities, and arm and back muscles, which at first were sore from the unusually heavy strain upon them, at last were strengthened to their work. thereafter we felt no physical inconvenience from our self-imposed task. at night, after a pull of eleven or twelve hours, relieved only by the time spent in lunching, in which we hourly alternated at the oars and paddle, slumber came as a most welcome visitation, while the morning ever found us as fresh as at the start. let those afflicted with insomnia try this sort of life. my word for it, they will not be troubled so long as the canoeing continues. every muscle of the body moves responsive to each pull of the oars or sweep of the paddle; while the mental faculties are kept continually on the alert, watching for shallows, snags, and rapids, in which operation a few days' experience will render one quite expert, though none the less cautious. as we get farther down into the illinois country, the herds of live-stock increase in size and number. cattle may be seen by hundreds at one view, dotted all over the neighboring hills and meadows, or dreamily standing in the cooling stream at sultry noonday. sheep, in immense flocks, bleat in deafening unison, the ewes and their young being particularly demonstrative at our appearance, and sometimes excitedly following us along the banks. droves of black hogs and shoats are ploughing the sward in their search for sweet roots, or lying half-buried in the wet sand. horses, in familiar groups, quickly lift their heads in startled wonder as the canopied canoe glides silently by,--then suddenly wheel, kick up their heels, sound a snort of alarm, and dash off at a thundering gallop, clods of turf filling the air behind them. there are charming groves and parks and treeless downs, and the river cuts through the alluvial soil to a depth of eight and ten feet, throwing up broad beaches on either side. at roscoe, three or four miles below our morning's starting-point, there is a collection of three or four neat farm-houses, each with its spinning windmill. latham station, nine miles below rockton, was reached at ten o'clock. the post-office is called owen. there is a smart little depot on the chicago, milwaukee, and st. paul railway line, two general stores, and a half-dozen cottages, with a substantial-looking creamery, where we obtained buttermilk drawn fresh from one of the mammoth churns. the concern manufactures from three hundred to nine hundred pounds per day, according to the season, shipping chiefly to new york city. leaning over the hand-rail which fences off the "making" room, and gossiping with the young man in charge, i conjured up visions of the days when, as a boy on the farm, i used to spend many weary, almost tearful hours, pounding an old crock churn, in which the butter would always act like a balky horse and refuse to "come" until after a long series of experimental coaxing. nowadays, rustic youths luxuriously ride behind the plough, the harrow, the cultivator, the horse-rake, the hay-loader, and the self-binding harvester, while the butter-making is farmed out to a factory where the thing is done by steam. the farmer's boy of the future will live in a world darkened only by the frown of the district schoolmaster and the intermittent round of stable chores. ______________________________________ | | | fare. | | | | foot passengere cts. | | man & horse ct. | | single carriage c. | | double " c | | each passinger c | | | | night raites double fare. | | | | all persons | | are cautioned | | againts useing | | this boat with out | | permistion from | | the owners | |____________________________________| at latham station we encountered the first ferry-boat on our trip,--a flat-bottomed scow with side-rails, attached by ropes and pulleys to a suspended wire cable, and working diagonally, with the force of the current. a sign conspicuously displayed on the craft bore the above legend. from the time we had entered illinois, the large, graceful, white blossoms of the pennsylvanian anemone and the pink and white fringe of the erigeron canadense had appeared in great abundance upon the river banks, while the wild prairie rose lent a delicate beauty and fragrance to the scene. on sandy knolls, where in early spring the anemone patens and crowfoot violets had thrived in profusion, were now to be seen the geum triflorum and the showy yellow puccoon; the long-flowered puccoon, with its delicate pale yellow, crape-like blossom, was just putting in an appearance; and little white, star-shaped flowers, which were strangers to us of wisconsin, fairly dotted the green hillsides, mingled in striking contrast with dwarf blue mint. bevies of great black crows, sitting in the tops of dead willow-trees or circling around them, rent the air with sepulchral squawks. men and boys were cultivating in the cornfields, the prevalent drought painfully evidenced by the clouds of gray dust which enveloped them and their teams as they stirred up the brittle earth. there was now a fine breeze astern, and the awning, abandoned during the head winds of the day before, was again welcomed as the sun mounted to the zenith. at . p. m., we were in busy rockford, where the banks are twenty or twenty-five feet high, with rolling prairies stretching backward to the horizon, except where here and there a wooded ridge intervenes. rockford is the metropolis of the valley of the rock. it has twenty-two thousand inhabitants, with many elegant mansions visible from the river, and evidences upon every hand of that prosperity which usually follows in the train of varied manufacturing enterprises. there are numerous mills and factories along both sides of the river, and a protracted inspection of the portage facilities was necessary before we could decide on which bank to make our carry. the right was chosen. the portage was somewhat over two ordinary city blocks in length, up a steep incline and through a road-way tunnel under a great flouring mill. we had made nearly half the distance, and were resting for a moment, when a mill-driver kindly offered the use of his wagon, which was gratefully accepted. we were soon spinning down the tail of the race, a half-dozen millers waving a "chautauqua salute" with as many dusty flour-bags, and in ten minutes more had left rockford out of sight. several miles below, there are a half-dozen forested islands in a bunch, some of them four or five acres in extent, and we puzzled over which channel to take,--the best of them abounding in shallows. the one down which the current seemed to set the strongest was selected, but we had not proceeded over half a mile before the trees on the banks began to meet in arches overhead, and it was evident that we were ascending a tributary. it proved to be the cherry river, emptying into the main stream from the east. the wind, now almost due-west, had driven the waves into the mouth of the cherry, so that we mistook this surface movement for the current. coming to a railway bridge, which we knew from our map did not cross the rock, our course was retraced, and after some difficulty with snags and gravel-spits, we were once more upon our proper highway, trending to the southwest. supper was eaten upon the edge of a large island, several miles farther down stream, in the shade of two wide-spreading locusts. opposite are some fine, eroded sandstone palisades, which formation had been frequently met with during the day,--sometimes on both sides of the river, but generally on the left bank, which is, as a rule, the most picturesque along the entire course. it was still so cold when evening shadows thickened that camping out, with our meagre preparations for it, seemed impracticable; so we pushed on and kept a sharp lookout for some friendly farm-house at which to quarter for the night. the houses in the thickly-wooded bottoms, however, were generally quite forbidding in appearance, and the sun had gone down before we sighted a well-built stone dwelling amid a clump of graceful evergreens. it seemed, from the river, to be the very embodiment of comfortable neatness; but upon ascending the gentle slope and fighting off two or three mangy curs which came snarling at our heels, we found the structure merely a relic of gentility. there was scarcely a whole pane of glass in the house, there were eight or ten wretchedly dirty and ragged children, the parents were repulsive in appearance and manner, and a glimpse of the interior presented a picture of squalor which would have shocked a city missionary. the stately stone house was a den of the most abject and shiftless poverty, the like of which one could seldom see in the slums of a metropolis. these people were in the midst of a splendid farming country, had an abundance of pure air and water at command, and there seemed to be no excuse for their condition. drink and laziness were doubtless the besetting sins in this uncanny home. making a pretense of inquiring the distance to byron, the next village below, we hurried from the accursed spot. a half-hour later we reached the high bridge of the chicago, milwaukee and st. paul railway, above byron, and ran our bow on a little beach at the base of the left bank, which is here thirty feet high. a section-man had a little cabin hard by, and his gaunt, talkative wife, with a chubby little boy by her side, had been keenly watching our approach from her garden-fence. she greeted us with a shrill but cheery voice as we clambered up a zigzag path and joined her upon the edge of the prairie. "good ev'nin', folks! whar'n earth d' ye come from?" we enlightened her in a few words. "don't mean t' say ye come all the way from weesconsin a' down here in that thing?" pointing down at the canoe, which certainly looked quite small, at that depth, in the dim twilight. "certainly; why not?" "ye'll git drowndid, an' i'm not mistakin, afore ye git to byron." "river dangerous, ma'am?" "dang'rous ain't no name for 't. there was a young feller drowndid at this here bridge las' spring. the young feller he worked at the bridge-mendin', bein' a carpenter,--he called himself a carpenter, but he warn't no great fist at carpenterin', an' i know it,--and he boarded up at byron. a 'nsurance agint kim 'long and got rollins,--the young feller his name was abe rollins, an' he was a bach,--to promise to 'sure his life for a thousand dollars, which was to go t' his sister, what takes in washin', an' her man ran away from her las' year an' nobody knows where he is,--which i says is good riddance, but she takes on as though she had los' somebody worth cryin' over: there's no accountin' for tastes. the agint says to rollins to go over to the doctor's of'c' to git 'xamined and rollins says, 'no, i ain't agoin' to git 'xamined till i clean off; i'll go down an' take a swim at the bridge and then come back and strip for the doctor.' an' rollins he took his swim and got sucked down inter a hole just yonder down there, by the openin' of stillman's creek, and he was a corpse when they hauled him out, down off byron; an' he never hollered once but jist sunk like a stone with a cramp; an' his folks never got no 'nsurance money at all, for lackin' the doctor's c'tificate. an' it's heaps o' folks git drowndid in this river, an' nobody ever hears of 'em agin; an' i wouldn't no more step foot in that boat nor the biggest ship on the sea, an' i don't see how you can do it, ma'am!" no doubt the good woman would have rattled on after this fashion for half the night, but we felt obliged, owing to the rapidly increasing darkness, to interrupt her with geographical inquiries. she assured us that byron was distant some five or six miles by river, with, so far as she had heard, many shallows, whirlpools, and snags _en route_; while by land the village was but a mile and a quarter across the prairie, from the bridge. we accordingly made fast for the night where we had landed, placed our heaviest baggage in the tidy kitchen-sitting-room-parlor of our voluble friend, and trudged off over the fields to byron,--a solitary light in a window and the occasional practice-note of a brass band, borne to us on the light western breeze, being our only guides. after a deal of stumbling over a rough and ill-defined path, which we could distinguish by the sense of feeling alone, we finally reached the exceedingly quiet little village, and by dint of inquiry from house to house,--in most of which the denizens seemed preparing to retire for the night,--found the inn which had been recommended by the section-man's wife as the best in town. it was the only one. there were several commercial travelers in the place, and the hostelry was filled. but the landlord kindly surrendered to us his own well-appointed chamber, above an empty store where the village band was tuning up for decoration day. it seemed appropriate enough that there should be music to greet us, for we were now one hundred and thirty-four miles from madison, and practically half through our voyage to the mississippi. chapter v. grand detour folks. we tramped back to the bridge in high spirits next morning, over the flower-strewn prairie. the section-man's wife was on hand, with her entire step-laddered brood of six, to see us off. as we carried down our traps to the beach and repacked, she kept up a continuous strain of talk, giving us a most edifying review of her life, and especially the particulars of how she and her "man" had first romantically met, while he was a gravel-train hand on a far western railroad, and she the cook in a portable construction-barracks. stillman's creek opens into the rock from the east, through a pleasant glade, a few rods below the bridge. we took a pull up this historic tributary for a half-mile or more. it is a muddy stream, some two and a half rods wide, cutting down for a half-dozen feet through the black soil. the shores are generally well fringed with heavy timber, especially upon the northern bank, while the land to the south and southwest stretches upward, in gentle slopes, to a picturesque rolling prairie, abounding in wooded knolls. it was in the large grove on the north bank, near its junction with the rock, that black hawk, in the month of may, , parleyed with the pottawattomies. it was here that on the th of that month he learned of the treachery of stillman's militiamen, and at once made that famous sally with his little band of forty braves which resulted in the rout of the cowardly whites, who fled pell-mell over the prairie toward dixon, asserting that black hawk and two thousand blood-thirsty warriors were sweeping northern illinois with the besom of destruction. the country round about appears to have undergone no appreciable change in the half-century intervening between that event and to-day. the topographical descriptions given in contemporaneous accounts of stillman's flight will hold good now, and we were readily able to pick out the points of interest on the old battlefield. returning to the rock, we made excellent progress. the atmosphere was bracing; and there being a favoring northwest breeze, our awning was stretched over a hoop for a sail. the banks were now steep inclines of white sand and gravel. it was like going through a railroad cut. but in ascending the sides, as we did occasionally, to secure supplies from farm-houses or refill our canteen with fresh water, there were found broad expanses of rolling prairie. the farm establishments increase in number and prosperity. windmills may be counted by the scores, the cultivation of enormous cornfields is everywhere in progress, and cattle are more numerous than ever. three or four miles above oregon the banks rise to the dignity of hills, which come sweeping down "with verdure clad" to the very water's edge, and present an inspiring picture, quite resembling some of the most charming stretches of the hudson. at the entrance to this lovely vista we encountered a logy little pleasure-steamer anchored in the midst of the stream, which is here nearly half of a mile wide, for the river now perceptibly broadens. the captain, a ponderous old sea-dog, wearing a cowboy's hat and having the face of an operatic pirate, with a huge pipe between his black teeth, sat lounging on the bulwark, watching the force of the current, into which he would listlessly expectorate. he was at first inclined to be surly, as we hauled alongside and checked our course; but gradually softened down as we drew him out in conversation, and confided to us that he had in earlier days "sailed the salt water," a circumstance of which he seemed very proud. he also gave us some "pointers on the lay o' the land," as he called them, for our future guidance down the river,--one of which was that there were "dandy sceneries" below oregon, in comparison with which we had thus far seen nothing worthy of note. as for himself, he said that his place on the neighboring shore was connected by telephone with oregon, and his steamer frequently transported pleasure parties to points of interest above the dam. ganymede spring is on the southeast bank, at the base of a lofty sandstone bluff, a mile or so above oregon. from the top of the bluff, which is ascended by a succession of steep flights of scaffolding stairs, a magnificent bird's-eye view is attainable of one of the finest river and forest landscapes in the mississippi basin. the grounds along the riverside at the base are laid out in graceful carriage drives; and over the head of a neatly hewn basin, into which gushes the copious spring, is a marble slab thus inscribed: _______________________________________________ | | | ganymede's springs, | | | | named by | | | | margeret fuller (countess d. ossoli,) | | | | who named this bluff | | | | eagle's nest, | | | | & beneath the cedars on its crest wrote | | | | "ganymede to his eagle," | | | | july , . | |_____________________________________________| oregon was reached just before noon. a walk through the business quarter revealed a thrifty, but oldish-looking town of about two thousand inhabitants. the portage on the east side, around a flouring-mill dam, involved a hard pull up the gravelly bank thirty feet high, and a haul of two blocks' length along a dusty street. there was a fine stretch of eroded palisades in front of the island on which we lunched. the color effect was admirable,--patches of gray, brown, white, and old gold, much corroded with iron. vines of many varieties dangle from earth-filled crevices, and swallows by the hundreds occupy the dimples neatly hollowed by the action of the water in some ancient period when the stream was far broader and deeper than now. but at times, even in our day, the rock is a raging torrent. the condition of the trees along the river banks and on the thickly-strewn island pastures, shows that not many months before it must have been on a wild rampage, for the great trunks are barked by the ice to the height of fifteen feet above the present water-level. everywhere, on banks and islands, are the evidences of disastrous floods, and the ponderous ice-breakers above the bridges give one an awesome notion of the condition of affairs at such a time. farmers assured us that in the spring of the water was at the highest stage ever recorded in the history of the valley. many of the railway bridges barely escaped destruction, while the numerous river ferries and the low country bridges in the bayous were destroyed by scores. the banks were overflowed for miles together, and back in the country for long distances, causing the hasty removal of families and live-stock from the bottoms; while ice jams, forming at the heads of the islands, would break, and the shattered floes go sweeping down with terrific force, crushing the largest trees like reeds, tearing away fences and buildings, covering islands and meadows with deep deposits of sand and mud, blazing their way through the forested banks, and creating sad havoc on every hand. we were amply convinced, by the thousands of broken trees which littered our route, the snags, the mud-baked islands, the frequent stretches of sadly demoralized bank that had not yet had time to reweave its charitable mantle of verdure, that the rock, on such a spring "tear," must indeed be a picture of chaos broken loose. this explained why these hundreds of beautiful and spacious islands--many of them with charming combinations of forest and hillock and meadow, and occasionally enclosing pretty ponds blushing with water-lilies--are none of them inhabited, but devoted to the pasture of cattle, who swim or ford the intervening channels, according to the stage of the flood; also why the picturesque bottoms on the main shore are chiefly occupied by the poorest class of farmers, who eke out their meagre incomes with the spoils of the gun and line. it was a quarter of five when we beached at the upper ferry-landing at grand detour. it is a little, tumble-down village of one or two small country stores, a church, and a dozen modest cottages; there is also, on the river front, a short row of deserted shops, their paintless battlement-fronts in a sadly collapsed condition, while hard by are the ruins of two or three dismantled mills. the settlement is on a bit of prairie at the base of the preliminary flourish of the "big bend" of the rock,--hence the name, grand detour, a reminiscence of the early french explorers. the foot of the peninsula is but half a mile across, while the distance around by river to the lower ferry, on the other side of the village is four miles. having learned that the bottoms below here were, for a long distance, peculiarly gloomy and but sparsely inhabited, we thought it best to pass the night at grand detour. bespeaking accommodations at the tavern and post-office combined, we rowed around the bend to the lower landing, through some lovely stretches of river scenery, in which bold palisades and delightful little meadows predominated. the walk back to the village was through a fine park of elms. the stage was just in from dixon, with the mail. there was an eager little knot of villagers in the cheerful sitting-room of our homelike inn, watching the stout landlady as she distributed it in a checker-board rank of glass-faced boxes fenced off in front of a sunny window. it did not appear that many of those who overlooked the distribution of the mail had been favored by their correspondents. they were chiefly concerned in seeing who did get letters and papers, and in "passin' the time o' day," as gossiping is called in rural communities. seated in a darkened corner, waiting patiently for supper, the announcement of which was an hour or more in coming, we were much amused at the mirror of local events which was unconsciously held up for us by these loungers of both sexes and all ages, who fairly filled the room, and oftentimes waxed hot in controversy. the central theme of conversation was the preparations under way for decoration day, which was soon to arrive. grand detour was to be favored with a speaker from dixon,--"a reg'lar major from the war, gents, an' none o' yer m'lish fellers!" an enthusiastic old man with a crutch persisted in announcing. there were to be services at the church, and some exercises at the cemetery, where lie buried the half-dozen honored dead, grand detour's sacrifice upon the altar of the union. the burning question seemed to be whether the village preacher would consent to offer prayer upon the occasion, if the church choir insisted on being accompanied on the brand-new cabinet organ which the congregation had voted to purchase, but to which the pastor and one of the leading deacons were said to be bitterly opposed, as smacking of worldliness and antichrist. only the evening before, this deacon, armed with a sledgehammer and rope, had been seen to go to the sanctuary in company with his "hired man," and enter through one of the windows, which they pried up for the purpose. a good gossip, who lived hard by, closely watched such extraordinary proceedings. there was a great noise within, then some planks were pitched out of the window, soon followed by the deacon and his man. the window was shut down, the planks thrown atop of the horse-shed roof, and the men disappeared. investigation in the morning by the witness revealed the fact that the choir-seats and the organ-platform had been torn down and removed. here was a pretty how d' do! the wiry, raspy little woman, with her gray finger-curls and withered, simpering smile, had, with great forbearance, kept her choice bit of news to herself till "post-office time." sitting in a big rocking-chair close to the delivery window, knitting vigorously on an elongated stocking, she demurely asserted that she "never wanted to say nothin' 'gin' nobody, or to hurt nobody's feelin's," and then detailed the entire circumstance to the patrons of the office as they came in. the excitement created by the story, which doubtless lost nothing in the telling, was at fever-heat. we were sorely tempted to remain over till decoration day,--when, it was freely predicted, there "would be some folks as'd wish they'd never been born,"--and see the outcome of this tempest in a teapot. but our programme, unfortunately, would not admit of such a diversion. others came and went, but the gossipy little body with the gray curls rocked on, holding converse with both post-mistress and public, keeping a keen eye on the character of the mail matter obtained by the villagers and neighboring farmers, and freely commenting on it all; so that new-comers were kept quite well-informed as to the correspondence of those who had just departed. a sad-eyed little woman in rusty black modestly slipped in, and was handed out a much-creased and begrimed envelope, which she nervously clutched. she was hurrying silently away, when the gossip sharply exclaimed, "good lands, cynthi' prescott! some folks don't know a body when they meet. 'spose ye've been hearin' from jim at last. i'd been thinkin' 't was about time ye got a letter from his hand, ef he war ever goin' t' write at all. tell ye, cynthi' prescott, ye're too indulgent on that man o' yourn! ef i--" but cynthia prescott, turning her black, deep-sunken eyes to her inquisitor, with a piteous, tearful look, as though stung to the quick, sidled out backward through the wire-screen door, which sprung closed with a vicious bang, and i saw her hurrying down the village street firmly grasping at her bosom what the mail had brought her,--probably a brutal demand for more money, from a worthless husband, who was wrecking his life-craft on some far-away shore. "goodness me! but the gilberts is a-puttin' on style!" ejaculated the village censor, as a rather smart young horseman went out with a bunch of letters, and a little packet tied up in red twine. "that there was vis'tin' keerds from the printer's shop in dixon, an' cost a dollar; can't fool me! there's some folks as hev to be leavin' keerds on folks's centre-tables when they goes makin' calls, for fear folks will be a-forgettin' their names. when i go a-callin', i go a-visitin' and take my work along an' stop an' hev a social cup o' tea; an' they ain't a-goin' to forgit for awhile, that i dropped in on 'em, neither. this way they hev down in dixon, what i hear of, of ringin' at a bell and settin' down with yer bonnet on and sayin', 'how d' do,' an' a 'pretty well, i thank yer,' and jumpin' up as if the fire bell was ringin' and goin' on through the whole n'ighberhood as ef ye're on springs, an' then a-trancin' back home and braggin' how many calls ye've made,--i ain't got no use for that; it'll do for dixon folks, what catch the style from chicargy, an' they git 't from paris each year, i'm told, but i ain't no use for 't. mebbe ol' man gilbert is made o' money,--his women folks act so, with all this a-apein' the clays, who's been gettin' visitin' keerds all the way from chicargy, which they ordered of a book agint last fall, with gilt letters an' roses an' sich like in the corners. an' 'twas clay's brother-in-law as tol' me he never did see such carryin's-on over at the old house, with letter-writin' paper sopped in cologne, an' lace curtains in the bed-room winders. an' ye can't tell me but the gilberts, too, is a-goin' to the dogs, with their paper patterns from dixon, and dress samples from a big shop in chicargy, which i seen from the picture on the envelope was as big as all grand detour, an' both ferry-landin's thrown in. grand detour fashi'ns ain't good 'nough for some folks, i reckon." and thus the busy-tongued woman discoursed in a vinegary tone upon the characteristics of grand detour folks, as illustrated by the nature of the evening mail, frequently interspersing her remarks with a hearty disclaimer of anything malicious in her temperament. at last, however, the supper-bell rang; the doughty postmistress, who had been remarkably discreet throughout all this village tirade, having darted in and out between the kitchen and the office, attending to her dual duties, locked the postal gate with a snap, and asked her now solitary patron, "anything i can do for you, maria?" the gossip gathered up her knitting, hastily averred that she had merely dropped in for her weekly paper, but now remembered that this was not the day for it, and ambled off, to reload with venom for the next day's mail. after supper we walked about the peaceful, pretty, grass-grown village. shearing was in progress at the barn of the inn, and the streets were filled with bleating sheep and nodding billy-goats. the place presented many evidences of former prosperity, and we were told that a dozen years before it had boasted of a plough factory, two or three flouring-mills, and a good water-power. but the railroad that it was expected would come to grand detour had touched dixon instead, with the result that the village industries had been removed to dixon, the dam had fallen in, and now there were less than three hundred inhabitants between the two ferries. when one of the store-keepers told me he had practically no country trade, but that his customers were the villagers alone, i was led to inquire what supported these three hundred people, who had no industries among them, no river traffic, owing to customary low water in summer, and who seemed to live on each other. many of the villagers, i found, are laborers who work upon the neighboring farms and maintain their families here; a few are farmers, the corners of whose places run down to the village; others there are who either own or rent or "share" farms in the vicinity, going out to their work each day, much of their live stock and crops being housed at their village homes; there are half a dozen retired farmers, who have either sold out their places or have tenants upon them, and live in the village for sociability's sake, or to allow their children the benefit of the excellent local school. mingled with these people are a shoemaker, a tailor, a storekeeper, who live upon the necessities of their neighbors. two fishermen spend the summer here, in a tent, selling their daily catch to the villagers and neighboring farmers and occasionally shipping by the daily mail-stage to dixon, fourteen miles away. the preacher and his family are modestly supported; a young physician wins a scanty subsistence; and for considerably over half the year the schoolmaster shares with them what honors and sorrows attach to these positions of rural eminence. our pleasant-spoken host was the driver of the dixon stage, as well as star-route mail contractor, adding the conduct of a farm to his other duties. with his wife as postmistress, and a pretty, buxom daughter, who waited on our table and was worth her weight in gold, grand detour folks said that he was bound to be a millionnaire yet. as grand detour lives, so live thousands of just such little rural villages all over the country. viewed from the railway track or river channel, they appear to have been once larger than they are to-day. the sight of the unpainted houses, the ruined factory, the empty stores, the grass and weeds in the street, the lack-lustre eyes of the idlers, may induce one to imagine that here is the home of hopeless poverty and despair. but although the railroad which they expected never came; or the railroad which did come went on and scheduled the place as a flag station; still, there is a certain inherent vitality here, an undefined something that holds these people together, a certain degree of hopefulness which cannot rise to the point of ambition, a serene satisfaction with the things that are. grand detour folks, and folks like them, are as blissfully content as the denizens of chicago. chapter vi. an ancient mariner. the clock in a neighboring kitchen was striking six, as we reached the lower ferry-landing. the grass in the streets and under the old elms was as wet with dew as though there had been a heavy shower during the night. the village fishermen were just pulling in to the little pier, returning from an early morning trip to their "traut-lines" down stream. in a long wooden cage, which they towed astern, was a fifty-pound sturgeon, together with several large cat-fish. they kindly hauled their cage ashore, to show us the monsters, which they said would probably be shipped, alive, to a chicago restaurant which they occasionally furnished with curiosities in their line. these fishermen were rough-looking fellows in their battered hats and ragged, dirty overcoats, with faces sadly in need of water and a shave. they had a sad, pinched-up appearance as well, as though the dense fog, which was but just now yielding to the influence of the sun, had penetrated their bones and given them the chills. on engaging them in friendly conversation about their calling, they exhibited good manners and some knowledge of the outer world. their business, they said, was precarious and, as we could well see, involved much exposure and hardship. sometimes it meant a start at midnight, often amid rainstorms, fogs, or chilling weather, with a hard pull back again up-stream,--for their lines were all of them below grand detour; but to return with an empty boat, sometimes their luck, was harder yet. knocking about in this way, all of the year around,--for their winters were similarly spent upon the lower waters and bayous of the mississippi,--neither of them was ever thoroughly well. one was consumptively inclined, he told me, and being an old soldier, was receiving a small pension. a claim agent had him in hand, however, and his thoughts ran largely upon the prospects of an increase by special legislation. he seemed to have but little doubt that he would ultimately succeed. when he came into this looked-for fortune, he said, he would "quit knockin' 'round an' killin' myself fishin'," settle down in grand detour for the balance of his days, raising his own "garden sass, pigs, and cow;" and some fine day would make a trip in his boat to the "old home in injianny, whar i was raised an' 'listed in the war." his face fairly gleamed with pleasure as he thus dwelt upon the flowers of fancy which the pension agent had cultivated within him; and w---- sympathetically exclaimed, when we had swung into the stream and bidden farewell to these men who followed the calling of the apostles, that were she a congressman she would certainly vote for the fisherman's claim, and make happy one more heart in grand detour. now commences the great bend of the rock river. the water circuit is fourteen miles, the distance gained being but six by land. the stream is broad and shallow, between palisades densely surmounted with trees and covered thick with vines; great willow islands freely intersperse the course; everywhere are evidences of ice-floes, which have blazed the trees and strewn the islands with fallen trunks and driftwood,--a tornado could not have created more general havoc. the visible houses, few of them inviting in appearance, are miles apart. as had been foretold at the village, the outlook for lodgings in this dismal region is not at all encouraging. it was well that we had stopped at grand detour. below the bend, where the country is more open, though the banks are still deep-cut, the highway to dixon skirts the river, and for several miles we kept company with the stage. dixon was sighted at o'clock. a circus had pitched its tents upon the northern bank, just above the dam, near where we landed for the carry, and a crowd of small boys came swarming down the bank to gaze upon us, possibly imagining, at first, that our outfit was a part of the show. they accompanied us, at a respectful distance, as we pulled the canoe up a grassy incline and down through the vine-clad arches of a picturesque old ruin of a mill. below the dam, we rowed over to the town, about where the famous pioneer ferry used to be. it was in the spring of that john boles opened a trail from peoria to galena, by the way of the present locality of dixon, thus shortening a trail which had been started by one kellogg the year before, but crossed the rock a few miles above. the site of dixon at once sprang into wide popularity as a crossing-place, indians being employed to do the ferrying. their manner was simple. lashing two canoes abreast, the wheels of one side of a wagon were placed in one canoe and the opposite wheels in the other. the horses were made to swim behind. in a peoria man named begordis erected a small shanty here and had half finished a ferry-boat when the indians, not favoring competition, burned the craft on its stocks and advised begordis to return to peoria; being a wise man, he returned. the next year, joe ogie, a frenchman, one of a race that the red men loved, and having a squaw for his wife, was permitted to build a scow, and thenceforth indians were no longer needed there as common carriers. by the time of the black hawk war, dixon, from whom the subsequent settlement was named, ran the ferry, and the crossing station had henceforth a name in history. a trail in those early days was quite as important as a railroad is to-day; settlements sprang up along the improved "kellogg's trail," and dixon was the centre of interest in all northern illinois. indeed, it being for years the only point where the river could be crossed by ferry, dixon was as important a landmark to the settlers of the southern half of wisconsin who desired to go to chicago, as any within their own territory.[ ] the dixon of to-day shelters four thousand inhabitants and has two or three busy mills; although it is noticeable that along the water-power there are some half-dozen mill properties that have been burned, torn down, or deserted, which does not look well for the manufacturing prospects of the place. the land along the river banks is a flat prairie some half-mile in width, with rolling country beyond, sprinkled with oak groves. the banks are of black, sandy loam, from twelve to twenty feet high, based with sandy beaches. the shores are now and then cut with deep ravines, at the mouths of which are fine, gravelly beaches, sometimes forming considerable spits. these indicate that the dry, barren gullies, the gutters of the hillocks, while innocent enough in a drought, sometimes rise to the dignity of torrents and suddenly pour great volumes of drainage into the rapidly filling river,--so often described in the journals of early travelers through this region, as "the dark and raging rock." this sort of scenery, varied by occasional limestone palisades,--the interesting and picturesque feature of the rock, from which it derived its name at the hands of the aborigines,--extends down to beyond sterling. this city, reached at . p. m., is a busy place of ten thousand inhabitants, engaged in miscellaneous manufactures. our portage was over the south and dry end of the dam. we were helped by three or four bright, intelligent boys, who were themselves carrying over a punt, preparatory to a fishing expedition below. amid the hundreds of boys whom we met at our various portages, these well-bred sterling lads were the only ones who even offered their assistance. very likely, however, the reason may be traced to the fact that this was saturday, and a school holiday. the boys at the week-day carries were the riff-raff, who are allowed to loaf upon the river-banks when they should be at their school-room desks. while mechanically pulling a "fisherman's stroke" down stream i was dreamily reflecting upon the necessity of enforced popular education, when w----, vigilant at the steersman's post, mischievously broke in upon the brown study with, "como's next station! twenty minutes for supper!" and sure enough, it was a quarter past six, and there was como nestled upon the edge of the high prairie-bank. i went up into the hamlet to purchase a quart of milk for supper, and found it a little dead-alive community of perhaps one hundred and twenty-five people. there is the brick shell of a fire-gutted factory, with several abandoned stores, a dozen houses from which the paint had long since scaled, a rather smart-looking schoolhouse, and two brick dwellings of ancient pattern,--the homes of well-to-do farmers; while here and there were grass-grown depressions, which i was told were once the cellars of houses that had been moved away. on the return to the beach a bevy of open-mouthed women and children accompanied me, plying questions with a simplicity so rare that there was no thought of impertinence. w---- was talking with the old gray-haired ferryman, who had been transporting a team across as we had landed beside his staging. the old man had stayed behind, avowedly to mend his boat, with a stone for a hammer, but it was quite apparent that curiosity kept him, rather than the needs of his scow. he confided to us that como--which was indeed prettily situated upon a bend of the river--had once been a prosperous town. but the railroad went to some rival place, and--the familiar story--the dam at como rotted, and the village fell into its present dilapidated state. it is the fate of many a small but ambitious town upon a river. settled originally because of the river highway, the railroads--that have nearly killed the business of water transportation--did not care to go there because it was too far out of the short-cut path selected by the engineers between two more prominent points. thus the community is "side-tracked,"--to use a bit of railway slang; and a side-tracked town becomes in the new civilization--which cares nothing for the rivers, but clusters along the iron ways--a town "as dead as a door-nail." we had luncheon on a high bank just out of sight of como. by the time we had reached a point three or four miles below the village it was growing dark, and time to hunt for shelter. while i walked, or rather ran, along the north bank looking for a farm-house, w---- guided the canoe down a particularly rapid current. it was really too dark to prosecute the search with convenience. i was several times misled by clumps of trees, and fruitlessly climbed over board or crawled under barbed-wire fences, and often stumbled along the dusty highway which at times skirted the bank. it was over a mile before an undoubted windmill appeared, dimly silhouetted against the blackening sky above a dense growth of river-timber a quarter of a mile down the stream. a whistle, and w---- shot the craft into the mouth of a black ravine, and clambered up the bank, at the serious risk of torn clothing from the thicket of blackberry-vines and locust saplings which covered it. together we emerged upon the highway, determined to seek the windmill on foot; for it would have been impossible to sight the place from the river, which was now, from the overhanging trees on both shores and islands, as dark as a cavern. just as we stepped upon the narrow road--which we were only able to distinguish because the dust was lighter in color than the vegetation--a farm-team came rumbling along over a neighboring culvert, and rolled into view from behind a fringe of bushes. the horses jumped and snorted as they suddenly sighted our dark forms, and began to plunge. the women gave a mild shriek, and awakened a small child which one of them carried in her arms. i essayed to snatch the bits of the frightened horses to prevent them from running away, for the women had dropped the lines, while w---- called out asking if there was a good farm-house where the windmill was. the team quieted down under a few soothing strokes; but the women persisted in screaming and uttering incoherent imprecations in german, while the child fairly roared. so i returned the lines to the woman in charge, and we bade them "guten nacht." as they whipped up their animals and hurried away, with fearful backward glances, it suddenly occurred to us that we had been taken for footpads. we were so much amused at our adventure, as we walked along, almost groping our way, that we failed to notice a farm-gate on the river side of the road, until a chorus of dogs, just over the fence, arrested our attention. a half-dozen human voices were at once heard calling back the animals. a light shone in thin streaks through a black fringe of lilac-bushes, and in front of these was the gate. opening the creaky structure, we advanced cautiously up what we felt to be a gravel walk, under an arch of evergreens and lilacs, with the paddle ready as a club, in case of another dog outbreak. but there was no need of it, and we soon emerged into a flood of light, which proceeded from a shadeless lamp within an open window. it was a spacious white farm-house. upon the "stoop" of an l were standing, in attitudes of expectancy, a stout, well-fed, though rather sinister-expressioned elderly man, with a long gray beard, and his raw-boned, overworked wife, with two fair but dissatisfied-looking daughters, and several sons, ranging from twelve to twenty years. a few moments of explanation dispelled the suspicious look with which we had been greeted, and it was soon agreed that we should, for a consideration, be entertained for the night and over sunday; although the good woman protested that her house was "topsy-turvy, all torn up" with house-cleaning,--which excuse, by the way, had become quite familiar by this time, having been current at every house we had thus far entered upon our journey. bringing our canoe down to the farmer's bank and hauling it up into the bushes, we returned through the orchard to the house, laden with baggage. our host proved to be a famous story-teller. his tales, often munchausenese, were inclined to be ghastly, and he had an o'erweening fondness for inconsequential detail, like some authors of serial tales, who write against space and tax the patience of their readers to its utmost endurance. but while one may skip the dreary pages of the novelist, the circumstantial story-teller must be borne with patiently, though the hours lag with leaden heels. in earlier days the old man had been something of a traveler, having journeyed to illinois by steamboat on the upper lakes, from "ol' york state;" another time he went down the mississippi river to natchez, working his way as a deck hand; but the crowning event of his career was his having, as a driver, accompanied a cattle-train to new york city. a few years ago he tumbled down a well and was hauled up something of a cripple; so that his occupation chiefly consists in sitting around the house in an easy-chair, or entertaining the crowd at the cross-roads store with sturdy tales of his adventures by land and sea, spiced with vigorous opinions on questions of politics and theology. the garrulity of age, a powerful imagination, and a boasting disposition are his chief stock in trade. propped up in his great chair, with one leg resting upon a lounge and the other aiding his iron-ferruled cane in pounding the floor by way of punctuating his remarks, "that ancient mariner" "held us with his glittering eye; we could not choose but hear." his tales were chiefly of shooting and stabbing scrapes, drownings and hangings that he claimed to have seen, dwelling upon each incident with a blood-curdling particularity worthy of the reporter of a sensational metropolitan journal. the ancient man must have fairly walked in blood through the greater part of his days; while from the number of corpses that had been fished out of the river, at the head of a certain island at the foot of his orchard, and "laid out" in his best bedroom by the coroner, we began to feel as though we had engaged quarters at a morgue. it was painfully evident that these recitals were "chestnuts" in the house of our entertainer. the poor old lady had a tired-out, unhappy appearance, the dissatisfied-looking daughters yawned, and the sons talked, _sotto voce_, on farm matters and neighborhood gossip. finally, we tore away, much to the relief of every one but the host, and were ushered with much ceremony into the ghostly bed-chamber, the scene of so many coroner's inquests. i must confess to uncanny dreams that night,--confused visions of rock river giving up innumerable corpses, which i was compelled to assist in "laying out" upon the very bed i occupied. footnote: [ ] see mrs. kinzie's "wau-bun" for a description of the difficulties of travel in "the early day," via dixon's ferry. chapter vii. storm-bound at erie. we were somewhat jaded by the time monday morning came, for sunday brought not only no relief, but repetitions of many of the most horrible of these "tales of a wayside inn." it was with no slight sense of relief that we paid our modest bill and at last broke away from such ghastly associations. an involuntary shudder overcame me, as we passed the head of the island at the foot of our host's orchard, which he had described as a catch-basin for human floaters. our course still lay among large, densely wooded islands,--many of them wholly given up to maples and willows,--and deep cuts through sun-baked mudbanks, the color of adobe; but occasionally there are low, gloomy bottoms, heavily forested, and strewn with flood-wood, while beyond the land rises gradually into prairie stretches. in the bottoms the trees are filled with flocks of birds,--crows, hawks, blackbirds, with stately blue herons and agile plovers foraging on the long gravel-spits which frequently jut far into the stream; ducks are frequently seen sailing near the shores; while divers silently dart and plunge ahead of the canoe, safely out of gunshot reach. a head wind this morning made rowing more difficult, by counteracting the influence of the current. we were at lyndon at eleven o'clock. there is a population of about two hundred, clustered around a red paper-mill. the latter made a pretty picture standing out on the bold bank, backed by a number of huge stacks of golden straw. we met here the first rapids worthy of record; also an old, abandoned mill-dam, in the last stages of decay, stretching its whitened skeleton across the stream, a harbor for driftwood. near the south bank the framework has been entirely swept away for a space several rods in width, and through this opening the pent-up current fiercely sweeps. we went through the centre of the channel thus made, with a swoop that gave us an impetus which soon carried our vessel out of sight of lyndon and its paper-mill and straw-stacks. prophetstown, five miles below, is prettily situated in an oak grove on the southern bank. only the gables of a few houses can be seen from the river, whose banks of yellow clay and brown mud are here twenty-five feet high. during the first third of the present century, this place was the site of a winnebago village, whose chief was white cloud, a shrewd, sinister savage, half winnebago and half sac, who claimed to be a prophet. he was black hawk's evil genius during the uprising of , and in many ways was one of the most remarkable aborigines known to illinois history. it was at "the prophet's town," as white cloud's village was known in pioneer days, that black hawk rested upon his ill-fated journey up the rock, and from here, at the instigation of the wizard, he bade the united states soldiery defiance. there are rapids, almost continually, from a mile above prophetstown to erie, ten miles below. the river bed here has a sharper descent than customary, and is thickly strewn with bowlders; many of them were visible above the surface, at the low stage of water which we found, but for the greater part they were covered for two or three inches. what with these impediments, the snags that had been left as the legacy of last spring's flood, and the frequent sand-banks and gravel-spits, navigation was attended by many difficulties and some dangers. four or five miles below prophetstown, a lone fisherman, engaged in examining a "traut-line" stretched between one of the numerous gloomy islands and the mainland, kindly informed us of a mile-long cut-off, the mouth of which was now in view, that would save us several miles of rowing. here, the high banks had receded, with several miles of heavily wooded, boggy bottoms intervening. floods had held high carnival, and the aspect of the country was wild and deserted. the cut-off was an ugly looking channel; but where our informant had gone through, with his unwieldy hulk, we considered it safe to venture with a canoe, so readily responsive to the slightest paddle-stroke. the current had torn for itself a jagged bed through the heart of a dense and moss-grown forest. it was a scene of howling desolation, rack and ruin upon every hand. the muddy torrent, at a velocity of fully eight miles an hour, went eddying and whirling and darting and roaring among the gnarled and blackened stumps, the prostrate trees, the twisted roots, the huge bowlders which studded its course. the stream was not wide enough for the oars; the paddle was the sole reliance. with eyes strained for obstructions, we turned and twisted through the labyrinth, jumping along at a breakneck speed; and, when we finally rejoined the main river below, were grateful enough, for the run had been filled with continuous possibilities of a disastrous smash-up, miles away from any human habitation. the thunder-storm which had been threatening since early morning, soon burst upon us with a preliminary wind blast, followed by drenching rain. running ashore on the lee bank, we wrapped the canvas awning around the baggage, and made for a thick clump of trees on the top of an island mudbank, where we stood buttoned to the neck in rubber coats. a vigorous "halloo!" came sounding over the water. looking up, we saw for the first time a small tent on the opposite shore, a quarter of a mile away, in front of which was a man shouting to us and beckoning us over. it was getting uncomfortably muddy under the trees, which had not long sufficed as an umbrella, and the rubber coats were not warranted to withstand a deluge, so we accepted the invitation with alacrity and paddled over through the pelting storm. our host was a young fisherman, who helped us and our luggage up the slimy bank to his canvas quarters, which we found to be dry, although odorous of fish. while the storm raged without, the young man, who was a simple-hearted fellow, confided to us the details of his brief career. he had been married but a year, he said; his little cabin lay a quarter of a mile back in the woods, and, so as to be convenient to his lines, he was camping on his own wood-lot; the greater part of his time was spent in fishing or hunting, according to the season, and peddling the product in neighboring towns, while upon a few acres of clearing he raised "garden truck" for his household, which had recently become enriched by the addition of an infant son. the phenomenal powers of observation displayed by this first-born youth were reported with much detail by the fond father, who sat crouched upon a boat-sail in one corner of the little tent, his head between his knees, and smoking vile tobacco in a blackened clay pipe. it seemed that his wife was a ferryman's daughter, and her father had besought his son-in-law to follow the same steady calling. to be sure, our host declared, ferries on the rock river netted their owners from $ to $ a year, which he considered a goodly sum, and his father-in-law had offered to purchase an established plant for him. but the young fellow said that ferrying was a dog's life, and "kept a feller home like barn chores;" he preferred to fish and hunt, earning far less but retaining independence of movement, so rejected the offer and settled down, avowedly for life, in his present precarious occupation. as a result, the indignant old man had forbidden him to again enter the parental ferry-house until he agreed to accept his proposals, and there was henceforth to be a standing family quarrel. the fisherman having appealed to my judgment, i endeavored with mild caution to argue him out of his position on the score of consideration for his wife and little one; but he was not to be gainsaid, and firmly, though with admirable good nature, persisted in defending his roving tendencies. in the course of our conversation i learned that the ferrymen, who are more numerous on the lower than on the upper rock, pay an annual license fee of five dollars each, in consideration of which they are guarantied a monopoly of the business at their stands, no other line being allowed within one mile of an existing ferry. within an hour and a half the storm had apparently passed over, and we continued our journey. but after supper another shower and a stiff head wind came up, and we were well bedraggled by the time a ferry-landing near the little village of erie was reached. the bottoms are here a mile or two in width, with occasional openings in the woods, where small fields are cultivated by the poorer class of farmers, who were last spring much damaged by the flood which swept this entire country. the ferryman, a good-natured young athlete, was landing a farm-wagon and team as we pulled in upon the muddy roadway. when questioned about quarters, he smiled and pointing to his little cabin, a few rods off in the bushes, said,--"we've four people to sleep in two rooms; it's sure we can't take ye; i'd like to, otherwise. but erie's only a mile away." we assured him that with these muddy swamp roads, and in our wet condition, nothing but absolute necessity would induce us to take a mile's tramp. the parley ended in our being directed to a small farm-house a quarter of a mile inland, where luckless travelers, belated on the dreary bottoms, were occasionally kept. making the canoe fast for the night, we strung our baggage-packs upon the paddle which we carried between us, and set out along a devious way, through a driving mist which blackened the twilight into dusk, to find this place of public entertainment. it is a little, one-story, dilapidated farm-house, standing a short distance from the country road, amid a clump of poplar trees. forcing our way through the hingeless gate, the violent removal of which threatened the immediate destruction of several lengths of rickety fence, we walked up to the open front door and applied for shelter. "yes, ma'am; we sometimes keeps tavern, ma'am," replied a large, greasy-looking, black-haired woman of some forty years, as, her hands folded within her up-turned apron, she courtesied to w----. we were at once shown into a frowsy apartment which served as parlor, sitting-room and parental dormitory. there was huddled together an odd, slouchy combination of articles of shabby furniture and cheap decorations, peculiar, in the country, to all three classes of rooms, the evidences of poverty, shiftlessness, and untasteful pretentiousness upon every side. a huge, wheezy old cabinet organ was set diagonally in one corner, and upon this, as we entered, a young woman was pounding and paddling with much vigor, while giving us sidelong glances of curiosity. she was a neighbor, on an evening visit, decked out in a smart jockey-cap, with a green ostrich tip and bright blue ribbons, and gay in a new calico dress,--a yellow field thickly planted to purple pineapples. a jaunty, forward creature, in pimples and curls, she rattled away through a moody and sankey hymn-book, the wheezes and groans of the antique instrument coming in like mournful ejaculations from the amen corner at a successful revival. having exhausted her stock of tunes, she wheeled around upon her stool, and after declaring to her half-dozen admiring auditors that her hands were "as tired as after the mornin's milkin'" abruptly accosted w----: "ma'am, kin ye play on the orgin?" w---- confessed her inability, chiefly from lack of practice in the art of incessantly working the pedals. "that's the trick o' the hul business, ma'am, is the blowin'. it's all in gettin' the bellers to work even like. there's a good many what kin learn the playin' part of it without no teacher; but there has to be lessons to learn the bellers. don't ye have no orgin, when ye're at home?" she asked sharply, as if to guage the social standing of the new guest. w---- modestly confessed to never having possessed such an instrument. "down in these parts," rejoined the young woman, as she "worked the bellers" into a strain or two of "hold the fort," apparently to show how easy it came to trained feet, "no house is now considered quite up to the fashi'n as ain't got a orgin." the rain being now over, she soon departed, evidently much disgusted at w----'s lack of organic culture. the bed-chamber into which we were shown was a marvel. it opened off the main room and was, doubtless, originally a cupboard. seven feet square, with a broad, roped bedstead occupying the entire length, a bedside space of but two feet wide was left. much of this being filled with butter firkins, chains, a trunk, and a miscellaneous riff-raff of household lumber, the standing-room was restricted to two feet square, necessitating the use of the bed as a dressing-place, after the fashion of a sleeping-car bunk. this cubby-hole of a room was also the wardrobe for the women of the household, the walls above the bed being hung nearly two feet deep with the oddest collection of calico and gingham gowns, bustles, hoopskirts, hats, bonnets, and winter underwear i think i had ever laid eyes on. much of this condition of affairs was not known, however, until next morning; for it was as dark as egypt within, except for a few faint rays of light which came straggling through the cracks in the board partition separating us from the sitting-room candle. we had no sooner crossed the threshold of our little box than the creaky old cleat door was gently closed upon us and buttoned by our hostess upon the outside, as the only means of keeping it shut; and we were left free to grope about among these mysteries as best we might. we had hardly recovered from our astonishment at thus being locked into a dark hole the size of a fashionable lady's trunk, and were quietly laughing over this odd adventure, when the landlady applied her mouth to a crack and shouted, as if she would have waked the dead: "hi, there! ye'd better shet the winder to keep the bugs out!" a few minutes later, returning to the crack, she added, "ef ye's cold in the night, jest haul down some o' them clothes atop o' ye which ye'll find on the wall." repressing our mirth, we assured our good hostess that we would have a due regard for our personal safety. the window, not at first discernible, proved to be a hole in the wall, some two feet square, which brought in little enough fresh air, at the best. it was fortunate that the night was cool, although our hostess's best gowns were not needed to supplement the horse-blankets under which we slept the sleep of weary canoeists. chapter viii the last day out. the following day opened brightly. we had breakfast in the tavern kitchen, _en famille_. the husband, whom we had not met before, was a short, smooth-faced, voluble, overgrown-boy sort of man. the mother was dumpy, coarse, and good-natured. they had a greasy, easy-tempered daughter of eighteen, with a frowsy head, and a face like a full moon; while the heir of the household, somewhat younger, was a gaping, grinning youth of the simple simon order, who shovelled mashed potatoes into his mouth alternately with knife and fork, and took bites of bread large enough for a ravenous dog. the old grandmother, with a face like parchment and one gleaming eye, sat in a low rocking-chair by the stove, crooning over a corn-cob pipe and using the wood-box for a cuspadore. she had a vinegary, slangy tongue, and being somewhat deaf, would break in upon the conversation with remarks sharper than they were pat. with our host, a glib and rapid talker in a swaggering tone, one could not but be much amused, as he exhibited a degree of self-appreciation that was decidedly refreshing. he had been a veteran in the war of the rebellion, he proudly assured us, and pointed with his knife to his discharge-paper, which was hung up in an old looking-glass frame by the side of the clock. "gemmen,"--he invariably thus addressed us, as though we were a coterie of checker-players at a village grocery,--"gemmen, when i seen how them johnny rebs was a usin' our boys in them prison pens down thar at andersonville and libbie and 'roun' thar, i jist says to myself, says i, 'joe, my boy, you go now an' do some'n' fer yer country; a crack shot like you is, joe,' says i to myself, 'as kin hit a duck on the wing, every time, an' no mistake, oughtn't ter be a-lyin 'roun' home an' doin' no'hun to put down the rebellion; it's a shame,' says i, 'when our boys is a-suff'r'n' down thar on mason 'n' dixie's line;' an' so i jined, an' i stuck her out, gemmen, till the thing was done; they ain't no coward 'bout me, ef i _hev_ the sayin' of it!" "were you wounded, sir?" asked w----, sympathetically. "no, i wa'n't hurt at all,--that is, so to speak, wounded. but thar were a sort of a doctor feller 'round here las' winter, a-stoppin' at erie; an' he called at my place, an' he says, 'no'hun the matter wi' you, a-growin out o' the war?' says he; an' i says, 'no'hun that i know'd on,' says i,--'i'm a-eatin' my reg'l'r victuals whin i don't have the shakes,' says i. 'ah!' says he, 'you've the shakes?' he says; 'an' don't you know you ketched 'em in the war?' 'i ketched 'em a-gettin' m'lairy in the bottoms,' says i, 'a-duck-shootin', in which i kin hit a bird on the wing every time an' no mistake,' says i. 'now,' he says, 'hold on a minute; you didn't hev shakes afore the war?' says he. 'not as much,' i says, not knowin' what the feller was drivin' at, 'but some; i was a kid then, and kids don't shake much,' says i. 'hold up! hold up!' he says, 'you 're wrong, an' ye know it; ye don't hev no mem'ry goin' back so far about phys'cal conditions,' says he. well, gemmen, sure 'nough, when i kem to think things over, and talk it up with the doctor chap, i 'lowed he was right. then he let on he was a claim agint, an' i let him try his hand on workin' up a pension for me, for he says i wa'n't to pay no'hun 'less the thing went through. but i hearn tell, down at erie, that they is a-goin' agin these private claims nowadays at washin'ton, an' i don't know what my show is. but i ought to hev a pension, an' no mistake, gemmen. they wa'n't no fellers did harder work 'n me in the war, ef i _do_ say it myself." w---- ventured to ask what battles our host had been in. "well, i wa'n't in no reg'lar battle,--that is, right _in_ one. thar was a few of us detailed ter tek keer of gov'ment prop'ty near c'lumby, south car'liny, when wade hamptin was a-burnin' things down thar. we was four miles away from the fightin,' an' i was jest a-achin' to git in thar. what i wanted was to git a bead on ol' wade himself,--an' ef i do say it myself, the ol' man would 'a' hunted his hole, gemmen. when i get a sight on a duck, gemmen, that duck's mine, an' no mistake. an' ef i'd 'a' sighted wade hamptin, then good-by wade! i tol' the cap'n what i wanted, but he said as how i was more use a-takin' keer of the supplies. that cap'n hadn't no enterprise 'bout him. things would 'a' been different at c'lumby, ef i'd had my way, an' don't ye forgit it! there was heaps o' blood spilt unnecessary by us boys, a-fightin' to save the ol' flag,--an' we 're willin' to do it agin, gemmen, an' no mistake!" the old woman had been listening eagerly to this narrative, evidently quite proud of her boy's achievements, but not hearing all that had been said. she now broke out, in shrill, high notes,-- "joe ought ter 'a' had a pension, he had, wi' his chills 'tracted in the war. he wuk'd hard, joe did, a hul ten months, doin' calvary service, the last year o' the war; an' he kem nigh onter shootin' ol' wade hamptin, an' a-makin' a name for himself, an' p'r'aps a good office with a title an' all that; only they kep' him back with the ammernition wagin, 'count o' the kurnil's jealousy,--for joe is a dead shot, ma'am, if i'm his mother as says it, and keeps the family in ducks half the year 'roun', an' the kurnil know'd joe was a-bilin' over to git to the front." "ah! you were in the cavalry service, then?" i said to our landlord, by way of helping along the conversation. there was a momentary silence, broken by simple simon, who wiped his knife on his tongue, and made a wild attack on the butter dish. "pa, he druv a mule team for gov'ment; an' we got a picter in the album, tuk of him when he were just a-goin' inter battle, with a big ammernition wagin on behind. pa, in the picter, is a-ridin' o' one o' the mules, an' any one'd know him right off." this sudden revelation of the strength of the veteran's claim to glory and a pension, put a damper upon his reminiscences of the war; and giving the innocent simon a savage leer, he soon contrived to turn the conversation upon his wonderful exploits in duck-shooting and fishing--industries in the pursuit of which he, with so many of his fellow-farmers on the bottoms, appeared to be more eager than in tilling the soil. it was quite evident that the breakfast we were eating was a special spread in honor of probably the only guests the quondam tavern had had these many months. canoeists must not be too particular about the fare set before them; but on this occasion we were able to swallow but a few mouthfuls of the repast and our lunch-basket was drawn on as soon as we were once more afloat. it is a great pity that so many farmers' wives are the wretched cooks they are. with an abundance of good materials already about them, and rare opportunities for readily acquiring more, tens of thousands of rural dames do manage to prepare astonishingly inedible meals,--sour, doughy bread; potatoes which, if boiled, are but half cooked, and if mashed, are floated with abominable butter or pastey flour gravy; salt pork either swimming in a bowl of grease or fried to a leathery chip; tea and coffee extremely weak or strong enough to kill an ox, as chance may dictate, and inevitably adulterated beyond recognition; eggs that are spoiled by being fried to the consistency of rubber, in a pan of fat deep enough to float doughnuts; while the biscuits are yellow and bitter with saleratus. this bill of fare, warranted to destroy the best of appetites, will be recognized by too many of my readers as that to be found at the average american farm-house, although we all doubtless know of some magnificent exceptions, which only prove the rule. we establish public cooking-schools in our cities, and economists like edward atkinson and hygienists like the late dio lewis assiduously explain to the metropolitan poor their processes of making a tempting meal out of nothing; but our most crying need in this country to-day is a training-school for rural housewives, where they may be taught to evolve a respectable and economical spread out of the great abundance with which they are surrounded. it is no wonder that country boys drift to the cities, where they can obtain properly cooked food and live like rational beings. the river continues to widen as we approach the junction with the mississippi,--thirty-nine miles below erie,--and to assume the characteristics of the great river into which it pours its flood. the islands increase in number and in size, some of them being over a mile in length by a quarter of a mile in breadth; the bottoms frequently resolve themselves into wide morasses, thickly studded with great elms, maples, and cotton-woods, among which the spring flood has wrought direful destruction. the scene becomes peculiarly desolate and mournful, often giving one the impression of being far removed from civilization, threading the course of some hitherto unexplored stream. penetrate the deep fringe of forest and morass on foot, however, and smiling prairies are found beyond, stretching to the horizon and cut up into prosperous farms. the river is here from a half to three-quarters of a mile broad, but the shallows and snags are as numerous as ever and navigation is continually attended with some danger of being either grounded or capsized. now and then the banks become firmer, with charming vistas of high, wooded hills coming down to the water's edge; broad savannas intervene, decked out with variegated flora, prominent being the elsewhere rare atragene americana, the spider-wort, the little blue lobelia, and the cup-weed. these savannas are apparently overflowed in times of exceptionally high water; and there are evidences that the stream has occasionally changed its course, through the sunbaked banks of ashy-gray mud, in years long past. at cleveland, a staid little village on an open plain, which we reached soon after the dinner-hour, there is an unused mill-dam going to decay. in the centre, the main current has washed out a breadth of three or four rods, through which the pent-up stream rushes with a roar and a hundred whirlpools. it is an ugly crevasse, but a careful examination showed the passage to be feasible, so we retreated an eighth of a mile up-stream, took our bearings, and went through with a speed that nearly took our breath away and appeared to greatly astonish a half-dozen fishermen idly angling from the dilapidated apron on either side. it was like going through cleveland on the fast mail. fourteen miles above the mouth of the rock, is the chicago, burlington and quincy railroad bridge, with carbon cliff on the north and coloma on the south, each one mile from the river. the day had been dark, with occasional slight showers and a stiff head wind, so that progress had been slow. we began to deem it worth while to inquire about the condition of affairs at the mouth. under the bridge, sitting on a bowlder at the base of the north abutment, an intelligent-appearing man in a yellow oiled-cloth suit, accompanied by a bright-eyed lad, peacefully fished. stopping to question them, we found them both well-informed as to the railway time-tables of the vicinity and the topography of the lower river. they told us that the scenery for the next fourteen miles was similar, in its dark desolation, to that which we had passed through during the day; also that owing to the great number of islands and the labyrinth of channels both in the rock and on the east side of the mississippi, we should find it practically impossible to know when we had reached the latter; we should doubtless proceed several miles below the mouth of the rock before we noticed that the current was setting persistently south, and then would have an exceedingly difficult task in retracing our course and pulling up-stream to our destination, rock island, which is six miles north of the delta of the rock. they strongly advised our going into rock island by rail. the present landing was the last chance to strike a railway, except at milan, twelve miles below. it was now so late that we could not hope to reach milan before dark; there were no stopping-places _en route_, and milan was farther from rock island than either carbon cliff or coloma, with less frequent railway service. for these and other reasons, we decided to accept this advice, and to ship from coloma. taking a final spurt down to a ferry-landing a quarter of a mile beyond, on the south bank, we beached our canoe at . p.m., having voyaged two hundred and sixty-seven miles in somewhat less than seven days and a half. leaving w---- to gossip with the ferryman's wife, who came down to the bank with an armful of smiling twins, to view a craft so strange to her vision, i went up into the country to engage a team to take our boat upon its last portage. after having been gruffly refused by a churlish farmer, who doubtless recognized no difference between a canoeist and a tramp, i struck a bargain with a negro cultivating a cornfield with a span of coal-black mules, and in half an hour he was at the ferry-landing with a wagon. washing out the canoe and chaining in the oars and paddle, we lifted it into the wagon-box, piled our baggage on top, and set off over the hills and fields to coloma, w---- and i trudging behind the dray, ankle deep in mud, for the late rains had well moistened the black prairie soil. it was a unique and picturesque procession. in less than an hour we were in rock island, and our canoe was on its way by freight to portage, preparatory to my tour with our friend the doctor,--down the fox river of green bay. the fox river (of green bay). [illustration: map of the fox-wisconsin rivers to accompany thwaites's "historic waterways"] the fox river (of green bay). first letter. smith's island. packwaukee, wis., june , . my dear w----: it was . p. m. yesterday when the doctor and i launched the old canoe upon the tan-colored water of the government canal at portage, and pointed her nose in the direction of the historic fox. you will remember that the canal traverses the low sandy plain which separates the fox from the wisconsin on a line very nearly parallel to where tradition locates barth's and lecuyer's wagon-portage a hundred years ago. it was a profitable business in the olden days, when the fox-wisconsin highway was extensively patronized, to thus transport river craft over this mile and a half of bog. the toll[ ] collected by these french creoles and their successors down to the days of paquette added materially to the cost of goods and peltries. in times of exceptionally high water the wisconsin overflowed into the fox, which is ordinarily five feet lower than the former, and canoes could readily cross the portage afloat, quite independent of the forwarding agents. in this generation the wisconsin is kept to her bounds by levees; but the government canal furnishes a free highway. the railroads have spoiled water-navigation, however; and the canal, like the most of the fox and wisconsin river-improvement, is fast relapsing into a costly relic. the timbered sides are rotting, the peat and sand are bulging them in, the locks are shaky and worm-eaten, and several moss-covered barges and a stranded old ruin of a steamboat turned out to grass tell a sad story of official abandonment. the scenic effects from the canal are not enlivening. there is a wide expanse of bog, relieved by some grass-grown railway side-tracks and the forlorn freight-depot of the wisconsin central road. a few battered sheds yet remain of old fort winnebago on a lonesome hillock near where the canal joins the fox; while beyond to the north as far as the eye can reach there is a stretch of wild-rice swamp, through which the government dredges have scooped a narrow channel, about as picturesque as a cranberry-marsh drain. life at fort winnebago during the second quarter of this century must have been lonesome indeed, its nearest neighbors being forts crawford and howard, each nearly two hundred miles away. a mile or two to the southwest is a pretty wooded ridge, girting the wisconsin river, upon which the city of portage is now situated. then it was a forest, and the camping-ground of winnebagoes, who hung around the post in the half-threatening attitude of beggars who might make trouble if not adequately bribed with gifts. the fort was erected in - at the solicitation of john jacob astor (the american fur company), to protect his trade against encroachments from these winnebago rascals, who had become quite impudent during the red bird disturbance at prairie du chien, in . jefferson davis was one of the three first-lieutenants in the original garrison, in which harney, of mexican war fame, was a captain. davis was detailed to the charge of a squad sent to cut timbers for the fort in a wisconsin river pinery just above the portage, and thus became one of the pioneer lumbermen of wisconsin. it is related, too, that davis, who was an amateur cabinet-maker, designed some very odd wardrobes and other pieces of furniture for the officers' chambers, which were the wonder and admiration of every occupant for years to come.[ ] in , when secretary of war, the whilom subaltern issued an order for the sale of the fort so intimately connected with his army career, and its crazy buildings henceforth became tenements. for a dozen miles beyond the fox river end of the canal the river, as i have before said, is dredged out through the swamp like a big ditch. the artificial banks of sand and peat which line it are generally well grown with mare's-tail, beautiful clumps of wild roses, purple vetch, great beds of sensitive ferns, and masses of pennsylvania anemone, while the pools are decked with water-anemone. nature is doing her best to hide the deformities wrought by man. the valley is generally about a mile in width, ridges of wooded knolls hemming in the broad expanse of reeds and rice and willow clumps. occasionally the engineers have allowed the ditch to swerve in graceful lines and to hug closely the firmer soil in the lower benches of the knolls, where the banks of red and yellow clay attain a height of ten or a dozen feet, crowned with oaks and elms or pleasant glades. a modest farm-house now and then appears upon such a shore, with the front yard running down to the water's edge. the afternoon shadows are lengthening, and farmers' boys are leading their horses down to drink, after the day's labor in the fields. black and yellow collies are gathering in the cows,--some of them soberly and quickly corral obedient herds, while others yelp and snap at the heads of the affrighted animals, and in the noise and confusion seem to make but little progress. collies have human-like infirmities. we had supper at seven o'clock, under a tree which overhangs a weedy bank, with a high pasture back of us, sloping up to a wooded hill, at the base of which is a cluster of three neatly painted farm-houses, whose dogs bayed at us from the distance, but did not venture to approach. a half-hour later, the sun's setting warned us that quarters for the night must soon be secured. stopping at the base of a boggy pasture-wood, we ascended through a sterile field, accursed with sheep-sorrel, and through gaps in several crazy fences, to what had seemed to us from the river a comfortable, repose-inviting house, commandingly situated on a hill-top among the trees. near approach revealed a scene of desolation. the barriers were down, two spare-ribbed horses were nipping a scant supper among the weeds in a dark corner of an otherwise deserted barn-yard, the window-sashes were generally paneless, the porch was in a state of collapse, sand-burrs choked the paths, and to our knock at the kitchen door the only response was a hollow echo. the deserted house looked uncanny in the gloaming, and we retired to our boat wondering what evil spell had been cast over the place, and whether the horses in the barn-yard had been deliberately left behind to die of starvation. the river now takes upon itself many devious windings in a great widespread over two miles broad. the government engineers have here left it in all its original crookedness, and the twists and turns are as fantastic and complicated as those of the teutonic pretzel in its native land. as the twilight thickened, great swarms of lake-flies rose from the sedges and beat their way up-stream, the noise of their multitudinous wings being at times like the roar of a neighboring waterfall, as they formed a ceaselessly moving canopy over our heads. it was noticeable that the flies kept very closely to the windings of the river, as if guided only by the glittering flood beneath them. the mass of the procession kept its way up the stream, but upon the outskirts could be seen a few individuals, apparently larger than the average, flying back and forth as if marshaling the host. two miles below the deserted house, we stopped opposite another marshy bank, where a rude skiff lay tied to a shaky fence projecting far out into the reeds. pushing our way in, we beached in the slimy shore-mud and scrambled upon the land, where the tall grass was now as sloppy with dew as though it had been rained upon. it was getting quite dark now, but through a cleft in the hills the moon was seen to be just rising above a cloud-bathed horizon, and a small house, neat-looking, though destitute of paint, was sharply silhouetted against the lightening sky, at the head of a gentle slope. by the time we had waded through a quarter of a mile of thriving timothy we were wet to the skin below the knees and dusted all over with pollen. seven children, mostly boys, and gently step-laddered down from fourteen years, greeted us at the summit with a loud "hello!" in shrill unison. they stood in a huddle by the woodpile, holding down and admonishing a very mild-looking collie, which they evidently imagined was filled with an overweening desire instantly to devour us. "hello there! who be ye?" shouted the oldest lad and the spokesman of the party. he was a tall, spare boy, and by the light of the rising moon we could see he was sharp-featured, good-natured, and intelligent. "well," said the doctor, bantering, "that's what we'd like to know. you tell us who you are, and we'll tell you who we are. now that's fair, isn't it?" "yes, sir," replied the boy, respectfully, as he touched his rimless straw hat; "our name's smith; all 'cept that boy there," pointing to a sturdy little twelve-year-old, "an' he's a bixby, he is." "the smith family's a big one, i should say," the doctor remarked, as he audibly counted the party. "oh, this ain't all on 'em, sir; there's two in the house, a-hidin' 'cause o' strangers, besides the baby, which ma and pa has with 'em inter packwaukee, a-shoppin'. this is smith's island, sir. didn't ye ever hear o' smith's island?" we acknowledged our ignorance, up to this time, of the existence of any such feature in the geography of wisconsin. but the lad, now joined by the others, who had by this time vanquished their bashfulness and all wanted to talk at once, assured us that we were actually on smith's island; that smith's island had an area of one hundred acres, was surrounded on the east by the river, and everywhere else by either a bayou or a marsh that had to be crossed with a boat in the spring; that there were three families of smiths there, and this group represented but one branch of the clan. "we're all smiths, sir, but this boy, who's a bixby; an' he's our cousin and only a-visitin'." after having gained a thorough knowledge of the topography and population of smith's island, we ventured to ask whether it was presumable that the parental smiths, when they returned home from the village, would be willing to entertain us for the night. "guess not, sir," replied the spokesman, the idea appearing to strike him humorously; "there's so many of us now, sir, that we're packed in pretty close, an' the bixby boy has to sleep atop o' the orgin. but i think uncle jim might; he kept a tramp over night once, an' give him his breakfus', too, in the bargain." the prospect as to uncle jim was certainly encouraging, and it was now too late to go further. it seemed necessary to stop on smith's island for the night, even if we were restricted to quartering in the corn-crib which the smith boy kindly put at our disposal in case of uncle jim's refusal,--with the additional inducement that he would lend us the collie for company and to "keep off rats," which he intimated were phenomenally numerous on this swamp-girt hill. the entire troop of urchins accompanied us down to the bank to make fast for the night, and helped us up with our baggage to the corn-crib, where we disturbed a large family of hens which were using the airy structure as a summer dormitory. then, with the two oldest boys as pilots, we set off along the ridge to find the domicile of uncle jim, who had established a reputation for hospitality by having once entertained a way-worn tramp. the moon had now swung clear of the trees on the edge of the river basin, and gleamed through a great cleft in the blue-black clouds, investing the landscape with a luminous glow. along the eastern horizon a dark forest-girt ridge hemmed in the reedy widespread, through which the gleaming fox twisted and doubled upon itself like a silvery serpent in agony. the indians, who have an eye to the picturesque in nature, tell us that once a monster snake lay down for the night in the swamp between the portage and the lake of the winnebagoes. the dew accumulated upon it as it lay, and when the morning came it wriggled and shook the water from its back, and disappeared down the river which it had thus created in its nocturnal bed. i had never fully appreciated the aptness of the legend until last night, when i had that bird's-eye view of the valley of the fox from the summit of smith's island. to our left, the timothy-field sloped gracefully down to the sedgy couch of the serpent; to our right, there were pastures and oak openings, with glimpses of the moonlit bayou below, across which a dark line led to a forest,--the narrow roadway leading from smith's to the outer world. at the edge of a small wood-lot our guides stopped, telling us to keep on along the path, over two stiles and through a barn-yard gate, till we saw a light; the light would be uncle jim's. a cloud was by this time overcasting the moon, and a distant rumble told us that the night would be stormy. groping our way through the copse, we passed the barriers, and, according to promise, the blinding light of a kerosene lamp standing on the ledge of an open window burst upon us. then a door opened, and the form of a tall, stalwart man stood upon the threshold, a striking silhouette. it was uncle jim peering into the darkness, for he had heard footsteps in the yard. we were greeted cordially on the porch, and shown into a cosey sitting-room, where uncle jim had been reading his weekly paper, and uncle jim's wife, smiling sweetly amid her curl-papers, was engaged on a bit of crochet. charmingly hospitable people they are. they have been married but a year or two, are without children, and have a pleasant cottage furnished simply but in excellent taste. such delightful little homes are rare in the country, and the doctor couldn't help telling uncle jim so, whereat the latter was very properly pleased. uncle jim is a fine-looking, manly fellow, six feet two in his stockings, he told us; and his pretty, blooming wife, though young, has the fine manners of the olden school. we were earnestly invited to stop for the night before we had fairly stated our case, and in five minutes were talking on politics, general news, and agriculture, as though we had always lived on smith's island and had just dropped in for an evening's chat. i am sure you would have enjoyed it, w----, it was such a contrast to our night at the erie tavern,--only a week ago, though it seems a month. one sees and feels so much, canoeing, that the days are like weeks of ordinary travel. two hundred miles by river are more full of the essence of life than two thousand by rail. we had an excellent bed and an appetizing breakfast. the flood-gates of heaven had been opened during the night, and smith's island shaken to its peaty foundations by great thunder-peals. uncle jim was happy, for the pasturage would be improved, and the corn crop would have a "show." uncle jim's wife said there would now be milk enough to make butter for market; and the hens would do better, for somehow they never would lay regularly during the drought we had been experiencing. and so we talked on while the "clearing showers" lasted. i told uncle jim that i was surprised to see him raising anything at all in what was apparently sand. he acknowledged that the soil was light, and inclined to blow away on the slightest aerial provocation, but he nevertheless managed to get twenty bushels of wheat to the acre, and the lowlands gave him an abundance of hay and pasturage. he was decidedly in favor of mixed crops, himself, and was gradually getting into the stock line, as he wanted a crop that could "walk itself into market." the doctor inquired about the health of the neighborhood, which he found to be excellent. he is much of a gallant, you know; and uncle jim's wife was pleasantly flustered when, in his most winning tones, the disciple of Ã�sculapius declared that the climate that could produce such splendid complexions as hers--and uncle jim's--must indeed be rated as available for a sanitarium. by a quarter to eight o'clock this morning the storm had ceased, and the eastern sky brightened. our kind friends bade us a cheery farewell, we retraced our steps to the corn-crib, the smith boys helped us down with our load, and just as our watches touched eight we shoved off into the stream, and were once more afloat upon the serpentine trail. these great wild-rice widespreads--sloughs, the natives call them--are doubtless the beds of ancient lakes. in coursing through them, the bayous, the cul-de-sacs, are so frequent, and the stream switches off upon such unexpected tangents, that it is sometimes perplexing to ascertain which body of sluggish water is the main channel. marquette found this out when he ascended the fox in . he says, in his relation of the voyage, "the way is so cut up by marshes and little lakes that it is easy to go astray, especially as the river is so covered with wild oats [wild rice] that you can hardly discover the channel; hence, we had good need of our two guides." little bog-islands, heavily grown with aspens and willows, occasionally dot the seas of rice. they often fairly hum with the varied notes of the red-winged blackbird, the rusty grackle, and our american robin, while whistling plovers are seen upon the mud-spits, snapping up the choicest of the snails. and such bullfrogs! i have not heard their like since, when a boy, living on the verge of a new england pond, i imagined their hollow rumble of a roundelay to bear the burden of "paddy, go 'round! go 'round and 'round!" this in accordance with a local tradition which says that paddy, coming home one night o'erfull of the "craithur," came to the edge of the pond, which stopped his progress. the friendly frogs, who themselves enjoy a soaking, advised him to go around the obstruction; and as the wild refrain kept on, paddy did indeed "go 'round, and 'round" till morning and his better-half found him, a foot-sore and a soberer man. they tell us that on the fox river the frogs say, "judge arndt! arndt! judge arndt!" old judge arndt was one of the celebrities in the early day at green bay; he was a fur-trader, and accustomed, with his gang of _voyageurs_, to navigate the fox and wisconsin with heavily laden canoes and mackinaw boats. a frenchman, he had a gastronomic affection for frogs' legs, and many a branch of the house of rana was cast into mourning in the neighborhood of his nightly camps. the story goes, therefore, that unto this time whenever a boat is seen upon the river, sentinel frogs give out the signal cry of "judge arndt!" by way of deadly warning to their kind. certain it is that the valley of the upper fox, by day or by night, is resonant with the bellow of the amphibious bull. it is not always "judge arndt!" but occasionally, as if miles and miles away, one hears a sudden twanging note, like that of the finger-snapped bass string of a violin; whereas the customary refrain may be likened to the deep reverberations of the bass-viol. add the countless chatter and whistle of the birds, the ear-piercing hum of the cicada, and the muffled chimes from scores of sheep and cow bells on the hillside pastures, and we have an orchestral accompaniment upon our voyage that could be fully appreciated only in a chinese theatre. in the pockets and the sloughs, we find thousands of yellow and white water-lilies, and sometimes progress is impeded by masses of creeping root-stalks which have been torn from their muddy bed by the upheaval of the ice, and now float about in great rafts, firmly anchored by the few whose extremities are still imbedded in the ooze. fishing-boats were also occasionally met with this morning, occupied by packwaukee people; for in the widespreads just above this village, the pickerel thrives mightily off the swarms of perch who love these reedy seas; and the weighty sturgeon often swallows a hook and gives his captor many a frenzied tug before he consents to enter the "live-box" which floats behind each craft. footnotes: [ ] ten dollars per boat, and fifty cents per lbs. of goods. [ ] described in mrs. kinzie's "wau-bun," which gives many interesting reminiscences of life at the old post. second letter. from packwaukee to berlin. berlin, wis., june , . my dear w----: packwaukee is twenty-five miles by river below portage, and at the head of buffalo lake. it is a tumble-down little place, with about one hundred inhabitants, half of whom appeared to be engaged in fishing. a branch of the wisconsin central railway, running south from stevens point to portage, passes through the town, with a spur track running along the north shore of the lake to montello, seven miles east. regular trains stop at packwaukee, while the engine draws a pony train out to montello to pick up the custom of that thriving village. packwaukee apparently had great pretensions once, with her battlement-fronts and verandaed inn; but that day has long passed, and a picturesque float-bridge, mossy and decayed, remains the sole point of artistic interest. a dozen boys were angling from its battered hand-rail, as we painfully crept with our craft through a small tunnel where the abutment had been washed out by the stream. we emerged covered with cobwebs and sawdust, to be met by boys eagerly soliciting us to purchase their fish. the doctor, somewhat annoyed by their pertinacity as he vigorously dusted himself with his handkerchief, declared, in the vernacular of the river, that we were "clean busted;" and i have no doubt the lads believed his mild fib, for we looked just then as though we had seen hard times in our day. our general course had hitherto been northward, but was now eastward for a few miles and afterward southeastward as far as marquette. buffalo lake is seven miles long by from a third to three quarters of a mile broad. the banks are for the most part sandy, and from five to fifty feet high. the river here merely fills its bed; being deeper, the wild rice and reeds do not grow upon its skirts. were there a half-dozen more feet of water, the fox would be a chain of lakes from portage to oshkosh. as it is, we have buffalo, puckawa, and grand butte des morts, which are among the prettiest of the inland seas of wisconsin. the knolls about buffalo lake are pleasant, round-topped elevations, for the most part wooded, and between them are little prairies, generally sandy, but occasionally covered with dark loam. the day had, by noon, developed into one of the hottest of the season. the run down buffalo lake was a torrid experience long to be remembered. the air was motionless, the sky without clouds; we had good need of our awning. the doctor, who is always experimenting, picked up a flat stone on the beach, so warm as to burn his fingers, and tried to fry an egg upon it by simple solar heat, but the venture failed and a burning-glass was needed to complete the operation. montello occupies a position at the foot of the lake, commanding the entire sheet of water. the knoll upon which the village is for the most part built is nearly one hundred feet high, and the simple spire of an old white church pitched upon the summit is a landmark readily discernible in packwaukee, seven miles distant. there is a government lock at montello, and a small water-power. a levee protects from overflow a portion of the town which is situated somewhat below the lake level. the government pays the lock-keepers thirty dollars per month for about eight months in the year, and house-rent the year round. tollage is no longer required, and the keepers are obliged by the regulations of the engineering department to open the gates for all comers, even a saw-log. but the services of the keepers are so seldom required in these days that we find they are not to be easily roused from their slumbers, and it is easier and quicker to make the portage at the average up-river lock. our carry at montello was two and a half rods, over a sandy bank, where a solitary small boy, who had been catching crayfish with a dip-net, carefully examined our outfit and propounded the inquiry, "be you fellers on the guv'ment job?" below the lock for three or four miles, the river is again a mere canal, but the rigid banks of dredge-trash are for the most part covered with a thrifty vegetation, and have assumed charms of their own. this stage passed, and the river resumes a natural appearance,--a placid stream, with now and then a slough, or perhaps banks of peat and sand, ten feet high and fairly well hung with trees and shrubs. as we approach the head of lake puckawa, the widespreads broaden, with rows of hills two or three miles back, on either side,--the river mowing a narrow swath through the expanse of reeds and flags and rice which unites their bases. where the widespread becomes a pond, and the lake commences, there is a sandbar, the dregs of the upper channel. a government dredge-machine was at work, cutting out a water-way through the obstruction,--or, rather, had been at work, for it was seven o'clock by this time, the men had finished their supper, and were enjoying themselves upon the neat deck of the boarding-house barge, in a neighboring bayou, smoking their pipes and reading newspapers. it was a comfortable picture. a stern-wheel freight steamer, big and cumbersome, came slowly into the mouth of the channel as we left it, bound up, for montello. as we glided along her side, a safe distance from the great wheelbarrow paddle, she loomed above us, dark and awesome, like a whale overlooking a minnow. it was the "t. s. chittenden," wood-laden. the "chittenden" and the "ellen hardy" are the only boats navigating the upper fox this season, above berlin. their trips are supposed to be semi-weekly, but as a matter of fact they dodge around, all the way from winneconne to montello, picking up what freight they can and making a through trip perhaps once a week. it is poor picking, i am told, and the profits but barely pay for maintaining the service. there now being no place to land, without the great labor of poling the canoe through the dense reed swamp to the sides, we had supper on board,--the doctor deftly spreading a bit of canvas on the bottom between us, for a cloth, and attractively displaying our lunch to the best advantage. i leisurely paddled meanwhile, occasionally resting to take a mouthful or to sip of the lemonade, in the preparation of which the doctor is such an adept. and thus we drifted down lake puckawa, amid the delightful sunset glow and the long twilight which followed,--the doctor, cake in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other, becoming quite animated in a detailed description of a patient he had seen in a vienna hospital, whose food was introduced through a slit in his throat. the doctor is an enthusiast in his profession, and would stop to advise st. peter, at the gate, to try his method for treating locksmith-palsy. we noticed a great number of black terns as we progressed, perched upon snags at the head of the lake. they are fearless birds, and would allow us to drift within paddle's length before they would rise and, slowly wheeling around our heads, settle again upon their roosts, as soon as we had passed on. lake puckawa is eight miles long by perhaps two miles wide, running west and east. five miles down the eastern shore, the quaint little village of marquette is situated on a pleasant slope which overlooks the lake from end to end. marquette is on the site of an indian fur-trading camp, this lake being for many years a favorite resort of the winnebagoes. there are about three hundred inhabitants there, and it is something of a mystery as to how they all scratch a living; for the town is dying, if not already dead,--about the only bit of life noticeable there being a rather pretty club-house owned by a party of chicago gentlemen, who come to lake puckawa twice a year to shoot ducks, it being one of the best sporting-grounds in the state. that is to say, they have heretofore come twice a year, but the villagers were bewailing the passage by the legislature, last winter, of a bill prohibiting spring shooting, thus cutting off the business of marquette by one half. marquette, like so many other dead river-towns, appears to have been at one time a community of some importance. there are two deserted saw-mills and two or three abandoned warehouses, all boarded up and falling into decay, while nearly every store-building in the place has shutters nailed over the windows, and a once substantial sidewalk has become such a rotten snare that the natives use the grass-grown street for a footpath. the good people are so tenacious of the rights of visiting sportsmen that there is no angling, i was told, except by visitors, and we inquired in vain for fish at the dilapidated little hotel where we slept and breakfasted. at the hostlery we were welcomed with open arms, and the landlady's boy, who officiated as clerk, porter, and chambermaid, assured us that the village schoolmaster had been the only guest for six weeks past. it is certainly a quiet spot. the doctor, who knows all about these things, diagnosed the lake and declared it to be a fine field for fly-fishing. he had waxed so enthusiastic over the numbers of nesting ducks which we disturbed as we came down through the reeds, in the early evening, that i had all i could do to keep him from breaking the new game law, although he stoutly declared that revolvers didn't count. the postmaster--a pleasant old gentleman in spectacles, who also keeps the drug store, deals in ammunition, groceries, and shoes, and is an agent for agricultural machinery--got very friendly with the doctor, and confided to him the fact that if the latter would come next fall to markesan, ten miles distant, over the sands, and telephone up that he was there, a team would be sent down for him; then, with the postmaster for a guide, fish and fowl would soon be obliged to seek cover. it is needless to add that the doctor struck a bargain with the postmaster and promised to be on hand without fail. i never saw our good friend so wild with delight, and the postmaster became as happy as if he had just concluded a cash contract for a car-load of ammunition. the schoolmaster, a very accommodating young man, helped us down to the beach this morning with our load. anticipating numerous lakes and widespreads, where we might gain advantage of the wind, we had brought a sprit sail along, together with a temporary keel. the sail helped us frequently yesterday, especially in buffalo lake, but the wind had died down after we passed montello. this morning, however, there was a good breeze again, but quartering, and the keel became essential. this we now attached to our craft, and it was nearly seven o'clock before we were off, although we had had breakfast at . . the "ellen hardy" was at the dock, loading with wheat for princeton. she is a trimmer, faster craft than the "chittenden." the engineer told us that the present stage of water was but two and a half feet in the upper fox, this year and last being the driest on record. he informed us that the freight business was "having the spots knocked off it" by the railroads, and there was hardly enough to make it worth while getting up steam. three miles down is the mouth of the lake. there being two outlets around a large marsh, we were somewhat confused in trying to find the proper channel. we ascertained, after going a mile and a half out of our way to the south, that the northern extremity of the marsh is the one to steer for. the river continues to wind along between marshy shores, although occasionally hugging a high bank of red clay or skirting a knoll of shifting sand; now and then these knolls rise to the dignity of hills, red with sorrel and sparsely covered with scrubby pines and oaks. it was noon when we reached the lock above princeton. the lock-keeper, a remarkably round-shouldered german, is a pleasant, gossipy fellow, fond of his long pipe and his very fat frau. upon invitation, we made ourselves quite at home in the lock-house, a pleasant little brick structure in a plot of made land, the entire establishment having that rather stiffly neat, ship-shape appearance peculiar to life-saving stations, navy-yards, and military barracks. the good frau steeped for us a pot of tea, and in other ways helped us to grace our dinner, which we spread on a bench under a grape arbor, by the side of the yawning stone basin of the lock. the "ellen hardy," which had left marquette nearly an hour later than we, came along while we were at dinner, waking the echoes with three prolonged steam groans. we took advantage of the circumstance to lock through in her company. this was our first experience of the sort, so we were naturally rather timid as we brushed her great paddle, going in, and stole along under her overhanging deck, for she quite filled the lock. the captain kindly allowed the liliputian to glide through in advance of his steamer, however, when the gates were once more opened, and we felt, as we shot out, as though we had emerged from under the belly of a monster. beaching again, below the lock, we returned to finish our dinner. the keeper asked for a ride to princeton village, three miles below, and we admitted him to our circle,--pipe, market-basket and all, though it caused the canoe to sink uncomfortably near to the gunwale. going down, our voluble friend talked very freely about his affairs. he said that his pay of $ per month ran from about the middle of april to the first of december, and averaged him, the year round, about $ and house-rent. he had but little to do, and got along very comfortably on the twenty-five acres of marsh-land which the government owned, by raising pigs and cows, a few vegetables, and hay enough for his stock. he admitted that this was "a heap better" than he could do in the fatherland. "i shoost dell you, mine frient," he said to me, as he grinned and refilled his pipe, "dot shermany vos a nice guntry, and bismarck he vos a grade feller, und i vos brout i vos a sherman; but i dells mine vooman vot i dells you,--i mooch rahder read aboud 'em in mine sherman newsbaper, dan vot i voot leef dere myself, already. i roon avay vrom dem conscrip' fellers, und i shoost never seed de time vot i voot go back again. in dot ol' guntry, i vos nuttings boot a beasant feller; unt in dis guntry i vos a goov'ment off'cer, vich makes grade diff'rence, already." he chuckled a good deal to himself when asked what he thought about the fox-wisconsin river-improvement, but finally said that government must spend its surplus some way,--if not in this, it would in another,--and he could not object to a scheme which gave him his bread and butter. he said that the improvement operations scattered a good deal of money throughout the valley, for labor and supplies, but expressed his doubts as to the ultimate national value of the work, unless the shifting wisconsin river, thus far unnavigable for steamers, should be canalled from the portage to its mouth. he is an honest fellow, and appears to utilize his abundance of leisure in reading the newspapers. at princeton village,--a thriving country town on a steep bank, with unkempt backyards running down to and defiling the river,--we again came across the "ellen hardy." she was unloading her light cargo of wheat as we arrived, and left princeton an eighth of a mile behind us. we now had a pleasant little race to white river lock, seven miles below. with sail set, and paddles to help, we led her easily as far as the lock. but we thought to gain time by portaging over the dam, and she gained a lead of at least a mile, although we frequently caught sight of her towering white hull across the widespreads, by dint of standing on the thwarts and peering over the tall walls of wild rice which shut us in as closely as though we had been canoeing in a railroad cut. it had been fair and cloudy by turns to-day, but delightfully cool,--a wonderful improvement on yesterday, when we fairly sweltered, coming down buffalo lake. in the middle of the afternoon, below white river, a thunder-storm overtook us in a widespread several miles in extent. seeking a willow island which abutted on the channel, we made a tent of the sail and stood the brief storm quite comfortably. we then pushed on, and, rubber-coated, weathered the few clearing showers in the boat, for we were anxious to reach berlin by evening. at berlin lock, twelve miles below white river, we portaged the dam, and, getting into a two-mile current, ate our supper on board. the river now begins to have firmer banks, and to approach the ridges upon the southern rim of its basin. we reached berlin in the twilight, the landscape of hill and meadow being softened in the golden glow. the better portion of this beautiful little city of forty-five hundred inhabitants is situated on a ridge, closely skirted by the river, with the poorer quarters on the flats spreading away on either side. there are many charming homes and the main business street has an air of active prosperity. we went into dock alongside of the "ellen hardy." third letter the mascoutins. oshkosh, wis., june , . my dear w----: as we passed out of berlin this morning, a government dredger was at work by the river-side. we paused on our paddles for some time, to watch the workings of the ingenious mechanism. there was something demoniac in the action of the monster, as it craned its jointed neck amid a quick chorus of jerky puffs from the engine and an accompaniment of rattling chains. reaching far out over the bubbling water, it would open its great iron jaws with a savage clank and, pausing a moment to gather its energies, dive swiftly into the roily depth; after swaying to and fro as if struggling with its prey, it soon reappeared, bearing in its filthy maw a ton or two of blue-black ooze, the water escaping through its teeth in a score of hissing torrents; then, turning aside to the heap of dredge-trash, suddenly vomited forth the foul-smelling mess, and returned for another charge. it was a singularly fascinating sight, though wofully uncanny. from berlin down to omro, pleasant prairie slopes come down at intervals to the water's edge, on the south bank; the feature of the north side being wide expanses of bog, the home of the cranberry, for which this region is famous. the best marshes, however, are the pockets, back among the ridges; from these, great drainage-ditches, with flooding gates, come furrowing through the peat, in dark lines as straight as an arrow, and empty into the river. it was somewhere about here, nearer berlin than omro,--but exactly where, no man now knoweth,--that the ancient indian "nation" of the mascoutins was located over two centuries ago; their neighbors, if not their village comrades, being the miamis and the kickapoos. champlain, the intrepid founder of quebec, had heard of their warring disposition as early as . in jean nicolet, the first white man known to have set foot upon territory now included in the state of wisconsin, came in a bark canoe as far up the fox river as the mascoutins, and after stopping a time with them, journeyed southward to the country of the illinois.[ ] allouez and his companions also came hither in , and the good father, in the official report of his adventurous canoeing trip, says the fort of these people was located a french league ( . english miles) "over beautiful prairies" to the south of the river. joliet and marquette, on their way to discover the mississippi river, arrived at the fort of the mascoutins on june , , and the latter gives this graceful sketch of the oak openings hereabouts, which have not meanwhile perceptibly changed their characteristics: "i felt no little pleasure in beholding the position of this town; the view is beautiful and very picturesque, for from the eminence on which it is perched, the eye discovers on every side prairies spreading away beyond its reach, interspersed with thickets or groves of lofty trees." the mascoutins are now a lost tribe. as the result of warring habits, they in turn were crowded to the wall, and a generation after marquette's visit the banks of their river knew them no more; the foxes, from whom the stream ultimately took its name, were then predominant, and long continued the masters of the highway. sacramento--"as dead as a door-nail, sir"--lies sprawled out over a pleasant riverside slope to the south. there is the customary air of fallen grandeur at sacramento,--big hopes gone to decay; battlement-fronts, houseless cellars, a universal lack of paint. the railroads, the real highways of our present civilization, have killed these little river towns that are away from the track, and they will never be resurrected. the day of inland water navigation, except for canoeists, is nearing its close. settlement clings to the neighborhood of the rails, and generally avoids rivers as an obstruction to free transit. the towns that have to be reached by a country ferry are rotting,--they are off the line of progress. sacramento boasts a spouting well by the river-bank, a mammoth village ash-leach, and fond memories of the day when it was "a bigger town than berlin." as we stood in the spray of the fountain, filling our canteen with the purest and coldest of water, i speculated upon the strong probability of sacramento being on the identical bank where the jesuits beached their canoes to walk across country to the old indian village. and the doctor, apt to be irreverent as to aboriginal lore, suggested that the defunct sacramento should have written over its gate this motto: "gone to join the mascoutins!" eureka, a few miles farther down, is also paintless, and her river-front is artistic with the crumbling ruins of two or three long-deserted saw-mills. a new eureka appears, however, to be slowly building up, to one side of the dead little hamlet,--for there are smart steam flouring-mill and a model little cheese-factory in full swing here. the cheese man, an accommodating young fellow who appeared quite up to the times, and is a direct shipper to the london market, took a just pride in showing us over his establishment, and stocked our mess-box with samples of his best brands. omro spreads over a sandy plain, upon both sides of the river,--an excellent wagon-bridge crossing the stream near that of the chicago, milwaukee, and st. paul railway. omro, which is the headquarters of the wisconsin spiritualists, who have quite a settlement hereabouts, is growing somewhat, after a long period of stagnation, having at present a population of fifteen hundred. the "ellen hardy," which had now caught up with us, after chasing the canoe from berlin down, went through the draw in our company. as the crew rolled off a small consignment of freight, the captain--a raw-boned, red-faced, and thoroughly good-humored man--leaned out of the pilot-house window and pleasantly chaffed us about our lowly conveyance. the conversation ended by his offering to give us a "lift" through the great winneconne widespread, to the point where the wolf joins the fox, nine or ten miles below. the "ellen" was bound for winneconne and other points up the wolf, so could help us no farther. of course we accepted the kindly offer, and fastening our painter to a belaying-pin on the "ellen's" port, scrambled up to the freight-deck just as the pilot-bell rang "forward!" in the smoky little engine-room far aft. while i went aloft to enjoy the bird's-eye view obtainable from the pilot-house, the doctor discussed fishing with the engineer, whom he found on closer acquaintance to be a rare, though much-begrimed philosopher. this engineer is a wizened-up little man, with a face like a prematurely dried apple, but his eyes gleam with a kindly light, and he is an inveterate angler. we had noticed him at every stopping stage,--his head, shoulders, and arms reaching out of the abbreviated rear window of his caboose,--dangling a line astern. the doctor learned that this was his invariable habit. he kept the cook's galley in fish, and utilized each leisure half-hour in the pursuit of his favorite amusement. the engineer, good man, had fished, he said, in nearly every known sea, and the doctor declared that he "could many a wondrous fish-tale unfold." in fact, the doctor declared him to be the most interesting character he had ever met with, outside of a hospital, and said he should surely report to his favorite medical journal this remarkable case of abnormal persistency in an art, amid the most discouraging physical surroundings. he thought the man's brain should be dissected, in the cause of science. the wolf, which has its rise miles nor'-nor'west of green bay, in a forest-county lakelet, and takes generous, south-trending curves away down to lake poygan, is properly the noble stream which pours into lake winnebago from the northwest, and then, with a mighty rush, forces its way northeastward to the great lakes, along the base of the watershed which parallels the western coast of lake michigan and terminates in the sands of the sturgeon-bay country. the jesuit fathers, in seeking the mississippi, traced this river above lake winnebago, and on reaching the great widespread at the head of the grand butte des morts, where the tributary flowing from the southwest empties its lazy flood into the rushing fox, pursued that tributary to the portage and erroneously called their highway by one name, from green bay to the carry. thus the long-unexplored main river, above the junction, came to be treated on the maps as a tributary, and to be dubbed the wolf. this geographical mistake has been so long persisted in that correction becomes impracticable, and we must continue to style the branch the trunk. this has been a delightful day; the heavens were clear and blue, and a gentle northeaster fanned our faces in the pilot-house, from which vantage-point, nearly thirty feet above the river-level, there was obtainable a bird's-eye view well worthy of canvas. the wild-rice bog, through which the fox, here not over thirty yards wide, twists like the snapper of a whip, is from ten to fifteen miles wide,--a sea of living green, across which the breeze sends a regular succession of waves, losing themselves upon the far-distant shores. upon the northwestern horizon, the wolf comes stealing down at the base of a range of wooded hills. to the west, a flashing line tells where lake poygan "holds her mirror to the sun." the tall smoke-stacks of the winneconne saw-mills occupy the middle ground westward. to the east, in the centre of the picture, one catches glimpses of the consolidated stream, as its goodly flood quickly glides southeasterly, on a short spurt toward the grand butte des morts, at the head of which is the old fur-trading village of the same name. far southeastward, below the lake, there is just discernible the great brick chimney of a mammoth planing-mill,--an algoma landmark,--and just behind that the black cloud resting above the oshkosh factories. it is a broad, bounteous sweep of level landscape,--monotonous, of course, but imposing from mere immensity. at the union of the rivers we bade farewell to our friend the captain; and the doctor secured a promise from the engineer to send in his photograph to the hospital with which the former is connected. the "ellen hardy" stopped her engine as we cast off. in another minute, the great stern-wheel began to splash again, and we were bobbing up and down on the bubbly swell, waving farewell to our fellow-travelers and turning our prow to the southeast, while the roving "ellen" shaped her course to winneconne, where a lot of laths, destined for princeton, awaited her arrival. the low ridge which forms the eastern bank of the wolf, down to the junction, soon slopes off to the northeast, in the direction of appleton, leaving a broad, level plain, of great fertility, between it and lakes grand butte des morts and winnebago. on this plain are built the cities of oshkosh, neenah, and menasha. across it, the northeaster, freshening to a lively breeze, had full sweep, and stirred up the grand butte des morts into a wild display of opposition to our progress. serried ranks of white-caps came sweeping across the lake, beating on our port bow, and the little sail, almost bursting with fulness, careened the canoe to the gunwale, as it swept gayly along through the foam. the paddles were necessary to keep her well abreast of the tide, and there was exercise enough in the operation to prevent drowsiness. the spray flew like a drizzling summer shower, but our baggage and stores were well covered down, and the weather was too warm for a body dampener to be uncomfortable. we passed the dark, gloomy, tumbled-down, but picturesque village of butte des morts, just before entering the lake. of the twenty-five or so houses in the place, all but two or three are guiltless of paint. there is a quaintness about the simple architecture, which gives butte des morts a distinctive appearance. to the initiated, it betokens the remains of an old fur-trading post; and this was the genesis of butte des morts. it was in that augustin grignon and james porlier, men intimately connected with the history of the french-indian fur-trade in wisconsin, set up their shanty dwellings and warehouses on a little lakeside knoll a mile below the present village, which was founded by their _voyageurs_ on the site of an old menomonee town and cemetery. some of these post-buildings, together with the remains of the watch-tower, from which the traders obtained long advance notice of the approach of travelers, red or white, are still standing. as we sped by, i pointed out to the doctor the location of these venerable relics, which i had, with proper enthusiasm, carefully inspected fully a dozen summers before, and he suggested that the knowledge of the approach of a possible customer, by means of the tower, gave the traders an excellent opportunity to mark up the goods. james porlier's son and successor, louis b. porlier, now an aged man, is the present occupant of the establishment, which is one of the oldest landmarks in wisconsin; and there, also, died the famous augustin grignon, historian of his clan. butte des morts, in the early day of the northwest, was something more than a trading-post. situated near the union of the upper fox and the wolf, it was the rallying-point for both valleys,--long before appleton, neenah, menasha or oshkosh were known, or any of the towns on the upper fox. it was the only white man's stopping-place between the portage and kaukauna. the mail trail between green bay and the portage crossed here,--for strange to say, the great south-stretching widespread, which lies like a map before the village, was in those days firm enough for a horse to traverse with safety; while to-day a boat can be pushed anywhere between the rushes and rice, and it is _par excellence_ the great breeding-ground of this section for muskrats and water-fowl. a scow-ferry was maintained in pioneer times for the benefit of the mail-carrier and other travelers. butte des morts is mentioned in most of the journals left us by travelers over the fox-wisconsin watercourse, previous to , and here several important indian treaties were consummated by government commissioners. it is somewhat over fifteen miles from the mouth of the wolf to oshkosh. the run down the lake seemed unusually protracted, for the city was clearly in sight the entire way, and the distance, over the flat expanse, was deceptive. algoma, now a portion of oshkosh, was something of a settlement long before the lower town began to grow. but the latter finally overtook and swallowed the original hamlet. algoma is now chiefly devoted to the homes of the employees in the great planing and saw-milling establishments of philetus sawyer, wisconsin's senior united states senator, and the wealthy paine brothers. the residences of these lumber kings are on a slope to the north of the iron wagon-bridge, under which we swept as the booming whistles of the busy locality, in unison with a noisy chorus of steam-gongs farther down the river, sounded the hour of six. through the gantlet of the mills, with their outlying rafts, their lines of piling, and their great yards of newly sawn lumber, we sped quickly on. a half-hour later, we were turning up into a peaceful little dock alongside the south approach to the st. paul railway-bridge, the canoe's quarters for the night. the sun was just plunging below the clear-cut prairie horizon, as we walked across the fields to the home of our expectant friends. footnote: [ ] butterfield's "discovery of the northwest" (cincinnati, ). fourth letter. the land of the winnebagoes. appleton, wis., june , . my dear w----: we had a late start to-day from oshkosh. it was half-past nine o'clock by the time we had reloaded our traps, pushed off from the railway embankment, and received the god-speed of m----, who had come down to see us off. the busy town, with its twenty-two thousand thrifty people, was all astir. the factories and the mills were resonant with the clang and rattle of industry, and across the two wagon-bridges of the city proper there were continual streams of traffic. i suppose that oshkosh is, in its way, as widely known throughout this country as almost any city in it. the name is strikingly outlandish, being equaled only by kalamazoo, and furnishes the butt of many a newspaper joke and comic rhyme. old chief oshkosh, whose cognomen signifies "brave" in menomonee speech, was the head man of his dusky tribe, a half-century ago. he was a doughty, wrinkled hero, o'er fond of fire-water, and wore a battered silk hat for a crown. about , when the settlement here was four years old, the government offered to establish a post-office if the inhabitants would unite on a name for the place. the whites favored athens, but the indians, half-breeds, and traders round about butte des morts, wanted their friend oshkosh immortalized, so they came down to the new settlement in force, and the election being a free-for-all, carried the day. it is said that the grignons were so anxious in behalf of the menomonee sachem that they had a number of squaws array themselves in trousers and cast ballots like the bucks. and it was fortunate, as events proved, that the election turned out as it did, for the oddity of the name has been a permanent advertisement for a very bright community. oshkosh, as hackneyed "athens," would have been lost to fame. nobody would think of going to "athens" to "have fun with the boys." the morning air was as clear as a bell,--a pleasant northeast zephyr, coming in off the body of the lake, slightly ruffling the surface and reducing the temperature to a delightful tone. the wind not being fair, the sail was useless, so we paddled along through the broad river, into the lake and northward past a fishermen's colony, rows of great ice-houses, the water-works park, and beautiful lake-shore residences, to garlic island. it was half-past twelve, p.m., when we tied up at the crazy pier which projects from this islet of the loud-smelling vegetable. a half-century ago garlic island was the home of iowatuk, the beautiful aboriginal relict of a french fur-trader,--an indian princess, the old settlers called her; at all events, she is reputed to have been a most exemplary person, well-possessed of this world's goods, as well as a large family of half-breed children. the island is charmingly situated, a half-mile or more out from the main land, opposite the northern insane hospital; it is a forest of ancient elms, surrounded by a bowlder-strewn beach of some three quarters of a mile in length, and occupied by a summer-hotel establishment. the name "garlic island" does not sound very well for a fashionable resort, so the insular territory has been dubbed "island park" of late; but "garlic" has good staying qualities, and i doubt if they can ever efface the objectionable pioneer title. we had our dinner on the sward near the pier, convenient to a pump, and were entertained by watching the approach of a little steam-launch, loaded with a party of "resorters" who had doubtless been shopping in oshkosh, the smoke from whose chimneys rose above the tree-tops, five miles to the southwest. there were some of the usual types,--the languid southern woman, with her two pouting boys in charge of a rather savage-looking colored nurse, who dragged the little fellows out over the gang-plank, one in each hand, as though they had been bags of flour; a fashionable dame, from some northern metropolis, all ribbons and furbelows, starch and whalebones, accompanied by her willowy daughter of twenty, almost her counterpart as to dress, with a pert young miss of fourteen, in abbreviated gown and overgrown hat, bringing up the rear with the family pug; a dawdling young anglo-maniac sucked the handle of his cane and looked sweetly on the society girl, whose papa, apparently a tired-out broker, in a well made business costume and a wretched straw hat, stayed behind to treat the skipper to a prime cigar and arrange for a fishing excursion. there is a fine view from the island. the hills and cliffs of calumet county, a dozen miles to the east, are dimly visible. toward fond du lac, on the south, the horizon is the lake. south-southwestward, black wolf point runs out, just over the verge, and the tops of the tall trees upon it peep up into view, like shadowy pile-work. westward are the well-kept hospital grounds, fringed with stately elms overhanging the firm, gravelly beach, studded with ice-heaved bowlders, which extends northward to neenah. the view to the north and northeast is delightfully hazy, being now dark with delicate fringes of forest which cap the occasional limestone promontories, and again losing itself in a watery sky-line. we had two pleasant hours at this island-home of the lovely iowatuk, walking around it on the bowldered beach, and reveling in the shade of the grand old elms. by the time we were ready to resume our voyage, the wind had died down, the lake was as smooth as a marble slab, and the sun's rays reflected from it converted the atmosphere to the temperature of a bake-oven. no sooner had we pushed out beyond the deep shadows of the trees than it seemed as though we had at one paddle-stroke shot into the waters of a tropic sea. the awning was at once raised, and served to somewhat mitigate our sufferings, but the dazzling reflection was there still, to the great discomfort of our eyes. after two miles of distress, a bank of light but sharply broken clouds appeared on the northeastern horizon, and soon a gentle breeze brought blessed relief. in a few minutes more, ripples danced upon our starboard quarter, and then the awning had to come down, for it filled like a fixed sail and counteracted the effect of the paddles. the doctor, who, you know full well, never paddles when he can sail, insisted on running up into the wind and spreading the canvas. he was just in time, for a squall struck us as he was adjusting the boom sprit, and nearly sent him overboard while attempting to regain his seat. little black squalls now rapidly succeeded each other, the wind freshening between the gusts; and the doctor, who was the sailing-master, had to exercise rare vigilance, for the breeze was rapidly developing into a young gale, and the ripples had now grown to be by far the largest waves our little craft had yet encountered. the situation began to be somewhat serious, as the clouds thickened and the white-caps broke upon the west beach with a sullen roar. we therefore deemed it advisable to run into a little harbor to the lee of a wooded spit, and hold council. it was a wild, storm-tossed headland, two thirds of the distance down from the island, and the spit was but one of its many points. we landed and made an extended exploration, deeming it possible that we might be obliged to pass the night here; but the result of our discoveries was to discourage any such project. for a half-mile back or more the forest proved to be a tangled swamp, filled with fallen timber and sink-holes, while quicksands lined the harbor where the canoe peacefully rested behind an outlying fringe of gnarled elms. we wandered up and down the gravelly beach, in the spray of the breakers, scrambling over great bowlders and overhanging trunks whose foundations had been sapped by storm-driven floods; but everywhere was the same hard, forbidding scene of desolation, with the angry surface of the lake and the canopy of wind-clouds filling out a picture which, the doctor suggested, could have only been satisfactorily executed in water-colors. in the course of our wanderings, which were sadly destructive to clothes and shoe-leather, we had some comical adventures. the doctor hasn't got over laughing about one of them yet. we came to an apparently shallow lagoon, perhaps three rods wide and a dozen long, beyond which we desired to penetrate. it was bedded with sand and covered with green slime. the doctor had, just before, divested himself of shoes and stockings and rolled his trousers above his knees, in an enthusiastic hunt for a particularly ponderous frog, which he desired to pickle in the cause of science. he playfully offered to carry me across the pool on his back, and thus save me the trouble of imitating his style of undress. with some misgivings as to the result, i finally mounted. we progressed favorably as far as the centre, when suddenly i felt my transport sinking; he gave a desperate lunge as the water suddenly reached his waist, i sprang forward over his head, and losing my balance, sprawled out flat upon the slimy water. i hardly know how we reached firm ground again, but when we did, we were a sorry-looking pair, as you can well imagine. the doctor thought it high sport, as he wrung out his clothes and spread them upon a bowlder to dry, and i tried hard to join in his boisterous hilarity; but somehow, as i scraped the gluey slime from my only canoeing suit, with a bit of old drift shingle, and contemplated the soppy condition of my wardrobe, i know there must have been a tinge of sadness in my gaze. it was too much like being shipwrecked on a desert island. as we sat, clad in rubber coats, sunning ourselves on the lee side of a fallen tree and waiting for our garments to again become wearable, the doctor read to me an article from his medical journal, describing a novel surgical operation on somebody's splintered backbone, copiously illustrating the selection with vivid reports of his own hospital observations in that direction. this sort of thing was well calculated to send the shivers down one's spinal column, but the doctor certainly made the theme quite interesting and the half-hour necessary to the drying process soon passed. by this time it was plain to be seen that the velocity of the wind was not going to increase before sundown, although it had not slacked. we determined to try the sea again, and pushed out through the breakers, with sail close-hauled and baggage canvased. taking a bold offing into the teeth of the gale, we ran out well into the lower lake, and then, on a port tack, had a fine run down to doty's island, which divides the lower fox into two channels. the city of neenah, noted for its flouring and paper mills, is built upon both sides of the southern channel, or neenah river; menasha, with several factories, but apparently less prosperous than the other, guards the north channel,--the twin cities dividing the island between them. the government lock is at menasha, while at neenah there is a fine water-power, with a fall of twelve or fifteen feet,--the "winnebago rapids" of olden time. it was into neenah channel that we came flying so gayly, before the wind. there is a fine park on the mainland shore, with a smartly painted summer hotel and half a dozen pretty cottages that would do credit to a seaside resort. to the right the island is studded with picturesque old elms, shading a closely cropped turf, upon which cattle peacefully graze, while here and there among the trees are old-fashioned white cottages, with green blinds, quite after the style of a sleepy new-england village,--a charming scene of semi-rustic life; while to seaward lake winnebago tosses and rolls, almost to the horizon. doty's is an historic landmark. the rapids here necessitated a portage, and from the earliest times there have been indian villages on the island, more or less permanent in character,--menomonee, fox, and winnebago in turn. as white traffic over the fox-wisconsin watercourse grew, so grew the importance of this village, whatever the tribe of its inhabitants; for the bucks found employment in helping the empty boats over the rapids and in "toting" the goods over the portage-trail. the foxes overreached themselves by setting up as toll-gatherers. it is related--but historians are somewhat misty as to the details--that in the winter of - a french captain, marin by name, was sent out by the governor of new france to chastise the blackmailers. at the head of a large party of french creoles and half-breeds, he ascended the lower fox on snowshoes, surprising the aborigines in their principal village, here at winnebago rapids, and slaughtering them by the hundreds. afterward, this same marin conducted a summer expedition against the foxes. his boats were filled with armed men and covered down with oilcloth, as traders were wont to treat their goods _en voyage_, to escape a wetting. only two men were visible in each boat, paddling and steering. nearly fifteen hundred dusky tax-gatherers were discovered squatting on the beach at the foot of the rapids, awaiting the arrival of the flotilla. the canoes were ranged along the shore. upon a signal being given, the coverings were thrown off and volley after volley of hot lead poured into the mob of unsuspecting savages, a swivel-gun in marin's boat aiding in the slaughter. tradition has it that over a thousand foxes fell in that brutal assault. in another captain of new france, named de louvigny, is reported to have stormed the audacious foxes. they had not, it seems, been exterminated by previous massacres, for five hundred warriors and three thousand squaws are alleged to have been collected within a palisaded fort, somewhere in the neighborhood of these rapids. de louvigny is credited with having captured the fort after a three days' siege, but granted the enemy the honors of war. twelve years later the foxes had again become so troublesome as to need chastisement. this time the agent chosen to command the expedition was de lignery, among whose lieutenants was the noted charles de langlade, wisconsin's first white settler. but the redskins had become wise, after their fashion, and fled before the frenchmen, who found the villages on the fox, lower and upper, deserted. the invaders burned every wigwam and cornfield in sight, from green bay to the portage. this expedition appears to have been followed by others, until the foxes, with the allied sacs, fled the valley, never to return. much of this is traditionary. the widening of the fox below doty's island was called lac petit butte des morts,--"lake little hill of the dead," to distinguish it from the "great hill of the dead," above oshkosh. it has long been claimed that the thousands of foxes who at various times fell victims to these massacres in behalf of the french fur-trade were buried in great pits at petit butte des morts,--near winnebago rapids. but modern investigators lean to the opinion that the "little hill of the dead" was merely an ordinary indian cemetery, and the mound or mounds there are prehistoric tumuli, common enough in the neighborhood of wisconsin lakes. a like conclusion, also, has been arrived at in regard to the grand butte des morts. however, this is something that the archæological committee must settle among themselves. the winnebagoes succeeded the foxes, and doty's island became the seat of their power. the master spirit among them for a quarter of a century previous to the fall of new france was a french fur-trader named de korra or de cora, who had a winnebago "princess" for a squaw. they had a numerous progeny, which de korra left to his wife's charge when called to serve under montcalm in the defence of quebec. he was killed in a sortie, and madame de korra and her brood relapsed into barbarism. one half of the winnebagoes now living are descendants, more or less direct, of this sturdy old fur-trader, and bear his name, which is also perpetuated, with varied orthography, in many a northwestern stream and hamlet. during the first third of the present century hoo-tschope, or four legs, was the dusky magnate at this winnebago capital.[ ] four legs was a cunning rascal, well known to the earliest pioneers, but he at last fell a victim to his greatest enemy, the bottle. last month i was visiting among the winnebagoes around black river falls. desiring to have a "talk" with walking cloud, a wizened-faced redskin of some seventy-two years, i went out with my interpreters over the hills and through the valley of the black, nearly a dozen miles, before i found him and his squatting in their wigwams at the base of a bold bluff, fronted by a lovely bit of vale. cloud's decrepit squaw, blind in one eye and wofully garrulous, hobbled up to us, and sinking to her knees in front of me, held out a dirty, bony hand, with nails like the claws of a bird, murmuring, "give! give!" i dropped a coin into the outstretched palm; she grinned and chattered like an animated skeleton, and crawled away on her witch-like crutch. this was the once far-famed and beautiful princess of the winnebagoes, the winsome champche keriwinke, or flash of lightning, eldest daughter of hoo-tschope. how are the mighty fallen! we portaged around the island end of the neenah dam and met the customary shallows below the obstruction. but soon finding a narrow, rock-imbedded channel, we glided swiftly down the stream, through the thrifty town, past the mills and under the bridges, just as the six o'clock bells had sounded and the factory hands were thronging homeward, their tin dinner-pails glistening in the sun. scores of them stopped to lean over the bridge-rails, and curiously watched us as we threaded the shallows; for canoes long ago ceased to be a daily spectacle at winnebago rapids. little lake butte des morts, just below, is where the river spreads to a full mile in breadth, the average width of the stream being less than one half that. the wind was fair, and we came swooping down into the lake, which is two or three miles long. a half-hour before sunset we hauled up at a high mossy glade on the north shore, and had delightful down-stream glimpses of deep vine-clad, naturally terraced banks, the slopes and summits being generally well wooded. a party of young men and women were having a camp near us. the woods echoed with their laughing shouts. a number, with their chaperone, a lovely and lively old lady, in a white cap with satin ribbons, came down to the shore to inspect our little vessel and question us as to our unusual voyage. we returned the call and played lawn tennis with fair partners, until the fact that we must reach appleton to-night suddenly dawned upon us, and we bade a hasty farewell to our joyous wayside friends. it was a charming run down to appleton, between the park-like banks, which rise to an altitude of fifty feet or more. every now and then a pretty summer residence stands prominently out upon a bluff-head, an architectural gem in a setting of oaks and luxurious pines. at their bases flows the deep flood of the lower fox, black as erebus in the shadows, but smiling brightly in the patchy sunlight, and thickly decked with great bubbles which fairly leap along the course, eager to reach their far-off ocean goal. but swifter by far than the bubbles went our canoe as we set the paddles deeply and bent to our work, for the waters were strange to us, the night was setting in, and appleton must be made. it will not do to traverse these rivers after dark unless well acquainted with the currents, the snags, and the dams, for disaster may readily overtake the unwary. cautiously we now crept along, for in the fast-fading twilight we could just discern the outlines of the appleton paper-mills and a labyrinth of railway bridges, while the air fairly trembled with the mingled roar of water and of mighty gearing. across the rapid stream shot piercing rays from the windows of the electric works, whose dynamos furnish light for the town and power for the street railway. a fisherman, tugging against the current, shouted to us to keep hard on the eastern bank, and in a few minutes more we glided by the stone pier which buttresses the upper dam, and pulled up in a little dead-water cove at the base of the milwaukee and northern railway bridge. the bridge-tender's children came down to meet us; the man himself soon followed; we were permitted to chain up for the night at his pier, and to deposit our bulky baggage in his kitchen; he accompanied us over the long bridge which spans the noisy apron and the rushing race. a misstep between the ties would send one on a short cut to the hereafter, but we safely crossed, ascended two or three steep flights of stairs to the top of the bank, and in a minute or two more were speeding up town to our hotel, aboard an electric street railway car. footnote: [ ] see mrs. kinzie's "wau-bun" for reminiscences of four legs. fifth letter. locked through. little kaukauna, wis., june , . my dear w----: we took an extended stroll around appleton after breakfast. it is a beautiful city,--the gem of the lower fox. the banks are nearly one hundred feet high above the river level. they are deeply cut with ravines. hillside torrents, quickly formed by heavy rains, as quickly empty into the stream, draining the plateau of its superfluous surface water, and in the operation carving these great gulches through the soft clay. and so there are many steep inclines in the appleton highways, and the ravines are frequently bridged by dizzy trestle-works; but the greater part of the city is on a high, level plain, the wealthy dwellers courting the summits of the river banks, where the valley view is panoramic. the little methodist college, with its high-sounding title of lawrence university, is an excellent institution, and said to be growing; it gives a certain scholastic tinge to appleton society, which might otherwise be given up to the worship of mammon, for there is much wealth among the manufacturers who rule the city, and prosperity attends their reign. there is a good natural water-power here, but the fox-wisconsin improvement has made it one of the finest in the world. if the improvement scheme is a flat failure elsewhere, as is beginning to be generally believed, it certainly has been the making of this valley of the lower fox. from lake winnebago down to the mouth, the rapids are frequent, the chief being at neenah, appleton, kaukauna, little kaukauna, and depere. of the twenty-six locks from portage down, seventeen are below our stopping-point of last night; the fall at each, at this stage of water being about twelve feet on the average. each of these locks involves a dam; and when the stream is thus stemmed and all repairs maintained, at the expense of the general government, it is a simple matter to tap the reservoir, carry a race along the bank, and have water-power _ad libitum_. not half the water-power in sight, not a tenth of that possible is used. there is enough here, experts declare, to turn the machinery of the world. no wonder the beautiful valley of the lower fox is rich, and growing richer. it was no holiday excursion to portage around the appleton locks this morning. at none of them could we find the tenders, for the menasha lock being broken, there is no through navigation from oshkosh to green bay this week, and way traffic is slight. we had neglected to furnish ourselves with a tin horn, and the vigorous use of lung power failed to achieve the desired result. the banks being steep and covered with rock chips left by the stone-cutters employed on the work, we had some awkward carries, and felt, as we finally passed the cordon and set out on the straight eastward stretch for kaukauna, that we were earning our daily bread. kaukauna, the grand kackalin of the jesuits and early french traders, is ten miles below appleton. here are the most formidable rapids on the river, the fall being sixty feet, down an irregular series of jagged limestone stairs some half mile in extent. indians, in their light bark canoes and practically without baggage, can, in high water, make the passage, up or down, by closely hugging the deeper and stiller water on the north bank; but the french traders invariably portaged their goods, allowing the voyageurs to carry over the empty boats, the men walking in the water by the side, pushing, hauling, and balancing, amid a stream of oaths from their bourgeois, or master, who remained at his post. i had had an idea that in our little craft we might safely make the venture of a shoot down the stairs, by exercising caution and following the indian channel. but this was previous to arrival. leaving the doctor to guard the canoe from a crowd of kaukauna urchins, who were disposed to be over-familiar with our property, i went down through a boggy field to view the situation. it is a grand sight, looking up from the bottom of the rapids. the water is low, and at every few rods masses of rock project above the seething flood, specimens of what line the channel. the torrent comes down with a mighty roar, lashing itself into a fury of spray and foam as it leaps around and over the obstructions, and takes great lunges from step to step. there are several curves in the basin of the cataract, which add to its artistic effect, while it is deeply fringed by stunted pines and scrub oaks, having but a slender footing in the shallow turf which covers the underlying stratum of limestone. whatever may be the condition of the falls at kaukauna in high water, it is certain that at this stage a canoe would be dashed to splinters quite early in the attempt to scale them. but a portage of half a mile was not to our taste in the torrid temperature we have been experiencing to-day, and we determined to maintain the rights of free navigators by obliging the tenders to put us through the five great locks, which are here necessary to lower vessels from the upper to the lower level. these tenders receive ample compensation, and many of them are notoriously lazy. it is but seldom that they are compelled to exercise their muscles on the gates; for navigation on the fox is spasmodic and unimportant. as i have said in one of my previous letters, even a saw-log has the right of way; and government paid a goodly sum to the speculators from whom it purchased this improvement, that free tollage might be established here for all time. and so it was that, perhaps soured a little by our appleton experience, we determined at last to test the matter and assert the privileges of american citizens on a national highway. on regaining my messmate, we took a general view of kaukauna,--which spreads over the banks and a prairie bottom on both sides of the river, and is a growing, bustling, freshly built little factory town,--and then re-embarked to try our fortune at the lock-gates. heretofore we had considerately portaged every one of these obstructions, except at princeton, where we went through under the "ellen hardy's" wing. a stalwart irishman, in his shirt-sleeves, and smoking a clay pipe with that air of dogged indifference peculiar to so many government officials, leaned over a capstan at the upper lock, and dreamily stared at the approaching canoe. the lock was full, the last boat having passed up a day or two before. the upper gates being open, we pushed in, and took up our station in the centre of the basin, to avoid the "suck" during the emptying process. the doctor took out of the locker a copy of his medical journal and i a novel, and we settled down as though we had come to stay. the irishman's face was at first a picture of dumb astonishment, and then he sullenly picked up his coat from the grass, and began to walk off in the direction of the town. "hi, my friend!" shouted the doctor, good-naturedly. "we are waiting to get locked through." the tender returned a step, his eyes opened wide, his brows knit, and in his wrath he stuttered, "ph-h-a-t! locked through in that theer s-s-k-i-ff? ye're cr-razy, mon!" "oh, not at all. we understand our rights, and wish you to lock us through. and, if you please, we're in something of a hurry." as i said this i consulted my watch, and after returning it to my pocket resumed a vacant gaze upon the outspread leaves of the novel. the tender--for we had guessed rightly; it was the tender--advanced to the edge of the basin, and looked with inexpressible scorn upon our liliputian craft. "now, look here, gints," he said, somewhat more conciliatory, "i've been here for twinty years, an' know the law; an' the law don't admit no skiffs, ye mind y'ur eye. an' the divil a bit of lockage will ye git here, an' mind that!" and then he walked away. we were very patient. the rim of the lock became lined with small boys and smaller girls, for this is saturday, and a school holiday; and there was great wonderment at the men in the canoe, who "were having a bloody old row with barney, the lock-tinder," as one boy vigorously expressed the situation to a bevy of new-comers. by and by barney returned to see if we were still there. we were, and were so abstracted that we did not heed his presence. "will, ye ain't gone yit, i see?" said barney. the doctor roused himself, and pulling out his watch, appeared to be greatly surprised. "i do declare," he ejaculated, "if we haven't been waiting here nearly half an hour! i say, my man, this sort of delay is inexcusable. it will read badly in a report to the engineering bureau. what is your number, sir?" and with a stern expression he produced his tablets, prepared to jot down the numeral. barney was clearly weakening. his return to see if the "bluff" had worked was an evidence of that. the doctor's severe official manner, and our quiet persistence appeared to convince barney that he had made a grave mistake. so he hurried off to the lower capstans, growling something about being "oft'n fooled with fish'n' parties." when we were through we left barney a cigar on the curbing, and gently admonished him never again to be so rude to canoeists, or some day he would get reported. as we pushed off he bade us an affectionate farewell, and said he had sent his "lad" ahead to see that we had no trouble at the four lower locks. we did not see the lad; but certain it is that the other tenders were prompt and courteous, and we felt that the cigars which we distributed along the kaukauna canal were not illy bestowed. progress was slow to-day, owing to the delays in locking. ordinarily, we make from thirty to forty miles,--on the rock, you remember, we averaged forty. but it was nearly sunset when we passed under the old wagon bridge at wrightstown, only seventeen miles below our starting-point of this morning. we paused for a minute or two, to talk with a peaceably disposed lad, who was the sole patron of the bridge and lay sprawled across the board foot-walk, with his head under the railing, fishing as contentedly as though he lay on a grassy bank, after the manner of the gentle izaak. when old mr. wright was around, wrightstown may have been quite a place. but it is now going the way of so many river towns. there is a small, rickety saw-mill in operation, to which farmers from the back country haul in pine logs, of which there are some hundreds neatly piled in an adjoining field. another saw-mill shell is hard by, the home of owls and bats,--a deserted skeleton, whose spirit, in the shape of machinery, has departed to ashland, a more modern paradise of the buzz-saw. the village, dressed in that tone of pearly gray with which kind nature decks those habitations left paintless by neglectful man,--is prettily situated on the high banks which uniformly hedge in the lower fox. on the highest knoll of all is a modest little frame church whose spire--white, after a fashion--is a prominent landmark to river travelers. there are the remains of once well-kept gardens, upon the upper terraces; of somewhat elaborate fences, now swaying to and fro and weak in the knees; of sidewalks which have become pitfalls; of impenetrable thickets of lilacs, hedging lonely spots that once were homes. on the village street, only a few idlers were seen, gathered in knots of two or three in front of the barber shop and the saloons; the smith at his forge was working late, shoeing a country team; and two angular dames, in rusty sun-bonnets, were gossiping over a barn-yard gate. that was all we saw of wrightstown, as we drifted northward in company with the reeling bubbles, down through the deepening shadow cast by the western bank. here and there, where the land chances to slope gently to the water's edge, are small piles of logs, drawn on farm sleds during the winter season from depleted pineries, all the way from three to ten miles back. when wanted at the saw-mills down the river, or just above, at wrightstown, they are loosely made up into small rafts and poled to market. along the stream there are but few pines left, and they generally crown some rocky ledge, not easily accessible. a few small clumps are preserved, however, relics of the forest's former state, to adorn private grounds or enhance the gloomy tone of little hillside cemeteries. there must have been an impressive grandeur about the scenery of the lower fox in the early day, before the woodman's axe leveled the great pines which then swept down in solid rank to the river beach, closely hedging in the dark and rapid flood. we lunched upon a stone terrace, above which swayed in the evening breeze the dense, solemn branches of a giant native, one of the last of his fated race. the channel curved below, and the range of vision was short, between the stately banks, heavily fringed as they are with aspen and scrub-oak. as we sat in the gathering gloom and gayly chatted over the simple adventures which are making up this week of ideal vacation life, there came up from the depths below the steady swish and pant of a river steamboat,--rare object upon our lonesome journey. as the bulky craft came slowly around the bend, the pant became a subdued roar, awakening a dull echo from the wooded slopes. a small knot of passengers lolled around the pilot-house, on which we were just able to discern the name "evalyn, of oshkosh," in burnished gilt; on the freight deck there were bales and boxes of merchandise, and heaps of lumber; two stokers were feeding cord-wood to the furnace flames, which lit the scene with lurid glare, after the fashion of theatric fires; the roustabouts were fastening night lanterns to the rails. the v-shaped wake of her wheelbarrow stern broke upon the shores like a tidal wave, and the canoe, luckily well fastened to the roots of a stranded tree, bobbed up and down as would a chip tossed on the billows. four miles below wrightstown is little kaukauna. there are three or four cottages here, well up on the pleasant western bank, overlooking a deserted saw-mill property; while just beyond, a government lock does duty whenever needed, and the rest of the now broadened stream is stemmed by a magnificent dam, from the foot of which arises a dense cloud of vapor, such is the force of the torrent which pours with a mighty sweep over the great chute. as we stole down upon the hamlet, the moon, a day or two past full, was just rising over the opposite hillocks; a tall pine standing out boldly from its lesser fellows, was weirdly silhouetted across her beaming face, and in the cottage windows lights gleamed a homely welcome. we were cordially received at the house of the patriarch of the settlement. we made our craft secure for the night, "toted" our baggage up the bank, and paused upon the broad porch of our new-found friend to contemplate a most charming moonlit view of river and forest and glade and cataract; the cloud of mist rising high above the roaring declivity seemed as an incense offering to the goddess of the night. sixth letter. the bay settlement. green bay, wis., june , . my dear w----: we had a quiet sunday at little kaukauna. being a delightful day, we went with our entertainers to the country church, a mile or two back across the fields, and whiled away the rest of the time in strolling through the woods and gossiping with the farmers about the crops and the government improvement,--fertile themes. it appears that this diminutive hamlet of four or five houses anticipates a "boom," and there is some feverish anxiety as to how much village lots ought to bring as a "starter" when the rush actually opens. a syndicate has purchased the long-abandoned water-power, and it is whispered that paper-mills are to be erected, with cottages for operatives, and all that sort of thing. then, the church and the depot will have to be brought into town; the proprietor of the cross-roads grocery, now out on the "country road," will be erecting a brick "block" by the river side; somebody will be starting a daily paper, printed from stereotype plates imported from oshkosh or chicago; and a summer resort hotel with a magnetic spring, will doubtless cap the climax of village greatness. i shall look with interest on reports from the little kaukauna boom. it was nine o'clock this morning before we dipped paddle and bore down to the lock gates. the good-natured tender "dropped" us through with much alacrity. the river gradually widens, and here and there the high rolling banks recede for some distance, and marshes and bayous, excellent hunting-grounds, border the stream. a half mile below the lock we noticed a roughly built hut, open at front, such as would quarter a pig in the shanty outskirts of a great city. it looked lonesome, on the edge of a wide bog, with no other sign of habitation, either human or animal, in the watery landscape. curiosity impelled us to stop. crossing a plank, which rested one end on a snag and the other on a stone in front of the three-sided structure, we peered in. a bundle of rags lay in one corner of the floor of loosely laid boards; in another was a heap of clamshells, the contents of which had doubtless been cooked over a little fire which still smouldered in a neighboring clump of reeds. the odors were noisome, and a foot rise of water would have swamped out the dweller in this strange abode. we at once took it for granted that this was either the home of an indian or a tramp. just as we were leaving, however, a frowsy, dirty, but apparently good-tempered fisherman came rowing up and claimed the cabin as his home. he said that he spent the greater part of the year in this filthy hole, hunting or fishing according to the season; in the winter, he boarded up the front, leaving a hole to crawl out of, and banked the hut about with reeds and muck. wrightstown was his market; and he "managed to scratch," he said, by being economical. i asked him how much it cost him in cash to exist in this state, which was but slightly removed from the condition of our ancestral cave-dwellers. he thought that with twenty-five dollars in cash, he could "manage to scratch finely" for an entire year, and have besides "a week off with the boys,"--in other words, one prolonged drinking bout,--at wrightstown. he complained, however, that he seldom received money, being mainly put off with barter. the poor fellow, evidently something of a simpleton, is probably the victim of sharp practice occasionally. as we paddled away from this singular character, the doctor said that he had a novel-writing friend, given to the sensational, to whom he would like to introduce the wild fisherman of little kaukauna; he thought there was material for a romance here, particularly if it could be proved, as was quite possible, that the hut man was the lost heir of a british dukedom. but the site of another and a stranger romance is but half a mile farther down. the river there suddenly broadens into a basin, fully half a mile in width. to the east, the banks are quite abrupt. the westward shore is a gentle, grass-grown slope, stretching up beyond a charming little bay formed by a spit of meadow. near the sandy beach of this bay a country highway passes, winding in and out and up and down, as it follows the river and the bases of the knolls. above this and commanding delightful glimpses of forest and stream and bayou and prairie, a goodly hillock is crowned, some seventy-five feet above the water's edge, with a dark, unpainted, time-worn, moss-grown house, part log and part frame, set in a deep tangle of lilacs and crabs. the quaint old structure is of the simple pioneer pattern,--a story and a half, with gables on the north and south ends of the main part; and a small transverse wing to the rear, with connecting rooms. the ancient picket gate creaks on its one rusty hinge. the front door has the appearance of being nailed up, and across its frame a dozen fat spiders, most successful of fly fishers, have stretched their gluey nets. the path, once leading thither, is now o'ergrown with grass and lilacs, while in the surrounding snarl of weeds and poplar suckers are seen the blossoming remnants of peonies, and a few old-fashioned garden shrubs. the ground is historic. the house is an ancient landmark. it was the old home of eleazar williams, in his day episcopal missionary and pretender to the throne of france. williams was the reputed son of a mixed-blood couple of the mohawk band of indians; in early life, he claimed to have been born in the vicinity of montreal, in . a bright youth, he was educated for the ministry of the protestant episcopal church and sent as a missionary in - to the oneida indians, then located in oneida county, new york. during the war of , he had been employed as a spy by the american authorities to trace the movements of british troops in canada. williams, from the first, became engaged in intrigues among the new york indians, and was the originator of the movement which resulted, in , in the purchase by the war department of a large strip of land from the menomonees and winnebagoes, along the lower fox river, and the removal hither of several of the new york bands, accompanied by the scheming priest. but the result was jealousy between the newcomers and the original tribes, with sixteen years of confusion and turmoil, during which congress was frequently engaged in settling the squabbles that arose. williams's original idea was said, by those who knew him best, to be the "total subjugation of the whole [green bay] country and the establishment of an indian government, of which he was to be sole dictator."[ ] but his purpose failed. he came to be recognized as an unscrupulous fellow, and the majority of the whites and indians on the lower fox, as well as his clerical brethren, regarded him with contempt. in , williams, baffled in every other field of notoriety which he had worked, suddenly posed before the american public as louis xvii., hereditary sovereign of france. upon the downfall of the bourbons in , you will remember that louis xvi. and his queen, marie antoinette, were beheaded, while their son, the dauphin louis, an imbecile child of eight, was cast into the temple tower by the revolutionists. it is officially recorded that after an imprisonment of two years the dauphin died in the tower and was buried. but the story was started and popularly believed, that the real dauphin had been abducted by the royalists and another child cunningly substituted to die there in the dauphin's place. the story went that the dauphin had been sent to america and all traces of him lost, thus giving any adventurer of the requisite age and sufficiently obscure birth, opportunity to seek such honor as might be gained in claiming identity with the escaped prisoner. williams was too young by eight years to be the dauphin; he was clearly of indian extraction,--a fair type of the half-breed, in color, form, and feature. but he succeeded in deceiving a number of good people, including several leading doctors in his church; while an episcopal clergyman named john h. hanson attempted, in two articles in "putnam's magazine," in , and afterwards in an elaborate book, "the lost prince," to prove conclusively to the world that williams was indeed the son of the executed monarch. while those who really knew williams treated his claims as fraudulent, and his dusky father and mother protested under oath that eleazar was their son, and every allegation of williams, in the premises, had been often exposed as false, there were still many who believed in him. the excitement attracted attention in france. one or two royalists came over to see williams, but left disappointed; and louis philippe sent him a present of some finely bound books, believing him to be the innocent victim of a delusion. williams died in , keeping up his absurd pretensions to the last. it was in this house near little kaukauna that williams lived for so many years, managing and preaching to his scattered flock of immigrant indians, and forever seeking some sort of especially profitable employment, such as accompanying tribal delegations to washington, or acting as special commissioner at government payments. in the earliest days, the house was situated on the spit of meadow i have previously spoken of; but when the dam at depere raised the water, the frame was carried to this higher position. williams's wife, an octoroon, whose portrait shows her to have been a thick-set, stolid sort of woman, died here, a year ago, and is buried hard by. the present occupants of the house are mary garritty, an indian woman of sixty-five years, and her half-breed daughter, josephine penney, who in turn has an infant child of two. mary was reared by the williamses, and told us many a curious story of life at the "agency," as she called it, during the time when "mr. williams and ma" were alive. josephine, who confided to me that she was thirty years old, was regularly adopted by mrs. williams, for whose memory both women seem to have a very strong respect. what little personal property was left by the old woman goes to her grandchildren, intelligent and well-educated oshkosh citizens, but josephine has the sandy farm of sixty-five acres. she took me into the attic to exhibit such relics of the alleged dauphin as had not been disposed of by the administrator of the estate. there were a hundred or two mice-eaten volumes, mainly theological and school text-books; several old volumes of sermons,--for eleazar is said to have considered it better taste in him to copy a discourse from an approved authority than to endeavor to compose one that would not satisfy him half as well; a boxful of manuscript odds and ends, chiefly letters, indian glossaries and copied sermons; two or three leather-bound trunks, a copper tea-kettle used by him upon his long boat journeys, and a pair of antiquated brass candlesticks. then we descended to the old orchard. mary pointed out the spot, a rod or two south of the dwelling, where williams had his library and mission-office in a log-house that has long since been removed for firewood. in this cabin, which had floor dimensions of fifteen by twenty feet, williams met his indian friends and transacted business with them. mary, in her querulous tone, said that in those days the place abounded with indians, night and day, and as they always expected to be fed, she had her hands full attending to their wants. "there wa'n't no peace at all, sir, so long as mr. williams were here; when he were gone there wa'n't so many of them, an' we got a rest, which i were mighty thankful for." garrulous mary, in her moccasins and blanket skirt, with a complexion like brown parchment and as wrinkled,--almost a full-blood herself,--has lived so long apart from her people that she appears to have forgotten her race, and inveighed right vigorously against the unthrifty and beggarly habits of the aborigines. "i hate them pesky indians," she cried in a burst of righteous indignation, and then turned to croon over josephine's baby, as veritable a "little indian boy" as i ever met with in a forest wigwam. "he's a fine feller, isn't he?" she cried, as she chucked her grandson under the chin; "some says as he looks like mr. williams, sir." the doctor, who is a judge of babies, declared, in a professional tone that did not admit of contradiction, that the infant was, indeed, a fine specimen of humanity. and thus we left the two women in a most contented frame of mind, and descended to the beach, bearing with us josephine's parting salute, shouted from the garden gate,--"call agin, whene'er ye pass this way!" depere is five miles below. the banks are bold as far as there; but beyond, they flatten out into gently sloping meadows, varied here and there by the re-approach of a high ridge on the eastern shore,--the western getting to be quite marshy by the time fort howard is reached. at depere are the first rapids of the fox, the fall being about twelve feet. from the earliest period recorded by the french explorers, there was a polyglot indian settlement upon the portage-trail, and in december, , the jesuit missionary allouez established st. francis xavier mission here, the locality being henceforth styled "rapide des peres." it was from this station that allouez, dablon, joliet, and marquette started upon their memorable canoe voyages up the fox, in search of benighted heathen and the mississippi river. for over a century rapide des peres was a prominent landmark in northwestern history. the depere of to-day is a solid-looking town, with an iron furnace, saw-mills, and other industries; and after a long period of stagnation is experiencing a healthy business revival. unable to find the tender at this the last lock on our course, we portaged after the manner of old-time canoeists, and set out upon the home stretch of six miles. green bay, upon the eastern bank and fort howard upon the western, were well in view; and, it being not past two o'clock in the afternoon of a cool and somewhat cloudy day, we allowed the current to be our chief propeller, only now and then using the paddles to keep our bark well in the main current. the many pretty residences of south green bay, including the ruins of navarino, astor, and shanty town, are situated well up on an attractive sloping ridge; but the land soon drops to an almost swampy level, upon which the greater portion of the business quarter is built. opposite, fort howard with her mills and coal-docks skirts a wide-spreading bog, much of the flat, sleepy old town being built on a foundation of saw-mill offal. historically, both sides of the river may be practically treated as the old "bay settlement" for two and a half centuries one of the most conspicuous outposts of american civilization. here came savage-trained nicolet, exploring agent of champlain, in , when plymouth colony was still in swaddling-clothes. it was the day when the china sea was supposed to be somewhere in the neighborhood of the great lakes. nicolet had heard that at green bay he would meet a strange people, who had come from beyond "a great water" to the west. he was therefore prepared to meet here a colony of chinamen or japanese, if indeed green bay were not the orient itself. his mistake was a natural one. the "strange people" were winnebago indians. a branch of the dakotahs, or sioux, a distinct race from the algonquins, they forced themselves across the mississippi river, up the wisconsin, and down the fox, to green bay, entering the algonquin territory like a wedge, and forever after maintaining their foothold upon this interlocked water highway. "the great water," supposed by nicolet to mean the china sea, was the mississippi river, beyond which barrier the dakotah race held full sway. as he approached, one of his huron guides was sent forward to herald his coming. landing near the mouth of the river, he attired himself in a gorgeous damask gown, decorated with gayly colored birds and flowers, expecting to meet mandarins who would be similarly dressed. a horde of four or five thousand naked savages greeted him. he advanced, discharging the pistols which he held in either hand, and women and children fled in terror from the manitou who carried with him lightning and thunder. the mouth of the fox was always a favorite rallying-point for the savages of this section of the northwest, and many a notable council has been held here between tribes of painted red men and jesuits, traders, explorers, and military officers. being the gateway of one of the two great routes to the mississippi, many notable exploring and military expeditions have rested here; and french, english, and americans in turn have maintained forts to protect the interests of territorial possession and the fur-trade. here it was that a white man first set foot on wisconsin soil; and here, also, in , the de langlades, first permanent settlers of the badger state, reared their log cabins and initiated a semblance of white man's civilization. green bay, now hoary with age, has had an eventful, though not stirring history. for a hundred years she was a distributing-point for the fur-trade. the descendants of the de langlades, the grignons and other colonists of nearly a century and a half standing, are still on the spot; and the gossip of the hour among the _voyageurs_ and old traders still left among us is of john jacob astor, ramsay crooks, robert stuart, major twiggs, and other characters of the early years of our century, whose names are well known to frontier history. the creole quarter of this ancient town, shiftless and improvident to-day as it always has been, lives in an atmosphere hazy with poetic glamour, reveling in the recollection of a once festive, half-savage life, when the _courier de bois_ and the _engagé_ were in the ascendency at this forest outpost, and the fur-trade the be-all and end-all of commercial enterprise. your _voyageur_, scratching a painful living for a hybrid brood from his meager potato patch, bemoans the day when yankee progressiveness dammed the fox for yankee saw-mills, into whose insatiable maws were swept the forests of his youth, and remembers nought but the sweets of his early calling among his boon companions, the denizens of the wilderness. in shanty town, astor, and navarino there yet remain many dwellings and trading warehouses of the olden time,--unpainted, gaunt, poverty-stricken, but with their hand-hewed skeletons of oak still intact beneath the rags of a century's decay. a hundred years is a period quite long enough in our land to warrant the brand of antiquity, although a mere nothing in the prolonged career of the old world. in the rapidly developing west, a hundred years and less mark the gap between a primeval wilderness and a complete civilization. time, like space, is, after all, but comparative. in these hundred years the northwest has developed from nothing to everything. it is as great a period, judging by results, as ten centuries in europe,--perhaps fifteen. america is said to have no history. on the contrary, it has the most romantic of histories; but it has lived faster and crowded more and greater deeds into the past hundred years than slow-going europe in the last ten hundred. the american centenarian of to-day is older by far than the fabled methuselah. green bay, classic in her shanty ruins, has been somewhat halting in her advance, for the creoles hamper progressiveness. but as the _voyageurs_ and their immediate progeny gradually pass away, the community creeps out from the shadow of the past and asserts itself. the ancient town appears to be taking on a new and healthy growth, in strange contrast to the severe and battered architecture of frontier times. socially, green bay is delightful. there are many old families, whose founders were engaged in superintending the fur-trade and transportation lines, or holding government office, civil or military, at the wilderness post. this element, well educated and reared in comfort, gives a tone of dignified, old-school hospitality to the best society,--it is the knickerbocker colony of the bay settlement. at four o'clock we pushed into a canal in front of the fort howard railway depot, and half an hour later had crossed the bridge and were registered at a green bay hotel. the doctor, called home to resume the humdrum of his hospital life, will leave for the south to-morrow noon. i shall remain here for a week, reposing in the shades of antiquity. footnote: [ ] wis. hist. colls., vol. ii. p. . the wisconsin river. the wisconsin river. chapter i. alone in the wilderness. our watches, for a wonder, coincided on monday afternoon, aug. , . this phenomenon is so rare that w---- made a note in her diary to the effect that for once in its long career my time-piece was right. it was five minutes past two. the place was the beach at portage, just below the old red wagon-bridge which here spans the gloomy wisconsin. a teamster had hauled us, our canoe, and our baggage from the depot to the verge of a sand-bank; and we had dragged our faithful craft down through a tangle of sand-burrs and tin cans to the water's edge, and packed the locker for its third and final voyage of the season. a german housewife, with red kerchief, cap, and tucked-up skirt, stood out in the water on the edge of a gravel-spit, engaged in her weekly wrestle with the family wash,--a picturesque, foreign-looking scene. on the summit of a sandy promontory to our left, two other german housewives leaned over a pig-yard fence and gazed intently down at these strange preparations. back of us were the wooded sand-drifts of portage, once a famous camping-ground of the winnebagoes; before us, the dark, treacherous river, with its shallows and its mysterious depths; beyond that, great stretches of sand-fields thick-strewn with willow forests and, three or four miles away, the forbidding range of the baraboo bluffs, veiled in the heavy mist which was rapidly closing upon the valley. we feared that we were booked for a stormy trip, as we pushed out into the bubble-strewn current and found that a cold east wind was blowing over the flats and rowing-jackets were essential. portage city, a town of twenty-five hundred inhabitants, occupies the southeastern bank for a mile down. like green bay and prairie du chien, it was an outgrowth of the necessities of the early fur-trade. upon the death of that trade it languished and for a generation or two was utterly stagnant. as a rural trading centre it has since grown into a state of fair prosperity, although the presence of many of the old-time buildings of the indian traders and transporters gives to much of the town a sadly decayed appearance. for two or three miles we had portage in view, down a straight course, until at last the thickening mist hid the time-worn houses from view, and we were fairly on our way down the historic wisconsin, in the wake of joliet and marquette, who first traversed this highway to the mississippi, two hundred and fourteen years ago. marquette, in the journal of his memorable voyage, says of the wisconsin, "it is very broad, with a sandy bottom, forming many shallows, which render navigation very difficult." the river has been frequently described in the journals of later voyagers, and government engineers have written long reports upon its condition, but they have not bettered marquette's comprehensive phrase. the general government has spent enormous sums in an endeavor to make the fox-wisconsin water highway practicable for the passage of large steam-vessels between the great lakes and the mississippi river. it was of great service, in its natural state, for the passage into the heart of the continent of that motley procession of priests, explorers, cavaliers, soldiers, trappers, and traders who paddled their canoes through here for nearly two hundred years, the pioneers of french, english, and american civilization in turn. it is still a tempting scheme, to tap the main artery of america, and allow modern vessels of burden to make the circuit between the lakes and the gulf. the fox river is reasonably tractable, although this season the stage of water above berlin has been hardly high enough to float a flat-boat. but the wisconsin remains, despite the hundreds of wing-dams which line her shores, a fickle jade upon whom no reliance whatever can be placed. the current and the sand-banks shift about at their sweet will over a broad valley, and the pilot of one season would scarcely recognize the stream another. navigation for crafts drawing over a foot of water is practically impossible in seasons of drought, and uncertain in all. a noted engineer has playfully said that the wisconsin can never be regulated, "until the bottom is lathed and plastered;" and another officially reported, over fifteen years ago, that nothing short of a continuous canal along the bank, from portage to prairie du chien, will suffice to meet the expectations of those who favor the government improvement of this impossible highway. in the neighborhood of portage, the wing-dams,--composed of mattresses of willow boughs, weighted with stone,--are in a reasonable degree of preservation and in places appear to be of some avail in contracting the channel. but elsewhere down the river, they are generally mere hindrances to canoeing. the current, as it caroms from shore to shore, pays but little heed to these obstructions and we often found it swiftest over the places where black lines of willow twigs bob and sway above the surface of the rushing water; while the channel staked out by the engineers was the site of a sand-field, studded with aspen-brush. it is a lonely run of an hour and a half down to the mouth of the baraboo river, through the mazes of the wing-dams, surrounded by desolate bottom lands of sand and wooded bog. the east wind had brought a smart shower by the time we had arrived off the mouth of this northern tributary and we hauled up at a low, forested bank just below the junction, where rubber coats were brought out and canvas spread over the stores. the rain soon settled into a mere drizzle, and w----, ever eager in her botanical researches, wandered about regardless of wet feet, investigating the flora of the locality. the yellow sneeze-weed and purple iron-weed predominate in great clumps upon the verge of the bank, and lend a cheerful tone to what would otherwise be a desolate landscape. the drizzle finally ceasing, we were again afloat, and after shooting by scores of wing-dams that had been "snowed under" by shifting sand, and floating over others that were in the heart of the present channel, we came to dekorra, some seven miles below portage. dekorra is a quaint little hamlet, with just five weather-worn houses and a blacksmith-shop in sight, nestled in a hollow at the base of a bluff on the southern bank. the river courses at its feet, and from the top of a naked cliff a ferry-wire stretches high above the stream and loses itself among the trees on the opposite bottoms. the east wind whistled a pretty note as it was split by the swaying thread, and the anvil by the smith's forge rang out in unison, clear as a well-toned bell. a crude cemetery, apparently containing far more graves than dekorra's present census would show inhabitants, flanks the faded-out settlement on the shoulder of an adjoining hill. the road to the tattered ferry-boat, rotting on the beach, gave but little evidence of recent use, for dekorra is a relic. the valley of the wisconsin is from three to five miles broad, flanked on either side, below the portage, by an undulating range of imposing bluffs, from one hundred and fifty to three hundred and fifty feet in height. they are heavily wooded, as a rule, although there is much variety,--pleasant grass-grown slopes; naked, water-washed escarpments, rising sheer above the stream; terraced hills, with eroded faces, ascending in a regular succession of benches to the cliff-like tops; steep uplands, either covered with a dense and regular growth of forest, or shattered by fire or tornado. the ravines and pocket-fields between the bluffs are often of exceeding beauty, especially when occupied by a modest little village,--or better, by some small settler, whose outlet to the country beyond the edge of his mountain basin may be seen threading the woodlands which tower above him, or zigzagging through a neighboring pass, worn deep by some impatient spring torrent in a hurry to reach the river level. between these ranges stretches a wide expanse of bottoms, either bog or sand plain, over all of which the river flows at high water, and through which the swift current twists and bounds like a serpent in agony, constantly cutting out new channels and filling up the old, obeying laws of its own, ever defying the calculations of pilots and engineers. as it thus sweeps along, wherever its fancy listeth, here to-day and there to-morrow, it forms innumerable islands which greatly add to the picturesqueness of the view. now and then there are two or three parallel channels, running along for miles before they join, perplexing the traveler with a labyrinth of water paths. these islands are often mere sandbars, sometimes as barren as sahara, again thick-grown with willows and seedling aspens; but for the most part they are well-wooded, their banks gay with the season's flowers, and luxuriant vines hanging in deep festoons from the trees which overhang the flood. at their heads, often high up among the branches of the elms, are great masses of driftwood, the remains of shattered lumber-rafts or saw-mill offal from the great northern pineries, evidencing the height of the spring flood which so often converts the wisconsin into an amazon. because of this spreading habit of the stream, the few villages along the way are planted on the higher land at the base of the bluffs, or on an occasional sandy pocket-plateau which the river, as in ages past it has worn its bed to lower levels, has left high and dry above present overflows. some of these towns, in their fear of floods, are situated two or three miles back from the water highway; others, where the channel chances to closely hug a line of bluffs, are directly abutting the river, which is crossed at such points by either a ferry or a toll-bridge. desolate as is the prospect from dekorra's front door, we found the limestone cliff there, a mine of attractiveness. the river has worn miniature caves and grottoes in its base; at the mouths of several of these there are little rocky beaches, whose overhanging walls are flecked with ferns, lichens, and graceful columbines. at six o'clock that evening, in the midst of a dispiriting scotch mist, we disembarked upon the northern bank, at the foot of a wooded bluff, and prepared to settle for the night. fortunately, we had advance knowledge of the sparseness of settlement along the river, and had come with a tent and a cooking outfit, prepared for camping in case of need. upon a rocky bench, fifty feet up from the water, we stretched a rope between two trees, to serve in lieu of a ridge-pole, and pitched our canvas domicile. it was a lonesome spot which we had chosen for our night's halt. owing to the configuration of the bluffs, it was unlikely that any person dwelt within a mile of us on our shore. across the valley, we looked over several miles of bottom woods, while far up on the opposite slopes could just be discerned the gables of two white farm-houses, peering out from a wilderness of trees stretching far and wide, till its limits were lost in the gathering fog. it was pitchy dark by the time we had completed our camping arrangements, and w---- announced that the coffee was boiling over. i fancy we two must have presented a rather forlorn appearance, as we crouched at our evening meal around the sputtering little fire, clad in heavy jackets and rubber coats, for the atmosphere was raw and clammy. the wood was wet, and the shifting gusts would persist in blowing the smoke in our eyes, whichever position we took. every falling bough, or rustle of a water-laden sapling, was suggestive of tramps or of inquisitive hogs or cattle, for we knew not what neighbors we had; many a time we paused, and peering out into the black night, listened intently for further developments. and then the strange noises from the river, unnoticed during daylight, were not conducive to mental ease, when we nervously associated them with roving fishermen, or perhaps tramps, attracted by our light from the opposite shore. sometimes we felt positive that we heard the muffled creak of oars, fast approaching; then would come loud splashes and gurgles, and ever and anon it would seem as if some one were slapping the water with a board. now near, now far away, approaching and receding by turns, these mysterious sounds continued through the night, occasionally relieved by moments of absolute silence. we afterward discovered that these were the customary refrains sung by the gay tide, as it washed over the wing-dams, swished around the sandbanks, and dashed against great snags and island heads. but we did not know this then, and a certain uneasy lonesomeness overcame us as strangers to the scene; and i must confess that, despite our philosophizing, there was but little sleep for us that first camp out. a neglect to procure straw to soften our rocky couches, and a woful insufficiency of bed-clothing for a phenomenally cold august night, added to our manifold discomforts. chapter ii. the last of the sacs. dawn came at five, and none too soon. but after thawing out over the breakfast fire and draining the coffee-pot dry, we were wondrously rejuvenated; and as we struck camp, were right merry between ourselves over the foolish nervousness of the night. there was still a raw northwest wind, but the clouds soon broke, and when, at half-past six, we again pushed out into the swift-flowing stream, it was evident that the day would be bright and comfortably cool. we had some splendid vistas of bluff-girt scenery this morning, especially near merrimac, where some of the elevations are the highest along the river. there are a score of houses at merrimac, which is the point where the chicago and northwestern railway crosses, over an immense iron bridge feet long, spanning two broad channels and the sand island which divides them. the village is on a rolling plateau some fifty feet above the water level, on the northern side. climbing up to the bridge-tender's house, that one-armed veteran of the spans, whose service here is as old as the bridge, told me that it was seldom indeed the river highway was used in these days. "the railroads kill this here water business," he said. i found the tender to be something of a philosopher. most bridge-tenders and fishermen, and others who pursue lonely occupations and have much spare time on their hands, are philosophers. that their speculations are sometimes cloudy does not detract from their local reputation of being deep thinkers. the merrimac tender was given to geology, i found, and some of his ideas concerning the origin of the bluffs and the glacial streaks, and all that sort of thing, would create marked attention in any scientific journal. he had some original notions, too, about the habits of the stream above which he had almost hourly walked, day and night, the seasons round, for sixteen long years. the ice invariably commenced to form on the bottom of the river, he stoutly claimed, and then rose to the surface,--the ingenious reason given for this remarkable phenomenon being that the underlying sand was colder than the water. these and other novel results of his observation, our philosophical friend good-humoredly communicated, together with scraps of local tradition regarding the black hawk war, and lurid tales of the old lumber-raft days. at last, however, his hour came for walking the spans, and we descended to our boat. as we shot into the main channel, far above us a red flag fluttered from the draw, and we knew it to be the parting salute of the grizzled sentinel. at the head of an island half a mile below, it is said there are the remains of an indian fort. we landed with some difficulty, for the current sweeps by its wooded shore with particular zest. our examination of the locality, however, revealed no other earth lines than might have been formed by a rushing flood. but as a reward for our endeavors, we found the lobelia cardinalis in wonderful profusion, mingled in striking contrast of color with the iron and sneeze weeds, and the common spurge. the prickly ash, with its little scarlet berry, was common upon this as upon other islands, and the elms were of remarkable size. we were struck, as we passed along where the river chanced to wash the feet of steepy slopes, with the peculiar ridging of the turf. the water having undermined these banks, the friable soil upon their shoulders had slid, regularly breaking the sod into long horizontal strips a foot or two wide, the white sand gleaming between the rows of rusty green. sometimes the shores were thus striped with zebra-like regularity for miles together, presenting a very singular and artificial appearance. prominent features of the morning's voyage, also, were deep bowlder-strewn and often heavily wooded ravines running down from the bluffs. although perfectly dry at this season, it can be seen that they are the beds of angry torrents in the spring, and many a poor farmer's field is deeply cut with such gulches, which rapidly grow in this light soil as the years go on. we stopped at one such farm, and walked up the great breach to very near the house, up to which we clambered, over rocks and through sand-burrs and thickets, being met at the gate by a noisy dog, that appeared to be suspicious of strangers who approached his master's castle by means of the covered way. the farmer's wife, as she supplied us with exquisite dairy products, said that the metes and bounds of their little domain were continually changing; four acres of their best meadow had been washed out within two years, their wood-lot was being gradually undermined, and the ravine was eating into their ploughed land with the persistence of a cancer. on the other hand, her sister's acres, down the river a mile or two, on the other bank, were growing in extent. however, she thought their "luck would change one of these seasons," and the river swish off upon another tangent. upon returning by the gully, we found that its sunny, sloping walls, where not wooded with willows and oak saplings, were resplendent with floral treasures, chief among them being the gerardia, golden-rod in several varieties, tall white asters, a blue lobelia, and vervain, while the seeds of the oswego tea, prairie clover, bed-straw, and wild roses were in all the glory of ripeness. there was a broad, pebbly beach at the base of the torrent's bed, thick-grown with yearling willows. a stranded pine-log, white with age and worn smooth by a generation of storms, lay firmly imbedded among the shingle. the temperature was still low enough to induce us to court the sunshine, and, leaning against this hoary castaway from the far north, we sat for a while and basked in the radiant smiles of sol. prairie du sac, thirty miles below portage, is historically noted as the site for several generations of the chief village of the sac indians. some of the earliest canoeists over this water-route, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, describe the aboriginal community in some detail. the dilapidated white village of to-day numbers but four hundred and fifty inhabitants,--about one-fourth of the population assigned to the old red-skin town. the "prairie" is an oak-opening plateau, more or less fertile, at the base of the northern range of bluffs, which here takes a sudden sweep inland for three or four miles. the sacs had deserted this basin plain by the close of the eighteenth century, and taken up their chief quarters in the neighborhood of rock island, near the mouth of rock river, in close proximity to their allies, the foxes, who now kept watch and ward over the west bank of the mississippi. by a strange fatality it chanced that in the last days of july, , the deluded sac leader, black hawk, flying from the wrath of the illinois and wisconsin militiamen, under henry and dodge, chose this seat of the ancient power of his tribe to be one of the scenes of that fearful tragedy which proved the death-blow to sac ambition. black hawk, after long hiding in the morasses of the rock above lake koshkonong, suddenly flew from cover, hoping to cross the wisconsin river at prairie du sac, and by plunging across the mountainous country over a trail known to the winnebagoes, who played fast and loose with him as with the whites, to get beyond the mississippi in quiet, as he had been originally ordered to do. his retreat was discovered when but a day old; and the militiamen hurried on through the jefferson swamps and the forests of the four lake country, harrying the fugitives in the rear. at the summit of the wisconsin heights, on the south bank, overlooking this old sac plain on the north, black hawk and his rear-guard stood firm, to allow the women and children and the majority of his band of two thousand to cross the intervening bottoms and the island-strewn river. the unfortunate leader sat upon a white horse on the summit of the peak now called by his name, and shouted directions to his handful of braves. the movements of the latter were well executed, and black hawk showed good generalship; but the militiamen were also well handled, and had superior supplies of ammunition, so when darkness fell the fated ravine and the wooded bottoms below were strewn with indian bodies, and victory was with the whites. during the night the surviving fugitives, now ragged, foot-sore, and starving, crossed the river by swimming. a party of fifty or so, chiefly non-combatants, made a raft, and floated down the wisconsin, to be slaughtered near its mouth by a detail of regulars and winnebagoes from prairie du chien; but the mass of the party flying westward in hot haste over the prairie of the sacs, headed for the mississippi. they lined their rugged path with the dead and dying victims of starvation and despair, and a sorry lot these people were when the bad axe was finally reached, and the united army of regulars and militiamen under atkinson, henry, and dodge, overtook them. the "battle" there was a slaughter of weaklings. but few escaped across the great river, and the bloodthirsty sioux despatched nearly all of those. black hawk was surrendered by the servile winnebagoes, and after being exhibited in the eastern cities, he was turned over to the besotted keokuk for safe-keeping. he died, this last of the sacs, poor, foolish old man, a few years later; and his bones, stolen for an iowa museum, were cremated twenty years after in a fire which destroyed that institution. a sad history is that of this once famous people. we glory over the stately progress of the white man's civilization, but if we venture to examine with care the paths of that progress, we find our imperial chariot to be as the car of juggernaut. the view from the house verandas which overhang the high bank at prairie du sac, is superb. eastward a half mile away, the grand, corrugated bluffs of black hawk and the sugar loaf tower to a height of over three hundred feet above the river level; while their lesser companions, heavily forested, continue the range, north and south, as far as the eye can reach. the river crosses the foreground with a majestic sweep, while for several miles to the west and southwest stretches the wooded plain, backed by a curved line of gloomy hills which complete the rim of the basin. a mile below, on the same plain, is sauk city, a shabby town of about a thousand inhabitants. a spur track of the chicago, milwaukee, and st. paul railway runs up here from mazomanie, crossing the river, which is nearly half a mile wide, on an iron bridge. a large and prosperous brewery appears to be the chief industry of the place. slaughter-houses abut upon the stream, in the very centre of the village. these and the squalid back-door yards which run down to the bank do not make up an attractive picture to the canoeist. river towns differ very much in this respect. some of them present a neat front to the water thoroughfare, with flower-gardens and well-kept yards and street-ends, while others regard the river as a sewer and the banks as a common dumping ground, giving the traveler by boat a view of filth, disorder, and general unsightliness which is highly repulsive. i have often found, on landing at some villages of this latter class, that the dwellings and business blocks which, riverward, are sad spectacles of foulness and unthrift, have quite pretentious fronts along the land highway which the townsfolk patronize. it is as if some fair dame, who prided herself on her manners and costume, had rags beneath her fine silks, and unwashed hands within her dainty gloves. this coming in at the back door of river towns reveals many a secret of sham. it was a fine run down to arena ferry, thirteen miles below sauk city. the skies had become leaden and the atmosphere gray, and the sparse, gnarled poplars on some of the storm-swept bluffs had a ghostly effect. here and there, fires had blasted the mountainous slopes, and a light aspen growth was hastening to garb with vivid green the blackened ruins. but the general impression was that of dark, gloomy forests of oak, linden, maple, and elms, on both upland and bottom; with now and then a noble pine cresting a shattered cliff. there were fitful gleams of sunshine, during which the temperature was as high as could be comfortably tolerated; but the northwest wind swept sharply down through the ravines, and whenever the heavens became overcast, jackets were at once essential. the islands became more frequent, as we progressed. many of them are singularly beautiful. the swirling current gradually undermines their bases, causing the trees to topple toward the flood, with many graceful effects of outline, particularly when viewed above the island head. and the colors, too, at this season, are charmingly variegated. the sapping of a tree's foundations brings early decay; and the maples, especially, are thus early in the season gay with the autumnal tints of gold and wine and purple, objects of striking beauty for miles away. under the arches of the toppling trees, and inside the lines of snags which mark the islet's former limits, the current goes swishing through, white with bubbles and dancing foam. crouching low, to escape the twigs, one can have enchanting rides beneath these bowers, and catch rare glimpses of the insulated flora on the swift-passing banks. the stately spikes of the cardinal lobelia fairly dazzle the eye with their gleaming color; and great masses of brilliant yellow sneeze-weed and the deep purple of the iron-weed present a symphony which would delight a disciple of whistler. thus are the islands ever being destroyed and new ones formed. those bottom lands, over there, where great forests are rooted, will have their turn yet, and the buffeted sand-bars of to-day given a restful chance to become bottoms. the game of shuttlecock and battledoor has been going on in this dark and awesome gorge since heaven knows when. man's attempt to control its movements seem puny indeed. at six o'clock that evening we had arrived at the st. paul railway bridge at helena. the tender and his wife are a hospitable couple, and we engaged quarters in their cosy home at the southern end of the bridge. mrs. p---- has a delightful flower-garden, which looks like an oasis in the wilderness of sand and bog thereabout. twenty-three years ago, when these worthy people first took charge of the bridge, the earth for this walled-in beauty spot was imported by rail from a more fertile valley than the wisconsin; and here the choicest of bulbs and plants are grown with rare floricultural skill, and the trainmen all along the division are resplendent in button-hole bouquets, the year round, products of the bridge-house bower at helena. w---- and mrs. p---- at once struck up an enthusiastic botanical friendship. bridge houses are generally most forlorn specimens of railway architecture, and have a barricaded look, as though tramps were altogether too frequent along the route, and occasionally made trouble for the watchers of the ties. this one, originally forbidding enough, has been transformed into a winsome vine-clad home, gay with ivies, madeira vines, and passion, moon, and trumpet flowers, covering from view the professional dull green affected by "the company's" boss painter. the made garden, to one side, was choking with a wealth of bedding plants and greenhouse rarities of every hue and shape of blossom and leaf. a dozen feet below the railroad level, spread wide morasses and sand patches, thick grown with swamp elms and willows. down the track, a half mile to the south, helena's fifty inhabitants are grouped in a dozen faded dwellings. three miles westward, across the river, is the pretty and flourishing village of spring green. it is needless to say that in the isolated home of these lovers of flowers, we had comfortable quarters. w---- said that it was very much like putting up at rudder grange. chapter iii. a panoramic view. the fog on the river was so thick, next morning, that objects four rods away were not visible. to navigate among the snags and shallows under such conditions was impossible. but w---- closely investigated the garden while waiting for the mist to rise, and mr. p---- entertained me with intelligent reminiscences of his long experience here. it had been four years, he said, since he last swung the draw for a river craft. that was a small steamboat attempting to make the passage, on what was considered a good stage of water, from portage to the mouth. she spent two weeks in passing from arena to lone rock, a distance of twenty-two miles, and was finally abandoned on a sand-bank for the season. he doubted whether he would have occasion again to swing the great span. as for lumber rafts, but three or four small ones had passed down this year, for the railroads were transporting the product of the great mills on the upper wisconsin, about as cheap as it could be driven down river and with far less risk of disaster. the days of river traffic were numbered, he declared, and the little towns that had so long been supported by the raftsmen, on their long and weary journey from the northern pineries to the hannibal and st. louis markets, were dying of starvation. i questioned our host as to his opinion of the value of the fox-wisconsin river improvement. he was cautious at first, and claimed that the money appropriated had "done a great deal of good to the poor people along the line." closer inquiry developed the fact that these poor people had been employed in building the wing dams, for which local contracts had been let. when his opinion of the value of these dams was sought, mr. p---- admitted that the general opinion along the river was, that they were "all nonsense," as he put it. contracts had been let to tom, dick, and harry, in the river villages, who had made a show of work, in the absence of inspectors, by sinking bundles of twigs and covering them with sand. stone that had been hauled to the banks, to weight the mattresses, had remained unused for so long that popular judgment awarded it to any man who was enterprising enough to cart it away; thus was many a barn foundation hereabouts built out of government material. sand-ballasted wing-dams built one season were washed out the next; and so government money has been recklessly frittered away. such sort of management is responsible for the loose morality of the public concerning anything the general government has in hand. a man may steal from government with impunity, who would be socially ostracized for cheating his neighbor. there exists a popular sentiment along this river, as upon its twin, the fox, that government is bound to squander about so much money every year in one way or another, and that the denizens of these two valleys are entitled to their share of the plunder. one honest captain on the fox said to me, "if it wa'n't for this here appropriation, wisconsin wouldn't get her proportion of the public money what each state is regularly entitled to; so i think it's necessary to keep this here scheme a-goin', for to get our dues; of course the thing ain't much good, so far as what is claimed for it goes, but it keeps money movin' in these valleys and makes times easier,--and that's what guvment's for." the honest skipper would have been shocked, probably, if i had called him a socialist, for a few minutes after he was declaiming right vigorously against herr most and the chicago anarchists. it was half-past nine before the warmth of the sun's rays had dissipated the vapor, and we ventured to set forth. it proved to be an enchanting day in every respect. a mile or so below the bridge we came to the charming site, on the southern bank, at the base of a splendid limestone bluff, of the village of old helena, now a nameless clump of battered dwellings. there is a ferry here and a wooden toll-bridge in process of erection. the naked cliff, rising sheer above the rapid current, was, early in this century, utilized as a shot tower. there are lead mines some fifteen miles south, that were worked nearly fifty years before wisconsin became even a territory; and hither the pigs were, as late as , laboriously drawn by wagons, to be precipitated down a rude stone shaft built against this cliff, and thus converted into shot. much of the lead used by the indians and white trappers of the region came from the helena tower, and its product was in great demand during the black hawk war in . the remains of the shaft are still to be seen, although much overgrown with vines and trees. old helena, in the earlier shot-tower days, was one of the "boom" towns of "the howling west." but the boom soon collapsed, and it was a deserted village even at the time of the black hawk disturbance. after the battle of wisconsin heights, opposite prairie du sac, the white army, now out of supplies, retired southwest to blue mound, the nearest lead diggings, for recuperation. spending a few days there, they marched northwest to helena. the logs and slabs which had been used in constructing the shanties here were converted into rafts, and upon them the wisconsin was crossed, the operation consuming two days. a few miles north, black hawk's trail, trending westward to the bad axe, was reached, and soon after that came the final struggle. we found many groups of pines, this morning, in the amphitheater between the bluffs, and under them the wintergreen berries in rich profusion. some of the little pocket farms in these depressions are delightful bits of rugged landscape. in the fields of corn, now neatly shocked, the golden pumpkins seemed as if in imminent danger of rolling down hill. there are curious effects in architecture, where the barns and other outbuildings far overtop the dwellings, and have to be reached by flights of steps or angling paths. yet here and there are pleasant, gently rolling fields, nearer the bank, and smooth, sugar-loaf mounds upon which cattle peacefully graze. the buckwheat patches are white with blossom. now and then can just be distinguished the forms of men and women husking maize upon some fertile upland bench. and so goes on the day. now, with pretty glimpses of rural life, often reminding one of rhineland views, without the castles; then, swishing off through the heart of the bottoms for miles, shut in except from distant views of the hill-tops, and as excluded from humanity, in these vistas of sand and morass, as though traversing a wilderness; anon, darting past deserted rocky slopes or through the dark shadow of beetling cliffs, and the gloomy forests which crown them. lone rock ferry is nearly fourteen miles below helena bridge. as we came in view, the boat was landing a doctor's gig at the foot of a bold, naked bluff, on the southern bank. the doctor and the ferryman gave civil answers to our queries about distances, and expressed great astonishment when answered, in turn, that we were bound for the mouth of the river. "mighty dull business," the doctor remarked, "traveling in that little cockle-shell; i should think you'd feel afraid, ma'am, on this big, lonesome river; my wife don't dare look at a boat, and i always feel skittish coming over on the ferry." i assured him that canoeing was far from being a dull business, and w---- good-humoredly added that she had as yet seen nothing to be afraid of. the doctor laughed and said something, as he clicked up his bony nag, about "tastes differing, anyhow." and, the ferryman trudging behind,--the smoke from his cabin chimney was rising above the tree-tops in a neighboring ravine,--the little cortege wound its way up the rough, angling roadway fashioned out of the face of the bluff, and soon vanished around a corner. lone rock village is a mile and a half inland to the south. just below, the cliff overhangs the stream, its base having been worn into by centuries of ceaseless washing. on a narrow beach beneath, a group of cows were chewing their cuds in an atmosphere of refreshing coolness. from the rocky roof above them hung ferns in many varieties,--maidenhair, the wood, the sensitive, and the bladder; while in clefts and grottos, or amid great heaps of rock debris, hard by, there were generous masses of king fern, lobelia cardinalis, iron and sneeze weed, golden-rod, daisies, closed gentian, and eupatorium, in startling contrasts of vivid color. it being high noon, we stopped and landed at this bit of fairy land, ate our dinner, and botanized. there was a tinge of triumphant scorn in w----'s voice, when, emerging from a spring-head grotto, bearing in one arm a brilliant bouquet of wild flowers and in the other a mass of fern fronds, she cried, "to think of his calling canoeing a dull business!" richland city, on the northern bank, five miles down, is a hamlet of fifteen or twenty houses, some of them quite neat in appearance. nestled in a grove of timber on a plain at the base of the bluffs, the village presents a quaint old-country appearance for a long distance up-stream. the st. paul railway, which skirts the northern bank after crossing the helena bridge, sends out a spur northward from richland city, to richland center, the chief town in richland county. two miles below richland city, we landed at the foot of an imposing bluff, which rises sharply for three hundred feet or more from the water's edge. it is practically treeless on the river side. we ascended it through a steep gorge washed by a spring torrent. strewn with bowlders and hung with bushes and an occasional thicket of elms and oaks, the path was rough but sure. from the heights above, the dark valley lay spread before us like a map. ten miles away, to our left, a splash of white in a great field of green marked the location of lone rock village; five miles to the right, a spire or two rising above the trees indicated where muscoda lay far back from the river reaches; while in front, two miles away, peaceful little avoca was sunning its gray roofs on a gently rising ground. between these settlements and the parallel ranges which hemmed in the panoramic view, lay a wide expanse of willow-grown sand-fields, forested morasses, and island meadows through which the many-channeled river cut its devious way. in the middle foreground, far below us, some cattle were being driven through a bushy marsh by boys and dogs. the cows looked the size of kittens to us at our great elevation, but such was the purity of the atmosphere that the shouts and yelps of the drivers rose with wonderful clearness, and the rustling of the brush was as if in an adjoining lot. the noise seemed so disproportioned to the size of the objects occasioning it, that this acoustic effect was at first rather startling. the whitewashed cabin of a squatter and his few log outbuildings occupy a little basin to one side of the bluff. his cattle were ranging over the hillsides, attended by a colly. the family were rather neatly dressed, but there did not appear to be over an acre of land level enough for cultivation, and that was entirely devoted to indian corn. it was something of a mystery how this man could earn a living in his cooped-up mountain home. but the honest-looking fellow seemed quite contented, sitting in the shade of his woodpile smoking a corncob pipe, surrounded by a half dozen children. he cheerfully responded to my few queries, as we stopped at his well on the return to our boat. the good wife, a buxom woman with pretty blue eyes set in a smiling face, was peeling a pan of potatoes on the porch, near by, while one foot rocked a rude cradle ingeniously formed out of a barrel head and a lemon box. she seemed mightily pleased as w---- stroked the face of the chubby infant within, and made inquiries as to the ages of the step-laddered brood; and the father, too, fairly beamed with satisfaction as he placed his hands on the golden curls of his two oldest misses and proudly exhibited their little tricks of precocity. there can be no poverty under such a roof. millionnaires might well envy the peaceful contentment of these hillside squatters. down to muscoda we followed the rocky and wood-crowned northern bank, along which the country highway is cut out. the swift current closely hugs it, and there was needed but slight exertion with the paddles to lead a sewing-machine agent, whom we found to be urging his horse into a vain attempt to distance the canoe. as he seemed to court a race, we had determined not to be outdone, and were not. orion, on the northern side, just above muscoda, is a deserted town. it must have been a pretentious place at one time. there are a dozen empty business buildings, now tenanted by bats and spiders. on one shop front, a rotting sign displays the legend, "world's exchange;" there is also a "globe hotel," and the remains of a bank or two. alders, lilacs, and gnarled apple-trees in many deserted clumps, tell where the houses once were; and the presence, among these ruins, of a family or two of squalid children only emphasizes the dreary loneliness. orion was once a "boom" town, they tell us,--an expressive epitaph. a thin, outcropping substratum of sandstone is noticeable in this section of the river. it underlies the sandy plains which abut the wisconsin in the muscoda region, and lines the bed of the stream; near the banks, where there is but a slight depth of water, rapids are sometimes noticeable, the rocky bottom being now and then scaled off into a stairlike form, for the fall is here much sharper than customary. because of an outlying shelf of this sandstone, bordered by rapids, but covered with only a few inches of dead water, we had some difficulty in landing at muscoda beach, on the southern shore. some stout poling and lifting were essential before reaching land. muscoda was originally situated on the bank, which rises gently from the water; but as the river trade fell off, the village drifted up nearer the bluff, a mile south over the plain, in order to avoid the spring floods. there is a toll-bridge here and a large brewery, with extensive cattle-sheds strung along the shore. a few scattering houses connect these establishments with the sleepy but neat little hamlet of some five hundred inhabitants. after a brisk walk up town, in the fading sunlight, which cast a dazzling glimmer on the whitened dunes and heightened the size of the dwarfed herbage, we returned to the canoe, and cast off to seek camping quarters for the night, down-stream. a mile below, on the opposite bank, a large straw-stack by the side of a small farmhouse attracted our attention. we stopped to investigate. there was a good growth of trees upon a gentle slope, a few rods from shore, and a beach well strewn with drift-wood. the farmer who greeted us was pleasant-spoken, and readily gave us permission to pitch our tent in the copse and partake freely of his straw. now more accustomed to the river's ways, we keenly enjoyed our supper, seated around our little camp-fire in the early dark. we had occasional glimpses of the lights in muscoda, through the swaying trees on the bottoms to the south; an owl, on a neighboring island, incessantly barked like a terrier; the whippoorwills were sounding their mournful notes from over the gliding river, and now and then a hoarse grunt or querulous squeal in the wood-lot behind us gave notice that we were quartered in a hog pasture. soon the moon came out and brilliantly lit the opens,--the glistening river, the stretches of white sand, the farmer's fields,--and intensified the sepulchral shadows of the lofty bluffs which overhang the scene. chapter iv. floating through fairyland. undisturbed by hogs or river tramps, we slept soundly until seven, the following morning. there was a heavy fog again, but by the time we had leisurely eaten our breakfast, struck camp, and had a pleasant chat with our farmer host and his "hired man," who had come down to the bank to make us a call, the mists had rolled away before the advances of the sun. at half past ten we were at port andrew, eight miles below camp on the north shore. the port, or what is left of it, lies stretched along a narrow bench of sand, based with rock, some forty feet above the water, with a high, naked bluff backing it to the north. there is barely room for the buildings, on either side of its one avenue paralleling the river; this street is the country road, which skirts the bank, connecting the village with the sparse settlements, east and west. in the old rafting days, the port was a stopping-place for the lumber pilots. there being neither rafts nor pilots, nowadays, there is no business for the port, except what few dollars may be picked up from the hunters who frequent this place each fall, searching for woodcock. but even the woodcocking industry has been overdone here, and two sportsmen whom we met on the beach declared that there were not enough birds remaining to pay for the trouble of getting here. for, indeed, port andrew is quite off the paths of modern civilization. there is practically no communication with the country over the bluffs, northward; and blue river, the nearest railway station, to which there is a tri-weekly mail, is four miles southward, over the bottoms, with an uncertain ferryage between. there are less than fifty human beings in port andrew now, but double that number of dogs, the latter mostly of the pointer breed, kept for the benefit of huntsmen. we climbed the bank and went over to the post-office and general store. it seems to be the only business establishment left alive in the hamlet; although there are a dozen deserted buildings which were stores in the long ago, but are now ghostly wrecks, open to wind and weather on every side, and, with sunken ridge-poles, waiting for the first good wind-storm to furnish an excuse for a general collapse. a sleepy, greasy-looking lad, whose originally white shirt-front was sadly stained with water-melon juice, had charge of the meager concern. he said that the farmers north of the bluffs traded in towns more accessible than this, and that south of the stream, blue river, being a railroad place, was "knockin' the spots off'n the port." ten years ago, he had heard his "pa" say the port was "a likely place," but it "ain't much shakes now." but there is a certain quaintness about these ruins of port andrew that is quite attractive. a deep ravine, cut through the shale-rock, comes winding down from a pass among the bluffs, severing the hamlet in twain. over it there is sprung a high-arched, rough stone bridge, with crenelled walls, quite as artistic in its way as may be found in pictures of ancient english brook-crossings. on the summit of a rising-ground beyond, stands the solitary, whitened skeleton of a once spacious inn, a broad double-decked veranda stretching across its river front, and hitching-posts and drinking-trough now almost lost to view in a jungle of docks and sand-burrs. the cracks in the rotten veranda floors are lined with grass; the once broad highway is now reduced to an unfrequented trail through the yielding sand, which is elsewhere hid under a flowery mantle made up of delicate, fringed blossoms of pinkish purple, called by the natives "pike's weed," and the rich yellow and pale gold of the familiar "butter and eggs." the peculiar effect of color, outline, and perspective, that hazy august day, was indeed charming. but we were called from our rapt contemplation of the picture, by the assemblage around us of half the population of port andrew, led by the young postmaster and accompanied by a drove of playful hounds. the impression had somehow got abroad that we had come to prospect for an iron mine, in the bed of the old ravine, and there was a general desire to see how the thing was done. the popular disappointment was evidently great, when we descended from our perch on the old bridge wall, and returned to the little vessel on the beach, which had meanwhile been closely overhauled by a knot of inquisitive urchins. a part of the crowd followed us down, plying innocent questions by the score, while on the summit of the bank above stood a watchful group of women and girls, some in huge sun-bonnets, others with aprons thrown over their heads. there was a general waving of hats and aprons from the shore, as we shot off into the current again, and our "good-by!" was answered by a cheery chorus. it is evident that port andrew does not have many exciting episodes in her aimless, far-away life. flocks of crows were seen to-day, winging their funereal flight from shore to shore, and uttering dismal croaks. the islands presented a more luxurious flora than we had yet seen; the marsh grass upon them was rank and tall, the overhanging trees sumptuously vine-clad, the autumn tints deeper and richer than before, the banks glowing with cardinal and yellow and purple; while on the sandy shores we saw loosestrife, white asters, the sensitive plant, golden-rod, and button-bush. blue herons drifted through the air on their wide-spread wings, heads curved back upon their shoulders, and legs hanging straight down, to settle at last upon barren sand-spits, and stand in silent contemplation of some pool of dead water where perhaps a stray fish might reward their watchfulness. solitary kingfishers kept their vigils on the numerous snags. now and then a turtle shuffled from his perch and went tumbling with a loud splash into his favorite watering-place. although yet too early for indian summer, the day became, by noon, very like those which are the delight of a protracted northwestern autumn. a golden haze threw a mystic veil over the landscape; distant shore lines were obliterated, sand and sky and water at times merged in an indistinct blur, and distances were deceptive. now and then the vistas of white sand-fields would apparently stretch on to infinity. again, the river would seem wholly girt with cliffs and we in the bottom of a huge mountain basin, from which egress was impossible; or the stream would for a time appear a boundless lake. the islands ahead were as if floating in space, and there were weird reflections of far-away objects in the waters near us. while these singular effects lasted we trimmed our bark to the swift-gliding current, and floated along through fairy-land, unwilling to break the charm by disturbing the mirrored surface of the flood. soon after the dinner hour we came in sight of the boscobel toll-bridge,--an ugly, clumsy structure, housed-in like a tunnel, and as dark as a pocket. i was never quite able to understand why some bridge-makers should cover their structures in this fashion, and others, in the same locality, leave them open to wind and weather. so far as my unexpert observation goes, covered bridges are no more durable than the open, and they are certainly less cheerful and comely. a chill always comes over me as i enter one of these damp and gloomy hollow-ways; and the thought of how well adapted they are to the purposes of the thug or the footpad is not a particularly pleasant one for the lonely traveler by night. a dead little river hamlet, now in abject ruins,--manhattan by name,--occupies the rugged bank at the north end of the long bridge; while southward, boscobel is out of sight, a mile and a half inland, across the bottoms. the bluff overtopping manhattan is a quarry of excellent hard sandstone, and a half dozen men were dressing blocks for shipment, on the rocky shore above us. they and their families constitute manhattan. eight miles down river, also on the north bank, is boydtown. there are two houses there, in a sandy glen at the base of a group of heavily wooded foot-hills. at one of the dwellings--a neat, slate-colored cottage--we found a cheery, black-eyed woman sitting on the porch with a brood of five happy children playing about her. as she hurried away to get the butter and milk which we had asked for, she apologized for being seen to enjoy this unwonted leisure, apparently not desirous that we should suppose her to be any other than the hard-working little body which her hands and driving manner proclaimed her to be. when she returned with our supplies she said that they had "got through thrashin'," the day before, and she was enjoying the luxury of a rest preparatory to an accumulated churning. i looked incredulously at the sandy waste in which this little home was planted, and the good woman explained that their farm lay farther back, on fair soil, although the present dry season had not been the best for crops. her brown-faced boy of ten and two little girls of about eight--the laughing faces and crow-black curls of the latter hid under immense flapping sun-bonnets--accompanied us to the bayou by which we had approached boydtown. they had a gay, unrestrained manner that was quite captivating, and we were glad to have them row alongside of us for a way down-stream in the unwieldy family punt, the lad handling the crude oars and the girls huddled together on the stern seat, covered by their great sun-bonnet flaps, as with a cape. they were "goin' grapein'," they said; and at an island where the vines hung dark with purple clusters, they piped "good-by, you uns!" in tittering unison. by this time, the weather had changed. the haze had lifted. the sky had quickly become overcast with leaden rainclouds, and an occasional big drop gave warning of an approaching storm. a few miles below boydtown, we stopped to replenish our canteen at the st. paul railway's fine iron bridge, the last crossing on that line between milwaukee and prairie du chien. on the southern end of the bridge is woodman; on the northern bank, the tender's house. as we were in the northern channel, it was impracticable to reach the village, separated from us by wide islands and long stretches of swamp and forest, except by walking the bridge and the mile or two of trestle-work approaches to the south. as for the bridge-house, there chanced to be no spare quarters for us there. so we voted to trust to fortune and push on, although the tender's wife, a pleasant, english-faced woman, with black, sparkling eyes and a hospitable smile, was much exercised in spirit, and thought we were running some hazard of a wetting. the skies lightened for a time, and then there came rolling up from over the range to the southwest great jagged rifts of black clouds, ugly "thunder heads," which seemed to presage a deluge. below them, veiling the tallest peaks, tossed and sped the light-footed couriers of the wind, and we saw the dark-green bosom of the upper forests heave with the emotions of the air, while the rushing stream below flowed on unruffled. the river is here united in one broad channel. at the first evidence of a blow, we hurried across to the windward bank. we were landing at the swampy, timber-strewn base of a precipitous cliff as the wind passed over the valley, and had just completed our preparations for shelter when the rain began to come in blinding sheets. the possibility of having to spend the night under the sepulchral arches of this forested morass was not pleasant to contemplate. the storm abated, however, within half an hour, and we were then able to distinguish a large white house apparently set back in an open field a half mile or more from the opposite shore. re-embarking, we headed that way, and found a wood-fringed stream several rods wide, pouring a vigorous flood into the wisconsin, from the north. our map showed it to be the kickapoo, an old-time logging river, and the house must be an outlying member of the small railroad village of wauzeka. a consultation was held on board, at the mouth of the kickapoo. on the wisconsin not a house was to be seen, as far as the eye could reach, and wide stretches of swamp and wooded bog appeared to line both its banks. the prospect of paddling up the mad little kickapoo for a mile to wauzeka was dispiriting, but we decided to do it; for night was coming on, our tent, even could we find a good camping ground in this marshy wilderness, was disposed to be leaky, and a steady drizzle continued to sound a muffled tattoo on our rubber coats. a voluble fisherman, caught out in the rain like ourselves, came swinging into the tributary, with his cranky punt, just as we were setting our paddles for a vigorous pull up-stream. we had his company, side by side, till we reached the st. paul railway trestle, and beached at the foot of a deserted stave mill, in whose innermost recesses we deposited our traps. guided by the village shoemaker's boy, who had been playing by the river side, we started up the track to find the hotel, nearly a half mile away. it is a quiet, comfortable, old-fashioned little inn, this hostelry at wauzeka. the landlord greeted his storm-bound guests with polite urbanity, and with none of that inquisitiveness so common in rural hosts. at supper, we met the village philosopher, a quaint, lone old man who has an opinion of his own upon most human subjects, and more than dares to voice it,--insists, in fact, on having it known of all men. a young commercial traveler, the only other patron of the establishment, sadly guyed our philosophical messmate by securing his verdict on a wide range of topics, from the latest league game to abstruse questions of theology. the philosopher bit, and the drummer was in high feather as he crinkled the corners of his mouth behind his huge moustache, and looked slyly around for encouragement that was not offered. wauzeka is, in one respect, like too many other country villages. three saloons disfigure the main street, and in front of them are little knots of noisy loafers, in the evening, filling up the rickety, variously graded sidewalk to the gutter, and necessitating the running of a loathsome gauntlet to those who may wish to pass that way. the boy who can grow up in such an atmosphere, unpolluted, must be of rare material, or his parents exceptionally judicious. there are few large cities where one can see the liquor traffic carried on with such disgusting boldness as in hamlets like this, where screenless, open-doored saloons of a vile character jostle trading shops and dwellings, and monopolize the footway, making of the business street a place which women may abhor at any hour, and must necessarily avoid after sunset. with a local-option law, that but awaits a majority vote to be operative in such communities, it is a strange commentary on the quality of our nineteenth-century civilization that the dissolute few should still, as of old, be able to persistently hold the whip-hand over the virtuous but timid many. elsewhere in wauzeka, there are many pretty grass-grown lanes; some substantial cottages; a prosperous creamery, employing the service of the especial pride of the village, a six-inch spouting well, driven for three hundred feet to the underlying stratum of lime-rock; a saw-mill or two, which are worked spasmodically, according to the log-driving stage in the kickapoo, and some pleasant, accommodating people, who appear to be quite contented with their lot in life. chapter v. the discovery of the mississippi. there was fog on the river in the morning. across the broad expanse of field and ledge which separates wauzeka from the wisconsin, we could see the great white mass of vapor, fifty feet thick, resting on the broad channel like a dense coverlid of down. soon after seven o'clock, the cloud lifted by degrees, and then broke into ragged segments, which settled sluggishly for a while on the tops of the southern line of bluffs and screened their dark amphitheaters from view, till at last dissipated into thin air. we were off at eight o'clock, fifteen or twenty men coming down to the railway-bridge to watch the operation. one of them helped us materially with our bundles, while the rest sat in a row along the trestle, dangling their feet through the spaces between the stringers, and gazing at us as though we were a circus company on the move. a drizzle set in, just as we pushed from the bank, and we descended the kickapoo under much the same conditions of atmosphere as those we had experienced in pulling against its swirling tide the evening before. but by nine o'clock the storm was over, and we had, for a time, a calm, quiet journey, a gray light which harmonized well with the wildly picturesque scenery, and a fresh west breeze which helped us on our way. we were now but twenty miles from the mouth. the parallel ranges of bluff come nearer together, until they are not much over a mile apart, and the stream, now broader, swifter, and deeper, is less encumbered with islands. upon the peaty banks are the tall white spikes of the curious turtlehead, occasional masses of balsam-apple vines, the gleaming lobelia cardinalis, yellow honeysuckles just going out of blossom, and acres of the golden sneeze-weed, which deserves a better name. at wright's ferry, ten miles below, there are domiciled two german families, and on the shore is a saw-mill which is operated in the spring, to work up the logs which farmers bring down from the gloomy mountains which back the scene. bridgeport, four miles farther,--still on the northern side,--is chiefly a clump of little red railway buildings set up on a high bench carved from the face of the bluff, their fronts resting on the road-bed and their rears on high scaffolding. a few big bowlders rolling down from the cliffs would topple bridgeport over into the river. there is a covered country toll-bridge here, and the industrial interest of the liliputian community is quarrying. it is the last hamlet on the river. a mist again formed, casting a blue tinge over the peaks and giving them a far distant aspect; dark clouds now and then lowered and rolled through the upper ravines, reflecting their inky hue upon the surface of the deep, gliding river. the bluffs, which had for many miles closely abutted the stream, at last gradually swept away to the north and south, to become part of the great wall which forms the eastern bulwark of the upper mississippi. at their base spreads a broad, flat plain, fringed with boggy woods and sandy meadows, the delta of the wisconsin, which, below the lowertown bridge of the burlington and northern railway, is cut up into flood-washed willow islands, flanked by a wide stretch of shifting sand-bars black with tangled roots and stranded logs, the debris of many a spring-time freshet. it was about half-past twelve o'clock when we came to the junction of the wisconsin and the mississippi. upon a willow-grown sand-reef edging the swamp, which extends northward for five miles to the quaint, ancient little city of prairie du chien, a large barge lies stranded. a lone fisherman sat upon its bulwark rail, which overhangs the rushing waters as they here commingle. we landed with something akin to reverence, for this must have been about the place where joliet and marquette, two hundred and fourteen years ago, gazed with rapture upon the mighty mississippi, which they had at last discovered, after so many thousands of miles of arduous journeying through a savage-haunted wilderness. and indeed it is an imposing sight. to the west, two miles away, rise the wooded peaks on the iowa side of the great river. northward there are pretty glimpses of cliffs and rocky beaches through openings in the heavy growth which covers the islands of the upper stream. southward is a long vista of curving hills and glinting water shut in by the converging ranges. eastward stretches the green delta of the wisconsin, flanked by those imposing bluffs, between whose bases for two centuries has flowed a curious throng of humanity, savage and civilized, on errands sacred and profane, representing many clashing nationalities. the rain descended in a gentle shower as i was lighting a fire on which to cook our last canoeing meal of the season; and w---- held an umbrella over the already damp kindling in order to give it a chance. we no doubt made a comical picture as we crouched together beneath this shelter, jointly trying to fan the sparks into a flame, for the fisherman, who had been heretofore speechless, and apparently rapt in his occupation, burst out into a hearty laugh. when we turned to look at him he hid his face under his upturned coat-collar, and giggled to himself like a schoolgirl. he was a jolly dog, this fisherman, and after we had presented him with a cup of coffee and what solids we could spare from our now meager store, he warmed into a very communicative mood, and gave us much detailed, though rather highly colored, information about the locality, especially as to its natural features. the rain had ceased by the time dinner was over; so we bade farewell to the happy fisherman and the presiding deities of the wisconsin, and pulled up the giant mississippi to prairie du chien, stopping on our way to visit an out-of-the-way bayou, botanically famous, where flourishes the rare nelumbium luteum--america's nearest approach to the lotus of the nile. and thus was accomplished the season's stint of six hundred miles of canoeing upon the historic waterways of illinois and wisconsin. index. algoma, , . allouez, father claude, , , . american fur co., . anderson, maj. robert, u.s.a., . antoinette, marie, queen of france, . appleton, wis., , , , - , . arena ferry, wis., , , . arndt, judge john p., . astor, john jacob, , . atkinson, gen. henry, u. s. a., , . avoca, wis., . bad axe, battle of, , . baraboo river, . barth, laurent, . beloit, wis., , , . berlin, wis., , , , , - , , . black hawk war, , , , , , - , . black hawk mountain, . black river falls, wis., . black wolf point, lake winnebago, . blue mound, wis., . blue river village, wis., . boscobel, wis., , , . "bourbon, the american." _see_ williams, eleazar. boydtown, wis., , , . bridgeport, wis., , , . buffalo lake, , - , , . butte des morts, lake grand, , - , . butte des morts, lake petit, , , . butte des morts village, - , . butterfield, consul w., _cited_, . byron, ill., , , - . canoeing, pleasures of, , . canoeists, suggestions to, - . canoes, styles of, , . carbon cliff, ill., , . catfish river, wis., , - . champche keriwinke, winnebago princess, , . champlain, governor of quebec, , . cherry river, . chicago, burlington, and northern ry., . chicago, burlington, and quincy ry., - . chicago, milwaukee, and st. paul ry., , , , , , - , , , . chicago and northwestern ry., , - . cleveland, ill., . coloma, ill., , - . como, ill. , - . crooks, ramsay, . dablon, father claude, . dakotah indians. _see_ sioux and winnebagoes. davis, jefferson, , , . dekorra, wis., - . de korra, early fur trader, , . depere, wis., , , , . dixon, ill., , , , , , , - , - . dodge, maj. henry, , . doty's island, wis., - . dunkirk, wis., , . erie, ill., , - . eureka, wis., . first lake, , - . fond du lac, wis., . fort crawford (prairie du chien, wis.), . fort howard, wis., , - . fort winnebago (portage, wis.), - . four lake country, wis., , , . four legs, winnebago chief, , . fox indians (_see_, also, sacs), , - . fox river, wis., , - , , - , , , . fulton, wis., - . fur trade in wisconsin, , - , , , , . ganymede springs, ill., , . garlic island, lake winnebago, - . garritty, mary, - . grand detour, ill., - . great bend of rock river, - . green bay, wis., , , , , , , , - , . grignon, augustin, , , , . hanson, john h., _cited_, , . harney, gen. william s., u. s. a., . helena village, wis., , - . helena, wis., old, , . henry, maj. james d., , . hoo-tschope. _see_ four legs. illinois indians, , . iowatuk, winnebago princess, , . janesville, wis., , , - . jesuit missionaries, , , , , , , , , . joliet, sieur de, , , , . kackalin, grand. _see_ kaukauna. kaukauna, wis., , , - . kellogg's trail, , . keokuk, fox chief, . kickapoo indians, . kickapoo river, wis., , , , , . kinzie, mrs. john h., _cited_, , . koshkonong, lake, , , , . lakeside, third lake, . langlade, charles de, , . latham station, ill., , . lawrence university, , . lead mines at galena, . lecuyer, jean b., , . lignery, sieur marchand de, . lincoln, abraham, . little kaukauna, wis., , - , , . lone rock, wis., , , - . louis xvi., king of france, - . louis xvii., dauphin of france, - . louvigny, sieur de, . lyndon, ill., , . madison, wis., , . manhattan, wis., . marin, sieur de, , . marquette, father james, , , , , . marquette village, wis., , , - . mascoutin indians, - . mazomanie, wis., . menasha, wis., , , , , , . menomonee indians, , , , , . merrimac, wis., , - . miami indians, . milan, ill., . milwaukee and northern ry., , . mississippi river, , , , , , , - , , - , - . mohawk indians, . montello, wis., , , , - , . muscoda, wis., , , , - . neenah, wis., , , , , , - , . new york indians. _see_ oneidas. nicolet, jean, , , , , . northern insane hospital, wis., - . omro, wis., , , , , . oneida indians, - . oregon, ill., , , - . orion, wis., . oshkosh, menomonee chief, , . oshkosh, wis., , , , , - , , . ott's farm, madison, wis., . owen, ill. _see_ latham station. packwaukee, wis., , , - , . paine bros., . paquette, pierre, . penney, josephine, - . philippe, louis, king of france, . pope's springs, wis., . porlier, james, , . porlier, louis b., , . portage, wis., , , , , - , , , , , , - . port andrew, wis., , - . pottawattomie indians, , , . poygan lake, , , . prairie du chien, wis., , , , , , , - . prairie du sac, wis., , , - , . princeton, wis., , , - , . prophetstown, ill., , , - . puckawa lake, , , - . red bird, winnebago chief, . richland center, wis., . richland city, wis., . rockford, ill., , , . rock island, ill., , , , , . rock river, - , - , , . rockton, ill., . roscoe, ill., , . sac indians, , , , , - . sacramento, wis., , . sauk city, wis., , , . sawyer, philetus, . second lake, , - , . shaubena, pottawattomie chief, . sioux indians, , , . smith's island, wis., - . spring green, wis., . stebbinsville, wis., , . sterling, ill., , , , . stillman's creek, , , , . stillman's defeat, , . stoughton, wis., , , , , - , . stuart, robert, . taylor, zachary, . third lake, , . turvill's bay, third lake, , . twiggs, maj. david, . walking cloud, a winnebago, . wauzeka, wis., , - . white cloud, indian prophet, , . white river lock, , . williams, eleazar, - . williams, mrs. eleazar, , . winnebago indians, , , , , , , , - , , , , , , . winnebago lake, , , , - , . winnebago prophet. _see_ white cloud. winnebago rapids, - . winneconne, , , - . wisconsin central ry., , . wisconsin heights, battle of, , . wisconsin river, , - , , - , , , - . wisconsin river dells, . wolf river, - , . woodman, wis., . wright's ferry, wis., , . wrightstown, wis., , , . yahara river. _see_ catfish. [illustration: the jolly rovers were off at last _canoe boys and camp fires_] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- [illustration: the five mile walk was a trifle to the boys--page ] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- canoe boys and campfires or, adventures on winding waters by william murray graydon author of "from lake to wilderness," "with puritan and pequod," "the camp in the snow," etc. illustrated the world syndicate publishing co. cleveland--new york made in u. s. a. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- copyright, , by chatterton-peck company press of the commercial bookbinding co. cleveland ----------------------------------------------------------------------- contents chapter page i. introducing the boys ii. planning the trip iii. the cruise begins iv. adrift in the darkness v. disappearance of nugget vi. the lost found vii. batters and joe viii. how the day dawned ix. a safe shelter x. a tramp across country xi. searching for the camp xii. over the cliff xiii. what clay shot xiv. caught in the whirlpool xv. randy's proposition xvi. a shattered delusion xvii. the storm breaks xviii. at the mercy of the tempest xix. adrift on a log xx. mr. dude moxley xxi. a mysterious warning xxii. an insolent demand xxiii. a daring attempt xxiv. an unexpected encounter xxv. the siege begins xxvi. bug's proposition xxvii. the burning of the mill xxviii. a good deed xxix. randy goes sailing xxx. a night alarm xxxi. stormy weather xxxii. the broken dam xxxiii. an underground cruise xxxiv. despair xxxv. nugget discovers a light xxxvi. home again ----------------------------------------------------------------------- canoe boys and campfires chapter i introducing the boys "i say, ned, this is beginning to grow wearisome," drawled randy moore as he tipped his chair against the wall, and crossed his feet on the low railing in front of him. "clay promised to be here half an hour ago," he went on in an injured tone, "and if he doesn't come in a few minutes i'm going to have a spin on the river. it's aggravating to sit here and do nothing. i can count a dozen boats between the railroad bridge and bushy island." "i wouldn't mind being out myself," said ned chapman, "but we have important business to transact to-night, randy, and i think it would be wiser to let boating go for once. i have everything planned out in ship shape fashion, and it only wants the seal of approval from you and clayton." "oh! you have, have you?" exclaimed randy with a sudden show of interest. "that's good news, ned. if clay knew the momentous question was to be settled at last, he would stir himself to get here, wherever he is. i'll give him ten minutes' grace." "you'll give him as many minutes as he needs," rejoined ned. "there must be some reason for his delay. it's new for him to be late. he's always the first to keep an engagement." "we'll know when he comes," said randy wisely. "stop talking now. i want to count the boats. i never saw so many on the river before." the two boys were sitting on a narrow balcony that projected from the second floor of a neat but unpretentious boathouse. the rear end of the edifice was built against the sloping base of the river bank. from the park above a flight of steps, with a single hand rail, led down to the main entrance, which was on the second floor. the other end of the apartment opened on the balcony and faced the susquehanna river. from the lower floor, which held a number of boats and canoes, a plank walk sloped to the water's edge, ten or fifteen yards away. randy moore was the fortunate owner of this snug little piece of property. the harrisburg boys envied him his gun, his dog and his pony, but they would have fairly bowed down before him if by so doing they could have been put on the list of those favored ones who made free and daily use of the boathouse. a "luck fellow" was the general verdict concerning randy, and it was a true one. his father was wealthy and never refused to gratify any reasonable desire of his only son. in consequence randy was somewhat spoiled and self willed, but in other ways he was really a sensible lad. the fact of his own superior position in life never occurred to him in relation to his companions. he gave himself no airs, and expected no homage or adulation. his chief fault was a strong and uncurbed will, and he unfortunately had a quick temper. he was just sixteen years old, and was strong and hardy. he had dark eyes and hair, and a pleasing, attractive face. randy's most intimate friend, ned chapman, differed from him in every respect, and made an admirable foil for the other's impetuous temperament. ned's father was a merchant in moderate circumstances, and he had just reason to be proud of his son's bringing up. ned was a steady, sensible lad, with very rigid ideas of right and wrong. not that there was anything "priggish" about him. on the contrary, he was always the foremost in any undertaking that provided a little sport. he was intensely fond of outdoor life, and was an acknowledged authority on everything relating to fishing, hunting, canoeing, and boating. but he did not allow recreation to interfere with his studies. he and randy were pupils at the academy, and both stood high in their classes. ned was a year older than randy and half a head taller. he had brown hair, grayish brown eyes, and a deeply bronzed complexion, the result of living much in the open air and under the burning glow of the summer sun. his face wore an expression of habitual good humor, and he had a rare command of his temper. his grave displeasure was more dreaded than a passionate outburst would have been. and now that two of the characters have been introduced to the reader, we must resume the thread of the story. randy's stipulated ten minutes had gone by, and five additional ones, when a shrill whistle was heard in the rear of the boathouse. both doors were open, and when the boys turned in their chairs and looked through they saw their tardy companion descending the steps that led from the top of the bank. "it's clay at last," exclaimed randy. "and some one with him," added ned, as a second figure came into view. at that instant the lad in the rear slipped, plunged head foremost down the remaining half dozen steps, knocking clay to one side, and sprawled out in the doorway like a flattened frog. ned and randy sprang up and hurried through the room. "why, it's nugget," they exclaimed in great surprise. "where did you come from, old fellow? we're awfully glad to see you." nugget, otherwise known as nugent blundell, rose painfully to his feet and glared at the boys. "why don't you ask me if i'm hurt?" he demanded wrathfully. "i believe you fellows greased those steps on purpose." "see here, nugget, you don't believe anything of the sort," said ned. "i'm sorry you fell, and i'm glad you're not hurt. come, old fellow, shake hands." nugget's face assumed a mollified expression, and he accepted a hearty handclasp from ned and randy. then he began to brush the dust from his neat gray suit and patent leather shoes. meanwhile clayton halsey had been fairly choking with stifled mirth in a dark corner of the room. he now came forward, trying hard to assume an expression of gravity. he was a short, thickset lad, with a beaming countenance, red cheeks, blue eyes, and light curly hair. he was in the same class at the academy with ned and randy, and their constant companion on all occasions. his father was a prominent lawyer. "what kept you so long?" asked randy in a slightly aggrieved tone. "that," replied clay, pointing at nugget. "he arrived in town this afternoon, and came to the house after supper. i knew you fellows would be glad to see him, so i brought him along. but what do you think?" added clay, winking slyly at ned and randy, "nugget says he's going canoeing with us." this piece of information produced a startling effect. ned puckered his lips and gave a low whistle. randy stared at clay for an instant and then burst into a laugh. why this avowal on nugget's part was received in such a peculiar way will be more clearly understood if a few words be said about that young gentleman himself. nugget was a new york boy, greatly addicted to cream colored clothes, white vests, patent leather shoes, high collars, gorgeous neckties, kid gloves, and canes. he was about seventeen years old, and was tall and slender. he had gray eyes, a sandy complexion and straight flaxen hair, which he wore banged over his forehead. a vacuous stare usually rested on his face, and he spoke in a slow, aggravating drawl. nugget had made the acquaintance cf the boys during the previous summer, which he spent with his uncle in harrisburg. he was a good enough fellow in some ways, but the several occasions on which he had been induced to go on fishing and boating excursions, had resulted in disaster and ridicule at poor nugget's expense. "what nugget doesn't know about swell parties, and dancing, and operas isn't worth knowing," clay halsey had said at that time; "but when it comes to matters of sport he doesn't know any more than a two days' old kitten." the truth of this terse remark was readily appreciated by clay's companions, and their present amazement and consternation on learning that nugget wanted to go canoeing with them, can be easily conceived. "are you in dead earnest, nugget?" asked randy after a pause. "of course i am," was the aggressive reply. "i don't see anything funny about it though. i haven't been very well lately, and father let me stop school a month ahead of time, and come over here. i know he'll let me go canoeing if i write and ask him." "but canoeing is vastly different from the kind of trips you made with us last summer," said ned. "there is a good deal of hardship about it. you remember what a fuss you used to make over the merest trifles." "you'll have to wear rough flannels and old clothes," added randy. "you can't take kid gloves and patent leathers with you." "and you'll have to sleep on the ground," put in clay, "and eat coarse food. no chocolate cake and ice cream about canoeing." "oh, stop your chaffing," drawled nugget sullenly. "i understand all that. i'm not as green as you think. if you fellows can stand it i can. besides i've been practicing on the harlem river this spring. i paddled a canoe from the malta boathouse clear to high bridge and back. and i didn't raise a single blister." "i'll bet you wore gloves," said clay mockingly. nugget flushed with anger and confusion, but said nothing. "it's time to stop that now, clay," said ned authoratively. "if nugget wants to go along i don't see any serious objections. no doubt the trip will do him lots of good. but that question can be settled later. give us some light, randy, and i'll show you what i've got here." chapter ii planning the trip it was not yet dark outside but randy lit the handsome brass lamp that stood on the square oaken table, and the yellow glow shone into every corner of the room. the apartment was furnished in the manner most dear to the hearts of boys. the polished floor was strewn with soft rugs, and the walls were hung with pictures and amateur photographs. in the corners and over the mantels were fencing foils and masks, fishing rods, baseball bats, creels, and several pairs of crossed canoe paddles which showed traces of hard usage. when the boys had dragged chairs to the table and seated themselves, ned drew a little bunch of papers from his pocket, and opened them with a flourish. "when the question of a canoe trip came up a month ago," he began, "i told you it would be better fun to cruise on some small stream than on the susquehanna. i knew what i was talking about, because i paddled the whole distance last year, from lake otsego to the bay. "i suggested the conodoguinet creek as the best cruising ground we could find around here, and promised to get all the information about it i could. i have kept my promise. "here is a map of the cumberland valley on a large scale, showing the entire course of the creek, and all its windings. you can examine that at your leisure. first i want to tell you what i have learned. "of course you knew that the conodoguinet was about the most crooked stream in existence. we have evidence enough of that near home. you remember the big bend above oyster's dam--three miles around, and one field's length across. well, there are bigger bends than that further up the valley. "from the mouth of the creek to carlile is just eighteen miles in a straight line. by the windings of the creek it is ninety miles. the distance was accurately measured and surveyed a number of years ago. "oakville is twenty miles beyond carlile, and from there i propose that we should start. the upper part of the creek is not quite so crooked, but we are sure of a cruise of not less than one hundred and fifty miles. the creek is navigable all the way from oakville, and there are not more than twelve or fifteen dams in the whole distance. "the water is deep, and the current is swift in some places, sluggish in others. the channel winds through heavy timber lands and between high, rocky cliffs. the mountains are not far away. the fishing is splendid, and woodcock and snipe are plentiful." here ned laid down the bundle of notes from which he had been reading. "it will be a delightful trip," he added eagerly. "the susquehanna can't compare with it. instead of having to paddle our twenty or thirty miles a day in the broiling sun, and camp on gravel bars or grass flats, we can drift leisurely in the cool shade of the overhanging trees, stop when we please and as long as we please, and take our pick of a hundred beautiful camping places. in fact it will be a camping trip and canoe trip combined. "and what's more we will be the first to navigate the creek. no canoe, or boat either, has ever made the winding journey from the head waters to the mouth. it is unexplored territory, except to the farmers and a few stray fishermen. you can take your choice now. which is it to be? the susquehanna or the conodoguinet?" ned put the papers in his pocket and sat down. "i say the creek, by all means, boys," exclaimed randy. "same here!" echoed clay. "aw, yes! that must be a beautiful stream, don't you know," drawled nugget, in such a serio-comic tone that his companions burst out laughing. when quiet was restored the map became the center of attraction, and ned gladly pointed out places of interest and volunteered all sorts of information. as the hours went by the boys waxed enthusiastic over the proposed cruise. the details were mostly planned out, and then a long discussion ensued over the choice of a name for the club. many titles were suggested and rejected, but finally ned struck a happy combination, and the organization was unanimously christened the "jolly rovers." at ten o'clock the boat house was locked up, and the boys climbed the bank, and went down through the city to their respective homes. now that the cruise was a settled fact the jolly rovers threw all their energies into needed preparations. in the evening, and between school hours they were always to be found at randy's boat house. ned looked forward to the trip with the keen delight of one who had already tasted the joys of canoeing. clay and randy--who had not been permitted to accompany ned down the susquehanna the previous summer--had bright anticipations to be realized, while nugget was just as eager as his companions. it had required much persuasion and many promises on nugget's part to win the desired permission, and when the question was finally decided the new member of the jolly rovers was put on a severe course of training. this embraced rowing, paddling a canoe, and swimming, and before the month of june was over nugget was fairly proficient in all three. he purchased a second hand canoe which ned picked out for him, and without the knowledge of his companions he wrote to his father in new york for a canoeing outfit. the box duly arrived and was opened one evening in the boathouse. the boys feasted their eyes on the array of treasures--fishing rods of spliced bamboo, a portable set of camp dishes that fitted into each other, a pair of brass lanterns, rubber blankets, and several other articles that were of no practical use on a canoe trip. in the bottom of the box were four shirts of the softest flannel, two pairs of long black woolen stockings, and a canoeing suit of stout brown cloth--knickerbockers, blouse, and a yachting cap. it was a fine outfit, and the boys good naturedly envied nugget his luck. the date of departure was fixed for the first week in july. when the academy closed on the th of june little or nothing remained to be done in the way of preparation--thanks to ned's good generalship. the four canoes lay in the lower section of the boathouse, radiant in new coats of paint. in the big closet on the upper floor were packed the varied assortment of dishware, lanterns, axes, bottles of oil, cement, cans of white lead, strips of oiled canvas, rolls of blankets, a new a tent, jointed poles for the same, and a bundle of iron stakes. such provision as could be taken along--oatmeal, rice, sugar, coffee and flour--had been ordered from a grocer, to be packed in waterproof jars. ned chapman had been very properly chosen commodore of the club, and a couple of days before the start randy's sister mary presented the jolly rovers with a pennant of crimson and gold satin. the proper place for it was at the bow of the commodore's canoe, so it was yielded to ned. with the exception of randy's single barreled shotgun, no firearms were to be taken along. the boys demurred to this at first, but were finally won over by ned's sensible arguments. canoeists cruising through a peaceful country seldom need weapons of defense. chapter iii the cruise begins the first day of july fell on thursday, and that afternoon the boxes containing the dishes, provisions and other traps, and the four canoes carefully wrapped in coffee sacking, were shipped to oakville by freight. on the following morning the jolly rovers departed by the seven o'clock train, and a ride of an hour and a half through the beautiful cumberland valley brought them to their destination. the canoes were found to be in good condition, and after a brief delay the services of a farmer and his team were engaged. the inhabitants of the little village gazed with wonder and curiosity on the strange procession as it passed along the straggling street. the boxes and the gayly painted canoes completely filled the bed of the wagon. nugget was perched on the seat beside the farmer, resplendent in his brown uniform. he held the pennant in his right hand, and waved it in the breeze from time to time. the others marched with military precision behind the wagon. randy bore his gun on his shoulder, and ned and clay carried paddles. all three wore knickerbockers and norfolk jackets, and their faces were protected from the sun by canvas helmets with large visors. for two miles and a half the road wound through a hilly, open country. then it dipped into a wooded ravine, turned aside to follow a barely perceptible path through a heavy forest, and finally ended at a fording on the edge of the conodoguinet. "here you are, boys," cried the farmer, as he pulled up his horses within a few feet of the water. "i reckon you couldn't have a better day for your start. the creek's in prime condition, too." nugget leaped down from the wagon and joined his companions. for a moment or two the boys quite forgot the work that had to be done. with exclamations of delight they gazed on the narrow blue channel as it poured swiftly around a bend in the woods above and vanished from sight beneath the crooked arches of a mossy stone bridge a quarter of a mile below. the opposite shore was rocky and lined with pine trees, and over their tops could be seen against the horizon the jagged crest line of the kittatinny mountains. "come on now and get to work," said ned finally. "my arms are itching to take hold of a paddle." "so are mine," exclaimed randy. "let's be off as soon as possible." with the farmer's aid the canoes were speedily taken from the wagon and placed on the grass close to the water's edge. they were built on somewhat different lines, but all were serviceable and well adapted for speed. the framework and the canvas were both light, and the average weight was about eighty pounds, unloaded. the canoes were aptly named. the water sprite belonged to randy. it was light and graceful, and owing to its flat bottom drew very little water. clay owned the neptune, a broad decked craft, built somewhat on the order of the primitive rob roy. the imp was narrow and rakish, with a low cockpit and a high bow and stern. nugget regarded it with the affection that one feels for a favorite dog. the pioneer, in which ned had cruised down the susquehanna, was a heavy but neatly proportioned craft, and showed traces of wear and tear. they all contained spacious hatches fore and aft. the boxes were unpacked, and under ned's supervision the contents were judiciously distributed and stowed away in the different canoes. then the seats and back rests were arranged in the cockpits, and the canoes were gently shoved into the water. "do you fellows expect to reach the river in them flimsy things?" exclaimed the farmer when he saw the four canoes swinging lightly with the current. "i reckon you'll repent it afore you get many miles from here." "not much danger," replied ned laughingly. "a good canvas canoe will stand as much as a rowboat any time. there are no obstructions in the way, are there?" "i dunno," replied the farmer. "it's a wild and lonesome bit of country that this creek runs through, and i've heard tell of bad water an' whirlpools. the channel winds worse than any serpent. why, it must be all of two hundred miles to the big river." "i hope you are right there," said ned heartily, as he climbed out on his canoe and fixed the pennant securely on the bow. "take your seats now," he added to the boys. "everything's ready for the start." they obeyed with a rush and a scramble, and nugget very nearly got a ducking at the outset by thoughtlessly trying to stand up in the cockpit. good wishes and farewells were exchanged with the friendly farmer. then four double paddles dipped the water and rose flashing with silvery drops, four canoes skimmed gracefully out on the swift blue surface of the creek. the jolly rovers were off at last. when they were twenty or thirty yards down stream they turned and waved their paddles to the farmer, who was still standing in open-mouthed wonder beside the empty packing cases. then a cross current, setting toward the right shore, whisked them out of sight of the spot. randy struck up the chorus of a popular boating song, and the others joined in with eager voices. their jubilant spirits had to find a vent somewhere. what a glorious thing it was to be drifting haphazard with the rippling current, free as the very air, and the birds that were singing sweetly in the bushes! the narrow vista of the creek brought vividly to mind the pleasures that lay in wait along the twisted miles of its channel--the gamy bass lurking in the deep, shady holes, the snipe and woodcock feeding among the reeds, the tent and campfire with the savory odor of coffee and crisp bacon. that less pleasant things than these were destined to fall to the lot of the jolly rovers ere they should paddle from the mouth of the creek into the broad susquehanna, occurred to none, else a shadow had marred their bright anticipations at the start. side by side the four canoes darted under the middle arch of the old stone bridge, and then ned took the lead, for it was not seemly that the pennant should be anywhere but in front while the club was on a cruise. the current soon became sluggish, and the channel wound between thick woods, where the trees almost met overhead. the boys drifted along leisurely, stopping now and then to explore some tempting nook. at one place, where the water was deep and a great rock jutted from the shore, they put their fishing rods together, and procured worms by pulling up great clods of grass. in half an hour they caught a beautiful string of sunfish and chubs. about the middle of the afternoon ned went up to a farmhouse that was visible among the hills and came back with a pail of butter, a loaf of bread and two apple pies. the boys had already lunched on crackers. so they concluded to keep these supplies for supper. they paddled slowly on, crossing from shore to shore as something new took their attention. a sudden shadow, caused by the sun dipping beneath the hill top, reminded them that evening was at hand. the banks were closely scanned for a camping place, and an admirable one was soon found--a grove of big trees, through which filtered a tiny stream. the boys landed and dragged the canoes partly out on the grassy slope. "the tent is the first thing," said ned, as he lifted the big roll of canvas from the cockpit of the pioneer, where it had served as an admirable seat. randy unlashed the poles from the fore deck of his canoe, and joined them together. this was a clever invention of ned's. each pole was in two parts, and could be put together like the joints of a fishing rod. the ferrule of the ridge pole, which had to endure the most pressure, was longer and stouter than the others. the poles were very light but strong, and the entire six pieces made no perceptible burden when lashed on a canoe. five minutes sufficed to raise the tent, and drive the iron stakes at the four corners. then what articles would likely be needed were taken from the canoes and carried inside. ned hunted up two large stones, and placed them a foot apart. he laid four iron rods across them, and proceeded to build a fire underneath. "that's the best cooking arrangement ever invented," he said. "we used it altogether on the susquehanna last summer. if i prepare the supper you fellows must do the rest. clay, you clean those fish. bring me the salt, pepper and lard, randy, and then peel some potatoes." "can i assist in any way?" drawled nugget, as he emerged from behind the tent, where he had been slyly brushing off his clothes and shoes. "why, certainly," replied clay. "clean these fish for me, that's a good fellow." nugget rapidly opened and closed his mouth two or three times. "i--i--really--i'm afraid--" he stammered. "let him alone, clay," cried ned sharply. "clean the fish yourself. suppose you set the table, nugget," he added kindly. "arrange the plates and knives and forks on some grassy level place, i mean." while his companions were performing the duties assigned to them, ned went down to the stream and filled the coffee pot. "this is spring water, as cold as ice," he exclaimed in surprise. "the source can't be far away." the sun was now out of sight, and it grew darker and darker as the preparations for supper went on. randy finished his own work, and helped nugget arrange the dishes on an outspread square strip of canvas. he lit one of the lanterns and placed it in the center, and a few moments later ned made the welcome announcement that supper was ready. the coffee pot and the pans of fried fish and potatoes were gingerly carried over, and then the boys seated themselves at the four corners, crossing their legs under them, tailor fashion. the ruddy flames mangled with the yellow glow of the lantern, dancing on the bright tinware, and casting the shadow of the tent far into the forest. the brook rippled softly through the ravine, and away up the creek the melancholy cry of a whippoorwill was heard. "this is what i call glorious," said ned, as he opened a can of condensed milk and passed it around. "nothing equals a life in the open air, and no other sport has the same fascination." "you're right there," stuttered randy, with his mouth full, "i'd like to live this way half the year round." "it beats new york," said nugget decidedly, as he raised a pint cup of coffee to his lips. the next instant he uttered a howl of anguish, and made a frantic grab at the pail of cold water. "was it hot?" asked clay. "try it and see," retorted nugget indignantly as he buried his nose in the pail. for a little while the silence was broken only by the clatter of knives and forks. then ned said slowly, "it does a fellow lots of good to get away from the rush and noise of town life. we are safer here to-night than we would be at home. no peril can come near us. our only neighbors are the simple, kind hearted farmers--" he paused abruptly, and turned his head to one side. a strange rustling noise was heard back in the forest it grew more distinct with every second, and the boys looked at each other with fear and wonder. then a gruff angry bark rang out on the night air, and the elder bushes across the glade swayed violently. chapter iv adrift in the darkness before the frightened boys could realize what was coming, a big yellow dog shot into view and rushed at them with a ferocious snarl. under other circumstances the jolly rovers would have courageously faced the foe, but the attack was so sudden as to preclude the possibility of defense. the supper party broke up in ignominious confusion. ned bolted for the nearest tree and went up the trunk like a cat. randy fled down the slope to the creek, and clay sought shelter in the bushes on the far side of the rivulet. nugget stared hopelessly about for an instant, and then, with a shrill cry of fear, he dived through the flaps of the tent. the dog rushed across the table, tramping the dishes, and unfortunately upsetting the coffee pot. the hot liquid scalded the brute's paws, and snarling with rage and pain, he bolted into the tent after nugget. for a second or two there was a terrible outcry. nugget's appeals for help mingled with the dog's angry barking. then the tent shook violently and toppled to the ground. at this interesting juncture the owner of the dog emerged from the bushes--a burly farmer with a very stern cast of features. he carried a lantern in one hand, and a short, thick club in the other. the fallen tent first attracted his attention. it was wriggling about as though endowed with life, and from underneath came strange, muffled sounds. the farmer lifted one end of the canvas, and gave it a vigorous jerk, thus liberating the dog, who began to prance about his master. a second pull revealed nugget's legs thrashing wildly about on the grass. the dog immediately made a dart at them, but the farmer caught him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him back. the boys had witnessed the whole affair from their hiding places, and now they dropped from the tree, and came timidly forward. at the same moment randy crept out of the shadows and joined them. the farmer caught sight of the boys and took a step toward them, still keeping a tight hold on his dog. "what do you mean by trespassin' here, you impudent young rascals?" he demanded savagely. "get out of this as quick as you can, or i'll give you a taste of this." he shook his club menacingly. "i'm very sorry if we have offended you," said ned quietly. "we did not suppose there would be any objection to our camping here. i don't think we have done any damage." "damage!" growled the farmer. "no, i reckon not. you hain't had time for that yet. it was only last night i run two thieving rascals off my land. they hed a camp a little ways down the creek, an' fur two whole days they were livin' at my expense, stealing applies, an' eggs, an' chickens, an' whatever else they could lay their hands on. you people are all alike. you don't have no regards fur a farmer's rights." "i'm very sorry you have such a bad opinion of us," said ned. "i assure you we don't deserve it. if you will let us stay here to-night we will go quietly away in the morning." "no," snarled the farmer. "you can't stay. i won't have it. pack up at once and git out. and mind you don't stop anywhere within half a mile. i own the land that fur on both sides of the creek." just then a diversion was created by the dog. he tore loose from his master and rushed at nugget, who had meanwhile crawled out from the fallen canvas, and was standing with open mouth and eyes, listening eagerly to the conversation. "here, bowser," shouted the farmer sternly. "come here, i say." the brute reluctantly obeyed, while nugget sought shelter in a young tree. the angry man turned to the three boys--for clay had by this time joined the others. "get out as quick as you can," he resumed. "i can't stand here all night." for an instant no one replied. ned was bent on making another appeal, and was thinking how he could best word it. the chances were that a little persuasion would have induced the farmer to relent, and permit the boys to remain where they were until morning. but randy's unfortunate temper blazed up just then, and made a breach that was too wide to be healed. "it's a confounded shame to turn us off at this time of night," he muttered angrily. "i wouldn't treat a dog that way. if this is a sample of country breeding i'm glad i don't--" "keep quiet, randy," whispered ned; "you're only making things worse." the warning came too late. "you audacious sauce box," cried the farmer. "i'll learn you manners. take that--and that." he seized randy by the collar, and cuffed him soundly on the ears three or four times. then he dropped him and turned to the others. "now git out o' here, or i'll treat you-uns the same way," he snarled. randy was boiling with rage, but he dared not open his mouth again. ned and clay realized that further entreaty was now useless. without a word they began to pack up, and were finally assisted by randy and nugget. the farmer stood at one side, watching the operation keenly. in a brief space of time the tent and the unwashed dishes were tumbled into the hatches. then the boys pushed the canoes into the water, and took their seats. the farmer came down to the shore to see them off. "mind what i told you," he said; "no stoppin' within a good half mile." "don't say a word," whispered ned. his companions wisely obeyed, and in utter silence they paddled out from the shore and headed down stream. soon a curve in the channel hid from view the dying embers of the campfire and the twinkle of the farmer's lantern. "wouldn't i like to get square with that old curmudgeon!" exclaimed randy; "my ears sting yet. for half a cent i'd go back and trample down his grain or break his fences." "i wish you'd poison the dog," drawled nugget. "the brute gave me a horrid fright. the falling of the tent was all that saved me from being chewed up." "see here, randy," said ned in a grave tone. "if you had kept your temper down and your mouth shut, things would have turned out all right. a little reasoning would have pacified that farmer. i thought you had more sense. you heard what the man said, didn't you? "two men--tramps or fishermen, probably--had been camping on his land, and doing all the damage they could, and naturally enough he was inclined to take out his spite on us. i don't blame him much. such a thing would rile any farmer. most people have an idea that when they get in the country they can do as they please, and for what these ignorant fools do the innocent ones have to suffer. we are finding that out ourselves just now." "but the old brute might have seen that we didn't belong to that class of people," growled randy, "and besides he didn't pay any attention to what you said." "i had no chance to explain who we were," replied ned. "you spoiled that for me by your impudence. i have no doubt the man was fair enough at heart. if we get in any more scrapes of that kind you must keep your temper down. i'm speaking for your own good, randy. this isn't the first time your tongue has got you into trouble." "it would be a good idea to keep his mouth tied shut except at meal times," suggested clay laughingly. "if you say that again i'll hit you with my paddle," threatened randy. "i won't stand any nonsense from _you_, clay halsey." "no quarreling, boys," said ned. "that's enough now. we'll let the matter drop." clay subsided, and so did randy. the latter stood a little in awe of ned's rebukes, and whether he felt the justice of this one or not, he wisely made no more allusions to the farmer. indeed there were other things to think about now. the night was dark and gloomy, and it was difficult to perceive the outlines of the shores. the boys were tired and sleepy, but they feared to stop and hunt up a camping ground, lest the farmer should come down and rout them out again. a light would betray them, but without it they could do nothing. there seemed to be no current at all, and in the dead sluggish water half a mile meant a wearisome paddle. "i'm awfully hungry," said nugget in a plaintive tone. "i didn't have ten bites of supper." "we're all hungry, for that matter," returned ned, "and sleepy as well. we must find a camping place." "you had better hurry then," observed clay. "i believe it's going to rain. the air feels sultry, and there isn't a star in sight." almost as he spoke a sullen peal of thunder echoed among the hills, and an instant later a jagged flash of lightning blazed on the surface of the creek. the boys huddled a little closer together and nervously discussed the situation. a storm was bad enough when they had a snug tent to shelter them, but in their present plight, adrift on the water in pitch darkness, there was no telling what disaster might happen. "i wish i was home," said nugget. "i'm awfully afraid of thunder and lightning." no one laughed at this candid confession. the occasion was too serious for mirth. "i hardly know what would be best to do," began ned. "if there is going to be much lightning we will be safer on the water than among the trees on shore. but here comes a gale, if i'm not mistaken. that will make things lively for us." ned's prediction was correct. the trees on shore suddenly began to rustle and creak. the water was lashed into short, choppy waves, which turned to white capped billows as the wind waxed stronger. it was evident that this part of the creek occupied an exposed position. "keep your canoes trim," shouted ned. "the wind will drop as soon as the rain comes." it is doubtful if his companions heard the warning. the force of the tempest had already driven the canoes apart. for two or three minutes ned was tossed about at will, momentarily expecting his frail craft to upset. he could see no trace of his companions in the darkness, and when he shouted the roar of the gale almost drowned his voice. suddenly he felt a severe shock, and then the canoe stood still. as he partially rose, and peered to right and left, a dim object glided swiftly by him. a second later it disappeared with startling abruptness, and a frantic cry for help rang out hoarsely above the fury of the storm. chapter v disappearance of nugget ned knew that the dim object must have been a canoe, but its sudden effacement, and the loud cry for help, were mysteries too deep for immediate comprehension. he shouted with all the power of his voice full half a dozen times, but no answer came back. then a happy thought flashed into his mind. when he had satisfied himself by shaking it violently that the canoe was firmly lodged on some object--probably a rock--he leaned forward and took his lantern from the hatch. by holding it low in the cockpit he had no difficulty in lighting the wick. the lantern was a bullseye, and as soon as ned turned the flashing glare on the surrounding darkness the mystery was solved. the pioneer was lodged in mid channel on a timber dam. the bow projected a foot or two over the edge, but could go no further owing to lack of water. none was running over at all at this point, and the slimy timbers protruded six or eight inches above the level of the creek. while ned was making these investigations the wind ceased, and he heard close at hand a steady roaring noise, like the furious patter of rain on a tin roof. but it was not rain that produced the noise, though big drops were even then beginning to fall. a twist of the lantern to the left sent a luminous bar of light along the breast of the darn, and revealed a jagged break, fully six feet wide, through which the freed water poured with the speed of a millrace. the chasm was barely a dozen feet from where the pioneer had lodged, and ned's first thought was one of gratitude for his own escape. then he remembered with a thrill of horror what had happened a moment or two before. which of his companions had been carried through the break, and where was the unfortunate lad now? as ned stood with the lantern turned on the fatal spot, a shout rang out behind him, and the next instant the water sprite grounded on the edge of the dam beside the pioneer. "i'm glad you lit that lantern, ned," exclaimed randy breathlessly. "i came pretty near paddling back up the creek. but where are the other fellows?" ned pointed to the broken dam and huskily related what had occurred. randy was horror stricken. "i heard that cry for help, too," he said, "but i had no idea what it meant. are you sure one of the boys went through?" "i saw the canoe plainly," replied ned. "there was just one cry for help, and after that i could get no answer when i shouted." "we'll hope for the best," said randy stoutly. "perhaps he made the plunge all right, and is half a mile down the creek by this time. great cæsar! i hope both the boys didn't go through. no, there's a light now on the left shore. it's either nugget or clay with a lantern." "paddle over and bring him back with you," directed ned. "if he tries to come himself he'll go through the break. be sure to keep away above the dam though, and when you return don't let my lantern mislead you, because i intend to wade along the breastwork and have a look at that hole. if you head for a dozen feet this side of the light you'll likely land where you are now." randy promised obedience, and departed in haste. ned watched him anxiously until he was out of sight. then he sounded the water with his paddle, and finding it quite shallow he climbed carefully out of the canoe. holding the lantern in one hand, and clutching the projecting edge of the dam with the other, he moved along foot by foot, submerged to his waist. it was well that he had this support, for his feet were on the sloping, mud incrusted planks. when the broken place was three or four feet away the water began to deepen. ned stopped and flashed the light on the lower side of the dam. he saw little there to comfort him. the fall was about six feet, and at the bottom of the long, glassy sheet of water which plunged through the break at a frightful speed, great foam crested waves began, and rolled and tumbled in awful confusion as far as the gleam of the bullseye could reach. that a canoe could go through such a place without capsizing seemed an utter impossibility. there was no sign of one, however, in the quiet eddies on either side of the raging channel, and with this dismal scrap of comfort ned retraced his perilous journey to the canoe. he had hardly gained it, and climbed in, when randy and his companion paddled their craft alongside. that companion was clay. nugget, then, was the missing jolly rover. "discover anything?" demanded randy. "no. it looks bad for poor nugget, boys. if the canoe had gone through all right he would have paddled to shore, and been making a big outcry by this time." "he can't be drowned. i won't believe it," cried randy. "see here, ned, isn't it likely that nugget caught hold of the canoe when it upset, and clung to it? the roar of the water would account for your not hearing his cries." "it may be," said ned reflectively, as he dashed a tear from his eye. "if that's the case we will soon overtake him--provided he doesn't let go his hold. let's have a look at the right hand corner of the dam." "yes, that will be the most likely place," added clay. "the race is on the other side. i nearly blundered into it." the boys paddled to shore, following the line of the dam, and a brief search with the lantern revealed an easy path by which the canoes could be carried around. there was no sign of a house, and clay reported none on the opposite side, so the mill was probably some distance below. under the excitement of the moment the boys scarcely felt the weight of the heavily laden canoes. they carried them, one at a time, up a sloping bank, and then down through the bushes to the water. when they embarked, and paddled out through the quiet shallows to the swift channel in midstream, the wind had nearly subsided and the rain was falling in a desultory fashion which promised only a brief continuance. in fact stars were visible here and there through rifts in the black clouds. the storm seemed to have gone off in another direction. a short distance below the dam the water became very sluggish, and the boys knew that if nugget was ahead of them they must speedily overtake him. so they paddled hard, forgetful of weariness and hunger, and at frequent intervals shouted loudly and called their companion by name. the lanterns were exposed to view so that nugget could not fail to see the light if he was anywhere near. for half an hour the three heartsick lads paddled on steadily, and in that time hardly a word was exchanged. they were in no mood for conversation. finally the track of yellow light which shone ahead from ned's bullseye revealed a bit of an island in mid-channel--a strip of gravel and reeds, with a few stunted bushes growing in the center. ned drove the pioneer on the upper point and stepped out. his companions did the same, and randy asked wearily: "what are you going to do here?" "wait for daylight," said ned. "it's the only thing we _can_ do. we are a good mile and a half below the dam, and if the canoe was drifting in that sluggish water, we passed it long ago. it has probably lodged on some bar, or along the shore, and will be found in the morning." "then you think that nugget is--is drowned?" asked clay huskily. ned stooped and pulled the canoe up on the bar. "i don't know," he said in a broken voice. "if nugget was alive he would surely have heard our shouts or seen the lights. we won't know anything positively until morning. it could do no good to paddle up the creek again in the darkness, so we had better wait here as patiently as we can." no objection was made to this plan, and the boys crawled in among the bushes and sat down with clay's lantern between them. the passing storm had not cooled the sultry atmosphere, and no fire or blankets were needed. all seemed stupefied by the terrible misfortune that had happened, though as yet they hardly realized its full significance. they purposely refrained from talking about it, though each knew in his own heart how wildly improbable was the hope that nugget was still alive. the hours of that dark, dismal night wore slowly on. there was plenty to eat in the canoes, but no one was hungry now. a lantern was kept burning at the upper point of the island, and from time to time one of the boys went down to the shore and shouted till the echo rang far among the hills. they must have known that it was but a hollow mockery, and yet there was a scrap of consolation even in pretending that hope was not entirely gone. ned insisted that his companions should lie down and sleep. this seemed impossible at first, but after a while drowsiness and fatigue asserted their sway. randy went down to the canoes and returned with three blankets. he and clay wrapped themselves up, and chose a soft spot among the bushes. in five minutes they were sleeping soundly. ned remained where he was for a long while, keeping solitary vigil over his companions. then he began to pace up and down the island, and finally he pulled the blanket about his shoulders and sat down on the upper end of the bar with his back against the side of the canoe. it was his intention to remain awake, but unconsciously his eyelids drooped, and after a feeble struggle or two he sank into a deep slumber. he knew nothing more until he woke in the gray dawn of the morning. for a few seconds his surroundings seemed familiar. then the bitter truth flashed into his mind, and he rose with an aching heart. he was stiff and shivering, and the cool breeze that blew down the creek, scattering the light, vapory mists over the surface of the water, made him keenly conscious of the pangs of hunger. he went up in the bushes and wakened clay and randy. they followed him stiffly down to the shore, and after dipping their feet in the cool, rippling water, all sat down on the grass and ate a few crackers. ned offered to build a fire and make some hot coffee, but the others protested that they did not care for it. the sun was just peeping above the horizon when the boys pushed their canoes into the water and embarked on the dreaded journey up the creek. both shores were thickly timbered, and to make the search more thorough ned kept close to the right bank, while clay and randy followed the left. they paddled with leisurely strokes, maintaining a sharp watch on every patch of reeds and every little inlet. in the first mile there was nothing to reward the searchers--not the slightest trace of the missing canoe or its occupant. then the channel made a sharp curve, and when they paddled around it they saw, nearly half a mile above, a gray, weather worn mill, standing in a grove of willows on the right hand shore. the dam was visible a hundred yards or so beyond, and the sunlight was dancing on the foaming torrent that poured through the break. chapter vi the lost found without lessening their vigilance the boys paddled on against the increasing current. when the mill was very near ned signaled the others to join him. they quickly crossed to the right shore, and the three canoes were run into a quiet little nook close to the swirling mouth of the race. the mill was twenty yards above, and a little to the right of it a cozy frame house, overgrown with trailing vines, peeped above the willow trees. "i thought we had better stop here on account of the swift water," said ned. "we will go up to the dam on foot, and take a look at the deep holes under the breastwork." before clay or randy could reply a man came briskly through the trees--the miller beyond a doubt, for his clothes and hat were white with flour. he greeted the boys with a smile and a cherry nod. "i guess you're the chaps i was just starting out to find," he said. "t'other young chap was getting anxious about you, and not much wonder. he feared you were all drowned, and i guess you thought the same about him. it was lucky i run across him this morning. you see i went down to the creek at daybreak to look for a stray cow, and when--" "did you find a boy called nugget?" interrupted ned in great excitement. "and a green and white canoe called the imp?" shouted randy, as he tossed his cap into the air. "that's about the way of it," responded the miller. "but come up to the house and see for yourselves. you look as if you were nearly starved." the boys needed no second invitation. with eager steps and light hearts they followed their guide through the trees, and across the little garden to the rear of the house. the miller threw open the door, and they rushed in with cries of delight. there sat nugget at the kitchen table, making a fierce onslaught on ham and fried potatoes. he was rigged out in a suit of clothes three times too big for him, and his brown uniform was drying before the fire. the boys were so glad to see him that they first laughed and then cried almost, while the miller and his wife looked on in wonder. nugget took things very coolly. "where did you fellows spend the night?" he asked, after the first greetings were over. "where did _you_ spend it?" exclaimed ned. "you gave us a pretty scare, nugget. we never expected to see you again." "let him spin his yarn while you're eating breakfast," interrupted the miller. "lizzie, set three more plates out." a moment later the boys were attacking the food with keen appetites, and as nugget was now through, he proceeded to relate his adventures. "when the wind came up and separated us," he began, "i got pretty badly scared. i was afraid it would rain hard, so i took out my canvass apron and buttoned it over the cockpit, close up to my waist." "good for you!" said ned. "if i'm not mistaken that was what saved you." "perhaps it was," resumed nugget. "i paddled on for a little while, trying to find you fellows. all at once i heard an awful roar, and the canoe made a jump as though it was going to stand on end. i gave one yell, and the next thing i knew big waves were jumping all around me." he paused to shiver at the recollection. "and what then?" asked randy breathlessly. "then i was more scared than ever," continued nugget in a reluctant voice. "so i crawled under the apron and snuggled up in the cockpit. there was plenty of room, and the cushion made a nice soft pillow, and--and--i fell asleep." "fell asleep!" ejaculated ned in amazement. "you don't mean it?" "why, yes," said nugget. "i was awfully tired, you know, and i couldn't keep my eyes open. the next thing i remember is that man there helping me out. it was daylight, and the canoe was in a little channel with thick bushes all around." the boys were not slow to appreciate the ludicrous side of nugget's adventure, and they laughed long and heartily. then the miller told how he found the canoe in a stretch of back water that ran a few yards in from the creek, and how surprised he was when he pulled the apron off the cockpit and saw nugget fast asleep. "i noticed that inlet," said ned, "but i didn't see anything of the canoe." "because i pulled it out in the bushes," replied the miller. "the current has a natural drift toward the place, and clogs it up with rubbish sometimes. the lad had a narrow squeeze of it when he went through that hole in the dam. i intend to fix it as soon as the water goes down a little." "i don't want to go through any more such places," said nugget. "i suppose that apron was what kept the water out. i shipped a little bit, though i didn't know it until this morning, when i found my clothes all wet. my extra suit is in your canoe, randy. i had dry shirts, though. say, wouldn't i look nice marching down fifth avenue in this rig?" the boys laughed at the idea, and then drew their chairs away from the table, and chatted for half an hour with the miller, relating all that had happened on the previous night, and telling him of their proposed trip to the susquehanna. he, in turn, gave them much interesting information about the creek, where to camp and where to fish. ten o'clock came before any one realized it, and the boys prepared to depart, in spite of their host's earnest invitation to stay for a day or two. nugget changed his clothes, and started for the inlet with the miller, while the others embarked in their canoes, after thanking the miller's wife for her hospitality. the inlet was half a mile down the creek. the boys reached there first, and were joined by the others two or three minutes later. fortunately nugget's paddle was not lost. he had found it stranded along the shore while on his way to the mill that morning. the boys lingered a moment to shake hands with their kind hearted friend, and thank him for his services. "that's all right," said the miller, "only too glad to oblige you. be sure and stop when you pass here again. my name is john kling." "we'll spend a week with you next time," returned ned, as he grasped his paddle. "please have the dam mended before then," drawled nugget. the miller laughed and waved his hand, and amid a chorus of "good-byes" the jolly rovers paddled away from shore. the shadow of misfortune was forgotten, and the future was full of bright anticipations, as before. the birds sang among the leaves, the fish leaped in the ripples, and the sunlight danced on the blue water. the little island, where the boys had spent such a wretched night, was soon far behind, and they entered upon a more beautiful stretch of country than they had yet seen. the water was very sluggish, and on each side were great hills densely covered with pine and spruce trees. the temptations to stop were so frequent that by mid-afternoon the boys were scarcely five miles from the mill--that is to say by water. it was probably less than half that distance in a straight line. "i'm really hungry again in spite of that big breakfast," said clay. "can't we stop and have lunch?" "i second that," cried randy. the others were of the same mind, and as a very pretty spot happened to come within view about that time, they paddled across to it and landed. closer inspection only added to the charms of the place. it lay on the right shore, at the mouth of a deep, dark ravine. a beach of smooth pebbles sloped back to a grassy bank three or four feet high, and on the plateau above were a dozen or more massive girthed pine trees, whose fragrant needles carpeted the ground. a fair sized brook gurgled through the center over a bed of mossy stones, and emptied into the creek. "we might travel a good many miles and not find such a place as this," said ned. "suppose we stay here for a day or two. tomorrow is sunday and we would have to stop then anyhow." this suggestion was adopted without a dissenting word and the boys became enthusiastic over the prospect. randy wanted to begin fishing at once, while nugget proposed an exploration of the ravine. a few sensible words from ned cooled their ardor, and they started in with a will to arrange the camp. the tent was staked in a carefully selected spot, and then the canoes were unloaded and placed on the beach in a row, bottom up, so what little water was in them might drain out. while nugget and clay carried the provisions and other articles up to the tent, ned and randy washed the dirty dishes of the night before. then the blankets were put to air on a stout line stretched between two trees, and a great heap of firewood was collected. "that's all for the present," said ned, as he finished tying the pennant to the front tent pole. "you can do a little fishing now if you want to. don't venture far away from the camp, because i'm going up the ravine to look for a farmhouse." randy declared that he was tired and would rather stay by the tent, so nugget and clay prepared their rods and went down the creek a short distance to a jutting point of rock. with a diminutive hook they caught a couple of minnows, which they used for bait. for a long time their patience was unrewarded, but finally nugget had a strike, and after a severe struggle he landed a fine bass that could not have weighed less than a pound. clay caught a smaller one, and after that the fish stopped biting. at sundown they put up their rods and went back to camp. ned had just returned, bringing with him a pair of dressed chickens and a pail of milk. "these will make us a good dinner to-morrow," he said. "i had a hard time finding the farmhouse. it was more than a mile away, and the path led through the woods for nearly the whole distance. i suppose you are pretty hungry by this time. if you all pitch in and help we'll soon have supper." in a short time the fire was blazing merrily. ned was as good as his word, and the _menu_ he set before the boys that night was a tempting one. it included fried bass, ham and eggs, and baked potatoes, with milk and pie for desert. as the night was warm all indulged in a delicious swim after the supper dishes were cleared up. at nine o'clock they turned in and tied the tent flaps shut. even this precaution was felt to be unnecessary, since the very loneliness of the place was a protection against harm. randy, who occupied the proud position of log keeper to the jolly rovers, sat up for a while to jot down the events of the cruise in a blank book. he finally extinguished the lantern with a sigh of satisfaction, and was soon sleeping beside his companions. sunday dawned bright and clear, but the boys did not get up until nine o'clock. the pine needles made a couch that was hard to leave. the day was observed in a spirit of proper regard. its monotony was somewhat alleviated by the dinner of fried chicken, but all were glad when night came. chapter vii batters and joe ned was up with the sun on monday morning. he pulled the tent flaps wide open, so that the cool air would stream in and awaken his companions. then he threw a towel over his shoulder and marched down to the mouth of the brook to wash his face and hands. but this laudable purpose was quite driven from his mind by the discovery which greeted his eyes when he arrived there. on the spit of jutting sand which had formed at the junction of the creek and the brook was the deep imprint of a boat's keel, and close by were half a dozen large footsteps. they looked quite fresh, and had evidently been made by two persons. some were long and pointed; others square toed, and shod with nails or pegs. as ned gazed on these evidences of a nocturnal visit, he felt pretty much as did robinson crusoe when he discovered the print of naked feet on his island. it was impossible to tell where these strangers had been, since the gravel beach and the grassy soil beyond it left no traces. ned washed his face and hands and returned to the tent with a troubled mind. the boys were awake by this time, and he told them of his discovery. "hullo! that explains something," exclaimed clay. "i got awake last night, and struck a match to find the pail of water that was standing outside the tent. i thought i heard a noise down by the creek, but i was too sleepy to bother about it, and went back to bed." "then you must have scared these fellows off," said ned. "that accounts for nothing being stolen. everything of value was in the tent, however, and i don't suppose they cared to meddle with the canoes." "do you think these are the same men that the farmer chased off his land?" asked randy. "very likely," replied ned. "i'm sorry now that i didn't inquire more about them. the best thing we can do is to break camp and put about ten miles between us and this place." "that would be cowardly," exclaimed randy. "we have no reason to be afraid of these fellows. they'll get a warm reception if they meddle around camp again. let's stay here for one day anyhow. we won't find many prettier places, and besides, i'm anxious to do some hunting and fishing." clay seemed disposed to side with randy, while nugget favored both sides of the question. he wanted to go, and he was just as anxious to catch some more bass down at the point of rocks. ned hesitated for a moment. he knew that it would be the more prudent plan to break camp at once, but the same time he was not inclined to insist upon it, and thus incur the ill will of his companions. "i see that the majority is against me," he said good naturedly. "but if we get in any kind of a scrape you fellows will shoulder the blame, that's all." the boys appeared to be satisfied with this arrangement. they trooped off to the brook to wash, while ned turned aside to make the fire. after breakfast randy shouldered his gun and started down the creek in search of snipe or woodcock. clay and nugget caught a pailful of minnows and departed for the point of rocks, for this was the time of day when the bass would probably bite best. ned did not accompany them. he had the true appreciation of outdoor life, and was never happier than when doing odd bits of work around the camp. he occupied himself in this way for an hour or two--arranging the interior of the tent, hanging the blankets out to air, stacking the wood neatly by the fireplace, and scrubbing the frying pans and the outside of the coffee pot with sand and gravel. he was scooping out a little fish pond at the mouth of the brook when randy returned. "what luck?" he asked, looking up from his work. "not a thing," answered randy in a disappointed tone. "the snipe are all on the other side of the creek. i'm going after them now in my canoe. i tramped along the shore for at least a mile, ned, and i didn't see a trace of anybody, either on this side or on the other. our midnight visitors must have cleared out for good." "i hope they have," said ned. "what luck are the boys having?" "four bass, and one of them is a big fellow. help me up with my canoe now, will you?" ned rendered the desired assistance. "don't stay too long," he told randy. "i'll be back inside of an hour," was the reply, as the other paddled swiftly down the creek. ned finished the fish pond to his satisfaction, and feeling a little tired, he climbed up the slope and threw himself down in a clump of high grass behind the tent. he was gazing dreamily up the creek with his head resting on his outstretched arms, when a boat containing two persons came suddenly into view around the bend. ned crept a little deeper into the grass, where he could see without being seen. the boat was now out of sight behind the trees, but when it reappeared a moment later, directly opposite the camp, a single glance satisfied ned that it was not the same craft which had landed at the mouth of the brook during the previous night. this was a rude affair known as a "flat." it was long and narrow, with square ends and sides, and from its cranky motion evidently had no keel. the occupants were young fellows of twenty or thereabouts. they were roughly dressed, and their general appearance was by no means favorable. they stopped paddling in amazement when they caught sight of the camp, and after a brief conversation, which ned did not catch, they ran their craft on shore a few yards below the mouth of the brook. ned shifted his position, and watched their movements curiously. the strangers evidently intended to pitch a camp of their own, for they made frequent trips up the slope, carrying blankets and tin pails, and various other articles. then they chopped down a number of fine shoots, and constructed, in a brief space of time, a snug lean-to between two big trees. having placed their things in this--casting suspicious glances all the while at the tent--they went back to the boat, climbed in, and paddled swiftly down the creek. ned rose to his feet, and looked after them in amazement. as the boat vanished around the sharp curve that the creek made immediately below the camp, he noticed for the first time a bait box trailing on behind. "i understand it now," he muttered. "those fellows are out for a fishing trip, and they're going down to the rocks to set their lines. i hope they won't get into a row with clay and nugget." the possibility of such a thing made ned uneasy. he stood in perplexity for a moment or two, and had just made up his mind to go down and look after the boys, when the sound of loud, angry voices reached his hearing. he hesitated no longer, but leaped down the slope and ran at full speed along the beach. bursting through a covert of reeds and tall bushes, he emerged within a few yards of the rocks. on the outermost bowlder, close to the swirling current, were nugget, clay, and the two strangers. the flat was drawn out on shore. as ned put foot on the nearest rock the taller of the strange lads struck nugget violently on the arm with a paddle. clay immediately hit the cowardly fellow in the breast, and in the struggle that followed the latter lost his balance and rolled backward into the swift current. his companion pounced on clay, and they came down together on the rock, while nugget stood by, holding his injured arm and shouting for help. ned took in the situation at a glance. he saw that the lad in the water was a poor swimmer, and could make no headway against the current. without stopping to count the cost he threw off his coat, and ran to the edge of the bowlder. "bring the boat quick!" he shouted to clay and his assailant, who had fallen apart and were glaring wrathfully at each other. then ned put his arms together and dived head first into the foaming water. he came to the surface half a dozen yards below, and struck out vigorously for the struggling lad, who was by this time on the point of exhaustion. ned was an admirable swimmer, and absolutely fearless in the water. "keep cool, and don't struggle," he shouted, as he reached the fellow and put on hand on his collar. the other had sense enough to obey, and both floated down stream together. it was out of the question for ned to reach the shore immediately with his heavy burden, and as clay and the other lad were slow about launching the boat, the affair might have ended seriously. but just at that time randy came paddling up the creek in his canoe, and spied the drifting figures. he was soon alongside, and as the stern of the water sprite swung toward them, ned and his companion each threw an arm over it. then randy paddled for the shore, and landed about sixty feet below the rocks. clay and the other stranger reached the spot in the boat just as ned and the lad he had so nobly rescued, waded out on the beach. the latter shook the water from his clothes and hesitatingly approached ned. "i dunno' how to thank you for what you did," he said sheepishly. "i'm mighty sorry i hit that chap. me and joe were downright mad because you'uns were fishing thar in our place. you see we come here from the mountains every now and then, and ketch a lot of bass, and sell 'em back at newville. i reckon it ain't our place anyhow, an' you'uns can fish thar as much as you please. my name is jim batters--batters they allus calls me--and that's my brother joe there." "i'm glad to know you, batters," said ned, holding out his hand. "you are welcome to your fishing ground. we are going away to-morrow anyhow. as for the quarrel--we'll just let that drop. you had better go up to camp now and dry your clothes." batters was not satisfied, however, until he had apologized all around, and made joe do the same. nugget had arrived by this time, and he declared that his arm no longer pained him. then the whole party went up the creek, some on water and some on land. the two mountaineers were tall, lanky youths with expressionless faces, surrounded by shocks of yellow hair. they wore homespun clothes and high boots. they were speedily on intimate terms with jolly rovers, and gladly accepted ned's invitation to dinner. they asked many curious questions, and lost themselves in admiration over the canoes. ned told them about the nocturnal visitors of the previous night, and inquired if they had seen anything of the men. both stoutly replied in the negative, but a swift, covert glance that passed between them did not escape ned's attention. during the remainder of the day he remembered it more than once. when dinner was over they all went down to the rocks, and batters and joe proudly displayed their skill at fishing. in two hours they caught fifteen large bass. for bait they used crabs and lizards, which they had brought from the mountains. in the evening randy entertained the country lads with a mouth organ performance, and at ten o'clock the visitors went to their camp on the other side of the brook. it had been a long day, and the jolly rovers were glad to get to bed. they were too drowsy to think about the possibility of another visit from the mysterious boat, and in a very few minutes all were sound asleep. about midnight--as nearly as he could judge afterward--ned sat up with a start, firmly convinced that some danger was at hand. as he listened with a wildly throbbing heart, soft footsteps cracked on the pine needles outside, and then the tent flap was torn open, revealing against the lingering embers of the campfire the semblance of a human form. "hi! you chaps in thar!" whispered a gruff and unfamiliar voice. "get awake, quick!" the words had a soothing affect on ned's fears, and satisfied him that the visitor--whoever he was--had come in the guise of friendship. he drew a match from his pocket and rubbed it on his trousers. it ignited, and revealed the pale face of batters, framed between the tent and flap. "great cæsar! is it you?" exclaimed ned. "what's wrong?" "hush! not so loud," whispered batters. "put that light out, quick!" ned obeyed in haste. "now rouse the other chaps, and do it quietly, so they don't make no noise." this was a pretty stiff order, and ned had some fears for the result. happily all went well, and in two or three minutes an audience of four trembling and well nigh panic stricken lads was sitting in the darkness, listening to batter's ominous tale. "joe waked me up a little while ago," he began, "an' said there was a strange boat, an' two men in it, down by the mouth of the run. i tole joe ter stay an' watch our stuff. then i sneaked along the shore an' seen the fellows sittin' on the beach along side the canoes. "i didn't dare go close enough to hear what they was sayin', so i come right up to the tent. i reckon you uns had better make a move afore the canoes get carried off. i'll do what i kin fur you. if we all take paddles and run out yellin' an' screachin' mebbe the fellars will get scared and make tracks without showin' fight." this proposition rather staggered the boys. "the thieves probably want more than the canoes," said ned. "it's very likely they are right outside the tent now. i hardly know what we ought to do." "let's give them our money and watches, and anything else they want," suggested nugget. "if we don't they'll surely cut our throats." "keep quiet!" whispered clay savagely. "if you don't i'll throw you out of the tent." at this awful threat nugget subsided and buried his head in his blanket. meanwhile randy, whose temper was beginning to rise at the thought of being robbed, had quietly reached for his gun, and was fumbling with it under cover of the darkness. an unlucky move dashed the stock against his lantern, and the crash of broken glass followed. at the same moment batters called in a loud whisper, "here they are. i see them movin' among the trees." at this startling news a wailing cry broke from nugget, and an instant later a gruff voice called distinctly: "come out of that one at a time, young fellars. move lively, an' you won't be harmed." there was dead silence for a few seconds, and then the command was repeated in a more peremptory tone. "they ain't got no shootin' weapons," whispered batters; "only short sticks. i can see 'em by the firelight." on hearing this, randy was seized with a sudden access of courage. gun in hand, he dashed by his companions to the front of the tent. batters saw the glint of the weapon and made a futile grab at it. "don't do no shootin'," he whispered hoarsely. the warning came too late. randy stepped out from the flaps and raised it to his shoulder. "make tracks, you villains," he shouted, "or i'll put daylight through you." (this was a favorite expression of randy's purloined from the life of kit carson.) then, as retreating footsteps were heard, he lowered the weapon a little and pulled the trigger. the thunderous report was followed by a yell of pain, and two voices hissed out dire threats of vengeance as the baffled men went hastily down the slope. as randy turned toward his companions batters sprang at him and wrenched the weapon from his hands. "didn't i tell you not to shoot?" he cried. "now you've gone an' hit bug. i kinder feared it might be him, but i wasn't certain. that's him swearin' this very minute. oh! i'll fix you for this." pushing randy to one side and dashing the gun on the ground, batters vanished in the darkness, yelling at the top of his voice, "bug! bug! it's me!" the boys were overcome with terror and amazement. who in the world was bug, and why should batters be so anxious about him? "why did you do that?" demanded ned sternly. "if you have shot any one don't expect us to shield you." randy did not reply. he staggered into the tent and rolled over in helpless mirth. "it--it was--a salt cartridge," he finally was able to gasp. "i had--three or four of them. i read how to make them--in a book. didn't i pepper their legs nicely though. "i don't care what it was," exclaimed ned angrily. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself. you'll break up this trip yet with your foolishness." randy sobered down in a moment or two, and when he joined the others outside the tent he was disposed to take a less humorous view of his smart performance. a light was visible at the mouth of the brook, and four figures could be seen around it. joe had evidently joined his brother. the conversation that was carried on was for the most part inaudible, but now and then a threatening sentence could be heard, or a few words of entreaty. "serious trouble will come out of this," said ned. "for half a cent i'd deliver you over to those fellows, randy. the worst of it is that they were going away when you fired." "dodging behind trees, that's all," replied randy. "not a bit of it," exclaimed ned angrily. "they were running toward the creek." as clay stoutly backed up this assertion, randy lapsed into sullen silence. he was more frightened than he chose to let appear. after what seemed a painfully long interval to the waiting boys, batters came softly out of the gloom and stood before them. "i reckon there ain't no more danger," he said. "it wasn't bug what was hit; the other fellow. he's sittin' down thar on the stones now, a pickin' lumps of salt out of his legs with a knife blade. he's mad as blazes too, an' me an bug had all we could do ter keep him from comin' back here. "i tole bug how you saved my life, an' when he heard that he put his foot down an' swore you chaps shouldn't be harmed. bug ain't bad at heart, he ain't. as soon as the other fellow gits all the salt out they're both going away. they hev a camp somewhere's down the creek." "but who are these men, batters, and what do you know about them?" asked ned. the lad hesitated for a moment. "i reckon i might as well make a clean breast of it," he said in a pitiful tone. "don't you-uns think bad of me an' joe though, cause we've been brung up different, 'deed we have--." "look here, batters, you needn't tell us if you don't want to," interrupted ned sympathetically. he had an inkling of the true state of affairs, and wished to spare the lad what was evidently a painful recital. "no, i'd better tell," responded batters. "it's just this way. bug is big brother to me and joe, only he's about six years older than us. you see when he was a little chap dad an' mammy lived down near middlesex, an' bug he got in bad company. when dad moved up to the gap, bug was toler'ble bad, an' since then he's been gittin' worse. "he was in carlisle jail twict fer stealin', an' in summer he jest lives shiftless like along the creek, helpin' hisself to the farmers' stuff. now he dassent come home no more, for dad says he won't own him fur a son. mammy cries heaps an' says her heart's broke. "you see dad an' mammy are honest, if they are poor, an' they made me an' joe promise we'd never take nothin' what don't belong to us. mammy says she wants us ter grow up the right way, an' not be bad an' wuthless like--like bug--." here batters broke down and began to cry softly. his sad little tale--alas! only too common in all walks of life!--had deeply moved his hearers, and more than one of the boys had tears in their eyes. ned walked over and threw his arm around the weeping lad. "don't cry, batters," he said softly. "some day bug will find out his mistake and begin to do better. we don't think any the less of you and joe on his account. stick to your mother, and do what she says, and you'll be sure to grow up the right kind of men." batters was consoled by this boyish sympathy. he wiped his eyes and looked gratefully at ned. "here, take this," said nugget, holding out a handsome pocket knife. "it's got four blades, and a corkscrew, and a file." batters looked doubtfully at the treasure. randy had just lighted a lantern, and the rays flashed on the mother of pearl handle. "i want you to have it," said nugget, "my father will send me plenty more from new york." the temptation was too much. batters took the knife with a smile, and incoherently tried to thank the donor. all at once the creaking of oars was heard, and a moment later joe joined the party. "they've gone," he announced. "t' other fellow got tired pickin' the salt out. bug tole him he ought to be glad cause now he was well seasoned. then the fellow jabbed at bug with a knife. missed him though." "well, i'm 'glad the affair is over," said ned. "we'll be able to get some sleep now. batters, suppose you and joe come in our tent? there is room enough." batters hesitated and gave an awkward hitch to his trousers. "i reckon you'd better not do any more sleepin' here," he said uneasily. "bug pulled me aside, and said i should tell you-uns to light out afore daybreak, 'cause the other fellar will surely come back an' lay fur the chap what shot him. i dunno where bug picked him up, or who he is. he looks like a tramp, with his dirty beard and wicked eyes. h's a mighty bad man when he gits riled, bug says. it's a pity that chap shot him, 'cause they were both running away." "i know that," replied ned, "and i'm awfully sorry it happened. it was a mean, contemptible trick under the circumstances. but what had we better do now?" "well, i reckon it would be better to pack up and start," advised batters. "you see bug and the other fellar have a camp about two mile down the creek. you can slide right past it in the darkness, and if you keep on fur a good ways the fellar what was shot won't find you again. bug tole me they didn't intend to go much further down the creek. you needn't be afraid to travel by night, 'cause there ain't any bad water near here, an' the first dam is twelve mile away." ned was inclined to act promptly on batters' suggestions, and it goes without saying that the others were of the same mind--especially randy, who had conceived a mortal fear of bug's companion. it was between one and two o'clock when the boys began the work of breaking camp, and as batters and joe rendered useful assistance, the heavily laden canoes were in the water half an hour later. the start was made in darkness and silence. ned thanked batters for the important service he had rendered that night, and added a few words of comfort and sympathy. hands were shaken all around, and hopes expressed of meeting again. then the jolly rovers paddled noiselessly away in the gloom, and batters and joe went up the beach to their shelter of pine boughs. chapter viii how the day dawned it was with no pleasant sensations that the boys found themselves for the second time adrift in the darkness. not that they had any fears of the journey that lay before them; that was a trifling matter compared to the loss of sleep and the indignity of being routed out of their snug beds through no fault of their own. there was no open complaint, however, and for ten or fifteen minutes the silence of the night was disturbed only by the low swish of the paddles, as the four canoes moved abreast down midstream. "this thing is getting monotonous, and i hope it won't happen again," remarked ned finally, in a very grave voice. "if you fellows had listened to me this morning we would be sound asleep this minute in some place down the creek, instead of floating here in the dark with a forced paddle of ten miles ahead of us." "it's hard luck, that's a fact," muttered clay. "no luck about it," retorted ned. "it's pure recklessness, and randy is chiefly to blame." "no more than the rest of you," growled randy. "i wasn't the only one that wanted to stay." "i don't mean that," said ned, "though of course the trouble began there. i refer to your foolish act a little while ago. if you hadn't fired that salt cartridge the men would have gone quietly away, and we could have remained where we were until morning. now you have made a bitter enemy, and if he don't give us future annoyance it will only be through the intercession of batters' brother--provided he has enough influence over his companion. "i feel glad in one way that we stayed. batters and joe are good hearted fellows, if they _are_ rough on the outside, and it was a pleasure to become acquainted with them. i hope their brother bug will turn over a new leaf some day, and be allowed to go home. "but that wasn't what i started in to talk about," resumed ned after a brief pause. "the fact is, randy, that you must be more careful in future. you have been to blame for every one of our scrapes so far, and if you intend to keep this up we may as well abandon the cruise and go home. this is the second warning i've had to give you. the other one don't seem to have done much good." "i think you are getting pretty meddlesome, ned chapman," exclaimed randy in a sullen tone; "when i want any advice from you i'll ask for it." "don't give way to your temper, now," returned ned quietly, "i'm talking for the common good, and you know it in your heart." "ned's right," exclaimed clay. "this cruise has been a chapter of misadventures from the start, and every one of them lies at your door." randy drove his paddle into the water with furious strokes, and was soon a dozen yards ahead of his companions. "i'll give you fellows a chance to get out of the dumps," he called back angrily. "i hope you'll be in a better humor when we meet again." then he drove the canoe forward so rapidly that the dip of the paddle was soon faint in the distance. "let him go," said ned. "he can't come to any harm, and it will give him a good chance to cool down. that's the main trouble with randy. up comes his temper at the least word of rebuke, and though he knows that he is wrong, his self will and anger won't let him admit it. i believe he will take this warning to heart though." clay and nugget did not reply. the former's conscience was a little bit uneasy, for he knew that his imprudent utterance had started randy off in anger. the three boys paddled on silently for a while, and then nugget managed to ground the imp on a concealed ledge of rocks. it required the united efforts of his companions to dislodge it, and even then it was a labor of nearly five minutes' duration. a canvas canoe must be handled very carefully when among the rocks. about this time the moon came out from a bank of fleecy clouds, and the light--feeble though it was--enabled the boys to make better speed, and to keep a watch ahead for shoals. a moment later they wished with all their hearts that the moon was on the other side of the globe, for a bend in the channel revealed a fire on the right bank, a short distance below. the flames were partly screened by a fringe of bushes, but not sufficiently to prevent the ruddy light from flashing far across the water. "that must be bug batters's camp," whispered ned. "it will be a ticklish operation to get by if the men are on the watch. we can manage to, though, if we are prudent and don't lose our heads. don't breathe a word or make any noise with your paddles. just stick close to me." ned headed for the left bank, which was thickly wooded, and paddled slowly and noiselessly along the very edge. the others followed his example, and in a short time the three canoes were directly opposite the fire. two dark figures squatting beside it could be plainly seen. the dancing reflection of the flames revealed the boat pulled partially out of water, and stretched far beyond mid channel. it was a thrilling moment. discovery at first seemed inevitable, for the men were facing the creek. but as no alarm came, and the canoes crept deeper into the friendly gloom, the boys began to breathe more easily. they did not relax their caution until the fire was two or three hundred yards in the rear. then ned signified that the danger was over by paddling boldly and swiftly toward mid-channel. "i hope we have seen the last of bug batters and his companion," he said, "and i really believe that they won't give us any more trouble." "i'm glad to hear you say so," replied clay. "that's my opinion, too. if we put about ten miles between us and them we ought to feel safe." "better make it twenty," remarked nugget uneasily. "then we will be twice as safe." "oh, that won't be necessary," laughed ned. "i say, fellows, it must have been a pretty stiff ordeal for randy to go by that fire, within sight of the man he peppered with salt." "well, i should say so," returned clay. "when we catch up with him we'll ask him how he felt." "but that won't be for some time to come," said ned, "unless we move a little faster. try to keep up with me, and don't lag behind." he started off with short, quick strokes, and after a brief race the others settled down abreast of him. the moon outlined the limits of the creek very distinctly, shining first from one side, then from the other, as the channel followed its tortuous course. the water continued deep and fairly swift, and during the next hour and a half the boys must have paddled no less than six or seven miles. nothing was seen of randy, but this fact was easily explained, since he had gained considerable on his companions at the start, and had moreover a light and easily running canoe. presently the sky to the eastward became faintly streaked with gray, and the close night air was succeeded by a fragrant and delicious breeze. dawn came on apace, heralded by the singing of birds, and the splashing of fish in search of the early insect. the mist began to rise from the water, and in some distant barnyard hungry cattle lowed. "there is some compensation in night travel," said ned. "it will be a treat to see the sun come up. two or three miles more and then we'll hunt a snug camping place, and have a plunge in the creek, and a good breakfast on top of it, and sleep until afternoon. i don't feel very tired just now, but i'm ravenously hungry." "so am i," echoed clay and nugget in one breath. as the daylight advanced the boys paddled on with light hearts. in the long level stretch that was now ahead of them no sign of randy was visible. as the next bend--an unusually sharp one--drew near, a dull, roaring sound was heard. "that must be a bit of swift water," observed ned; "i hope it's long enough to give us a good spin." "but won't it be dangerous?" asked nugget uneasily. "of course not," replied clay. "there couldn't be any danger on a small stream like this, and besides batters told us everything was smooth for twelve miles ahead." it is more than probable that when batters made this statement he had in mind his own safe and bulky craft, which could have stood any amount of rough usage without upsetting. but this version of the matter did not occur to the boys. they confidently paddled on, hoping to find a stretch of swift water that would give them a lift on their journey. just at the commencement of the curve a spit of rocks and trees jutted out from the right shore. as the boys were whirled swiftly around this, the first brief glimpse of what lay beyond proved far from satisfactory. the creek narrowed to half its former width, and the greater part of even this contracted channel was rendered unnavigable by a long bar of gravel and grass, over which an inch or so of water crawled sluggishly. the main channel--only half a dozen feet wide--headed abruptly to the right, and swept at breakneck speed in a perfect half circle under the outwardly projecting base of a steep and wooded hill. here and there the bushes hung down to meet the madly tossing waves, and swayed violently. it was already too late to turn back, and it was equally out of the question to cut across the swift rushing current and gain the shallow bar. speedy disaster would have resulted from _that_ step. ned was half a canoe's length in advance, and without a second's delay he swung the bow of the pioneer around to meet the curve of the channel. "paddle toward the left!--the left!" he shouted hoarsely to his companions. "keep your heads down when you come to the bushes." ned had no chance to say more. his own affairs required his undivided attention. with a dizzy jerk he swung into the half circle, rising and falling with the huge waves. a few tremendous paddle strokes deflected him to the left, and fortunately he cleared the outer fringe of bushes. just when the worst seemed to be over the pioneer ran broadside on a submerged rock, tipped instantly, and out went ned head over heels. he was dragged clear to the bottom of the rapids before he could gain a foothold. then, waist deep in water, he grabbed the pioneer as it drifted by him, and waded with it to a narrow landing place at the base of the hill. even less fortunate was nugget. the dizzy whirl of the current and the jolting motion of the waves so terrified him that he dropped his paddle and clutched the combing with both hands. then, as the bushes directly ahead caught his eye, he threw up his arms and seized them. the next instant the canoe was whisked from under him, leaving him clinging to the frail support, shrieking with terror and bobbing up and down on the waves. he remained in this position only a few seconds. clay's canoe struck him obliquely, and the concussion caused it to swing broadside and upset. both lads were rolled over and over to the foot of the rapids, where ned helped them and their canoes to shore. chapter ix a safe shelter for a moment the three wrecked jolly rovers could only stare blankly at their dripping clothes, and at one another. the whole thing had taken place so quickly that they did not as yet realize the extent of the misfortune. finally ned and clay broke into a hearty laugh, while nugget sat down on a rock and wiped the tears from his eyes. "hullo, there!" cried a familiar voice, as randy appeared from behind a patch of bushes a few yards down the shore. "great cæsar! what a mess you fellows are in!" "thanks to you," replied ned. "why didn't you come up the creek and warn us?" "that's just what i was on my way to do, 'pon my honor it was. i couldn't get here a minute sooner. i upset in that beastly place myself, and was carried down below those bushes. look at that!" randy pointed to his muddy feet and wet clothes. it was evident that he was speaking the truth. "well, what's done can't be undone," said ned. "we must make the best of it. i'm afraid, the water has spoilt a good deal of our stuff." "you can count yourselves lucky if your canoes aren't injured," rejoined randy. "the rocks tore the keel nearly off of mine, and it leaks like a basket." "then we are in for a long delay," exclaimed ned vexatiously. "it's unfortunate just at this time, when we ought to be four or five miles farther down the stream." "you won't think so when i show you the place i've found," replied randy. "we could camp there for a month, and no one would be any the wiser. it's over on the left shore where the current first landed me. i had a look at the spot and then waded to this side with the canoe." "the first thing is to get dry clothes on," returned ned. "the morning air is too cool for comfort." "down below here is just the place you want then," said randy. "a big gravel bar. the sun shines on it beautifully." this statement brought a smile even to nugget's face, and without delay the boys proceeded down the creek. as it was impossible to get any wetter they waded, pushing the canoes ahead of them. the gravel bar was twenty yards below, in mid-channel, and sure enough the first rays of the sun fell full upon it. the canoes were speedily denuded of everything they held, and the gravel was soon strewn with water soaked bread, crackers, blankets, fishing rods, writing paper, and envelopes. the other provisions, being incased in jars, were uninjured; and so also were the extra clothes, thanks to the oiled canvas bags in which they were wrapped. the boys quickly made the change, and stretched out their wet garments to dry. the canoes were placed bottom up to drain, and after satisfying himself that the water sprite was damaged beyond immediate repair, ned suggested that randy should point out the place he had discovered. the latter was only too willing, and when the boys had followed his instructions by rolling their trousers above their knees, he led them through the shallow water toward the left shore. as they advanced nothing was visible but the low bank, densely covered with bushes and young timber. randy was several yards in advance, and all at once he stooped and disappeared. the others followed his example, and when they had waded with bent backs under a heavy screen of bushes, they were amazed to find themselves in the mouth of a good sized stream. the water was knee deep, and flowed gently over a bed of sand and pebbles. for a distance of sixty or seventy feet inland the stream was three or four yards wide; then came a deep circular pool fed by a brawling waterfall that dashed impetuously down a mossy incline of rocks. on all sides were inviting clumps of bushes, and slender trees bending over their weight of foliage, while from branch to branch swung foxgrape vines. near the head of the pool was a grassy open spot shaded by half a dozen monster shellbark trees--a perfect little eden. in fact the whole scene was so entrancing to these lads, who well knew how to appreciate nature's most charming moods, that they stood still with the cool water surging against their knees, to look and listen. the sunlight filtered obliquely through the leaves, gleaming here and there in the dark thickets like stray gold, and shimmering on the eddies of the pool. the air was fragrant with the scent of wild flowers, and from every direction came the music of birds and the busy chattering of squirrels. "i knew you fellows would fall in love with the place," said randy. "just think of spending two or three days here--or maybe a week. there's nothing to prevent it. under those shellbark trees is a grand place for a tent, and here is water enough to float fifty canoes. the bushes completely hide the entrance, and when we are all fixed snug i'll defy bug batters or any one else to find us in a month. what do you say, ned? do you think it's necessary now to go farther down the creek?" ned drew a long breath. "i think this is the most beautiful spot i ever saw," he replied. "i'll stay here a week if the rest are willing." the rest _were_ willing--emphatically so. clay immediately began to indulge in visions of trout fishing farther up the stream, which must have its source in the mountains. nugget declared it was a good place to rest, while randy expressed an opinion that game was plentiful in the vicinity. having waded to the edge of the pool, where the water deepened abruptly, the boys returned as they had come, and were soon back on the gravel bar. they were too hungry to go to the trouble of making a fire, so they breakfasted on damp crackers and dried beef, and found them very palatable, too. then, as the sun had already dried the things, the canoes were loaded and pushed up the mouth of the stream. the boys took good care to remove every trace of their presence from the bar, and to deftly rearrange the screen of bushes after passing through. the tent was soon staked under the shellbark trees, and the canoes were carried out beside it. the jolly rovers now felt as safe as though they were fifty miles down the creek. being pretty well exhausted by the interruption of the previous night and by their long paddle, they made pillows out of their blankets, and went to sleep on the grassy floor of the tent. but it is not an easy matter to turn day into night, and so the boys found it. ned awoke about noon, and threw the flap open so that the sun could stream into the tent--as much of it at least as came through the thick foliage. it was sufficient to rouse randy and nugget. clay was missing, but as his fishing rod had also disappeared, no alarm was felt over this fact. of course, dinner immediately suggested itself, so ned started to make the fire, while randy inspected the supplies to see what was available. "damp crackers and cold meat are about all we can count on," he announced dismally. "there are only a half a dozen potatoes here. you might boil some oatmeal, though." "we must get along with what we have," replied ned. "this afternoon some of us must make a foraging expedition. we can't be very far from a farmhouse." the fire was soon blazing merrily, and just as ned placed the coffee pot on the bars, a cheery whistle rang through the woods, and clay appeared at the head of the pool. "see what you lazy fellows have missed," he exclaimed, holding up a string of speckled brook trout. "i caught all those in the last two hours, and tramped more than a mile up stream to get them." the boys were delighted at this unexpected addition to their dinner, and the spotted beauties were soon ready for the frying pan. hunger made a piquant sauce, and the crackers, meat and fish vanished in short order. "i intend to let you fellows wash the dishes this time," said ned, when the meal was concluded. "i'm going after supplies. we certainly need them badly enough. did you see any signs of a farmhouse when you were up the stream, clay?" "no indeed. the woods are thick in every direction, and i have no doubt they stretch clear to the mountains. it's awfully wild and lonesome along the stream." "no use in trying that direction then," replied ned. "i think i'll go down the creek in my canoe." "let me go with you," said randy. "you may have a big load to carry back you know." ned hesitated an instant, and then gave his consent. he really preferred to be alone, but he saw that randy was very sorry for his recent ill conduct, and wanted to make what amends he could. clay loaned randy his canoe, and promised to repair the water sprite during the latter's absence. then the foraging expedition paddled out into the creek, equipped with tin pails and canvas sacks. clay and nugget were at no loss to find occupation. it required a good half hour to wash and dry the dishes, and after that a big stack of firewood was piled up. then the water sprite was placed across two logs, and clay proceeded to make the needed repairs. having screwed the keel firmly in place, he thrust cotton under its whole length with his knife blade, and then put on a plentiful coating of white lead. "there!" he exclaimed, as he surveyed his own work with satisfaction. "that canoe won't leak a drop in the morning. i say, nugget, let's go fishing a little while. it's only five o'clock, and the boys won't be back for an hour or two yet." nothing could have pleased nugget more. he made the proviso, however, that randy's gun should be taken along. "i don't know what you're afraid of," said clay; "but i'll humor you anyhow." he shouldered the weapon, first looking to see that it was loaded, and started up the stream. nugget trudged behind with the two fishing rods. half a mile from camp the boys stopped by a deep pool that presented a very tempting aspect. the bushes and trees were dense all around it. "this is where i caught my first fish this morning," whispered clay, as he put a nice fat worm on the hook and dropped it in the water. almost instantly the line tightened, and the slender rod bent. clay gave a quick pull, and something shiny whizzed through the air, landing with a dull flop some yards behind the boys. "that was a big fellow," exclaimed clay. "it flew clear off the hook. get it for me, nugget, will you? i want to catch another." nugget obligingly dropped the hook he was baiting, and crawled on hands and knees into the thicket. a few seconds later he burst out, yelling wildly for help, while a crackling of bushes behind him told plainly that something or someone was in close pursuit. chapter x a tramp across country nugget dashed by clay without stopping, and crossed the stream, close to the lower end of the pool, in two or three frantic leaps. clay was frightened himself, but observing that the rustling noise in the thicket had ceased, he boldly stood his ground, taking the precaution, however, to exchange his fishing rod for the gun. "what's wrong?" he demanded, turning warily toward nugget, who was on the opposite side of the stream with one hand clasping the low boughs of pine tree. "there's some wild animal in there," cried nugget hoarsely. "it looked at me with its shining eyes, and then growled. shoot it quick, before it comes out." just then the rustling in the thicket recommenced, and with wonderful celerity nugget disappeared into the heart of the tree. but the creature, whatever it might be, was going in the opposite direction from the pool. this emboldened clay, and without hesitation he started in pursuit, paying no attention to nugget's appealing cries. guided by the threshing of bushes he pushed on for ten or twenty yards. then it suddenly occurred to him that the animal might be a wildcat or even a bear, that had strayed down from the mountains. a close encounter of this nature was by no means to clay's liking. he stopped, and was just about turning back, when he saw a dark object passing through a break in the thicket about thirty feet away. the shadows were too deep to afford a good glimpse of the animal, but clay did not hesitate. drawing the gun to his shoulder he took quick aim and fired. when the smoke cleared the creature had vanished, but from a distance came a queer grunting noise mingled with the hasty crashing of the bushes. "i believe that was a bear," muttered clay, "and unless i'm greatly mistaken i put a few shot into his hind quarters." he stood listening until the sounds had died away, and then retraced his steps toward the pool, satisfied that no more trouble was to be apprehended from the unwelcome prowler. nugget was still in the tree, and came down very reluctantly, even when he knew what had happened. then the boys shouldered their fishing rods and hurried back to camp, arriving there just as ned and randy paddled up the mouth of the stream. clay's adventure--which he related with conscious pride--caused somewhat of a sensation. randy and nugget wanted to break camp at once, and clay was more than inclined to side with them. "nonsense!" exclaimed ned. "i don't believe it was a wild animal at all, and even if it was it would hardly come near here again after being shot at." "then what could it have been?" demanded clay a little sharply. "some stray domestic creature, as likely as not," answered ned. clay did not reply. he was far from unwilling to accept this version of the affair, though he still had his doubts. the others were reassured by ned's words, and when the fruits of the foraging expedition were taken from the canoes all else was forgotten but supper. "won't we have a feast?" said randy. "just see here, fellows. fresh, yellow butter, a pail of milk, three pies, two loaves of bread, a cup of cheese, a picked duck, and potatoes and apples! we had a time to get them, though--a mile and a half down the creek, and half a mile over the fields." it was nearly dark when supper was ready, and the meal was eaten with such slow enjoyment that nine o'clock arrived before the last of the dishes were washed and put away. then the tired boys went to bed, after securing the tent flaps with more than usual care. no alarm disturbed their sleep that night. wednesday dawned clear as a whistle. before the sun was fairly up the boys took a plunge in the cool depths of the pool, and the result was such a crop of voracious appetites that randy predicted another foraging expedition before the day was over. after breakfast ned sat down on a stone, and spreading a lengthy paper on his knees, began to study it intently. "what have you there?" asked randy. "a map of the cumberland valley," replied ned. "do you know, we almost forgot about our mail arrangements? it's a good thing i remembered it this morning. if this stream we are camping on now is otter run--and according to the-map it is--then west hill is only half a dozen miles due east of us. "that is the first place we were to expect letters, and we won't get any nearer to it than we are now. i think i'll walk over. you may go with me, clay, if you like. the distance is too much for nugget, and it's randy's turn to stay in camp." no objection was made to this arrangement, and all hurriedly produced paper and pencils and sat down on the grass to write letters home. "i'm asking for a cake," said randy. "where shall i have it sent?" "carlisle," answered ned. "we will be there next week. tell them to make it a big one." "and not to forget to put icing on it," added clay. "oh, that goes without telling," said randy laughingly. "they know what i like." in half an hour all the letters were sealed and addressed. then ned and clay brushed off their clothes and put on neckties, greatly to randy's amusement. "what are you laughing at?" exclaimed ned. "don't you know that we may be invited out to dinner at west hill? i wish i had a dress suit with me." "what a pity you haven't," said randy mockingly. "nugget will lend you his yachting cap." "of course i will," said nugget in all seriousness. "say, ned," he whispered, coming up close, "i--i have a white shirt in my bag and a dotted vest. i thought they might come in handy. you are quite welcome to them, you know, if--" nugget's indiscreet confession went no further. ned rolled on the ground, choking with laughter. he actually couldn't help it. clay and randy had heard every word, and poor nugget was finally obliged to take refuge in the tent. "this won't do," said ned, struggling to keep a sober face. "we must be off. i hope you won't get in any fresh scrapes while we are away, randy. you had better stay about camp. you may look for us back some time this afternoon--not later than four o'clock." "oh, i won't have time to get in mischief," laughed randy. "it will take all day to write my log book up to date. i haven't touched it since night before last." it was about half past nine o'clock when the boys started. they paddled across the creek and landed at the foot of the hill. randy accompanied them in the water sprite, so that he could tow the canoe back with him. "just you fellows sing out," he said. "i'll hear you and come across." "all right," returned ned, as he commenced the steep ascent of the hill, with clay at his heels. reaching the summit they turned and waved their hands to randy, who was slowly paddling toward camp, far below them. of the camp itself not a vestige could be seen, even from this elevation. then the boys set their faces toward the east, and strode briskly through the pine forest that covered the level plateau. for a mile or two the land was very rugged and lonely. then open fields began to appear here and there, and an occasional farmhouse nestled amid orchards in a valley, or standing boldly against the sky from a hill top. such implicit faith did ned place in his map that he shunned the roads, and did not think it worth while to stop at any of the farmhouses to ask information. with a view to reaching the village in the most direct manner, he cut straight across country, skirting fields of grain and corn, it is true, but taking everything else as it came--hills, ravines, orchards, and meadows. and all this time the boys were making one of the most foolish blunders that can well be imagined--taking into consideration, of course, the peculiar nature of the creek and the constantly shifting scenery through which they were passing. later on, when the consequences of their thoughtlessness stared them in the face, they wondered how they could have been so blind. when the farmhouse bells began to clang from distant points the boys knew that it was half past eleven o'clock. "we have surely covered six miles in two hours," said ned. "west hill can't be far away. no doubt we will see it from that next ridge." but when the ridge was gained no village was in sight. something else was visible, however--a narrow country road, running at right angles to the direction from which the boys had come; and nailed to the fence was a sign post, inscribed in crooked black letters as follows: to west hill miles. there was nothing for it but to go on, and that they did in a weary, dispirited manner. "the map can't be wrong," said ned, "the trouble is that we veered a little too far south in our course. we'll make a nearer cut of it on the return trip. walk a little faster, clay; it will be a tight squeeze to reach camp by four o'clock." it wanted a little less than three hours to that time when the boys reached the little cluster of six houses which comprised west hill. the signboard had probably told only half the truth in regard to distance--as country signboards usually do. the postoffice was, of course, combined with a produce store. at this time of day its only occupants were the proprietor and a grizzled old farmer puffing at a corncob pipe. the letters were soon mailed, and in response to ned's inquiry he was handed a weighty hat box addressed to randolph moore, and a batch of half a dozen letters. "i'll bet a dollar that's a cake," said clay. "it will tickle randy." "it wouldn't tickle him if he had to carry it about nine miles," replied ned ruefully, "and the box says 'handle with care,' too." however, the cake could not be left behind, and the boys agreed to carry it by turns. "how far is otter run from here in a straight line?" inquired ned of the storekeeper. "'bout eleven mile," was the reply. "ain't that kerect, bowser?" "it's mor'n that by road," said the old farmer, taking his pipe from his lips. "it's a good thirteen mile to tanner's dam, an' the run comes in just below the mill race." the boys exchanged glances of dismay. "that map fooled me after all," muttered ned. "the camp can't be anywhere near otter run." he then explained the situation to the two men, describing as minutely as possible the location of the camp. both wagged their heads dubiously. "i can't fix it to a sartainty," said the storekeeper. "nor kin i," observed mr. bowser. "there air heaps of jest sich runs, an' high hills an' bits of bad water--same as you chaps tell about." it was evident that no positive information could be obtained, so the boys said "good day," and left the store. "under the circumstances we won't risk making a bee line for camp," said ned. "if we had any landmarks to go by it would be different." "then must we go back the way we came?" asked clay. "exactly; we have nine weary miles to tramp. i'm sorry, but it can't be helped. just think of a good supper and a snug bed, clay, and you won't mind the distance so much." "it's this confounded box that worries me," muttered clay. "i believe i'd sooner carry a feather bed. the crazy thing jerks when i stick it under one arm, and if i hug it to my breast it hits me on the chin every few seconds. it's so heavy that the cords cut my hand if i try to carry it that way. i wish i could balance it on my head." clay did not exaggerate the perverse and obstinate nature of that hat box. it changed bearers no less than six times before the mendacious signpost was reached, and then its victims were so exhausted that they had to lie down on the grass and rest. chapter xi searching for the camp it was already past three o'clock when the boys resumed their tramp, abandoning the road and heading across country along the same course by which they had come. for the first two or three miles they did not pay any special attention to the scenery around them; they were kept busy climbing fences and hills, and taking care of the refractory cake box, which became more and more of a burden every moment. finally as they were descending a long wooded slope, ned was amazed to discover that the mountains, instead of being straight ahead, lay off to the right. "that's a funny mistake," he said. "i wonder how long we have been moving parallel with the creek instead of toward it? some of those snaky ravines we passed through must have turned us around without our knowing it." "i hope we haven't lost the path," returned clay. "nothing about here looks familiar to me, but then i didn't pay much attention to the scenery this morning." "neither did i," replied ned uneasily, "and i'm afraid that's just where we made a big mistake. if we had only noted some landmarks as we came along, we would not be in this fix now. it really is a pretty serious fix, clay. you see we can't tell how long we have been traveling in this wrong direction. the only thing we can do now is to head straight for the mountains, and run the chances of striking the creek in the vicinity of the camp." "that's true," assented clay. "i hope we'll reach it before dark. randy and nugget will be pretty badly scared if we don't." they started off again, headed this time in the proper direction. of course the mountains were visible only at rare intervals, and this added to the perplexity of the situation, since it is very difficult to keep on a straight line unless some guiding point is constantly in view. it was soon evident that the boys were far astray from the path they had followed that morning. the country was more lonely and rugged--a continual succession of steep hills and dense bits of forest. few farmhouses were visible, and those only at a distance. the sun sank lower and lower as they trudged wearily along. the many miles already covered that day were beginning to tell on them severely. they were hungry, too, having eaten nothing since breakfast. "i wish we had bought some crackers and cheese at the store," said ned; "i thought about it when we were nearly a mile away, but it was too late then to go back." "we have randy's cake," replied clay. "i'm going to break into it if we don't soon reach camp. i don't remember when i was so hungry as i am now." "wait a little while," said ned. "the creek surely can't be far away. the chances are that it lies beyond that next hill." the hill to which he had reference was a good half mile distant, and the pine trees on its crest loomed sharply against the blue sky. ere reaching it the boys were destined to be deprived of their burden in a very aggravating manner--and just when they had begun to appreciate its value as a means of satisfying their hunger. as they emerged from a copse of hazel bushes on a narrow country road, a big black dog bounded from the step of a little cabin a few yards away, and came at them in a most ferocious manner. the boys darted across the road and into a clover field through a broken place in the fence. the dog followed, paying not the least attention to the loud commands of a woman who stood in the cabin door. when ned wheeled around the brute was within a dozen feet of him, growling savagely, showing his fangs and teeth, and coming on at a pace which meant business. shouting had no effect whatever, and as not a stick or a stone was within reach, the boy's situation was far from pleasant. but he had the cake box in his arms, and on the impulse of the moment he lifted it over his head with both hands and dashed it with all his might at the advancing brute. it struck him fairly on the nose, breaking open with the force of the blow, and turning the angry snarls into a shrill yelp of pain. ned did not wait to see the result, but dashed across the field to overtake clay. when they turned and looked back from a safe distance, the dog was greedily devouring the broken cake. "we won't be troubled with that any more," said ned. "i had to do it, or the brute would have bitten me. i don't think randy will blame me much." "it means good-by to our supper though," replied clay, "and from the way that dog eats, his appetite won't be more than half satisfied when he finishes the cake. we had better be moving on." this was prudent advice, and the boys made quick time across the field, not feeling thoroughly safe until they were in the shelter of the woods. the ground now began to ascend, and a few moments later they gained the top of the hill and saw the silvery thread of the creek shining far below them. it took some time to descend, owing to the steepness of the slope, and the rocks and bushes that obstructed the way. when they finally reached the water's edge the duskiness of twilight had come, and they knew that darkness would follow in a short time. "i haven't the faintest idea where we are," said ned uneasily; "of course we are above the camp, no doubt of that; but just how far, is the important question. i feel like kicking myself for making that awful blunder to-day. it would be a nice thing if we had to tramp all night." "you don't think the camp is that far away?" exclaimed clay in alarm. "oh, no," replied ned reassuringly. "we'll probably strike it before long. the only thing we can do is to follow the creek until we reach it." ned's words were far from expressing what was really in his mind. he knew that the camp might be very close in a straight line, and yet miles away by the tortuous windings of the creek. and the latter was the only possible course to take. if they attempted the former they would almost certainly become hopelessly lost. it was soon evident that the worst might be expected. in the deepening gloom the boys hurried along the shore as fast as their weary feet would take them. then the blackness of the night settled down on the water and the forests, and they were compelled to move cautiously; for trees and bushes were thick, and here and there a ravine had to be crossed, or a brawling stream. ned bravely kept up his spirits, and did his best to cheer clay. "it can't be much farther," he would say now and then; "keep your ears open for the roar of those rapids. that will tell us when we are near camp." but the night lengthened without bringing the welcome sound, and at last the boys found their progress abruptly barred by a steep bluff that fell abruptly into the water. it was not the hill that lay in the vicinity of camp, else the rapids could surely have been heard. the night was very still, except for an occasional noise in the forest that made the boys start. they were confronted now by two equally unpleasant alternatives--either to remain where they were until morning, or to make a detour around the hill, and try to reach the creek on the lower side. they chose the latter, and started up through the woods hand in hand. they might have foreseen what would happen. the night was very dark, and after floundering about through the bushes they became hopelessly lost, and knew not which way to turn in search of the creek. clay was quite in despair, but ned persuaded him to move on, and after tramping for ten or fifteen minutes without the least idea which way they were headed, they reached a fence that separated the woods from an open field. as they mounted the top bar and perched themselves there for a short rest, ned uttered a cry of delight, and pointed out a flickering yellow gleam far across the field. "hurrah! that must be the camp," exclaimed clay, springing impetuously from the fence. "come on; let's run for it. i don't feel a bit tired now." "not too fast," cried ned warningly. "you're jumping at a rash conclusion now, clay. that light is in the window of some farmhouse. it stands to reason that it can't be at our camp." clay stopped and retraced his steps. "i was dead sure it was the campfire," he said dismally. "i thought our troubles were over." "perhaps they are," replied ned slowly. "we'll go up to that farmhouse and find out exactly how the land lies. if the camp is not far off, we'll borrow a lantern and push on--otherwise we'll ask for a place to sleep until morning." this arrangement was thoroughly satisfactory to clay, and the boys started briskly across the field. they found an orchard at the farther end, and after passing through this and rounding the corner of the barn, they saw the house in front of them. it stood in a good sized yard inclosed by a picket fence. the light was in one of the upper front rooms, where some late retiring member of the family was no doubt preparing for bed. "it won't do to make any racket," said ned, "because there may be a dog around. we'll go quietly in and rap on the door." the boys softly opened the gate and entered the yard. in spite of the utmost caution their feet made a crunching noise on the gravel path, and the consequence was that before they were half way to the house a dog began to bark furiously. worse still, the sound came from between them and the fence, so that escape was cut off. "this way," cried ned, dashing toward the corner of the house. "we may find shelter in the outbuildings." he had taken but a dozen steps when his feet clattered on some loose boards. these gave way with a crash, and after a brief drop through empty space, he plunged into ice cold water, going clear under the surface. the noise of the splitting wood that followed warned clay of his danger. he stood stock still, trembling in every limb. the dog did not appear to be coming any nearer, and his shrill barking was now mingled with the clank of chains. all at once clay comprehended the situation. the brute was fastened to his kennel somewhere near the gate, and was therefore powerless to do harm. clay's presence of mind quickly returned. he drew a match from his pocket and struck it on his shoe just as a feeble cry for help came apparently from the bowels of the earth. as the blaze flared up clay saw the partially covered mouth of a well just in front of him. the gap between the planking showed where ned had fallen through. clay was terribly alarmed, but he had sufficient presence of mind to kneel beside the orifice and hold the match down. "are you hurt, ned?" he cried huskily. "can you hold out for a moment or two?" "i'm all right so far," came the reply in a feeble, chattering voice. "i can't stand it long, though. the water is over my head, and i'm holding on to the cracks in the wall. waken the family, quick!" chapter xiii over the cliff ned's last injunction was quite unnecessary. the loud outcry of the dog had already roused the family. heads were poked from two or three windows, and a shrill feminine voice was shouting: "get the gun, pap, get the gun!" meanwhile clay continued to call for help at the top of his voice, finally drowning out the ferocious barking of the dog, and after what seemed an interminable length of time the door of the house opened and the farmer appeared on the threshold, attired in shirt and trousers. he had a gun in one hand and a candle in the other. behind him were two good sized lads armed with clubs, while the flutter of a petticoat was visible on the stairway. "hurry! hurry!" cried clay. "there's some one down the well." the farmer crossed the yard with provoking calmness, holding his gun ready for use. "why, it's only a boy!" he exclaimed, on catching sight of clay. "what are you doing here, you young rascal?" "don't stop to ask questions now," implored clay. "get my friend out of the well, or he will be drowned." the farmer uttered an exclamation, and peeped through the broken boards. then he seized the bucket that was suspended by a windlass over the well and quickly lowered it. "catch hold down there," he shouted gruffly. "all right, go ahead," came the sepulchral response, a moment later. the farmer and his two sons threw their weight on the handle of the windlass, and after considerable creaking and groaning ned was brought to the surface and helped out on the ground. his face and hands were blue and his teeth chattered violently. "bring the poor fellow right in," called the farmer's wife from the porch, where she had witnessed the whole affair. "i'll go light the fire." "the rascal don't deserve it," muttered the farmer, but nevertheless he led the boys into the house, and thence to a large room containing a stove, a table, a huge settee and half a dozen chairs. a lamp was burning on the mantel, and a pleasant faced old lady was bustling about the stove. ned's wet clothes were quickly stripped off, and he was rolled in blankets and made to lie down on the settee. presently the old lady brought him a bowl of steaming camomile tea, and after he had swallowed most of the nauseous mixture he began to feel quite himself again. then, seeing that the farmer was suspicious and anxious for an explanation, he insisted on talking, and related the whole story in such a clear and concise manner that his hearers were thoroughly convinced. the farmer thawed out, and showed himself in his true colors--a genial, kind-hearted old man. he told the boys his name was adam plunkett, and laughingly apologized for mistaking them for thieves. when mrs. plunkett heard that they had eaten nothing since breakfast she immediately began to set the table--in spite of the fact that it was then half past ten o'clock. ned refused to be treated as an invalid any longer, so mr. plunkett gave him a suit of clothes to wear while his own were drying. the food was soon ready, and the famished boys did it full justice. "i reckon you'll want to go to bed now," said mr. plunkett; "you must be worn out after all that tramp. in the morning i'll tell you how to find your camp. i recognize the place from your description. it's about five miles and a half from here by road, and a good bit further by the creek." the boys gasped with amazement. it was hard to realize that they had strayed so far out of their way. "i'm afraid our companions will be greatly worried," said ned. "that's all i'm thinking about." "a little worry won't hurt 'em," asserted mr. plunkett cheerfully. "it'll do 'em good, and make them more glad to see you in the morning." this bit of philosophy had its effect on the boys, and the last trace of anxiety vanished when their host conducted them to the room they were to occupy. it was the typical country "spare bed-chamber." home spun carpet covered the floor, and on the walls were cardboard mottoes in walnut frames, a sampler yellow with age, and portraits of george and martha washington. the bed was a huge four poster, and stood so high that the boys had to give a spring in order to climb in. they fell asleep almost instantly, and found it difficult to get up in the morning when the farmer banged on the door with his heavy fist. mrs. plunkett had a delicious breakfast ready when the boys came down stairs, and after they had eaten their fill the farmer carefully instructed them how to reach their camp--or rather how to reach a certain point on the creek which was less than a quarter of a mile above the rapids. the boys had read the character of their hosts sufficiently well to know that it would be regarded as an insult if they should offer them money. so they thanked them profusely for their generous treatment, and said "good-by," promising to stop if they ever chanced to be in that vicinity again. after a good sleep and a good breakfast the five mile walk was a trifle to the boys. they had no difficulty in following the directions, and about half past ten o'clock they turned aside from the road and entered a piece of woods. ten minutes later they stood on the bank of the creek, listening to the familiar sound of the rapids below them. the steep hill began at this point, making it impossible to follow the shore, so they began the ascent and reached the crest after a pretty stiff climb. the camp was now directly opposite, though entirely concealed by the huge shellbark trees. "let's give them the yell," said ned. he placed his hand to his mouth and uttered a regular indian war whoop that woke the echoes for a long distance. clay did the same, and they both stopped to listen. a minute went by in silence, and then another. no glad shout of welcome rang out from the trees. no graceful canoe parted the fringe of bushes that concealed the mouth of the run. what was the matter? were the boys sleeping so soundly that the signal could not rouse them? this seemed the only possible explanation, so clay and ned shouted more vigorously than ever, and kept it up until they were hoarse. not a sound came back. the silence of the morning was absolutely unbroken. the boys looked at each other with pale and frightened faces. they dared not even whisper the terrible thoughts that were in their minds. then, by tacit consent, they scrambled down the ragged face of the hill, and at great peril to life and limb gained the bottom in three or four minutes. they partly undressed to wade to the gravel bar, for the water was more than waist deep. here they stopped a moment to put on their clothes, and then, with trousers rolled high up, they waded to the mouth of the stream, and pushed eagerly through the screen of bushes. the scene that met their gaze filled them with dread and amazement. _the glade was deserted. every vestige of the camp had disappeared._ for a moment the boys could scarcely believe the evidence of their own eyes. they hurried forward and inspected every foot of the ground. absolutely nothing had been left behind. the downtrodden grass, where the tent had stood, was the only evidence to show that a camp had recently been here. "this is a bigger mystery than i can see through," said ned as he bent over the blackened stones of the fireplace. "the boys must have left here some time yesterday, for these ashes are cold. it looks as though they had to leave in a hurry, too, for if they had any time to spare they would surely have placed a message where we could see it. i have examined all the trees and bushes, and there is no sign of any." "it's a bad business," replied clay. "the boys would not have broken camp without some cause. i only hope that bug batters and his companions had nothing to do with it." the same fear was in ned's mind just then, and it was very natural that it should be. how else could the disappearance of the boys be accounted for? "we can't tell anything about it," he answered evasively, "and it would be very foolish to jump at the worst conclusions. it will be our best plan to start down the creek at once, and i have no doubt we'll find the camp before very long. it's not at all likely the boys have moved far away." "but they may have concealed themselves somewhere," said clay, "and besides we don't know which bank they are on." "we'll keep a sharp lookout on both sides," replied ned. "if we shout every now and then i don't think we can miss them. we had better start right away. i'm getting tired of wandering about the country in this fashion. it will feel awfully good to climb in a canoe again." clay warmly assented to this, and after a last lingering glance at the shady thickets and the eddying surface of the pool, the boys plodded off through the woods. for a time they experienced no difficulty in following the edge of the creek, and thus scrutinizing the opposite shore as well as the one they were on. occasionally they shouted; first at rare intervals, then more frequently as they advanced farther along the creek. at the expiration of an hour and a half they had traveled three or four miles, and rounded a couple of large bends without getting any response to their calls, or finding the least trace of the missing boys. then a precipitous hill blocked the way, extending a considerable distance along the creek, and leading sheer to the water from a variable height of forty to sixty feet. "no use in going around it, ned. we'll follow the crest so we can watch the opposite shore." they easily gained the summit, and found a sort of open path between the edge of the thick pine forest and the verge of the cliff. it was half a dozen feet wide and had quite a downward slope. there was quite an element of danger connected with the ascent, since it was slippery with a coating of pine needles. the boys did not think of this, however. of course they kept close to the trees, but as their gaze was fixed on the opposite shore, which was in plain view far below them, they could not pick out their footing as carefully as they should have done. pine needles are treacherous things, even on level ground, and when clay happened to step on a particularly thick bunch his foot slipped and he was thrown quickly on his side. before he could realize his danger he slid to the verge of the precipice--where there was nothing to stop him--and vanished from sight. ned was horror stricken, and had to clutch the nearest tree for support. half a dozen seconds passed, but the splash that he dreaded to hear did not come. then he made his way cautiously to a rock that jutted from the cliff half a dozen-feet from where clay had fallen. ned threw himself flat on his breast and peered down. clay was twenty feet below him clinging to a bunch of stout bushes that grew in a crevice of the cliff. his feet rested on a tiny ledge no more than six inches wide, and below him was a clear drop of thirty feet to the dark surface of the creek. ned realized his utter inability to render aid, and his agony found vent in a sharp cry. clay turned a white, pitiful face upward. "you can't help me," he gasped hoarsely. "the bushes are tearing loose. if the water is deep i stand a chance. try to get--" his feeble voice was smothered by a sharp ripping noise, and the next instant he plunged downward, attended by a shower of dirt and stones. chapter xiii what clay shot we must now take the reader back to the previous morning, and see what befell randy and nugget after their companions had started for west hill. nugget amused himself until dinner time by fishing at the mouth of the run, and caught a number of sunfish and chubs. when he returned randy had just finished entering the events of the cruise in the log book. then they started in to get dinner, and randy proved himself no novice in culinary affairs by frying a delicious panful of fish and boiling some excellent coffee. the distasteful work of washing the dishes was duly performed, and then they began to consider what they should do next. randy wanted to go away up the stream for trout, but nugget was unwilling to trust himself in the woods after his experience of the previous evening, and was equally determined not to remain alone in camp. this obstinate conduct roused randy's temper, and indications pointed a lively quarrel. "i never saw such a coward," he exclaimed angrily. "you're a nice fellow to go on a canoe trip, i must say." "i'm not a coward," returned nugget hotly. "i'm not afraid of you, anyhow, and if you call me any more names i'll show you something." randy laughed scornfully, and was about to make a bitter reply when a trampling noise was heard in the woods behind the tent, followed by a violent agitation of the bushes. a few seconds later a big brindle cow appeared on the scene, followed by a small boy shouting "hi! hi!" at the top of his voice. the cow was evidently in no mood to listen to argument; she pranced at the tent with lowered horns, knocked it flat, and trampled with dirty hoofs over the clean canvas. then she rushed at nugget with a vicious bellow, and after pursuing him a few yards in the direction of the creek, she suddenly changed her mind, and charged on randy and the small boy, who were standing by the edge of the pool. the latter escaped by dodging nimbly to one side, but randy was not agile enough, and as the cow brushed by him her revolving tail lashed him smartly over the face, and tumbled him into the pool. he emerged dripping wet, and mad as a hornet, just in time to see the cow retreating in the direction she had come, with the small boy in pursuit. "look here," cried randy, "what do you mean by letting a vicious animal like that run loose? look at that tent, and look at the condition i'm in. for half a cent i'd get my gun and shoot the brute." the boy stopped at the edge of the bushes and looked back. he was quite a little fellow, with sunburned legs and face. "that cow has more right here than you-uns," he said sullenly. "my uncle dan owns this land. he knows you-uns are here, and he's comin' down pretty soon, too. he says you-uns will be sorry you shot that calf afore he gits done with you." randy stared at the lad in amazement, and then a sudden light broke on his mind. "that explains the bear story," he muttered, and then added to nugget, who had just ventured to come forward: "you fellows have got us in a pretty mess. it was a calf that clay shot last night. i'm glad it's not my fault this time." "a calf!" exclaimed nugget. "i don't see how it can be possible. it had shiny eyes." "the calf was shot, anyhow," said the boy. "it got astray yesterday afternoon, and our hired man found it this morning. it ain't hurt very bad, an uncle dan thinks it'll get well. that's the reason the cow is so cross, 'cause she can't have the calf with her. she broke the fence down this morning an' got into the woods. i'll have a hard time gittin' her home again." "you say your uncle is cross about the calf?" asked randy. "he's hoppin' mad," said the boy. "he's going to give you all a lickin', an' then hev you locked up for trespassin'." "but suppose we explain to him that it was all a mistake, and offer to pay the damages," continued randy, "wouldn't that satisfy him?" the boy shook his head. "uncle dan ain't that kind. when he gets mad nobody kin stop him, i reckon he'll lick you chaps pretty hard." "i reckon he won't," said randy, decisively. "not if we know ourselves. pitch in and help, nugget; we must light out of this as quick as possible." nugget was only too willing to lend his aid, and the tent was speedily rolled up, and deposited in the cockpit of the pioneer, where it belonged. "uncle dan may be here any minute," said the boy. "you-uns had better wait." "say, you'd like to see us licked, wouldn't you?" inquired randy. "i'm sorry we can't oblige you by staying. here is a dollar for your uncle to square up the damage to the calf. just say to him that it was a mistake, and that he needn't come after us, because we are going straight through to harrisburg." the lad pocketed the money, and after looking on for a little while in silence he went away to hunt the refractory cow. the boys worked with feverish energy--not forgetting to keep a sharp eye on the woods--and in scarcely more time than it takes to tell everything was in the canoes. "it goes hard to leave here," said randy, "but it can't be helped. it would be a nice ending to the canoe trip if we got locked up for trespassing. i hope the dollar will satisfy that man." "what are we going to do about ned and clay?" asked nugget. "i'll attend to that," replied randy, as he stepped into the water sprite and tied its stern to the bow of the pioneer. the other two canoes were arranged in the same way, and then the boys paddled quickly out of the stream. they first crossed to the other side of the creek, where randy wrote a short explanatory note for ned and clay, instructing them to follow the creek down about three or four miles. "it won't be safe for us to stop short of that distance," he remarked as he pinned the big white document to a tree at the base of the hill. "the boys can't miss this when they come down to the water. they ought to be here in about two hours." having arranged their means of communication, randy climbed back into the canoe, and led the way down stream. progress was necessarily tedious, since the current was sluggish, and each had an additional canoe in tow. they felt more at ease when they had passed round the first bend, and after paddling for two or three miles--as nearly as could be judged--they began to search for a good camping place. they did not find one that suited their requirements for some time, but finally, while drifting along the base of a precipitous cliff, they came to a good sized cleft or hollow. it was half a dozen yards wide. it sloped gradually upward, narrowing as it went, until it terminated in a ravine which seemed to continue on to the top of the hill. the beach was hard and stony ground, with a few stunted bushes, but there was ample room for a tent, and moreover on each side was a sheer wall of rock towering forty feet in the air. the boys landed, and with much difficulty dragged the canoes out of the water. "this place just suits us," said randy. "there is no danger of the farmer finding us here, if we _are_ on his side of the creek. and we need not be afraid to keep a fire going, because these rocks will shut out the light." it was now half past four o'clock, and when the tent had been pitched--a difficult piece of work for two persons--and the canoes unloaded, the boys began to prepare a good supper in readiness for ned and clay. six o'clock came, and then seven, but the anxiously expected ones did not appear on the other side of the creek. randy and nugget were too hungry to wait any longer, so they ate their supper by twilight. when it grew a little darker they built a roaring fire at the edge of the water. there was an abundance of driftwood farther up the slope, which had been left there at various times by the high water. when nine o'clock came the boys were seriously alarmed, and all sorts of dreadful possibilities occurred to them. they found it impossible to sleep, and all through the long hours of that night they sat about the fire, constantly piling on wood, and keeping a huge blaze going to guide the missing ones to the camp. the first glimmer of dawn found them worn out by sleeplessness and despair. it was impossible to maintain their vigil any longer, so they stuck the pennant in the sand close to the edge of the water, and crawling into the tent, went to sleep side by side. a cannon shot could hardly have wakened them then. the sun rose higher and higher until its direct rays beat fiercely down upon the tent from a cloudless sky above, but still they slumbered on. the heat finally became intolerable, and randy turned drowsily over and opened his eyes. as he sat up with an effort, struggling to clear his mind, he heard a tremendous splash, and then a loud, shrill cry. he was thoroughly awake now, and jerking nugget to an upright position, he turned and ran out of the tent. he gained the shore and looked up stream. a thick mass of bushes was drifting leisurely along the base of the cliff a dozen feet above, and something behind it--as yet invisible--was making a great commotion in the water. then a head appeared, and a pair of struggling arms, and to his joy and amazement randy recognized clay. the lad's strength barely sufficed to reach the shore, and randy helped him out on land just as nugget came running from the tent. clay staggered up the slope and dropped down in the bushes. "i fell off the cliff," he stammered with chattering teeth. "ned is up there; call to him." randy and nugget shouted with all their might, and a reply was heard instantly. then ned appeared far up on the cliff and waved his hand. he vanished at once, and a moment later came impetuously down the ravine, leaping rocks and bushes in his haste. his face was paler than the boys had ever seen it, and tears stood in his eyes. he hurriedly clasped hands with randy and nugget, and approached clay. "are you hurt, old fellow?" he asked huskily. "that was a wonderful escape. i thought it was all up with you." clay smiled faintly. "i'll be all right in a little while. i'm suffering from the shock, that's all. i don't think there is a bruise on me." a fire was quickly made, while ned explained to his companions the catastrophe that had happened on the cliff. then clay was stripped and rubbed down with a coarse towel, and after his dry clothes were on he declared he felt as well as ever. a good dinner was prepared, and when all were seated around the flat rock that served for a table, ned produced the packet of letters and gave a minute account of the wanderings and adventures which it had cost to obtain them. the story of randy's cake provoked much laughter, and randy assured ned that he had done the proper thing under the circumstances. then the other side of the story was told, and listened to with even greater interest. clay was chaffed unmercifully about the calf, and nugget also came in for a goodly share of ridicule. the failure of the boys to find randy's letter was a mystery at first, but ned finally suggested that it had been blown into the water, which was no doubt the case. chapter xiv caught in the whirlpool about three o'clock the boys broke camp. they were now thoroughly rested, and eager to be on the water again. moreover the cleft among the rocks--though admirably adapted for a hiding place--had none of the qualifications which a good camping site should possess. a paddle of two miles brought the party to tanner's dam, and when they had carried the canoes around and embarked on the lower side they passed the mouth of the real otter run. this enabled ned to fix their bearings definitely on the map, and he resolved to keep close track of the topography of the creek in the future. about six o'clock a beautiful place to camp was found on the left shore of the creek; shade was abundant, and the soil was level and grassy. a few yards up the beach a spring bubbled and spurted from a nest of rocks. as the boys landed a flock of wild ducks flew up with a great splashing, and winged their way down the creek. along the opposite shore, which was flat and marshy, yellow-legged snipe were running to and fro, a couple of gray herons standing contentedly on one leg, were gobbling minnows from the shallow pools. this was now thursday evening. it would be a week on the morrow since the jolly rovers had started on their cruise. they were so pleased with the location of the camp, and the opportunities it seemed to offer that they concluded to remain for a while, and here they spent friday, saturday, sunday and monday. the keen and peaceful enjoyments of those four days were in vivid contrast to the turbulent, adventurous life the boys had led during the past week. they looked back upon it afterward as the brightest period of their cruise. sunday was spent quietly in camp, but the remainder of the time was filled up with all sorts of occupations. randy shot numerous snipe and woodcock. clay and nugget gave their attention to fishing, and caught altogether some thirty or forty large bass--not counting the trout which they snared in a neighboring brook. ned found his keenest enjoyment in wandering over the country from farmhouse to farmhouse and bringing back tempting supplies. he was a born forager, and well understood the art of making bargains with the farmers. the boys lived on the fat of the land, and at very slight cost. the diet of fish and game was constantly varied by green corn, new potatoes, sometimes peaches or melons, and occasionally a plump duck or chicken. only on one day did it rain, and this merely served to make the fish bite better. but each and every one of the jolly rovers had the true instinct of the canoeist, and when monday's sun dropped redly behind the hills they were eager to start afresh on their wanderings. their arms tingled to grasp the paddle and drive the graceful canoe over the blue water; they longed to explore the great unknown territory that lay in front of them, to seek new camping grounds and new adventures. at eight o'clock on tuesday morning the crimson and gold pennant stood stiffly against the breeze as it led the little fleet from the spot where so many happy hours had been spent. it was a glorious day--a day when all living things should have been happy. so it seemed to the boys as they paddled lazily down mid-channel with the slanting sunbeams on their bronzed and radiant faces. but the business of life went on just the same around them. the hungry bass with his piratical black fin just cutting the surface, scattered the shoals of minnows, and sadly lessened their numbers. the kingfisher scooped occasionally from his perch to return with a shining morsel, and the gray heron stalked among the pools like a duck on stilts, searching the muddy bottom for tender young frogs. back in the forest the crows and the blue jays were waging a bitter squallish conflict, and here and there weary toilers among the yellow grain dropped their scythes to watch the canoes drifting by. but the problem of life cast no shadow on the jolly rovers, and they paddled on contentedly, finding something new to admire every few minutes. nugget was more than usually happy that morning. the past few days had taught him the bright side of canoeing, and he fondly hoped to find the future just as smooth and free from snags. he was dipping his paddle from side to side in a leisurely way when his eyes chanced to rest on the bottom of the cockpit. right between his knees was a flat little head with two bead-like eyes and a red tongue that darted quickly in and out. attached to the head was a long gracefully coiled body, mottled like the skin of a brook trout. the yell that burst from nugget's lips would have done credit to a sioux warrior. it scared the snake half out of its wits, and the reptile wriggled under the bottom board. "help! murder! snakes!" roared nugget, partly rising and clutching the combing with both hands. "help me, help me! i'll be bitten. i'll die." "where is it?" cried ned, paddling alongside. "stamp on it," shouted randy. "throw it out and i'll shoot it." nugget only yelled the more and shook the canoe so violently by his antics that it threatened to tip over. "be careful," ned warned him. "you will upset. paddle to shore and we'll take the snake out for you." "i can't, i can't," shrieked nugget. "my paddle fell overboard. there it goes." ned and clay started simultaneously for the drifting paddle, but they had hardly taken a dozen strokes when the snake thrust his head out of a crevice in the bottom boards. this proved too much for nugget. uttering yell after yell he sprang to his feet and tried to climb out on the foredeck of the canoe. the imp refused to stand such treatment, and tipped over instantly, throwing nugget head first into the water. fortunately the creek was shallow at this point, and after going under a couple of times, and swallowing a quantity of water--owing to his persistent yelling--nugget gained a foothold without the aid of his friends, and waded shoulder deep for the nearest shore. amid all the confusion the snake escaped in some manner from the overturned canoe, and swam rapidly down stream. ned and clay went in pursuit, but the reptile was too swift for them, and safely gained a patch of reeds. the imp was quickly righted and towed to shore. the contents were little damaged, and nugget made haste to change his clothes. "i'd like to know how that snake got in my canoe," he said angrily. "it was a beastly mean trick." "i don't believe it was a trick at all," exclaimed ned laughingly. "the snake must have crawled in when the canoe was lying on shore, bottom up. it no doubt thought it had found a nice snug place to live." "that's the way it happened, of course," said randy. "no one would have been mean enough to put it in on purpose." clay said nothing, but turned abruptly aside and began to busy himself with his canoe. the delay was of brief duration, and the jolly rovers were soon afloat again. nugget had stretched his wet clothes across the fore and rear deck of his canoe, so that the sun would quickly dry them. about noon, while the boys were paddling through a deep and narrow part of the creek, ned called attention to a bunch of ducks that were feeding in the reeds some distance down the right shore. all eyes were turned in that direction, and consequently no one happened to glance toward the opposite bank. clay had fallen a little behind his companions, and was three or four yards to the left of them. he was drifting along with his gaze fixed on the ducks, when all at once his canoe began to twist and oscillate in a most alarming manner. he turned quickly to see what was the matter, and the first glance sent a chill of fear to his heart. he was on the edge of a violently agitated patch of water that kept moving round and round in constantly narrowing circles until it ended in a funnel shaped aperture that went beneath the surface, and was itself whirling in dizzy revolutions. even as he looked his canoe drifted into the second circle, and mounted toward a great rock fifty or sixty feet high that rose straight from the water on the left shore. clay realized his situation instantly. he was caught in the whirlpool which some of the farmers had spoken about in a vague manner, as though they doubted its existence. there was no doubt about it now. the whirlpool was a stern reality, and he was fast in its embrace. without calling his companions, clay tried to paddle away from the circling current. but to his horror and consternation the canoe was unmanageable. the violent paddle strokes simply made it swing around on its keel. then clay became terribly frightened, and shouted for help. it was indeed high time. he had already drifted to the base of the rock where the whirlpool terminated, and was now swinging back toward the center of the creek. the appeal for help--though its meaning was not comprehended at first--brought the other boys to clay's assistance. that is to say they paddled toward the dangerous spot and were within an ace of getting in the same fix, when clay frantically warned them back. "keep away! keep!" he shouted. "you must find some other way to help me." ned was the first to grasp the situation. during the last few days he had heard more than one tale about this dreaded whirlpool with its merciless undertow, and now it made him sick and faint to see clay's peril, and yet be unable to devise a way of helping him. for so it seemed then. it would be simple folly and madness for the others to trust themselves near the rapacious current; yet how else could help reach the imperiled lad? the whirlpool was thirty feet in diameter, and while randy and nugget were looking on with white, scared faces, and ned was vainly trying to plan a means of rescue, clay was slowly drifting around the circle, coming nearer each time to the gurgling funnel in the center--and this in spite of the most strenuous paddling. each stroke, in fact, only deflected the canoe sideways, as though it had no keel, and increased the risk of upsetting. none realized the danger more than clay himself and the horror of those few short minutes--they seemed more like hours--he never forgot. it was not likely of course that the heavy canoe could be dragged clear under water; the whirlpool was no such gigantic thing as that. but it was absolutely certain that when the canoe reached the funnel shaped aperture in the center it would instantly be overturned, and just as surely clay would be sucked into the black depths below, and whirled off by the fierce undercurrent with no possible chance of reaching the surface. this was the awful fate that stared him in the face; and all that while he drifted nearer and nearer the end, crying vainly for help, and beating the frothy water with his paddle. chapter xv randy's proposition at the moment when clay's situation seemed most hopeless--and while his horrified companions were looking on with the silence of despair--nugget leaned forward in his canoe, opened the hatch, and drew out a big ball of cord. "ned! ned!" he shouted eagerly, "can you do anything with this outline? i forgot i had it." ned's face flushed with joy, and paddling alongside of nugget he snatched the cord. "follow me to the shore," he cried, "and you too, randy." an instant later the three lads were standing on the gravel beach, separated from the whirlpool by no less than sixty or seventy feet. ned waved his hand to clay, and shouted hoarsely: "fight hard, old fellow! we'll save you in a minute." then turning quickly to his companions he demanded: "how long is this line?" "one hundred and forty feet," answered nugget. "the man i bought it from, said so." ned tied the end of it to a ring in the stern of the pioneer, and ran down the beach, unrolling the ball as he went. sixty feet away he stopped and cut the cord, then he hurried back with the remainder in his hand. he tied a short stick to the end of the ball, and throwing both into his canoe scrambled after them. "now you fellows keep tight hold of that," he directed, pointing to the cord that lay outstretched on the beach. "pay it out as i go, and when i give the word pull with all your might." randy and nugget began to understand now, and they allowed the line to trail through their fingers as ned paddled furiously away, heading for a point a little above the whirlpool. it was a critical and intensely exciting moment. clay had divined what ned intended to do, and with this gleam of hope to animate him, he was fighting desperately to keep away from the gurgling hollow which was slowly sucking him into its embrace. there was scant time to spare when ned ceased paddling a few feet above and to the right of the whirlpool, and allowed the canoe to drift down stream broadside. but he was wonderfully cool headed and self-possessed, as, with deft fingers he unwrapped the ball of cord and coiled it between his knees. then he twisted one end about his left hand, and with the right seized the short, heavy stick. he was now directly opposite clay, and measuring the distance with a quick eye, he flung the stick straight out. it rose in the air, dragging the cord gracefully after it, and fell across the combing of clay's canoe. ned uttered a sigh of relief, and randy and nugget cheered wildly from the shore. but the danger was not over yet, though clay had instantly seized the line. the canoe would upset at once if an attempt were made to drag it broadside out of the whirlpool. clay comprehended this, and he was quick witted enough to solve the problem. though his canoe was now verging on the trough of the whirlpool, he calmly tied the line around one blade of his paddle and pressed this with all his might against the big screw eye that was set in the bow of the canoe. "all right," he shouted hoarsely. ned turned and waved his hand to randy and nugget. they understood the signal, and instantly began to haul on the line. the pioneer moved slowly toward shore, and the next instant the strain reached clay. it was concentrated in the right place, too, and after a couple of refractory tugs, as though the whirlpool was loath to surrender its victim, the neptune headed about and slowly followed the pioneer. this was, if possible, a more exciting moment than any that had preceded it. so much depended on the two lines. if either broke disaster would follow. but the cords did their duty nobly, and soon clay was beyond the swirling circles. a few seconds later the pioneer touched shore, and then three willing pairs of hands dragged the neptune in so forcibly that a great wave rolled before the bow. the boys had to help clay out and prop him against a tree; and for nearly five minutes he sat there so white and helpless that they feared he would faint. a drink of water seemed to revive him some, and finally the color came back to his cheeks. "i'm all right now," he said, as he got up and walked a few steps. "for a little while i felt like keeling over, and no wonder, after what i went through out there." "it was a close call," asserted ned. "nugget didn't remember about that line a minute too soon. the credit of your rescue belongs to him." "no it doesn't," said nugget bashfully. "you did the work." clay looked from one to the other, and then held out his hand to nugget. "it was your outline and your suggestion," he said in a low voice. "you saved my life. will you forgive me, old fellow? i put that snake in your canoe this morning, and am awfully sorry i did it." nugget hesitated an instant. then he blushingly accepted the proffered hand and said: "we'll let the matter drop, clay. i know you won't do anything like that again." "no, i won't," replied clay earnestly. "i'm done with practical jokes. it was only a garter snake, though i caught it with a forked stick." ned and randy had been at first inclined to pitch into clay, but seeing that he was sincerely repentant they wisely concluded to ignore his fault, hoping that the lesson would really prove beneficial, and cure him of the fondness for playing tricks. after a light lunch the jolly rovers started off again. they were anxious to get as far as possible from the whirlpool. during the early part of the afternoon they paddled and drifted by turns, for clay was still a little weak from his experience. between three and four o'clock a bend of the creek brought into view an old wooden bridge. the piers were mossy and crumbling to ruins, and the roof and sides had been guiltless of paint for many a long year. just below the bridge the creek widened to a kind of pool. at the foot of a ledge of rocks on the left shore sat three men holding long fishing poles. their attention seemed to be given to a fourth man, who was sitting in a boat near by, talking earnestly, and pointing from time to time out on the creek. a spring was visible a little above the fishermen, and as the boys happened to be thirsty they paddled over to it. the canoes immediately became objects of interest, and a friendly conversation was started. the man in the boat stepped out, and picked up randy's gun. "that's a purty nice weapon," he observed in a mournful voice. "it ain't unlike the one i lost, only mine was longer, and a leetle bit lighter. it was a muzzle loader, though, and this is one of them new fangled kind." "how did you lose yours?" inquired randy. "it sunk out there," replied the man, pointing toward mid-channel. "i was driftin' along when i seen a muskrat in the reeds on t'other shore. i stood up to reach the gun, an' just as i got holt of it my foot slipped on a wet board, an' down i come. the weapon went overboard, an' that was the end of it. it riles me bad, 'cause that gun belonged to my old daddy." "when did this happen?" asked randy. "'bout half an hour ago; anyway not much mor'n that." "but the gun surely isn't lost for good. why don't you dive after it?" the man thrust his hands into his pockets and stared blankly at randy. the three fishermen smiled and nudged each other. "why don't you dive after it?" repeated randy. "if you can tell me the exact location i'll get it for you." "you will, will you?" exclaimed the man impressively. "waal, i reckon you'd have a stiff contract. did you fellows never hear of rudy's hole? thar it lies right in front of you, and there ain't no bottom to it." "hold on, mose hocker," exclaimed one of the fishermen. "there must be bottom somewheres, of course, but it's mighty far down." the boys looked at one another incredulously and smiled. the idea of a bottomless hole in the conodoguinet was ridiculous. at that moment an old man with bent back and white hair hobbled down the path from the road above, leaning heavily on his cane, which was his constant companion. "good afternoon, daddy perkiss," exclaimed mose hocker. "i'm glad you come along. i lost my gun out in the hole a while ago, and this chap here offers to dive arter it. you've lived around these parts nigh onto eighty years. tell him how fur down he'll have to go to reach that weapon." "ho! ho!" cackled daddy perkiss, as he tremblingly sat down on a drift log, "the lad wants to dive in rudy's hole, does he? well, let him try, let him try." the old man was silent for a moment, and his bleary eyes had a far away expression as though they were looking into the dim past. "it be sixty years since jonas rudy were drowned out here," he mumbled in a shrill voice, "an they ain't found the body to this day. i were away at the time, drivin' a teamster's wagon to pittsburg, but i mind hearin' the story when i come home. many a time i've heard tell how they tried to find bottom the next spring after jonas was drowned. "mike berry, the blacksmith over at four corners, brought his anvil, an' the men made the women folks give up their clotheslines. then they went out on the hole in the old ferryboat, and let down the anvil. there was two hundred feet of line in all, an' when half of it were out the men lost their grip. the rest went like greased lightnin', an' the end got coiled around mike berry's yaller dog, an' took it along. the poor beast never came up again." daddy perkiss paused for sheer want of breath, and looked around to note the effect of his story. "that yarn was started years ago," whispered mose hocker, coming close up to the boys, "an' daddy has told it so many times that he believes every word. i reckon the most of it's true though. it would take more'n one clothesline to reach bottom out here." "but has the place never been sounded?" asked ned. "have you never tried it yourself?" mose hocker shook his head vigorously. "what would be the use?" he replied. "nobody doubts it. why, rudy's hole is known an' dreaded for miles around." evidently regarding this argument as a clincher he turned aside, and began to talk to daddy perkiss. about this time randy was doing a good deal of thinking. he had listened with incredulous interest to the old man's narrative, and knowing how prone country folk are to accept any fanciful story--especially a long standing tradition--without ever attempting to verify it, the conviction had forced itself upon his mind that rudy's hole was a myth--in other words that its depth was nothing extraordinary. randy was a good swimmer, but a far better diver. he was long winded, and his staying qualities under water had always been a source of admiration and envy to his companions. it now occurred to him, with irresistible fascination, what a fine thing it would be to recover mose hooker's gun, and show these people what a delusion they had been laboring under all their lives. it took randy but a short time to make up his mind, and walking over to mose hocker, he asked abruptly: "could you tell me just where your gun fell in?" "i reckon i could if there was any need of it," was the drawling reply. "i happened to notice my bearings at the time. i was straight down from that rock out there, and straight out from the big button wood tree on yonder shore--right over the deepest part of the hole." "all right!" said randy quietly. "now if you will lend me your boat for about ten minutes i think i can restore you your gun." chapter xvi a shattered delusion the burst of derisive laughter that greeted his proposition in no way disconcerted randy. he waited quietly until it was over, and then repeated his request. "ho! ho!" cackled daddy perkiss; "is the lad tired of livin', or kin he breathe under water like a fish?" "he's a stout hearted chap," cried mose hocker, "and sense his mind's bent on takin' a good long dive i reckon he kin have the boat. there ain't no undercurrent out there as i know of, so he ain't likely to come to harm, and besides i'm mighty anxious to git my gun back." here mr. hocker winked slyly at daddy perkiss and the fishermen. the old man failed to appreciate the joke. "it's temptin' providence," he cried shrilly, pounding his cane on the beach. "if you ever sees that weapon agin, mose hocker, i'll give you ten pounds of the best plug terbacker that bill smith has in his store." "that's a bargain," exclaimed mose. "you fellows can testify to what he said." then turning to randy he added with a laugh, "don't fail me now, lad. ten pounds of terbacker ain't picked up every day." "just give me a fair show and i'll astonish you all before long," replied randy, moving toward the boat. "ned, will you go with me?" he added. ned willingly agreed, much to the amazement of clay and nugget, who expected him to oppose randy's project with all his might. the truth of the matter was that ned, being a sensible fellow, shared randy's view, and was rather anxious to see the tables turned on the credulous rustics. he was satisfied from the smooth and sluggish appearance of the water that a dive would not be attended with danger. in some unaccountable manner the news seemed to have spread through the neighborhood, and when ned and randy embarked, the crowd had been augmented by three men and two bare-footed urchins. a wagon containing two farmers had stopped at the entrance of the bridge, and the occupants were tying the horse preparatory to coming down. mose hocker's boat was a large, heavy craft, built on the order of a bateau, and was admirably adapted to randy's purpose. the boys paddled up stream a little until they were directly below the rock hocker had designated. then, while the boat drifted down with a barely perceptible motion, randy hastily undressed. "it's a pity we didn't bring a fishing line along," observed ned. "i could ascertain the depth for you in a minute." "we don't need it," replied randy. "i was never in better wind than i am now. if there's a bottom at all i'll find it." the boat was now one hundred feet below the rock, and a stroke or two of ned's paddle put it in line with the big buttonwood tree on the right shore. "this is just about the exact spot," said randy, surveying with a critical eye the rock and then the tree. "hold the boat steady, ned. i'll be ready in a second or two." this was not a difficult task, for the water was as smooth as a mill pond and almost as motionless. clay and nugget had by this time paddled out in their canoes to witness operations, and the little group on the shore were waiting in breathless silence. randy was prepared now, and suddenly he mounted the broad stern seat, and stood on the outer edge. an audible murmur came from the shore, and daddy perkiss mumbled shrilly: "they're right over the middle of the hole." "paddle down a little," said randy in a quiet tone to clay and nugget. "you obstruct the view. still in the right location, are we?" he inquired of ned. "yes, as near as possible," was the reply. "be careful, old fellow!" randy smiled and glanced at the expectant crowd on the shore. then he drew a long breath, pressed his hands together and dived gracefully into the cloudy blue water. it was done so quickly and cleverly that no loud splash followed, nor was the boat violently shaken. as the seconds passed on not the least sound broke the stillness; every eye was fixed on the spot where the lad had disappeared, and every heart was beating tumultuously. the seconds grew almost to a minute, and still the smooth surface remained unbroken. ned's hand trembled as he kept the boat in position, and clay and nugget exchanged frightened glances. "i knew it," cried daddy perkiss in a cracked voice. "that lad will never be seen again. he's gone down to meet jonas rudy." this ill boding prophecy had scarcely left the old man's lips, when randy shot into view a few feet to the left of where he had disappeared. half a dozen strokes brought him to the boat, and with ned's assistance he scrambled over the side. his hands were empty. a burst of laughter came from shore, and daddy perkiss cried triumphantly: "where's the gun, lad? did you find bottom?" randy only waved his hand in reply. he was panting a little for breath, but his face wore a very peculiar smile--a smile that quite baffled the three eager boys. "what luck?" queried ned excitedly. "how far down were you? did you find anything?" "you will know before long," replied randy with aggravating calmness. "keep the boat in the same place, ned. one more stroke. there, that's it here goes for another." he quickly mounted the seat again, and drew in his breath. "hold on, young fellar," cried mose hocker in a loud voice, "don't risk your life a second time. i kin stand the loss of that terbacker." randy laughed, waved his hand, and went under head foremost. the suspense was now greater than on the previous occasion. ned began to count, and when the half minute expired his face grew pale. thirty-five--forty--three-quarters of a minute! no sign of the reckless diver. had some undercurrent dragged him far down in those blue depths? when the forty-ninth second had expired a loud murmur rose from the people on shore, and just a second later it changed to a deafening burst of applause as randy shot above the surface holding in his right hand--_mose hacker's gun_. his face was fairly purple for want of breath, and he had scarcely enough strength to gain the side of the boat. he threw the gun over first and then, with ned's aid, rolled into the bottom, where he lay for a moment, panting for breath. cheer after cheer came from shore, and the boys joined in heartily. randy was all right in a moment, and as ned paddled across the creek, he hurriedly pulled on his clothes. when the boat landed by the rocks such a scene ensued as no pen can describe. the men crowded about randy with eager congratulations, and fairly pumped his arms off. mose hocker snatched the gun and waved it triumphantly before daddy perkiss. "what do you think of that?" he cried. "the lad brought it clean up from the bottom of rudy's hole. i'll take that ten pounds of terbacker, daddy, as soon as you please." "shoo, now! thar's some trick about the thing," mumbled the old man petulantly. "you can't make me believe that rudy's hole ain't two or three hundred feet deep." "but here's the gun to prove it," said mose, "an' we all saw the lad bring it up. let him speak for himself, and say whether he touched bottom or not." "of course i touched bottom," returned randy with a slight shiver at the recollection. "it was the biggest dive i ever made. the water must be fifteen or twenty feet deep. it's not any more than that, though. i thought i'd never come to the top the second time. i was just ready to burst when i found the gun, and the weight of it kept me from coming up rapidly." daddy heard the lad through, and then, with a contemptuous sniff, he rose and hobbled up the path. "don't forgit the terbacker," mose hocker shouted after him. the old man made no reply, and was soon out of sight. "it's a hard blow for daddy," said one of the fishermen, "an' the same in fact fur all of us, i reckon. i've been brung up from a lad in the full belief that rudy's hole were well nigh bottomless." "and i," "and i," cried half a dozen voices. "it will be most amazin' news to the whole community," said mose hocker, "an' mebbe it'll teach folks to investigate things. i'm kinder sorry for daddy perkiss. it was his chief delight to tell that story to every stranger what come along, an' now he won't dare to open his lips about rudy's hole. when i get the terbacker i'll give you fellows a plug apiece." three or four of the men laughed at this, as though they had their doubts on the subject. "oh, i'll keep daddy to his word," resumed mose. "he kin easily afford it." then turning to the boys he said abruptly, "i want you boys to come down the creek and spend the night at my place. i'll try to treat you well. the recovery of that gun means a good deal to me, and i want to do what i kin in return." several other invitations of a similiar nature were extended to the jolly rovers, but they accepted mose mocker's without hesitation. a few moments later they paddled down the creek, cheered loudly by the admiring spectators. chapter xvii the storm breaks the jolly rovers were agreeably surprised when they reached mose hocker's "place." instead of the farmhouse, which they had confidently expected, it proved to be a snug little cabin standing in a dense bit of woods along the creek, and distant from rudy's hole about one mile. mose was a tall, wiry, middle aged man, with a smooth shaven face. "i've always been fond of hunting and fishing," he explained to the boys, "an' about two year ago i built this place, an' moved in. it stands on my own land. i have a farm back yonder, but after my wife died i put a tenant on my property. the life didn't agree with me, somehow or other." "i reckon i've got a streak of my daddy's wild blood. he was a great hunter in his day, and that's why i prize this gun so much. it was made in london by john armstrong in --so that silver plate on the breech says--and if it is old fashioned it kin shoot. you chaps ought to be here in the fall when the ducks and geese are moving--i'd show you some sport." mr. hocker proved himself a delightful host. his cabin was crammed full of curious contrivances for catching fish and trapping game, the various uses of which he took delight in explaining to the boys. he was an adept at cooking--as the bountiful evening meal proved--and he possessed a fund of adventurous stories that made the hours pass quickly until bedtime. he spread blankets and pillows on the floor for his guests, and after the wearisome events of the day they slept soundly until dawn. a plunge in the creek was first in order, and then came a warm breakfast. an hour later, with many sincere expressions of regret at parting, the jolly rovers resumed their cruise. mr. hocker pressed them to stay a couple of days, but they deemed it best to push on, since they were yet many miles from home. little did they think as they paddled away from the cabin, that they and their friendly host would meet again under far different circumstances in the near future. all that day--which was wednesday--the boys paddled steadily. they camped in the evening at the water works dam, one mile out from carlisle, and while clay and randy prepared supper, ned and nugget went to town for mail. fortunately they visited the express office as well, and found a cake there addressed to randy. they brought it triumphantly back to camp--a straight road precluded the possibility of losing the way on this occasion--and had a glorious feast before going to bed. thursday was a repetition of the previous day. nothing occurred worthy of special mention. the boys covered ten or fifteen miles in spite of the dams that frequently blocked the way. about four o'clock in the afternoon, while passing through a lonely and beautiful strip of country, they came upon five tiny islands grouped together in mid channel. the largest was not more than a dozen yards long. all were grassy and shaded by trees, and they made a pretty picture with the water rippling softly through the narrow winding channels that separated them. as the bushes and timber on both banks of the creek were very dense, the boys chose one of the islands for a camping place--the left hand one of two that lay a little farther down stream than the others. it was two or three feet above the surface of the creek, level and grassy on top, and contained seven or eight good sized trees. the largest of these--a massive buttonwood--stood at the extreme lower end, and its whitened, far stretching roots had been laid bare by the current that came sweeping down each side, formed a shallow swirling eddy. here the boys landed, and seeing that the steepness of the bank would make it a difficult task to carry the canoes up--if indeed there was room to spare above--they tied them in a bunch to the roots of the tree. then stripping off their shoes and stockings, they waded about in the shallow water unloading what articles they wanted, and carrying them up on the bank. the tent was staked in the center of the island, and the boys did not discover, until too late, that the entrance faced up stream. "let it go," said ned. "it's a little unhandy for the canoes, that's all. we must be careful not to trip over the ropes, though." there was another reason why the tent should have faced the opposite way. it was exposed, in its present position, to any storm that might come up from the west. but this did not occur to the boys, and very naturally, since the sky was cloudless and the air but moderately warm. it had not been such a day as usually brews july thunderstorms. after considerable searching, two stones suitable for the fireplace were found in the eddy. there was an utter lack of fuel on the island, so ned and randy paddled to shore and loaded their canoes with driftwood. two weeks of camp life had now familiarized each lad with the duties that were assigned to him, and by working in unison supper was soon prepared. the boys lingered over the meal a good while, and it was quite dark when the dishes were washed and put away. at nine o'clock all were sleeping soundly behind the tightly drawn tent flaps, and the fire was mingling its red flashes with the moonlight glow on the rippling surface of the creek. ten o'clock came--eleven--twelve. not a breath of air was stirring; a dead, oppressive calm, like the sultriness of noonday, had settled down on land and water. half an hour later the west was inky black with massed storm clouds and fleecy forerunners of the coming tempest were straying one after another across the moon. all unconscious of impending danger the boys slept peacefully, nor did they awake until the storm was upon them in all its fury. dazed and terrified they crouched close together, watching the jagged purple flashes that turned night into noonday, listening to the furious patter of the rain and the crashing of thunder, and shivering where the oozing drops fell in their faces from the saturated canvas. streams of water were trickling across the ground, and the tent was tugging, like a thing of life, to free itself from the iron stakes. ned groped about until he found the lantern, and with great difficulty he lit it. nugget was trembling like a leaf, but the others were, so far, more disgusted than frightened. a possible ducking, and the loss of a night's sleep, was the most they dreaded. but soon the presence of a real and actual danger made itself known. the wind rose to such a point of violence that it was little short of a hurricane. trees began to go down here and there, and the passage of the gale through the forest on each shore was like the whirring flight of myriads of quail. the tent was slightly protected by the timber on the upper point of the island; otherwise it must have yielded to the first onslaught of the storm. "this is terrible," whispered ned. "if it grows any worse i'm afraid we will fare badly. the tent is strained to its utmost now." "even the iron stakes won't hold it if the wind gets through the flaps," said randy in a dismal tone. they were silent for a moment, listening to the increasing fury of the gale. "oh! this is awful," wailed nugget. "the water is running down my neck, and i'm sitting in a big puddle. it's coming in all around me." "you ought to be thankful you're not sitting in the open air," muttered clay. "that may be the next thing." at ned's suggestion--which, strange to say, had not occurred to any one before--the boys overhauled their clothing bags and put on their rubber coats. each was provided with one of those useful articles. as they sat about the flickering flame of the lantern a more furious gust than any that had preceded came shrieking down the creek. in the midst of its passage a great crash was heard, so loud and so near that the very ground seems to tremble. the boys could not repress a cry of terror. a tree had fallen close by, and they dreaded lest another would crush the tent. "gracious! what if that was the big buttonwood!" cried randy. "our canoes--" his agitated face finished the sentence more plainly than words could have done. ned rose, pulling his coat close about him, and seized the lantern. "i must see about that," he said hoarsely. "stay right here. i will be back in a moment." before the others could utter a word of protest, he lifted the rear end of the canvas half a foot, and, with lantern in hand, squirmed through like a snake, leaving the tent in utter darkness. chapter xviii at the mercy of the tempest the wind was so violent that ned dared not stand erect. he crossed on hands and knees the brief stretch that separated the tent from the lower end of the island. the buttonwood was still standing--much to his relief--and the canoes were so far uninjured, though the gale was knocking them together pretty forcibly. bracing himself against the buttonwood, ned turned the lantern in all directions, and soon discovered the tree which had caused such alarm by its fall. it lay prostrate on the other island, but as a channel barely half a dozen yards wide separated the two, it was not surprising that the crash should have sounded very near. the storm still raged with unabated fury. the lightning played incessantly over the heavens, and the thunder was continuous. ned took advantage of a lull in the wind to start on his return, but he had scarcely left the tree when the lantern slipped from his hand, and was extinguished by the fall. he found it after a short search, and as he could see plainly enough without a light, he pushed on toward the tent, bending his body forward to escape the cutting rain. a sudden fierce blast of wind compelled him to crouch close to the ground, and just as he rose a jagged flash of lightning turned the blackness into a purple glare. ned's eyes happened to be resting on the channel between the two islands, and in that brief instant of light he saw a boat gliding swiftly down the current, cutting gracefully through the great waves that rose to meet it. on the rear seat, paddle in hand, sat a man. a dark slouch hat, pulled far down, concealed his features. he seemed perfectly at home, and in no wise discomfited by the storm that was raging around him. as the vivid light faded away ned ran back to the buttonwood tree, and watched the blurred shape of the boat as it came down the channel. he breathed a sigh of relief when it passed out from the islands and continued on through the gloom, for his first thought had been that some danger menaced the camp. why a man should voluntarily expose himself to such a pitiless storm, and at such an hour of the night, was a mystery too deep for ned's comprehension. it was certain, at all events, that the stranger was abroad for no good purpose. either his errand was in no wise connected with the jolly rovers, or else he had passed close by the tent without seeing it--even when the flash of lightning made the night as bright as noonday. ned waited beside the buttonwood tree until another flash gave him a brief glimpse of the boat far below the island. then he hurried back to the tent and crawled under the rear end. the boys immediately besieged him with questions, and their anxiety was quickly allayed. "the canoes are safe," said ned, as he relighted the lantern. "the tree that fell was on the other island. i don't think the storm can last much longer, i believe the wind is subsiding a little now." he was about to tell them of the strange boat and its occupant that had passed down the channel, when a terrific blast checked the words on his lips. the tent swayed to and fro, and just at this critical moment one of the front flaps tore free of the strings that held it to the pole. the gale instantly swept under the canvas, lifted the tent bodily, and whirled it through the air, leaving the amazed boys exposed to the driving rain. ned snatched the lantern and ran down the island. the others followed him, and when they reached the buttonwood tree they saw the tent floating limply on the waves twenty feet beyond the canoes. "we must recover it at all hazards," cried ned hoarsely. "our cruise is ruined if we don't. who will go with me?" "i will," replied randy. "and i," added clay. "one is enough," said ned. "i'll take randy. if the wind prevents us from getting back don't you fellows be alarmed. keep out of the rain as much as possible, and if your clothes get wet put on dry ones." there was no time to lose, for the tent had drifted into the fierce current below the island, and was already out of sight. there was great danger of its sinking as soon as the canvas became thoroughly soaked. hastily untying their canoes from the roots of the tree, ned and randy paddled away in the darkness, leaving clay and nugget to make the best of their desertion. it was a bad night to be on the water. the storm was still raging, and the surface of the creek was lashed with great foamy billows. the boys did not find the tent immediately. in fact the wind and the current together drove them a quarter of a mile down stream before they could control their canoes sufficiently to head them around. and even when they accomplished this they found it out of the question to return. not one inch could they gain in the teeth of the blast, though they paddled hard and fast. fortunately the canoes were empty, and this rendered them safe and buoyant, so that they rose lightly on the crest of every wave. they would surely have swamped had the usual loads been in the hatches. "we stand a poor show of getting back to the island this night," cried randy in a loud enough tone for his companion to hear. "i'll be satisfied if we find the tent. do you think it is still afloat?" with a half a dozen desperate strokes ned then brought the pioneer alongside the water sprite. "i don't know," he replied. "if the tent is still on the surface it must have drifted pretty near by this time. we've been trying to force our way up stream for nearly ten minutes. keep a sharp lookout on your side, randy, and i'll do the same on mine." this was by no means an easy matter. it was difficult to see with any clearness at a distance of ten yards, and though ned still had the lighted lantern in his cockpit, it was impossible to make use of it and to paddle at the same time. for a few moments longer the boys continued the futile struggle with the wind and current. the rain was still falling in torrents, but their rubber coats kept them fairly dry, and the canvas aprons buttoned tightly over the cockpits, prevented the canoes from filling. at last, when both lads were quite in despair, a flash of lightning revealed the tent a few yards to the left, rising and falling with the waves. when the difficult operation of turning the canoes down stream was safely performed, the tent was some yards away. it was still dimly visible and the boys soon caught up with it. it threatened at first to be a sort of white elephant on their hands, for the three poles were still in position, and the canvas was hopelessly tangled about them. had the boys been in a boat their task would have been comparatively easy. as it was they had to be very cautious for fear of upsetting. finally, by getting the unwieldy mass between them and employing their paddles instead of hands they succeeded in dragging a portion of it upon the fore deck of each canoe. the center still sagged in the water, but it was impossible to make any better arrangement. "paddle very carefully now," was ned's caution. "we will run into shore at the first opportunity, and if the storm abates one of us can go up for clay and nugget. the island can't be more than half a mile away." this project, simple as it sounded, was quite impracticable at the present time. the wind had fallen some, but the waves were still so violent that the only safety for the heavily encumbered canoes lay in keeping parallel with the current. a flank movement toward shore would have brought speedy disaster. the boys realized this and stuck to mid-channel. the continued speed of the current mystified them considerably, and they were quite at a lost to account for it until ned raised the lantern, and turned it on the surface of the creek. "good gracious!" he cried. "the water is yellow with mud. the creek is rising. no wonder it runs like a mill race. this same storm must have deluged the upper end of the valley before it reached here." proof of ned's assertion was not wanting, for that instant the canoes rustled through the protruding grass of a submerged island. the water sprite stuck fast on what was probably the crest, and the pioneer instantly swung around with the current, shaking off the folds of the tent. randy turned sideways to see how his companion was faring, and his face suddenly blanched. "look! look! ned," he cried in a hoarse, frightened voice. "what is that?" randy's alarming cry was called forth by the discovery of a long dusky object that was bearing rapidly down upon the canoes. the same chilling fear entered the hearts of both lads they watched its noiseless approach. they believed it to be an upturned canoe--a message fraught with tidings of disaster. chapter xix adrift on a log an instant later the shadowy object assumed the unmistakable form of a huge drift log, and before ned could realize his peril or deal a single paddle stroke, the current whirled the heavy mass upon him, and the blunt end pounded broadside into the pioneer. the canoe was bowled over like a tenpin, and ned went head first into the yellow flood. he came to the surface a dozen feet below, and when he found he was out of his depth he made a valiant effort to swim up to randy, who was fighting hard to drive the water sprite off the island, so that he might hasten to his friend's rescue. half a dozen strokes convinced ned of the utter futility of breasting such a current. as he ceased struggling, and allowed himself to drift at will, he saw the log bearing down upon him. it had swung clear around after capsizing the canoe, and was shooting along at a rapid pace, as though to make up for lost time. with scarcely an instant's deliberation ned decided what to do. his canoe was floating toward him from above, but being still broadside to the current, its movements were painfully slow. moreover, it offered doubtful security in its inverted position, and was likely to sink if any weight was put upon it. a few vigorous strokes brought ned alongside the drifting log as it swung past him. he straddled it a little beyond the middle, holding on with both hands. it sank a little with his weight, causing the front end to tip upwards, but his head and shoulders were clear out of water. turning cautiously around, he saw to his dismay that randy was still aground on the island. "push off as soon as you can," he shouted. "overtake my canoe and paddle for the left bank. i'm safe for the present, and will try to reach land." "all right!" came the reply an instant later. "i'll do my best." the words had a vague, far away sound, for already the distance had widened considerably. the log went swiftly on its course, heading straight through mid-channel, and leaping and plunging in the turbid water. ned clung to it with might and main. he was not a little worried by his strange and perilous position. the yellow flood stretching on all sides of him was a terrifying sight. the thunder and lightning had almost entirely ceased, and the wind had fallen, leaving the creek as smooth as a millpond; but the rain still poured with a steady persistency that threatened a long continuance. ned did not mind this much. the air and the water were both warm, and he felt fairly comfortable. he was more concerned for his companions than for himself. it would be a difficult matter, he reflected, for randy to manage the two canoes and the tent. he wondered how clay and nugget were faring--whether they still remained on the island, or had ventured to embark in search of their companions, now that the violence of the storm was past. meanwhile ned was not oblivious to his own danger. while these things were passing through his mind, he was striving to guide the log toward shore by paddling with his left hand and leg. at first he seemed to make no progress. the current was running swift, and the log remained obstinately in mid-channel. the flood was rising, too. plain proof of it was seen in the _débris_ that floated on all sides--patches of grass and bushes, broken limbs, and here and there a fence rail. the sky was still overcast with dark clouds, and the gloom behind him showed ned no trace of randy or the canoes. he worked harder and harder to gain the shore, and finally he discovered to his great delight that he was getting the log under control. it steadily pursued a diagonal course, veering constantly nearer to the left shore. occasionally a swirl of the current pitched it toward midstream, but a little perseverance put it right again. the scene of ned's capsize was now a good mile in the rear, and he was satisfied that he would reach the bank in a short time--unless some unforseen event occurred. this was exactly what destiny had in store for the lad. a moment later a sharp bend--unseen until too late--cast the log in the very center of the creek, and while the sting of this misfortune was still fresh, ned heard a dull booming noise--the certain herald of either rapids or a dam. the sound, though not loud, came from no great distance. its subdued tone showed that if rapids were ahead, they were not very bad ones; if a dam, that it could not be high, else the falling water would make a greater noise. but ned had no desire to tempt his fate in either. with what strength was left in his numbed limbs he tried hard to drive the log shoreward. had a little more time been granted him he might have succeeded, but the ruthless current swept him on with unceasing speed, and when the log was still fifty feet from the left bank he saw the smooth stretch of water before him merge into a seething line of turbulent waves and tawny foam. the rude outline of a mill suddenly appeared on the left, proving conclusively the existence of a dam. all hope of reaching the shore was gone now. it was some slight consolation to know that the dam was not a high one, and ned boldly faced the ordeal by swinging the log around until it pointed straight to the line of foam. then he hugged it closely to him and waited. the suspense was brief. one swift rush to the brink, a quick slide down a glistening slant of water--and then a headlong plunge into the seething waves. the log rushed on nobly, now under the billows, now high on their crest until it struck a rock endwise, and turned broadside in the twinkling of an eye. ned parted company with it then and there--he couldn't help it--and struggled on alone. he was in comparatively shallow water now, and though the force of the current and the waves was terrific, he finally gained a foothold on the slippery rocks, and waded waist deep toward shore. the water soon shallowed, and with a grateful heart he staggered out on a stony beach. he sat down for a moment to recover from his exertions, and then went up the slope to the building, which was only a few yards away. it proved to be a saw mill, and even in the somber gloom ned could see that it was very ancient and rickety, and had probably not been in use for many years. the locality was a wild and lonely one. steep wooded hills lay on both sides of the creek. further investigation showed ned that the saw mill abutted on the corner of the dam, and that a narrow sluiceway conducted the water to the machinery. he could hear the splash and gurgle of the torrent as it swept under the rotting timbers of the mill and rushed on to freedom through the wasteway beyond. as the depth of the latter was uncertain ned crossed the sluice by a shaky plank that spanned the sides, and found himself among thick bushes at the foot of a steep hill. he was tempted to go back and seek shelter in the mill, for his limbs ached with weariness, and his wet clothes chilled him at every step. but first it was important that randy should be found, so he pushed along the edge of the creek in the rain until he obtained an open view of the channel for some distance ahead. the first glimpse rewarded him for his pains. he spied a bulky dark object about fifty yards up stream. it was approaching at a rapid pace and hugging the shore closely. ned put two fingers in his mouth and emitted a shrill, piercing whistle. it was answered in a similar manner, and a moment later the dark mass resolved itself into randy, the tent, and the two canoes. "by jove, i'm glad to see you," exclaimed randy in husky tones, as ned helped him to land. "i thought you were a goner this time, old fellow." ned hastily related his experience. "it was a close shave," he concluded; "too close to be pleasant. but how did you manage to get here with this heavy load?" randy laughed. "i had a time of it, i can tell you. i jumped out in the water--it was only knee deep on that island--and dragged the whole tent on the foredeck of my canoe. then i paddled after the pioneer, and caught up with it near another submerged bar, where both the canoes stuck again. "this gave me a chance to right the pioneer and throw most of the water out of it. then i slung the tent across both of them, tied the cockpits together, and started off. of course i could only paddle on the right side, but i got along fairly well. the best of it is that i found your paddle on the way down. the lantern is gone, but i have a candle here, if we need it. it was in the pocket of my rubber coat." "that's exactly what we _do_ need," replied ned. "it will help us to find some dry wood in the mill. but first of all we must drag the canoes and the tent on shore." this proved a difficult task, but it was finally accomplished. the canoes were turned bottom up, and the tent was stretched over a clump of bushes. then ned led the way down stream to the saw mill. chapter xx mr. dude moxley when the boys reached the corner of the dam ned produced his waterproof match box and lighted the candle. this enabled them to cross the sluiceway in safety, and after noting with some alarm that the creek was still coming up rapidly, they entered the saw mill at the upper end, where the floor was level with the breast work of the dam--or rather a few feet above it. the lower end was twelve or fifteen feet higher than the wasteway, and was supported by an open network of huge beams. with the greatest caution the boys scrutinized their surroundings. the first floor contained nothing but _débris_--heaps of sawdust, strips of bark, and a few partially sawed logs. the machinery had all been removed. there was great danger of falling through into the swirling torrent beneath, for in several places the flooring lacked entire planks, and those that remained were loose and rotten. the light of the candle revealed a rickety flight of steps in the upper right hand corner, and without hesitation the boys mounted to the second floor. this apartment was in remarkably good condition. not a drop of rain had penetrated through the roof or sides. the floor was strewn with sawdust and shavings. a carpenter's bench stood on each side, and in the center was a huge old-fashioned sheet iron stove, with a pipe running straight to the roof. the room was lighted by three windows--one at each end, and one on the side facing the creek. "this is what i call luck," exclaimed ned. "a stove ready and waiting for us, and fuel lying about in plenty! we won't have to endure our wet clothes long." "the owner may object to our taking possession, though," said randy. "we don't want to get in any more scrapes." "no one but a crusty old brute would refuse to let us dry ourselves," replied ned. "and besides, i don't believe the owner lives anywhere within a mile. he probably uses this work room in winter--when there is hardly any farm work to do--and doesn't come near it in summer. the reason i think so is because the tools have all been taken away." ned's supposition was probably correct. at all events the boys did not scruple to make a blazing fire in the stove, and very pleasant the warmth felt after their long tussle with the storm. ned was soaked through and through in spite of his rubber coat, but randy was only wet to the middle. they stood as near as possible to the stove, and so powerful was the heat of the wood fire, that in half an hour their clothes were entirely dry. it was rather a risky undertaking, but both lads were hardy and vigorous and had no fear of taking cold. as the fire burnt itself out the pale light of day shone through the windows. friday morning had dawned. "still raining a little," said ned, "and the sky is cloudy. we must start up the creek without delay now. my mind will feel a good deal easier when i know that clay and nugget are safe. they must be feeling pretty wretched if they stayed on the island all night in the rain." "i don't think they would venture to leave after the directions you gave them," returned randy. "unless the island became flooded. i never thought of that before." ned walked quickly to the side window and looked out. "the water is still on the rise," he said gloomily. "it is backing into the wasteway and crawling up the slope toward the mill. you can hardly see anything of the dam. to tell the truth, randy, i believe the creek is quite high enough to cover that island." randy turned pale. "what has become of the boys then?" he asked. "could they have passed down the creek while we were drying ourselves?" "hardly," said ned. "you forget the dam. but pull on your coat and we'll be off. it's not raining enough to hurt us." randy hastily obeyed, and after satisfying themselves that the lingering embers of the fire could do no damage, the boys went down the shaking flight of steps to the lower floor. with great care they crossed the rotten planks, and were half way to the door when a burly figure darkened the threshold--a roughly dressed man with a gun on his shoulder and a partially filled grain sack in his hand. the boys stood still, half frightened, half astonished, but the stranger came quickly forward, lowering his gun as he did so. "good morning, my lads," he said in a gruff, mocking voice, "so the storm has driven you to my humble retreat. you are welcome--quite welcome. make yourselves at home. this is an unexpected honor. i am sorry i was absent when you called." the boys exchanged startled glances. there was an unpleasant ring to the stranger's voice that boded no good intentions. "if you own this mill we are much obliged to you for the use of it," said ned. "we got wet in the storm and came here to dry ourselves. we took the liberty of making a fire in the stove up stairs." as he spoke he moved toward the door with randy at his heels. "not so fast," muttered the man, pushing the boys forcibly back. "you can stay a while and keep me company. i've taken a fancy to you chaps, and want to get better acquainted with you. over there is the portion of this domicile that i occupy at present. it ain't very palatial, but i reckon i can give you a log to sit on." there was no choice but to obey, and the boys reluctantly crossed the rickety floor to the lower corner of the mill. here was a great heap of sawdust, and two or three logs. the man sat down on the former--between the boys and the door--and motioned his companions to one of the logs. it was now fully daylight, and the stranger's position, facing one of the broad windows on the creek side of the mill, gave the boys an opportunity to examine him closely. he wore a dirty, greasy suit of tweed, patched here and there with different colored cloth. his shoes gaped at the toes, and his coat collar was buttoned tightly about his throat--no doubt in default of a shirt. his face might have been handsome at one time, but it was now marred and brutalized by a life of dissipation. his nose and cheeks were purple, his eyes bloodshot, and a matted growth of brown hair strayed from beneath a ragged slouch hat. little wonder that ned and randy cowered fearfully before the gaze of this evil looking ruffian. they knew now that he was a tramp, and never before had they seen a worse specimen. it suddenly occurred to ned that this was the same man who had passed the camp in a boat on the previous night, and the knowledge by no means added to his peace of mind. immediately on sitting down the stranger had taken a short black pipe from his pocket, and filled and lighted it. but during the performance of this operation he was not oblivious to the keen scrutiny of his companions. "i hope you chaps will know me again," he said in a sarcastic tone. "or were you just admiring my beauty? dude moxley is what my friends all call me, because i dress with such taste, and take such good care of my complexion." suddenly changing his voice he demanded gruffly, "where are the other two chaps?" "why--why--how did you know there were two more?" exclaimed ned, thrown off his guard by the question. mr. moxley smiled complacently. "i seen the canoes and the tent up yonder along the shore. as the canoes happened to be empty i judged the rest of the party were on behind somewhere. i just guessed at their bein' two more of you, but it seems i hit it." this was a very lame explanation, but the boys were too greatly worried to notice its defects. "i may as well tell him all," thought ned. "perhaps he will relent and let us go." acting on this impulse he related the occurrences of the previous night, and described the perilous situation of clay and nugget on the island. "won't you let us go and look for our companions now?" he asked. "if the island is flooded they are in great danger." ned had risen in his eagerness, and now he made a step toward the door. "sit down!" thundered mr. moxley. "if you lads try to escape i'll put a hole through you." he lifted the gun and patted it significantly, and that instant ned recognized the weapon. it was mose hocker's property--the identical muzzleloader which randy had brought up from the depths of rudy's hole. ned could see the silver plate set in the breech, and could partially read the inscription: "john armstrong, maker." randy was equally quick to recognize the gun. he gave a little gasp of astonishment and looked at ned. the agitation of the boys was not observed by the ruffian. "just sit still now," he growled. "if you don't you'll be the worse off. you needn't be alarmed about your friends. i reckon they'll be along this way purty soon." while speaking mr. moxley happened to glance toward the upper end of the mill, and through a gaping crevice between the boards he saw something that caused a sudden wave of excitement to spread over his face. rising quickly to his feet, he seized both boys in an iron grasp and dragged them several yards across the floor to a big closet that occupied the corner of the mill. he unbolted the door and shoved his captives roughly inside. "don't you dare to whimper," he hissed savagely. "mind that, my lads. dude moxley ain't to be trifled with." the ruffian slammed the door and bolted it, and the next instant his heavy retreating footsteps shook the rotten floor. chapter xxi a mysterious warning it is quite unnecessary to give a minute account of how clay and nugget spent the night on the island. as the absence of their companions was more and more prolonged they became worried and anxious, and gave but little thought to their own miserable plight. the rubber coats shielded them from the rain, and by crouching under the trees they avoided the fury of the wind. nugget faced the situation with remarkable fortitude, and uttered but few complaints. after the gale subsided, and the thunder and lightning became less frequent, the boys made occasional trips to the buttonwood tree to see how the canoes were faring, and in this way they soon discovered that the creek was rising. so rapidly did the flood advance that on the fifth visit they found the roots of the buttonwood submerged, and the yellow tide within a few inches of the trunk. at clay's suggestion the canoes were dragged out on the island, and all the baggage was stowed in the hatches. when the task was completed the canoes were so heavy that the boys could scarcely lift them; and little wonder, since they held just double their usual load. the water soon began to trickle over the island, and when it was three or four inches deep, the boys tied the canoes side by side to a large tree, and climbed into their seats. here they sat, protected by rubber coats and canvas aprons until morning dawned. the broad yellow expanse of the creek, as it whirled swiftly by the island with its burden of _débris_ and driftwood, satisfied clay that the absent ones had found it impossible to paddle back. "there is no use in waiting here any longer," he said to nugget. "the boys may have been carried far down the creek, and are probably looking for us at this minute." "you think they are safe then?" asked nugget. "i hope so," replied clay dubiously. "we'll know to a certainty before long. hand me your knife till i cut the ropes. i tied them in a knot." "here you are." an instant later the canoes drifted off the island, and plunged into the swirling flood. their heavy loads caused them to sink almost to the gunwales, and this the boys noted with serious alarm. "we must keep along shore," said clay. "if we upset then the danger won't be so great." with extreme caution the boys paddled diagonally to the left bank, where they found the current considerably less rapid. they were drifting along side by side when a man suddenly appeared from behind a tree a few yards ahead, and beckoned them anxiously with his finger. "come in here a minute, you fellows," he whispered hoarsely, when the canoes were close to him. the boys ceased paddling, but hesitated to obey. "i don't mean any harm," added the man. "it's for your own good." "i wonder what he wants," said clay. "perhaps it's something about the boys. let's talk to him, nugget." they ran the canoes into a shallow inlet where dry land had been but a few hours before, and the stranger came quickly toward them. his appearance was not calculated to cause the boys any alarm. he looked to be about six and twenty. he was poorly dressed, and his rather boyish face was covered with a stubbly growth of light hair. something in his features seemed to wake a chord of recognition in clay's heart, and he struggled with his memory to account for it. the man came close to the canoes, and after casting a furtive glance up and down the shore, said in a low voice: "you needn't get out. i won't keep you long. where are the other two chaps that belong to your party?" this unexpected question amazed the boys, and they regarded the stranger with sudden suspicion. "i don't mean any harm to you, indeed i don't," he added. "it's just the other way." there was unmistakable sincerity in his words and manner, and after a brief deliberation clay told him how the other boys had started after the tent, and had not come back. "i thought you wanted to tell us something about them," he concluded. "did you just come up the creek?" "yes," replied the man. "i was as far down as the next dam, but i didn't see a sign of your friends. i reckon they're below that somewheres, so you'd better push on and find them. i want to give you chaps a warning. keep your eyes open for a big man with a purple face. if you run across him get out of the way as quick as you kin. he's somewhere about this neighborhood, too, for i seen his--" the man stopped abruptly, and after another cautious survey of the woods, resumed in a whisper: "if you fellows do chance to get in trouble through this party, why mebbe i'll be near at hand to help. it ain't certain, mind, because he may easily give me the slip again. if i kin find him afore he gets away this time, it ain't likely he will give you any trouble." "i don't quite understand," said clay in a perplexed tone. "who are you, and who is this man that you are warning us about? why should we be afraid of him?" the stranger shook his head. "it ain't quite the thing for me to tell," he said slowly. "you see nothin' may come of it after all. just you fellows mind what i say, and keep your eyes open. when you find your friends paddle on down the creek for a good way before you camp. good-by, i'm off." he turned abruptly away, and hurried through the woods toward the base of the hill. clay called him two or three times, but in vain. he was already out of sight. the boys looked at each other for a moment with unspeakable amazement. "it's the queerest thing i ever heard of," exclaimed clay. "i don't pretend to understand it. the man was serious in all he said, too." "there was something familiar about his face," observed nugget. "at least i thought so when i first saw him." "why, that's just what struck me," replied clay eagerly. "i never saw _him_ before, but i have seen some one that looks like him." "that's about the way of it," assented nugget. "we'll keep a sharp lookout for that purple faced man, anyhow." "we certainly will," replied clay. "now then, let's be off. the fellow won't return again." they backed out of the inlet and paddled on down the creek. hardly a word was spoken. the mysterious stranger's warning had taken a deep hold upon both lads, and they were so deeply engrossed in puzzling over it that they failed to see the dam until it was close to them. the falling water made but little noise since the breastwork was almost submerged. it was a weird and lonely scene that the boys gazed upon now--the broad yellow flood under a leaden sky, the gray crumbling mill looming through a pall of drizzling rain, and beyond, where the mists deepened, the foaming thread of the creek, visible for a brief stretch before it was lost among the steep, pine clad hills. "what a desolate place!" exclaimed clay. "i don't believe there is a human being within a mile. the boys must be farther down, and ten to one they shot the dam in the dark. it doesn't look very dangerous, but i hardly think we'll risk it, nugget. that corner by the mill seems a likely place to carry around." "so it does," assented nugget. "come ahead, we'll try it." with cautious strokes they paddled on until a sudden glimpse of the sluiceway leading under the mill caused them to pull up short. they headed straight for shore, and as they scrambled out at the foot of the hill, and pushed through the bushes, intending to see what the chances were for a portage, they blundered into the two missing canoes and the tent. "here's luck!" cried clay. "ned and randy must be--" the sentence was never finished, for that, instant the bushes rustled, parted, and a big burly man with a purplish red face stepped out. the blank amazement and fear on the faces of the two lads was a study for an artist. before them was the living verification of the mysterious warning. there was no mistaking that ruddy countenance. the stranger spoke first. "you're just the lads i'm looking for. your friends are lying in yonder mill. they went over the dam in their canoes this morning at daybreak. "i happened to see them and saved their lives. they were pretty near drowned, but i managed to bring them around all right. they ain't able to walk yet, so they asked me to go up the creek and hunt you fellows. come right along and i'll take you to them." was mr. dude moxley's brain muddled that he should have inserted such a gross error in his otherwise plausible little story? perhaps he did not have time to plan it thoroughly in his hasty advance from the mill, or had calculated on finding his new victims at any other place than this. frightened as the boys were they noted the discrepancy, and it opened their eyes to the seriousness of the situation. "if our friends went over the dam this morning," asked clay with a touch of scorn, pointing to the canoes and the tent, "how do these come to be here?" chapter xxii an insolent demand a dangerous glitter in the man's eyes showed that clay's question was not at all to his liking. "how them canoes got here is none of your business," he answered emphatically, "and i don't want no argument about it. step lively now in the direction of that mill." the mask was off, and the boys realized that they were prisoners. their captor's sullen features and the gun that he bore on his shoulder forbade any attempt at escape. with sinking hearts they trudged along the shore a few feet in advance of the ruffian. they had no doubt that their companions were confined in the mill, and it was some consolation to know they were going to join them. why they had been captured at all, and what object was to be gained by it was a mystery too deep for comprehension. from time to time the tramp uttered a brief order, and in this way he drove the boys before him, across the sluiceway, and then over the rickety floor of the mill to the lower corner. he unbolted the closet door and shoved them roughly in. it was not by any means a joyful reunion for the jolly rovers, but they were very glad to be together again nevertheless. a crevice in the door admitted some light to the closet, and at the same time afforded a view of mr. moxley, who was then sitting on the sawdust heap, examining the contents of his grain bag. he drew out two dead chickens, half a dozen ears of corn, and a quantity of apples and pears--a sure proof that he had secretly been plundering some farmer. he began to munch one of the apples, and the boys took advantage of the opportunity to narrate their adventures in low, whispered tones. when all had been told the mystery was no nearer solution than before--in fact it was even more complex. "i can't imagine why this fellow has gone to such trouble and risk to capture us all," said ned. "i hardly think he will do any harm. we must wait patiently and see what happens." "i can't understand that warning nugget and i received," added clay. "i hope the man will keep his word and help us out of this scrape." "i wouldn't count on that," replied ned; "and yet there may be more in it than we suppose." "hush!" whispered randy with his eyes to the crevice. "here comes the tramp." moxley rose and approached the closet. he partially opened the door, and then walked back a few paces behind one of the logs. "now step out, you chaps," he commanded sternly. "i have a little business to attend to, and i want it done quietly." the boys tremblingly obeyed, and when they were grouped before the door the ruffian added, "now go through your pockets and lay everything you have on this log. see that you don't keep anything back." it was hard to submit to this audacious robbery, but there was no alternative. moxley had the gun in his hands. the boys deposited all they had about them on the log--watches, money, keys, fishing tackle, and handkerchiefs. the fellow made them turn every pocket inside out, and when he was satisfied that all were empty he appropriated the money, watches, and keys. the other articles he contemptuously rejected, and allowed the boys to take them back. then he drove his prisoners into the closet and bolted the door--much to their surprise and consternation, for they had confidently expected to be turned loose. "no racket now," he growled. "i ain't going so far away but what i kin hear you. it won't do to yell or kick, for the door is too strong to break, and there ain't another living creature within a mile." he tramped heavily across the floor and left the mill. the loss of their valuables had made the boys so angry and indignant that they were little inclined to regard the warning. they soon came to the conclusion, however, that escape was really impossible. the door was stoutly built, and rendered still stronger by heavy cross bars. the hinges and the bolts were massive. the combined efforts of all four failed to make any impression, and they soon abandoned the attempt. "great cæsar! i see it all now," exclaimed ned suddenly. "that scoundrel is going to carry off our canoes, and leave us to get out the best way we can!" no one doubted that ned was right. the boys stared at each other in speechless consternation. it was bad enough to lose their watches and money, but now they were about to be deprived of everything--clothes, canoes, and tent. it meant the sudden termination of the cruise, and an ignominious return home. "let's pound and kick with all our might," suggested clay. "the door can't hold out forever." before any one could reply a heavy tread was heard, and looking through the crevice ned made the startling announcement that the ruffian had returned. the boys hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry at this piece of news. they feared a greater misfortune than the loss of all their property. crowding close to the crevice--which extended upward the length of the door--they peered eagerly into the room. moxley had not returned empty handed. he had employed his brief absence in rifling the canoes, and was laden with their entire contents, excepting the dishes and the fishing rods. he deposited his burden on the sawdust and sat down beside it. very slowly and attentively he ransacked the bags of clothes, the packets of provisions, and the little japanned tin boxes in which the boys kept paper and envelopes, stamps, fishing tackle, and various other articles. then he took the empty grain sack and stuffed it with the clothes, and a large portion of the provisions. he appropriated all the stamps he could find, and pushed the tin boxes aside. having completed his arrangements he walked over to the closet and opened the door. then he sat down on a log facing the boys with his gun across his knee. "i think i have you chaps pretty tight," he said, wrinkling his face into an ugly smile. "i have a very particular engagement about twenty miles from here, and it was my first intention to start away this morning. but seein' as the rain is still coming down i have changed my mind and will give you the pleasure of my company fur a few hours longer. "the fact is i've taken quite a fancy to you chaps--quite a decided fancy. there's one young gentleman in your party i'm 'specially anxious to see. i've had a cherished memento of him fur the last ten days, and it's quite a load on my mind because i haven't given him anything in return. it keeps me from sleepin' sound at nights." here mr. moxley threw out his right leg, and turned the trousers up a few inches, revealing half a dozen red scars on his ankle. "that's the memento i speak of," he said. "it's a purty one, isn't it?" there was a breathless pause. the boys turned pale before the ferocious glance of the scoundrel. the mystery was clear as daylight now. their captor was none other than bug batters's desperate companion. from sheer love of revenge he must have been tracking the jolly rovers ever since that momentous night nearly two weeks previous. moxley gloated over the consternation and the dread that were depicted on the faces of his prisoners. he did not speak for a moment, but gazed at the boys with a cruel smile that was more terrible than a manifestation of anger. "well," he said finally, "i reckon you know who i am by this time. i'll give you just five minutes to point out the lad who peppered me with salt. if you're sensible chaps you'll do it without hesitation. if you try to make a fool out of me i'll serve you all the same way i intend to serve him. i'm a fair minded man, and don't want to punish the innocent with the guilty if i kin help it." the boys looked at one another without speaking. if randy was a shade paler than the others it escaped the notice of mr. moxley, although he was scanning all the faces intently, with a view to picking out the guilty one by his own powers of perception. "the allotted time is slipping away," he said grimly. "the right party had better speak up quick. oh! you needn't look out of the windows. no one comes near this place in the summer, and there ain't a house within three quarters of a mile. i've got you right in my power, and there ain't no hope of escape." "i hardly think you will get the information you want," said ned in a firm but husky voice. "i for one shan't tell you, and i advise my friends to do the same. it's not likely we would put one of our companions in your power after the threats you have made. if you wish to avoid trouble in the future you will be satisfied with robbing us, and will let us go without any worse treatment. as for the shooting--no one was to blame but yourself. you had no business to attack our camp that night." chapter xxiii a daring attempt moxley's face turned a deeper shade of purple, and he made a threatening step toward ned. "you're a bold lad," he said with a harsh laugh. "there are not many would dare to speak to me in that way. but it wasn't you who fired the gun that night. i can tell by your actions that you're anxious to screen one of your companions." he paused a moment and then went on: "you'll find out before long that dude moxley ain't to be trifled with. i'll get what i want out of you obstinate pig headed chaps if it takes a week. i know how to bring you to terms. back you go in that closet now, and there you stay until you can listen to reason. when you hand over the lad i want the rest of you can go free, and so can the other one for that matter--when i'm through with him. "perhaps when he finds his companions are suffering for what he did, his conscience will make him confess. but mark you now, if this affair ain't settled by to-morrow's dawn i'll chop up your canoes and burn the tent. i'll do more than that, too. i'll bind and gag you, and leave you here alone. and not a bite do you get to eat, either." with this ultimatum mr. moxley rose, and bolted the door. then he sat down on the sawdust, and sorting out some crackers and jerked beef from the provisions began to eat greedily. he was evidently quite satisfied to spend another night at the mill, for the rain was coming down faster than ever. what he had told the boys about the loneliness and security of the place was no idle boast, else he would have made haste to leave the locality with his plunder. meanwhile a very excited discussion was being carried on in whispers behind the closet door. randy, stricken with remorse for the troubles in which he had involved his companions, was resolved to admit the shooting. "i'd sooner stand the punishment than see you fellows starving here," he said. "it will save the canoes and the tent, too. i don't believe the man will dare to harm me. he is only trying to scare us." "not a bit of it," replied ned stoutly. "he's a thoroughbred villain, and will certainly take some revenge on you. your resolve does you lots of credit, randy, but it won't do. you might repent it all the days of your life." clay and nugget were of the same mind, and earnestly urged randy to abandon his rash intention. "help may be nearer than we think," said clay. "the man who stopped us up the creek this morning was certainly bug batters, and it looks very much to me as though he has been following this moxley on purpose to keep him from doing us any injury. he may feel grateful to us, you know, because we saved his brother--or rather you did, ned." "and bug batters knew that moxley was in the vicinity," whispered nugget. "that's who he was looking for when we met him." "i have no doubt that the stranger was bug batters," said ned, "and i think he is trying to prevent his old companion from carrying out his revenge, as clay suggests. but what has become of bug batters now? that is the important question. i am afraid he has strayed off in some other direction. if he came near the mill he could not help finding the canoes." "he told us he had been down the creek just before we met him," remarked clay, "but he could not have been all the way to the mill, for the two canoes and the tent were there then, and he did not say anything about them." "and when he left us he struck back toward the base of the hill," added nugget. "it looks very much as though he had lost the trail entirely," said ned. "he may be three or four miles away. it would be very foolish to count on getting help from him, anyhow." "then we don't stand a ghost of a chance," muttered randy. "you had better let me have my own way. i'll throw myself on that fellow's mercy." "you won't do anything of the kind," said ned firmly. "we won't let you. if anything serious happened we would have to shoulder the blame. if you are really sorry for being the cause of this scrape, prove it by dropping your foolish project." "you take things coolly enough," grumbled randy. "do you want us to stay cooped up here for a week, and lose everything we have? go ahead, then. i won't say any more." in truth randy was glad enough to give up his resolve. remorse had prompted him to make the offer, and he had secretly hoped that his companions would refuse to accept the sacrifice. "i don't intend that we shall stay here a week, or even a night, if i can help it," said ned, after a pause. "i have a little plan in my head, but it won't work until evening. if that fails we still have a slim chance left. "the farmer from whom those chickens were stolen may stray down here in search of the thief, and it is not impossible that mose hocker is somewhere about here. this man certainly stole that gun from hocker's cabin, and if he took the boat at the same time--which i believe he did--hocker will surely try to recover his property, and will naturally look for it along the creek." ned's reasoning--and especially his intimation of a plan to escape--put the boys in a more cheerful mood. they were all thoroughly exhausted for want of sleep, but that was of little consequence compared with the pangs of hunger and thirst they were enduring. they had eaten nothing since the previous evening, nor had a drop of water touched their lips. and it was now past noon. it was aggravating, nay, maddening, to know that their store of provisions was so close. well they realized the futility of appealing to their merciless captor. he had said they should have no food, and they knew he meant it. no doubt he would deny them water also, and they did not venture to ask it. they could see the fellow plainly. he was sprawled in a lazy attitude on the sawdust, pulling at his foul black pipe. occasionally he took a flat, greenish bottle from his pocket and tasted the contents with a satisfactory smack of the lips. the fumes of bad tobacco and whisky began to permeate the closet. so the long afternoon wore on. moxley seemed quite unconcerned about his prisoners. he was well content to lie on the soft sawdust with his bottle and his pipe, secure from the pelting rain that was falling outside. ned kept a close watch upon him, noting with satisfaction that he had frequent recourse to the bottle. his potations would likely induce sleep. it seemed to the impatient boys that night would never come, but at last the gray light faded from the crevice, and the dusk of evening deepened the shadows in the old mill. before it was fairly dark moxley lighted one of the lanterns that he had brought from the canoes and put it on a log. it was a bullseye, and he so trained it that the yellow glare shone on the sawdust heap. perhaps he fancied it an excellent substitute for sunlight, which all tramps love so dearly. at all events he basked in it while he smoked a couple of pipes, and then, after several ineffectual efforts to sit straight, he rolled over on his back. a moment later heavy snores came from his parted lips. he was undoubtedly asleep. it may be imagined with what anxiety ned had been watching this little scene through the crevice. "the time has come," he whispered to his companions. "moxley won't wake in a hurry now. but to make sure, suppose you mount guard there, randy." "what are you going to do?" asked randy, as he crouched down on the floor. "break the door open?" "not much. i'll show you in a moment." the closet in which the boys were confined was built right against the rear end of the mill. its dimensions were ample--eight feet long and about four wide. underneath was the wasteway, but its usual roar was now subdued by an influx of water from the flooded creek. ned had been quietly examining the situation during the day, and had noted the shaky condition of the floor planks. he now directed clay and nugget to stand close to the door. then kneeling down he inserted both hands in a crevice between two of the planks and pulled with all his might. a ripping noise, a sharp crack--and the worm eaten plank came free of the beams, leaving a gaping orifice in the very center of the floor, four feet long by a foot and a half wide. ned trembled like a leaf. "is it all right?" he whispered eagerly. "yes," replied randy. "the rascal is sound asleep. he didn't budge." "i'm glad of that." the boys looked timidly down the hole, and crouched closer to the wall. far below, through the network of crossed beams, they could see the eddying flood. it looked immeasurably distant. "you don't expect us to go down there, i hope," queried clay. "no, but i intend you to lower _me_ through," answered ned. "if i can reach one of those rafters i will be all right. it won't be a difficult matter to get out on land. then i will hurry around to the door, liberate you fellows, while moxley is sleeping, seize his gun--and then away for freedom." ned drew a long breath at the prospect. "now this is what i want you to do," he resumed in a calmer tone. "if the rafters are too far below me you must let me down to them by one of your coats. brace yourselves now so you can stand the strain." the boys obeyed and randy stripped off his coat in case it should be needed. then ned lowered himself at one end of the hole, and swung clear down. he pulled himself up, and clung by his elbows. "no good," he whispered hoarsely. "the nearest rafter is a foot below. let me have the coat. it will be safer than trusting to your hands. i might drag you down with me." the three boys braced themselves around the hole, and took a firm grasp of the upper part of the coat. "all right," whispered randy. by a dexterous movement ned transferred his hold from the planking to the more precarious support and slipped downward, hand over hand. an instant later his feet touched a broad, solid beam. chapter xxiv an unexpected encounter the instant the tension relaxed the boys drew the coat up. "all right!" came ned's voice from the darkness. "put the plank back in place now and keep very quiet. wait a moment," he added quickly. "something just occurred to me. i may be right and i may be wrong, but at all events don't you fellows be scared if you hear a big splash." "we won't," whispered randy. then the plank was dropped noiselessly over the hole. ned straddled the rafter--it was too dark to risk an upright position--and made his way to the nearest end, which terminated in one of the walls of masonry that formed the sides of the sluiceway, and on which the mill partially rested. then he turned around and crept to the other end, where he found the same state of affairs. his fears were now confirmed. the mill rose fairly from the two stone walls, and there was no way of escaping overhead, even had the other rafters been within reach. his only chance lay in the flooded waterway underneath. ned had more than half expected this, and was therefore prepared for the emergency. without hesitation he swung from the rafter and dropped through eight feet of space into the turbid flood. he went clear under, but came to the surface quickly, and swam with vigorous strokes down the wasteway. both the air and the water were warm, and he felt little discomfort. between the reflex current from the creek on top, and the undertow from the sluiceway beneath, he was buffeted about considerably before he succeeded in emerging on the spit of land between the mill and the creek. he squeezed the water from his clothes as well as he could, and started up the slope through the stones and bushes. a misty drizzle of rain was still falling. he redoubled his caution as he neared the upper end of the mill. creeping on hands and knees to the door, he peeped cautiously over the threshold. he was hardly prepared for what met his gaze. he had confidently expected to find moxley sound asleep, and instead of that the fellow was sitting upright with his gun across his knees, and his bottle in one hand. perhaps the splash made by ned's drop into the wasteway had wakened him without arousing his supicions. he had no present intention of going to sleep, for he moved a little closer to the light of the lantern, and filled his pipe. for a moment ned felt the disappointment keenly. he knew what a severe blow it must be to his companions. it was out of the question to rescue them now, for moxley was directly between the door and the closet. ned had been so sure of effecting his plan without hindrance, that it had not occurred to him what step to take in case of failure. but a brief consideration of matters raised his spirits, and he resolved to seek the nearest farmhouse and obtain help. "that is a far better plan anyhow," he reflected with satisfaction. "moxley will be captured, and we will recover our watches and money. and we won't have to start down this flooded creek in the dark, either, i must be quick, though, for moxley might happen to open the closet and discover my absence. i wish there was some way of letting the boys know what i am going to do." this was manifestly impossible, so ned crawled away from the door and crossed the sluice to the foot of the hill. he could not withstand the temptation to go up the creek and have a look at the canoes. he found them all safely out of reach of the flood, for moxley was too shrewd a man to let them go adrift, and perhaps cause an investigation that would frustrate his plans. as ned was turning away his eye caught a sudden gleam from the cockpit of clay's canoe, and on making an investigation he was surprised to find randy's gun. moxley must have overlooked it. the weapon was useless, for the ammunition had been carried off, but ned shouldered it and started briskly down the creek. at the sluiceway he found a well trodden footpath, and followed it along the rear side of the mill, and thence by the base of the hill to a wagon road which began abruptly at the edge of the wasteway, where there was no doubt a fording to the opposite neck of land. ned concluded that the road led to the home of the man who owned the mill, and he was about starting off in haste when his eyes fell on a boat that protruded from a clump of bushes a few yards down the shore. on going close he recognized it instantly by the peculiar arrangement of the seats. it was mose hocker's boat. moxley had carried it off when he stole the gun. "i say, young fellow, don't be quick with that shootin' iron; i want to talk to you." the voice came from a thicket a few feet up the bank, and as ned stood still with fear and amazement, a man slipped out and stood before him. ned instantly guessed the identity of the newcomer. "you are bug batters?" he asked quickly. "yes, i'm bug batters, and i reckon you are one of them canoein' chaps. i took you fur some one else at first--fur the man what put this boat here." "you mean dude moxley," said ned. "well, i can tell you where he is. in spite of your warning we all fell into his hands, and i'm the only one that's free so far." he went on with his story and quickly made the situation clear. bug was amazed to learn how close his old companion was. "it's a purty bad fix," he said slowly, "but i reckon we can't get your friends out of it. it's a pity you have no loading fur that gun. you see, moxley is a bad man and won't listen to argument. we'll have to think over the matter a little bit, and meanwhile i'll tell you how i come to be here." both sat down on the boat, and bug began his narrative. "i'm a purty rough customer, but i've got a heart like other men, and i'm grateful to you because one of you saved my brother from drowning. moxley was awful mad when you gave him the slip, but he didn't think of going after you at first. two or three days later he heard accidentally that you fellows was camping some place along the creek--i furget the name of it now--and knowin' from this that you weren't in any hurry he got into his head to go after you. "i tried to talk him out of it, but it weren't any use, so then i let on i was agreed to it, meanin' all the time to stand by you fellows. well, we traveled down the creek fur a couple of days until a rock knocked the bottom out of our boat and sunk it." bug hesitated briefly, and then resumed in a faltering voice: "we picked up another boat that night, and started off again, but i reckon moxley must have suddenly got suspicious of me, for when morning came he gave me the slip and that was the last i seen of him. knowin' that he meant mischief, and knowin' that you chaps couldn't be far away, i follered the creek on down. "before daylight this morning i found the boat here. i went up the creek then lookin' fur moxley, and that's when i met two of your party and warned them." "but where have you been all day?" interrupted ned. "we thought you had gone off in some other direction." "i'll tell you where i've been," muttered bug angrily. "i had a streak of hard luck this morning. after i left your fellows i struck over the hill to the nearest farmhouse, thinkin' moxley might be prowlin' around for something to eat. i reckon he'd been there before me, because the first thing i knew a big ugly farmer and his hired man had me fast. they swore i'd been stealin' chickens an' corn, and wouldn't let me say a word. they penned me up in an outbuilding, intending to lug me to carlisle jail in the morning. but i broke out about an hour ago, and came straight down here, and when i seen the boat i knew moxley must be somewhere around yet." "that _was_ hard luck," said ned, smiling at the recollection. "moxley had a whole bag of chickens, and corn, and fruit in the mill. the farmer thought you were the man that stole it. it was awfully kind of you to go to all this trouble and risk on our account. there are not many men who would have done it." "you saved my brother's life," replied bug doggedly. "it takes a good deal to square a debt of that kind. there's one thing i'd like to say though. it goes agin the grain to serve an old pal an ill turn--no matter how bad a man he is. i'm willing to get your friends free, an' save your money, and watches, an' everything else, but i ain't goin' to be the means of puttin' moxley in jail--if i can help it. i'm afraid, for one thing, because he'd hunt me down as soon as he got out." "well, i'll leave the whole affair in your hands then," replied ned. "i was just on my way to the farmhouse when you stopped me. what do you think we had better do? wait for moxley to go to sleep again, or try to capture him with this empty gun?" before bug could open his lips to reply a slight noise was heard in the bushes, and three men suddenly appeared on the other side of the boat. "we have you at last, you scoundrel," cried a harsh voice. chapter xxv the siege begins the unexpected appearance of the three strangers stupefied ned, but bug turned like a flash and started to run. two of the men instantly overhauled him and threw him roughly to the ground, while a third hastily opened the slide of a dark lantern that was strapped to his waist and cast a flood of light upon the scene. ned uttered a gasp of amazement. the man with the lantern was mose hocker. the recognition was mutual. "you here!" cried hocker in a pained voice. "i didn't expect this. is it possible that you lads came down to my cabin and stole the gun and the boat? i wouldn't have believed it of you without the evidence of my own eyes." "and this here's the same feller i had locked up in the smoke house," exclaimed one of bug's captors. "i'll bet he don't steal any more chickens for a while." ned stood pale and agitated before his accuser--quite at a loss for words to explain. "i'm sorry for you," resumed hocker, "but i must do my duty an' hand you over to constable jeffries. where are the rest of your party?" the words came with a rush now as ned eagerly denied his guilt and explained away the incriminating circumstances. then, while the others clustered about him, he commenced the story at the beginning, and went through with it thread by thread. his excitement caused him to speak a little inarticulately; and he missed a few details, but by adroit cross questioning his hearers obtained a clear understanding of the whole situation--starting with the rescue of bug's brother and ending with the events that had recently transpired at the mill. ned was so anxious to procure bug's release that he quite forgot his suspicions of a few moments before--namely, that bug was equally guilty with moxley of the theft of the boat and the gun. "won't you let him go?" he pleaded. "it's all a mistake. he had nothing to do with stealing those things from the farmer. he was doing all he could to help us." but hocker had formed his own opinion after hearing ned's story, and so had constable jeffries and mr. zinn, the farmer. "i'm mighty glad to know you lads ain't guilty," said hocker, "and i ax your pardon for my wrong suspicion. as for this fellow, i ain't so sure about him. i don't doubt that he's really been trying to get you chaps out of a scrape though, and i promise you he'll get full credit for it. meanwhile we'd better make sure of him--just as a matter of form, you know." he nodded to jeffries and the latter slipped a pair of bracelets on bug's wrists. ned was surprised and indignant. he saw no reason for such a step. "don't be worried, lad," remarked hocker soothingly. "he may be turned loose later on. you see i can't afford to let the guilty parties escape after the hard chase they've given me. why, jeffries and i have been scourin' all along the creek in a buggy. we happened to strike zinn's farm this evening, and stopped fur information. zinn told us he had a man locked up in the smoke house, but when we went to look the fellow was gone. "i suspected it was the party i wanted, an' knowin' that in that case the boat couldn't be far away, we hurried down to the creek. and it's well we did for your sake as well as mine. the next thing is to rescue the lads and capture the rascal. we had better be quick or he will take alarm and leave the mill." "moxley is the fellow's name, is it?" said the farmer. "it has a kind of familiar ring to my ears." "i know the man," spoke up jeffries. "dude moxley he goes by, but that ain't his real name. he comes from a good family up the valley, and was well educated when a lad. drink ruined him, and now he's one of the greatest scamps unhung. i know this other chap, too," added the constable. "his folks are sober, respectable people over at the gap, but he ain't much better than moxley. we've met more than once before. how is it, my man?" bug hung his head but said nothing. the scene was inexpressibly painful to ned, and he was greatly relieved when the conversation turned on the rescue of his companions. he little dreamed that the most exciting incidents of this already eventful night were yet to come. "we had better cross to the neck of land in your boat, hocker," suggested zinn. "the plank over that sluiceway makes a lot of racket, and the scoundrel may hear us and slip away." this happy idea was carried out. the entire party embarked, and landed a moment later about ten yards below the mill. the rain had ceased some time before, and the moon was now peeping through a rift in the scudding clouds. as the men crept up the stony slope they saw through the gaping crevices of the mill the yellow gleam from moxley's lantern. suddenly it vanished, and a creaking noise was hear. "the rascal is escaping. we must run for it," whispered hocker. he bounded forward with jeffries at his heels. zinn fell behind, leaving bug in charge. the men swiftly turned the upper corner of the mill just as the door was slammed and bolted in their faces. hocker began to kick savagely and wrench the handle. "that won't do any good," exclaimed zinn, as he reached the spot. "i made a strong job of that door, and it will take more than a little to break it down. there are plenty of other places that can be forced in." a brief pause followed, and then a sullen voice issued from behind the door. "i'll put a hole through the first man that tries to enter this mill. i mean what i say. dude moxley ain't to be trifled with." the men hastily withdrew, first taking the precaution to remove the plank that covered the sluiceway. "the rascal must have seen us coming up the slope in the moonlight," muttered hocker. "i suppose he thought we had the place surrounded and every avenue of escape cut off. he's a desperate fellow, and may stand a long siege." in truth moxley seemed to be preparing for that very thing. he boldly drew in the shutters of the two windows that the faced the creek, and a moment later he began to roll logs about, evidently fortifying the weak places in the wall. "that may be only a ruse," said jeffries. "is there any way of escape from the other side?" "of course there is," exclaimed the farmer. "he can easily drop from the second story window to the foot of the hill. lend me that empty gun," he added, turning to ned. "i'll cross the wasteway in the boat and get behind the trees a few yards up the hill. if the rascal attempts to crawl out the window i'll scare him back." ned handed over the gun, and the farmer departed in haste. hocker and jeffries moved aside and carried on a whispered conversation. bug was left to his own devices. he could not escape, for the removal of the plank from the sluiceway made the place literally an island. he sat down on a big stone, with his manacled hands resting on his knees. ned was restless and heartsick, and the prolonged suspense grew more intolerable every moment. he was afraid that moxley would vent his anger on the boys, and perhaps do them an injury. hocker divined the lad's thoughts. "don't be downhearted," he said. "your friends are safe enough. the scoundrel won't dare to hurt them. by and by, if the siege threatens to last, we'll find a way to get them out of the mill." "i hope you will succeed," said ned. "it's hard to tell what that ruffian will do. and none of us have had anything to eat since last evening at supper time." hocker was thunderstruck on hearing this, and hastily produced a double handful of crackers from the capacious pocket of his coat. "that will take the edge off your hunger," he said. "i bought them at a country store as we drove by this morning. when zinn's hired man comes down to see where his master is--as he surely will before long--i'll send him back for food. if we can't get your friends out of the mill we can at least send them something to eat through that loose board. by means of the boat one of us can climb into the rafters." this plan seemed feasible, and ned felt no compunctions about eating the crackers. nothing had ever tasted so good to him before. meanwhile hocker and jeffries had been quietly holding another consultation, and now the latter advanced to the side of the mill. "moxley," he called in a loud voice, "if you know what's best for you, you will quietly hand out that gun, and deliver yourself up. the more trouble you give us, the harder it will be for you in the end. you can't possibly escape, and your capture is only a question of time. we are well armed, and won't stand any fooling. come out now and we'll make it as easy for you as possible." there was a brief pause, and then creaking footsteps were heart as moxley approached the wall. "you can talk all night," he shouted hoarsely, "but it won't do any good. don't you come too close, bill jeffries, or i might draw a bead on you. we have more than one old score to settle. as for getting me out of here, you and ten like you can't do it. i have plenty of ammunition and plenty to eat, and this place will hold me as long as i want to stay. you can't take me inside of a week. i have four prisoners in here, and not a mouthful of food will they get, not a sup of water, as long as you fellows are prowling around. i mean what i say, jeffries, and you know it. for your own good i warn you to get out of this. i'll shoot the first man that enters the mill." to enforce this hostile declaration moxley thrust the muzzle of his gun through a crevice, and jeffries hastily retreated. chapter xxvi bug's proposition there was dead silence for a while. it was only too evident that moxley meant what he said, and though jeffries and hocker were brave men, they were reluctant to engage in a struggle with all the odds against them. accompanied by ned and bug they moved down to the edge of the water--a distance of less than thirty feet in the present condition of the creek--and ensconced themselves in some thick bushes. there was no slight risk that moxley would shoot through the crevices if the moonlight afforded him a tempting chance. "if we can wait in patience the game will fall into our hands," said jeffries. "the rascal has been drinking, and the fiery stuff has given him false courage. after a while he will either fall asleep or become helpless from intoxication." "i wonder if the boys know that help is outside," remarked ned, "i wish i could get a few words with them." "of course they know it," replied hocker. "they heard every word that was said, and they have too much sense to make any outcry. we'll get them out of the scrape before long, never fear." just then the farmer's shrill voice rang out distinctly from the hillside behind the mill: "keep back, you rascal. if you crawl out that window i'll drop you quick as a wink." "moxley is trying to escape from the second floor," muttered hocker. "wait a moment. i'll be back right away." he crept down the shore of the creek, and crossed the slope to the wasteway. "is it all right, zinn?" he called out. "yes," came the reply. "the rascal stuck his ugly head out of the winder a moment ago, but i scared him back. he can't escape on this side." hocker was about to rejoin his companions when a dark figure came down the road and passed through a strip of moonlight which served to reveal his identity. it was abner peck, the farm hand. in response to a whispered command from hocker the man jumped into the boat and pulled hastily across the wasteway. hocker briefly explained the situation, and after a little further conversation abner recrossed to the main land, while hocker hurried back to his companions and related what had occurred. "i sent him up to the house for provisions and a rope," he concluded, "and when he returns we'll try to get the lads out of the closet." this piece of news cheered ned considerably, and helped him to endure the suspense with fortitude. nearly an hour passed by without a sound from the mill or the alert watcher on the hillside. the creek was still rising by slow degrees, but the sky was rapidly clearing and gave every promise of continued fair weather. finally a low whistle was heard, and hocker noiselessly disappeared. he returned in less than five minutes, and announced that abner was waiting with the provisions and the rope. "now i have an idea for working this little scheme," he added. "jeffries, you go to the other end of the mill and open a conversation with moxley--let on you want to reason with him some more. keep him talking as long as you can, and meanwhile me and this lad will slip up the wasteway in the boat and try to get the lads free. if anything goes wrong, whistle." jeffries was quite satisfied to take the part assigned to him. he moved off in one direction, while hocker and ned took the other. bug was left alone in the bushes. jeffries was already in conversation with moxley when his companions reached the wasteway. they could hear the voices of the two men indistinctly. hocker motioned ned to the rear seat beside abner; then seizing the oars he pulled the boat swiftly into the deep shadows under the mill. the next step was a more difficult one. bidding abner take the oars, and keep the boat in the same position if possible, he tossed the rope over the very beam to which ned had descended, and catching the end, tied it to the main part of the rope in such a way as to form a sort of swinging loop, which could not slip. by standing on the seat he managed to get one foot in this loop; then clutching both parts of the rope he drew himself quickly up, and after swaying to and fro for an instant, threw one arm over the rafter. an instant later he was straddling it, and pulling the rope after him he untied the loop. "now, lad," he whispered, "call your companions. they won't know my voice." but this was rendered unnecessary by a sudden rasping noise above, as the loose plank was carefully lifted from its place. "randy! randy!" whispered ned. "it's all right. we're going to rescue you." a glad murmur of voices was heard, and randy incautiously replied: "hurry up then. now's your time, for moxley is at the other end of the mill talking." "not so loud, lad," whispered hocker. "hold steady now and look out for the rope end." but before hocker could throw it footsteps came hastily over the floor above, and then a loud shrill whistle was heard--jeffries's signal. an instant of breathless suspense was followed by the sudden thrusting of a shiny object through a hole in the floor a little to one side of the closet. "no you don't," cried moxley in a savage voice. "you can't play that game on me. get out of that at once, or i'll riddle you with buckshot. in ten seconds i shoot." it was not a time to hesitate or parley. the plank dropped into place, and by a reckless swing and drop hocker landed fairly in the center of the boat, very nearly capsizing it. abner dropped the oars, and the current whirled the craft swiftly down the wasteway. it was a bitter disappointment, especially to ned. jeffries hastened to the spot as the party landed. "i'm awful sorry," he said, "but it couldn't be helped. the rascal must have heard some noise you made." "it's hard luck, that's a fact," muttered hocker. "i'll square accounts with that scoundrel afore i'm many hours older. the idea of his threatenin' to shoot me with my own gun; that's what riles me most. it's a pity we didn't get the food up. the boys'll have to starve a little longer, i reckon." "it will be only a little, too," replied jeffries grimly. "i don't intend to stand any more nonsense. we'll think over the matter and decide on some kind of a move. moxley has got to come out of that mill. that settles it." the party went slowly back to the bushes, and ned satisfied his hunger with the bread and cold meat abner had brought, while jeffries and hocker carried on a low, earnest discussion. presently the quiet was interrupted in an unexpected manner. being restless and unhappy bug wandered up toward the mill, and unwittingly strayed into a patch of silvery moonlight. moxley must have been on the watch, and the sight of his old chum put him into a fury. he was ignorant of ned's escape, and naturally attributed his misfortunes to bug. "you black hearted dog," he cried savagely. "i'll get square with you. if i go to jail you'll go with me. it was all your fault anyhow. you persuaded me to go after these boys, and it was you who broke into the cabin and stole the gun and boat. i tried to keep you from it, but you wouldn't listen. "oh, you'll pay up for your treachery. i'll swear to all these things--and a good many more--in court. that is if i get there--which ain't at all likely. and if i _do_ get out of this hole i'll hunt you down, if it takes a year." moxley's rage was so violent that bug prudently retreated to the bushes. the ruffian kept up his abuse and called bug all manner of vile names until he was compelled to stop for sheer want of breath. bug came down to hocker and jeffries and stood before them. "look here," he said hoarsely, "what that rascal says ain't true--at least the most of it ain't. what part i had in stealin' the boat i've made amends fur already, and now i'm willing to do a good deal more. a little while ago i felt kinder sorry for moxley because me an' him has been together a good part of the summer. but when a man goes back on an old friend, an' calls him bad names, an' tries to get him into trouble by lyin', then i'm done with that man fur good. "i'd sooner see him in jail now than runnin' loose, an' if you give me a fair show an' take these irons off, i'll find a way to get into that mill and capture the mean rascal. he's more'n half drunk now, and i'm a good deal stronger than i look. when the chance comes i'll know how to use it. i'm talkin' on my honor now, an' mean what i say. you needn't be afraid to turn me loose. i can't escape if i'd want to. you know that." chapter xxvii the burning of the mill there was no mistaking the sincerity of bug's proposal, and coming, as it did, at a time when hocker and jeffries were unable to decide on any feasible plan of action, they were disposed to give a favorable answer. "it ain't a bad idea," said jeffries. "but how do you expect to get in without being seen?" "i'll find a way," returned bug. "there air plenty of holes an' loose boards." "an' moxley is watchin' them all, too," remarked hocker. "your plan ain't very definite so far." bug hesitated, and before he could reply something occurred that totally changed the situation. "i see you again, you rascal," came the farmer's voice from the hillside. "you can't fool me. get away from that winder now." hocker and jeffries exchanged glances of mutual understanding. the latter quickly unlocked the bracelets and freed bug's wrists. "now's your chance," he whispered. "moxley is on the second floor. slip in before he comes down. there's a loose board just below that middle window. there ain't time for more than one to get in or we'd follow you. when you need us sing out. here, take this." he pressed a pistol into bug's hand, and the latter bounded noiselessly up the slope. he reached the mill, drew the lower end of a loose plank a foot from its place, and vanished through the orifice. let us follow bug on his perilous quest. not until he was fairly inside, and crawling on hands and knees over the rickety floor, did he realize the great danger that lay in what he had undertaken to do. for an instant he trembled with fear, and then the memory of his wrongs steeled his heart and nerves. a sudden noise overheard caused him to crouch midway on the floor. a moment later the stairway creaked, and moxley began to descend. his progress could be noted as he passed the crevices in the wall. bug lay motionless, wondering what he should do next. the possibility of being discovered made him tremble violently. he quite forgot that he had a pistol. moxley had now reached the floor, and with cautious steps he moved along the wall toward the lower corner. suddenly there was a sound of a heavy fall, followed by a volley of profanity, and the next instant something flew against the wall, and was shivered to fragments that fell with a tinkling noise. "he's tipped over a bottle," thought bug, "and now he's smashed it because he's mad. that's like moxley." this haphazard guess was absolutely correct. all was silent for a second or two after the glass had fallen; then moxley grumbled in an audible tone: "confound the luck! i hope that wasn't my whisky bottle. it ain't in my pocket." of such dire import did the question seem to the ruffian that he ventured to strike a match--little dreaming what the impulse would cost him. bug's heart beat wildly when he heard the crack and saw the light flash through the darkness. he jammed the pistol into his pocket and rose on his hands and knees. moxley was standing before the sawdust heap with his face to the wall. as the match flared up he dropped the gun and seized a greenish bottle that was lying at his feet. "here's luck!" he muttered contentedly. "it was the oil bottle i brought from the canoes that got in my way." he lifted the fiery poison to his lips, still holding the burning match between the fingers of his other hand, and remained in this attitude for a brief moment. bug stood erect and moved across the floor with the caution of a creeping tigress. nearer and nearer he came, and when less than four feet separated him from his intended victim, moxley heard some slight noise and wheeled around. bug was on him with one spring, and down they fell with a great crash, and rolled in furious strife over the shaking floor--bug crying for help at the top of his voice, moxley uttering hoarse threats and imprecations. blinded with rage they did not observe that the burning end of the match had fallen on the very spot where the widely scattered kerosene oil was most plentiful. even when the hissing blue flames spurted up and licked the rubbish on all sides with greedy tongues, they fought on desperately, now one uppermost, now the other, as they verged toward the center of the floor. when hocker and jeffries burst into the mill, followed by ned and abner, the conflagration was beyond control. the flames were devouring the planking of the wall with a great roaring and crackling, spreading on each side and to the floor above. the scene was one long to be remembered. the cries of the struggling men on the floor mingled with the furious kicking and shouting that came from the imprisoned boys in the closet, and amid all the din and confusion the farmer rushed down from the hillside and battered his way into the mill with the butt end of his gun. fright gave moxley the strength of a madman, and by a determined effort he tore loose from his plucky assailant, and springing to his feet started to run. he struck hocker, who jumped in front of him, a furious blow that sent him reeling backward, but before he could make use of his advantage, he tripped on a log, and came down heavily. as he partially rose bug leaped upon him, and both men rolled over to the edge of a gaping hole in the floor. they struggled an instant on the brink, and then fell through, landing with a terrific splash in the flooded wasteway far below. hocker and jeffries rushed precipitately from the mill to head them off, while the farmer insanely attempted to check the conflagration by tramping through the _débris_ that was burning here and there on the floor. the whole affair had taken place in a very few seconds, and ned was at first so dazed by the confusion and the flames that he was quite incapable of doing anything. the terrified cries of his companions roused him from his stupor, and he dashed through the intense heat to the closet door. a quick jerk threw the bolt open, and the frightened boys poured out. the lurid glare of the flames and the spark laden volumes of smoke were more than they could stand. one and all bolted for the nearest aperture in the creek side of the mill, and fortunately reached it without falling through the gaps in the floor. ned would gladly have followed their example, but he suddenly bethought him of the plunder moxley had packed up to carry away. such a loss would be irreparable, and without hesitation he dashed toward the burning wall. the heat was intense, but he managed to get near enough to snatch the bag. one end was badly scorched. he suddenly spied hocker's gun, and knowing how the owner valued it, he made another rush and carried it off in triumph. thus laden down he tottered across the floor in imminent fear of dropping through to the wasteway, and overwhelmed at times by the suffocating smoke and fiery sparks. when his courage and endurance were all but spent he reached a broken place in the wall and staggered into the refreshing outer air. how good it seemed! abner had long since preceded him, and the farmer made his appearance a moment later, still grasping randy's blackened gun. the boys had been waiting on ned in terrible suspense, afraid to venture back into the mill, and when he appeared with his burden their joy knew no bounds. they were ignorant of the disaster that had befallen bug and moxley, and when ned told them, the whole party started off on a run. they searched the wasteway just as jeffries and hocker landed from the boat, pushing moxley before them, and followed by bug. the ruffian's hands were already manacled. with the exception of dripping clothes neither of the men seemed the worse for their struggle and subsequent fall. "they were still locked together when we pulled them from the water," said jeffries. "that little fellow is a plucky one. he deserves great credit for raising the siege. we've got our man at last, and bitterly he'll rue this night's work." "it's a bad job fur me, too," observed the farmer. "the old mill will soon be a heap of ashes. it's insured fur about what the lumber's worth, but that ain't much consolation. i hate to see it go after standin' here fur nigh onto seventy years." "it's hard," muttered hocker, "that's a fact." then all were silent, watching the flames as they rose higher and higher, and licked every corner of the doomed building. it was a grand sight while it lasted, but in twenty minutes nothing was left save a few blackened beams and smoldering heaps of ashes. "that ends the fireworks," said jeffries. "we may as well be moving along. it's past two o'clock in the morning." he drew a second pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and to ned's wrath and indignation, clapped them suddenly on bug's wrists. chapter xxviii a good deed ned was the only one who showed any surprise at the constable's action, and quite naturally, since he alone was acquainted with all the facts in the case. hocker had already taken moxley to the boat and seated him; the ruffian had lost his defiant manner, and was cowed and sullen. jeffries now started to follow with bug, but was stopped by a detaining touch on the arm. "i beg your pardon, mr. jeffries," said ned, trying hard to control his feelings, "but you surely don't intend to carry off bug to jail after all he has done to-night? we owe everything to him." jeffries looked at the lad half sternly. "law is law," he replied in a pompous tone. "i am an officer of justice, and must do my duty. this fellow was clearly concerned in the theft of mocker's gun and boat, and what he did before or after that don't wipe out the crime. why, if i'd turn him loose now i'd be compoundin' a felony. of course i'll speak a good word for him when he comes up for trial--i'll promise you that--and it may lessen his sentence." "jeffries is right," said the farmer. "if a man will commit crimes he must suffer for them. both fellows air guilty, no doubt." bug threw a grateful glance at ned, and then turned appealingly to hocker. "i don't deny that i was with moxley when he broke into your cabin," he said huskily, "but i was only with him because i wanted to help these boys. i couldn't leave him without spoilin' my plans, and i couldn't persuade him to let the cabin alone, though i tried hard enough. he gave me the slip next morning, as it was, an' i had to tramp it down the creek the rest of the way. it's purty hard fer a feller to get into a scrape like this under them circumstances." hocker's face wore a perplexed expression as he replied slowly: "i'm sure i don't know what to say. jeffries has the law at his finger ends, and it ain't fur me to contradict him. i reckon things will have to take their course." bug's hopeless looks and attitude went straight to ned's heart, and he resolved to make a final appeal in his behalf. he was satisfied that hocker would help him if he could be made to see the matter in its proper light, so he drew him aside and told all he knew about bug in a simple, earnest way--dwelling especially on the fact that bug's desire to keep the boys out of a scrape was the sole cause of his own misfortune. the appeal carried conviction with it, and hocker's sympathies were aroused. "i reckon i can fix this matter," he said after a little consideration. "i owe you lads something anyhow, and this is a good time to pay the debt." hocker was as good as his word. he walked over to the boat and surprised jeffries by saying in a grave tone, "look here, old man; i've sorter veered round on this thing. now that i've got moxley safe and sound i don't intend to prosecute the other chap. i reckon what he says is true, an' you know yourself what he did fur us to-night--more than you or me would have done. he deserves to go free." "well, if you're determined not to make a charge, why that settles it," replied jeffries a little stiffly. "i have nothing agin him personally, and i hope he'll take warning by this affair and keep out of bad company." he turned around and quickly removed bug's handcuffs. "you're a free man now," he said. "see that you stay free and justify the clemency of the law by leadin' a respectable life in future." bug was dazed at first by the unexpected transition from despair to hope. he stammered out a few inarticulate words of gratitude to hocker and jeffries and then approached ned. "this is your doin'," he said brokenly. "you saved me from goin' to jail. i shan't forget it--" he choked and broke off short. ned drew him down the wasteway to a little clump of bushes, out of earshot of the others. "bug," he said earnestly, "if you are really grateful to me for saving you from a term in prison, i'll tell you how you can prove it. your brother told me the whole story of your life, and what a shadow it has cast on your home. you are breaking your mother's heart, and even your father feels the disgrace keenly, and would welcome you back if you came prepared to lead a different life. go home, bug, and make them all happy. you will never regret it if you do. you are not bad at heart, i know, and evil company has been the cause of all your trouble. let moxley's fate be a warning to you. turn over a new leaf from to-night. will you do it, bug? will you go straight home and lead an honest, respectable life?" tears were standing in bug's eyes, and he brushed them away with his coat sleeve. "i'll do it," he said in a firm, but husky voice. "i've been wantin' to go home fur a long time, but i didn't dare to. i'm sick enough of livin' in this way, an' what you've done an' said to-night will make a different man of me. i mean it all, and i'll stick to it. i'll do no more lyin' or stealin', and i'll keep away from bad company. i'll stay at home and work. here's my fist on it." ned warmly shook the proffered hand, and then both went slowly back to the boat. bug's appearance was the signal for a most outrageous burst of profanity and threats from moxley, and when jeffries had finally subdued the ruffian by strong measures, the whole party crossed the wasteway, and moved up to the farmhouse, which was half a mile distant. mrs. zinn spread a huge table with all sorts of tempting food, and the starved boys attacked it with a vigor that made her open her eyes in amazement. the others were almost as hungry after all they had gone through that night, and did ample justice to the viands. moxley's bracelets were taken off and he was allowed to eat his fill with the rest. it was four o'clock on saturday morning before the tired crowd got to sleep. the four boys were given a room containing two large beds, and the adjoining apartment was occupied by hocker and jeffries, and their prisoner. bug was accommodated with a cushioned settee in the kitchen. the boys woke up, refreshed in mind and body, about three o'clock in the afternoon. they came down stairs just in time to see hocker and jeffries drive away in a buggy with the sullen faced prisoner between them. hocker had made arrangements with the farmer to take the boat back to the cabin in a wagon. moxley had been compelled to disgorge his plunder, and the boys were highly gratified when jeffries handed over the watches and money the tramp had so coolly taken from them. half an hour after the trio had departed for carlisle jail bug took an earnest farewell of the boys, and struck across the country in a bee line for his home at the gap. his last word to ned was a renewal of the promise to stay at home and lead an honest life, and ned sincerely believed that he meant it. "that load of salt i put into moxley's legs turned out for the best after all," said randy in a roguish tone. "if i hadn't pulled trigger that night bug batters would still be treading the path of wickedness, with no hope of a reformation." "your foolishness had one good result, i'll admit," replied ned. "but don't try the experiment again. it's too costly." the boys tacitly agreed with ned. even bug's conversion was rather a high price to pay for the fright and indignities they had endured at the hands of mr. dude moxley. they remembered also that the burning of the mill was indirectly due to randy's foolish shot. the certain prospect of the insurance money effectively silenced any resentment that mr. zinn might otherwise have felt toward the boys. he warmly invited them to stay over sunday, and the invitation was promptly accepted. they went down after supper to examine the canoes, and allowed them to remain where they were on the farmer's assurance that nothing could happen to them. the grain bag containing the greater part of the baggage had been taken up the house the night before. the tin boxes had perished in the flames, but this was a trifling loss, and did not trouble the boys much in the light of what might have been. sunday was a day of peaceful enjoyment after the turbulent events of the past week. "three square meals were not to be sneezed at," as randy irreverently expressed it; and not the least pleasing incident of the day was the five mile drive to a country church with the farmer's family, on which occasion nugget braved the ridicule of his companions, and proudly wore his linen shirt and piqué vest. monday morning dawned clear as a whistle, and after a hearty breakfast the boys trudged down to the creek laden with all manner of country produce, for which the good natured farmer would accept only a beggarly recompense. half an hour later the gold and crimson pennant fluttered proudly in the breeze as it led the jolly rovers down the swift and turbid channel--for the creek was still a few feet above low water mark. chapter xxix randy goes sailing monday and tuesday of that week were rather uneventful days. the boys paddled steadily, and with the aid of the rapid current covered a good many miles. on both evenings they found suitable camping places, and had some excellent sport fishing for catfish and eels by night. the creek was almost at its normal level now, but wednesday morning dawned amid conditions that promised a speedy repetition of the high water. the sky was hidden by murky gray clouds that hung far down toward the earth. so thick were they that no mist that blurred the hills and the windings of the faintest glimmer of the sun could peep through. a creek was in the air, and the east wind had a keen, biting touch that was more in harmony with november than july. some discussion ensued at first on the question of breaking camp under such circumstances, but it was finally decided in the affirmative. "this place won't shelter us very well if a heavy rain comes on," said ned. "the chances are that it won't rain before afternoon or night, so we had better make the most of what time we have by choosing a better spot." the value of ned's advice had been tested on many previous occasions, so preparations to start were hastily commenced. this was about eight o'clock in the morning, after breakfast had been eaten and the dishes cleared away. randy was the first one up that morning, and much to the mystification of his companions he had been working since daybreak in a thicket of young timber not far behind the camp. just as the tent was being rolled up he made his appearance with a lurking smile on his face, and under his arm a bundle that resembled a red flannel seine wrapped tightly on its sticks. "hullo, randy, what have you there?" queried nugget. "what is it?" exclaimed clay, in a tone that implied some doubt as to whether he referred to randy or the object under his arm. but randy was not disposed to be communicative just then. "you'll know what it is in good time," he replied, and then turning to ned he asked: "can i have one of the tent poles?" "what do you want with it?" demanded ned. "has it anything to do with that piece of tomfoolery?" "yes, it has," replied randy aggressively. "that piece of tomfoolery, as you call it, is a sail. i'll make you fellows open your eyes after a while." "i don't doubt it," exclaimed ned laughingly, "there will be lots of sport in watching you try to sail on a stream like this. and what a sail, too! why, it's made out of a red blanket! what put the notion into your head, randy?" "oh, you can make all the fun of it, you please," replied randy; "you'll all wish you had one like it after a while. just look at that breeze blowing straight down the creek. in an hour from now it will be twice as strong, and then i'll leave you fellows so far behind that you can't overtake me in a week." "it doesn't occur to him that the creek changes its course about every half mile," reflected ned as he resumed his work. "if he tries the thing on he'll come to grief." randy was troubled by no such misgivings. he appropriated one of the jointed tent poles and lashed it on the fore deck of his canoe beside the queer looking sail. the water sprite, it may be said, had been built with a view to sailing, and it contained a mast hole and block just forward of the cockpit. not until the jolly rovers had been afloat an hour or two did randy's opportunity come, for during that time the channel was one succession of short, jerky curves that encountered the wind every which way. but his patience was finally rewarded by a clear half mile stretch of water, licked into tiny undulations by a crisp down breeze. randy discreetly grounded the canoe on a little grass bar in mid-channel, and proceeded to rig up. his sail was merely a light weight blanket with each of its narrow ends sewed to a trimmed sapling--just like a banner, in fact. he attached this to his improvised mast, fastened each end securely, and drove the latter into the mast hole. the water sprite was quite transformed by the addition. it presented a quaint, foreign appearance, for the high square sail was exactly like that of a chinese junk, while its flaming red color was irresistibly suggestive of the craft that ply in venetian lagoons. so randy thought, anyhow, and he was more than pleased with his handiwork. he applied the finishing touches by tying a cord to each lower corner of the sail, and by this device he proudly hoped to control the movements of the canoe. randy was considerably overestimating his skill as a sailing master, but no one could have made him believe it at the time. he proudly seated himself, and with a shove of the paddle freed the canoe from the bar. the breeze quickly bulged out the thirty square feet of sail, and away went the water sprite like a chinese pirate in chase of booty. it gained speed with every instant, and swept by the sluggish little fleet of canoes under full pressure. randy turned around to laugh and wave his hand. he had to admit to himself that he was very glad the boys were now in the rear, for the sail hung so low that he could see no further than the prow of his canoe. still more disconcerting was the fact that the cords were useless, since the least jerk to right or left threatened to capsize the canoe instantly. "i must keep a sharp eye on the shores if i want to stay in mid-channel," thought randy. "i'm good for half a mile of this, anyhow, before the wind changes." but his calculation did not embrace any possible obstructions that might lie in the way, and randy was considerably surprised to find himself grounded on a ledge of rocks before five minutes had passed. it was hard work to get the canoe free, and just as he succeeded the boys caught up with him. "better take the sail down now," suggested ned. "you'll surely run into something if you don't." "no danger," laughed randy. "i'll stop before i get to the curve. this is great sport. you fellows just ought to try it." he sent the water sprite off again by a touch of his paddle and skimmed swiftly away from his half envious companions, leaving a trail of foam behind him. it was aggravating to be thus outstrippped and the boys started to paddle with all their might. for a little while they actually seemed to gain on randy, but a lively puff of wind came down the creek, and the water sprite took a spurt that made the chase hopeless. the wind had veered a slight degree, and without knowing it randy was now paddling straight for a bushy point of land that jutted out from the left shore exactly where the channel made its abrupt bend. just below this little promontory, and in midstream, was anchored a long, squarely built flatboat. it had three occupants. on a low stool in the very center sat a tremendously stout man in a blue flannel shirt and wide brimmed straw hat. beside him was a lean, scrawny man sitting on an upturned bucket. the other end of the boat was occupied by a yellow dog, whose eyes were fixed with intent longing on a lunch basket a few feet distant. the big fat man held in one hand a light, slender fishing rod, while the little lean man supported on his knees a twenty foot pole that looked like a young tree denuded of its branches. both were waiting patiently for a bite--as was also the dog--and under the circumstances it did not occur to them to look around. meanwhile the water sprite swept onward to the jutting point of land, and missed it by little more than a hair's breadth, just as randy turned pale with the sudden discovery of his danger. he breathed easier as the canoe passed swiftly on toward mid-channel. he could see nothing ahead, and was therefore blissfully ignorant of the obstruction that now lay in his path. just at this moment the three boys, coming on behind, caught a glimpse of the anchored boat and were quick to grasp the situation. "look out, randy!" cried ned at the top of his voice. "danger ahead! paddle to the right, quick!" randy turned around and looked stupidly at his companions for an instant. then he seized the paddle and tried hard to follow ned's advice. too late! the water sprite was forging ahead now under full pressure, and was not to be diverted from its course. the two occupants of the boat had heard ned's warning cry without catching the words, but they did not turn around because each happened to have a bite at that moment. then the little man jerked out a plump catfish, and as he reached for the line, which had swung behind him, he saw the flaming red sail looming almost overhead. he had barely time to spring to his feet and utter a terrific yell, when the collision came. the shock tossed the fat man off the stool and threw him across the edge of the boat. as the little man was knocked down at the same instant, the one sided pressure naturally caused the boat to tip, and over it went, throwing fishermen, dog, and all into the water. chapter xxx a night alarm by that strange destiny which oftentimes frowns on the good and lends a helping hand to the evil, randy experienced no very disastrous results from the collision. the canoe rebounded a few feet, and the sail fell from the mastpole into the water. he was terribly shaken up, it is true, but far greater was the shock when he realized what he had done. at first nothing was visible but the upturned boat and a yellow dog paddling on all fours for the nearest bank. it was manifestly impossible that the dog could have been the only occupant of the boat, and besides randy had heard a shrill cry just before the collision. he was much relieved therefore when a head shot above the water a few feet below the boat. this belonged to the little man, and an instant later his fat companion came to the surface. the latter had lost his hat, and the top of his head was as white and shiny as a billiard ball. the little man sounded for bottom, and not finding it, swam vigorously for shore. the fat man tried the same experiment, and being a good head and a half taller than his companion, obtained footing at a depth which brought the water almost to his chin. having thus strengthened his position, he spat the water from his mouth and turned his head around to see what occult power was responsible for his misfortune. when he saw randy quietly sitting in the canoe a few yards above his face purpled with rage. "you'll pay for this outrage," he stuttered hoarsely. "i'll beat you black and blue when i get hold of you. i'll give you six months in the county jail at hard labor, you brainless young ruffian--you audacious wooden headed idiot, you--" just then the angry gentleman's string of epithets was cut short in a summary manner, for the wet folds of the blanket sail, which had somehow managed to drift around the corner of the boat, slapped him on the mouth, and the unexpected shock caused him to lose his balance and slip under water. such an opportunity was not to be neglected, and with quick, furious strokes randy paddled around the upturned boat and headed down stream, bent on escaping the promised chastisement. the fat man came up directly beneath the sail, and consequently had to go under for a second attempt. this time he was all right, and the moment his head was out of water and his feet planted on the bottom he caught sight of randy, who was just gliding by at a distance of half a dozen feet. "stop, you rascal, stop!" he yelled hoarsely. randy did not obey; he only paddled the faster. the irascible old fellow glared at him in helpless rage for a second, and then his face lit up with an awful smile as he saw the big fishing pole floating on the water within reach. the line was fastened in some way to the boat. it was the work of an instant to snatch the pole and tear it free. then lifting it overhead the man made a furious stroke at the rapidly receding canoe. whisk! whisk! came the elastic end with stinging force against randy's back and shoulders. maddened by the pain he partially rose and leaned forward. at the second blow he reeled to one side, stumbled against the combing, and went out of the canoe backward without upsetting it. his enemy was by no means satisfied with what punishment he had already inflicted. he dropped the pole, and made haste to join the little man and yellow dog on the bank. "ebenezer," he cried angrily, "pursue that young rascal. chase him down the creek. if you catch him i'll give you a five dollar bill." more from fear of disobeying than from any hope of earning the reward, the little man started off on a run with the yellow dog at his heels. just at this moment ned and his companions reached the scene of the disaster. the fat man stopped wringing the water from his trousers to shake his fist at them. "you're all alike," he growled, "all alike! i never saw a boy that wasn't a born reprobate. i wish i had you out on shore; i'd teach you a lesson." ned tried to explain that the upsetting of the boat was a pure accident, but the angry man refused to hear him. "don't tell me," he muttered, "i know better." realizing that further argument would be futile, the boys made what amends they could by chasing the two fishing rods and the hat, and then lifting the anchors of the boat and pushing it to shore. the fat man acknowledged these favors with a surly nod of his head, and so threatening was his manner that the boys hastily retreated from the bank, and paddled down stream, stopping on the way to recover the sail. meanwhile randy had quietly swum down the creek some distance, pushing the canoe ahead of him, and landed on the left shore. the boys could see him plainly as he stood on a rock wringing the water from his clothes. having no inclination to swim the creek, ebenezer had given up the chase and was now returning along the right bank. when he came opposite the boys ned called out: "say, tell me who that stout gentleman is, will you?" the little man hesitated before replying. "that's judge gibson, of carlisle," he said finally in a very impressive tone. "you fellers may be glad you ain't sittin' afore him in the dock this minute--especially that chap down yonder. o, my! wouldn't you get salty sentences though!" a loud summons from the judge started the little man off in a hurry, and the conversation came to an abrupt ending. the boys soon joined randy, and finding him in a decidedly bad temper, they made as little allusion as possible to what had occurred. it was evident from the way he shrugged his shoulders that the blows of the fishing pole had left a good deal of a sting. not knowing what might be expected of judge gibson, the boys concluded to be on the safe side, and as soon as randy had changed his clothes they paddled away from the vicinity. about one o'clock a halt was made for lunch, and as the air was disagreeably damp and cutting, ned boiled a pot of coffee. the cruise was resumed an hour later, and during the afternoon a close watch was kept for suitable camping places. the indications all presaged bad weather, and there was no doubt that rain would set in by morning--if not sooner. about four o'clock a camping ground was discovered that met with general approval--a sheltered spot amid great pine trees on the right bank. in the rear was a steep hill, and a limestone spring was conveniently close. the boys spent just one solid hour in arranging things to their satisfaction, for their stay was likely to be a protracted one, and they wanted everything snug and comfortable before the rain came. the tent was staked with more than ordinary care, and then a ditch was dug around all four sides and the dirt thrown on the edges of the canvas. a stone fireplace was built between two trees and within easy reach of the tent door. a layer of fragrant pine boughs was spread on the floor of the tent, and both front corners were piled with firewood. the arrangements were completed by dragging the canoes to the top of the bank and removing all that they contained. "that is what i call snug," said randy complacently. "i won't mind staying here two or three days. how are we fixed for provisions?" "bread will run short to-morrow, but we have plenty of everything else," replied ned. "no doubt there are farm houses near." this satisfactory report encouraged the boys to prepare a more than usually sumptuous supper. they washed the dishes by firelight, and just as the last one was dried the rain began to fall--at first in pattering drops, then in a steady, persistent sheet. a great log was thrown on the fire, and after a short chat in its warm glow the boys drew the tent flaps, and were soon sleeping soundly on the soft pine boughs. some time in the night ned awoke, and feeling thirsty sat up and reached for the pail of water and tin cup which were always kept just outside the tent door. he took a drink and was in the act of putting the cup down when he heard distinct footsteps outside. they passed the tent and went on toward the creek. whoever the nocturnal stroller might be he was taking no pains to conceal his presence. "say ned, is that you?" came in a startled whisper from the rear of the tent. ned recognized randy's voice. "are _you_ awake?" he exclaimed in surprise. "don't make any noise. some one is walking about outside." "i know it," replied randy. "that's what wakened me. my gun is missing. i had it right beside me, and now it's gone." "by jove! this looks serious," muttered ned. "wait a moment," he added. "i'll take a peep outside. it's pitch dark and i can't be seen." he quickly lifted one flap of the tent and crawled under. a few seconds passed--full of terrible suspense to randy--and then came a clattering noise followed by a brief red flash and a stunning report. chapter xxxi stormy weather it was ned's intention, when he crawled out of the tent, to dodge behind the nearest tree, where he could see without being seen. but as he rose to his feet a dark figure suddenly obscured the faint embers of the fire, and a second later came the fall and the report which struck such a terror to randy's heart as he waited in the darkness of the tent. ned understood the situation instantly. the unknown prowler had stumbled over the fireplace in his retreat, and the stolen gun had been exploded by striking the stones. for two or three seconds there was nothing to indicate that the thief had been hit by the charge. then a shrill yell rang through the woods and another and another in rapid succession. "randy! randy! come out here!" shouted ned in a terrified voice. "light the lantern and waken the boys." the next instant randy burst through the flaps. "here is the lantern," he gasped. "i have no matches. good gracious! but you scared me. i thought you were shot." "_i'm_ not, but i fear some one else is," replied ned as he hastily struck a match and applied it to the wick of the lantern. that instant clay hurried out of the tent, and the three boys advanced timidly to the fireplace. the supposed robber had ceased his outcry, and was propped in an upright position against a heap of stones. ned turned the lantern on his face and staggered back with a cry of amazement. "_why, it's nugget!_" he exclaimed. "what under the sun does this mean?" it was indeed nugget, and he looked the very picture of fright as he rolled his eyes wildly from one to the other of his friends. it was several seconds before he could speak. "where am i?" he gasped. "who put me out here in the rain? i thought i heard a gun go off." he was evidently not injured--the position of the gun proved that--and the boys began to appreciate the ludicrous side of the situation. "you've been walking in your sleep," exclaimed ned, as a sudden light broke on his mind. "i'll bet a dollar that's just it. did you ever do such a thing before, nugget?" nugget hesitated and passed his hand over his forehead. "yes," he said reflectively; "i used to walk in my sleep sometimes, but that was long ago. i thought the habit was broken." "don't you remember anything about this affair?" resumed ned. "you must have taken randy's gun and left the tent without waking us." "yes; i have a sort of recollection of it," answered nugget sheepishly. "i guess i must have been dreaming. i thought i was in central park at home, and the animals broke out of the menagerie. i had a gun in my hand, and when a big lion ran after me i ran away. then i fell over a bench and the gun went off--and--and i don't think i remember any more. it was an awful dream. i thought the lion would eat me up." this story was more than the boys could stand. they laughed so long and heartily that nugget recovered from his scare and got angry instead. "you fellows would laugh the other way if that gun had been pointed toward the tent when it went off," he said sullenly; "and besides there is no fun in having such a dream." "nugget is right," exclaimed ned. "the affair is too serious for ridicule. it's almost a miracle he was not shot. and by the way, randy, i've told you often not to keep that gun loaded. think what might have happened to-night in consequence of your folly." randy looked penitent, and for a wonder accepted the rebuke quietly. "i forgot, ned, indeed i did," he said earnestly. "i put a shell in for snipe this afternoon, and never thought about it again. after this i'll examine the gun every night." "if it was accidental that alters the case," replied ned. "and now suppose we turn in. there is no use in standing here in the rain any longer." the boys went back to the tent, and to prevent a second attempt at sleep-walking they made nugget take the middle place. five minutes later all were sleeping as soundly as before the alarm. the next morning it was raining hard, and in fact it continued to rain at intervals all of that day and the next. the boys found the time hang a little heavy, although they sallied out in rubber coats, and had some excellent sport fishing for catfish. cooking was not interfered with, since the fireplace was in a sheltered position, and the tent was at all times snug and waterproof, in spite of some of the heaviest showers that the boys had ever known. rain was still falling at daybreak on saturday, but about ten o'clock the sky cleared, and the sun came out--greatly to the delight of the jolly rovers. as the next day was sunday, and the camp was in such a good location, they decided to remain until monday morning. this turned out to be a wise decision, for shortly after dinner a thunder storm swept down the valley, and for several hours the rain fell in torrents. by evening not a cloud was in sight, and indications pointed to a spell of clear weather. of course the creek was by this time very high and muddy, and was still on the rise. the water had crept three feet up the slope on top of which the tent was pitched, but as three feet more remained to be covered the boys felt no uneasiness. there was still higher ground behind them on which they could take refuge if the necessity came. after supper ned got out his map, and began to study it with great care. "has it occurred to any of you fellows that we are drawing near home?" he asked finally. "we passed honck's dam on wednesday afternoon, and our present camp is very near sporting green. there are only four more dams between us and the susquehanna, and the distance can't be much over thirty miles." the others were rather surprised to hear this, and could not make up their minds at first whether to be glad or sorry. "i can hardly realize it," said randy. "the time has certainly slipped by very quickly, and yet it was three weeks yesterday since we started." "i hate to think that the cruise is nearly over," remarked clay, "but all the same it will be nice to get home again." ned laughed as he folded up the map and put it in his pocket. "i know just how you feel," he said. "it will be very nice to sleep in a soft bed, and eat off a table again, and sit out on the boathouse porch in the evenings; but about a week after you get home you'll wish with all your heart you were back on the creek with the grass for a bed and a rock for a table. canoeing is like ice cream--when you once taste it you are always wanting more. it reminds me of what i read about a famous african explorer. he was always glad to get back to civilization for a little while, and then he was more anxious than ever to return to his wild life. it seemed as though he couldn't breathe right anywhere but in africa." "i hope canoeing _is_ like that," said randy. "then we will make lots more trips together. i feel just as you do about it, ned. i don't like to see the cruise end, but it will be very nice in some ways to get home. won't the other boys be envious when they see how sunburnt we are, and hear all about the exciting adventures we have had?" "when will we reach the end of the creek?" asked nugget with a rapturous expression. "monday?" "hardly," replied ned. "it will take longer than that. but why are you so anxious to get home, nugget?" "he wants to put on a suit of cream colored clothes," exclaimed clay with mock gravity, "and a boiled shirt and high collar. he is longing to encase his lily white hands in kid gloves, and his dainty feet in patent leathers." as nugget blushed an angry red, and made no reply, it is to be presumed that clay's remark contained more truth than fiction. "you fellows are all counting your chickens too soon," said ned. "a good many miles separate us from home, and as likely as not there are more rough times in store for us." lightly spoken and lightly meant were these words, but ned recalled them under thrilling circumstances a day or two later. all day sunday the creek continued to rise slowly until it was just a foot from the top of the bank. it was stationary at nine o'clock in the evening, and when it began to fall two hours later the boys turned in, satisfied that the danger was over. the water receded a foot and a half during the night, but when monday morning dawned with a clear sky the flood was still a sight to behold as it rolled swiftly by the camp, its smooth yellow surface dotted with tangled grasses and driftwood. as far as the boys could see was high and hilly land, but there was no doubt that the lowlands were inundated far on each side of the creek. the rains had been unusually heavy. chapter xxxii the broken dam by nine o'clock the jolly rovers were afloat--adrift would be a better word, since the swift current made the paddles unnecessary, except for a guiding touch now and then. it did not occur to the boys to delay their departure on account of the flood. they were tired of the camping place, and moreover the high water would likely be a help rather than a hindrance. they found it keenly exhilarating to lean lazily back in their canoes and be carried at a whirling pace around bend after bend. there was just enough danger from submerged islands and reefs, and floating _débris_, to add spice to the enjoyment. here and there, where the creek passed through low country, the fields were inundated, and only the tops of the fences could be seen above the water. a mile or two below camp a sudden sweep of the channel brought into view a red wooden bridge. the creek, being wide at this point, the bridge was supported in the center by a narrow, squarely built pier. as the boys came closer they saw that the pier had been shattered by some terrific power. the whole face of it was torn away, and the frail portion that remained seemed in danger of being carried off by the yellow flood that was surging against it. two men had climbed down from an opening in the bridge, and were busy among the loose stones, evidently trying to fit them into place again. from the left shore a little knot of people was watching the operation. naturally the boys were curious to know what it meant, and when they drew near they slackened the speed of the canoes by backing water vigorously with their paddles. "did the flood do all that damage?" asked ned. "no," answered one of the men, stopping work to look up, "the ice did it last winter, and the commissioners neglected to have it repaired. a pretty bill they're likely to have to pay for their carelessness. it's too late to do anything now." "that's so," assented the other man; "we may as well stop work and get out of this." "but what danger are you afraid of now?" resumed ned. "the pier has stood the worst of the flood and the water is going down." the first speaker jerked his finger up the creek. "they say that honck's dam is liable to break at any minute," he answered slowly. "it's a mighty old dam, and has been threatenin' to give 'way fur the last ten years. it's a big high one, too, and has a heap of timber in it. just as surely as that mass of stuff comes down the creek with a volume of water behind it, this pier will go to pieces and down will come the bridge." "do you really think the dam will break?" asked ned. "it's ten to one," was the reply. "they say the edges are giving way now. you fellows had better get off the creek afore it's too late. them cockleshell boats won't stand much." with this warning the speaker climbed up the pier, followed by his companion, and both disappeared in the bridge. the boys lifted their paddles from the water and went swiftly on with the current for the time being. "these rustics have exaggerated the danger, i'll bet anything," said randy. "if honck's dam was going to break it would not have waited until the flood was half way down." "i don't know about that," replied ned. "the danger may be very real." he had given the dam some attention while the canoes were being carried around it on the previous wednesday, and he now remembered with secret uneasiness that it was very high and rotten, and held in check a vast volume of water. terrible would be the consequences if this were suddenly to be freed. "what are we going to do?" asked nugget uneasily. "that man warned us to leave the creek, and he knew what he was talking about." "we can't very well take his advice now," replied ned, "for there is no landing place in sight." "there is no use in stopping at all," exclaimed randy, "if the object is to wait for the dam to break. we might be detained for a week, and then find that the dam was as strong as ever. and besides we could hear the noise in time to get out of the way. all we need to do is keep our ears open and look behind from time to time." "even if the dam should break the chances are that with such a current as this we could keep ahead of the flood," suggested clay. "don't you think so, ned?" "i'm afraid that's doubtful," replied. ned. "at all events i don't think i should care to run a race with the flood even on a start of half a dozen miles. for the present we had better follow randy's advice and keep our eyes and ears open. if we find a suitable place i am in favor of stopping for an hour or two. we are too near home to risk disaster." this arrangement was satisfactory to all except nugget, and he made no outward remonstrance. for the next two hours all went well, and mile after mile was swiftly traversed. the boys kept in mid-channel so as to reap the fullest advantage from the current. they looked back from time to time, but neither saw nor heard anything alarming. the smooth yellow flood glided between the wooded banks with scarcely a murmur. about midday the creek turned a sharp angle, and headed due north in a straight course of fully half a mile. beyond the steep hills that terminated this stretch the boys could see the distant blue line of the mountains. the fears of the morning had vanished, and all were in buoyant spirits. the home-coming loomed brightly before them now, for with such a current the susquehanna would soon be reached. on the left hand side of the creek stretched a sloping hill, wooded for a distance of two or three hundred yards as it receded from the water, and then merging into open fields. on the right was a rugged cliff full of limestone rocks and scrawly pine trees. the boys did not pay much attention to their surroundings, but when they were nearly half way to the bend, randy happened to glance toward the left, and on the very crest of the hill, a good quarter of a mile from the water, he saw a little white farmhouse. there was nothing in this to attract his attention, but as his gaze lingered he saw a man come out on the porch and glance up the creek, shading his eyes with his hand. then he turned toward the house, and an instant later two women and another man appeared and looked in the same direction. this was growing interesting, and randy called the attention of his companions to the farmhouse. what happened next was stranger still. the little group on the porch suddenly caught sight of the canoes far below them, and one of the men darted quickly into the house. he reappeared a second or two later with a shiny object in his hand, and placing it to his mouth he blew a shrill discordant blast that echoed far over the hills. he repeated this twice, and then all of the group began to shout and wave their hands. the boys glanced at one another in amazement. what was the meaning of such an idiotic performance? suddenly ned turned pale. "great scott!" he exclaimed. "the dam must have broken, and those people can see the flood somewhere up the creek. they are warning us to get out of the way." the boys instinctively turned to look behind, but the first glance revealed no cause for alarm. "all right so far," cried randy. "the current seems to be getting swifter though, and i actually believe the water is rising." he had hardly spoken when ned uttered a startled cry. "look! look! there it comes!" around the sharp curve above swept a sloping volume of water, yellow with mud and foam, black with timber and uprooted trees. it came on with a rush and a swelling roar, and as the frightened boys watched it with terrible fascination, a section of a wooden bridge painted red hove in sight. the imminence of the danger drove the jolly rovers into a helpless panic. even ned was frightened out of his self possession. the right shore was the nearest, and the boys paddled for it with furious strokes, not remembering for an instant that it offered the least chance of safety. the swift current whirled the canoes down stream for nearly a hundred yards before it would suffer them to glide into the calmer waters along the bank. randy and clay, being on the outer side, had more to overcome, and were swept beyond their companions. ned and nugget drifted against a precipitous wall of rock that rose twenty feet before its surface was broken by the tree or brush. they looked hopelessly around them, vainly seeking a chance of escape, while louder and louder in their ears sounded the hissing roar of the oncoming flood. at the base of the cliff the water was already boiling and tossing. chapter xxxiii an underground cruise "paddle on, quick!" cried ned in an agony of fear. "we may reach a break in the cliff." nugget, who was half a canoe's length in advance had sufficiently presence of mind to obey. he paddled off with desperate strokes, and ned crowded him closely. a few yards down stream the wall of rock jutted out slightly and then receded. as the canoes rounded this a great heaving wave--the vanguard of the flood--tossed them high on its crest and cast them, like a stone from a catapult, straight toward a black, semi-circular hole in the base of the cliff. a furious current swept in the same direction, and even had the boys realized the nature of this new peril they could have done nothing to help themselves. nugget dropped his paddle with a cry of terror and clutched the combing. the next instant he shot into the gaping hole, scraping his cap from his head by contact with the top, and disappeared from view. ned was dazed by what he had just witnessed, and his turn came before he realized it. he had hardly time to twist his paddle around longwise and duck his head when the current sucked him under the cliff. he heard a quick, grating noise, and then the dim gleam of light faded, leaving him in utter darkness. the canoe pitched and tossed dizzily, and by the cold air that surged on his face, and the spray that spattered him, ned knew that he was moving at rapid speed. suddenly a cry rang in his ears with the sharpness of a pistol shot and reverberated through the cavern. an instant later he felt a violent concussion on the right, and reaching out his hand he touched the combing of nugget's canoe. he clung to it with all his might and managed to keep the two canoes side by side as the current whirled them on through the darkness. nugget was not aware of this at first, for he uttered another piercing cry for help. it was impossible to carry on any conversation owing to the confused booming noise made by the water, but ned leaned to one side and shouted at the top of his voice: "cheer up, nugget. i'm here beside you. we'll find a way out of this." nugget must have heard and understood, for he was silent after that. it was characteristic of ned to cheer his companion. he was thoroughly unselfish, and was always more concerned about others than himself. in this case his consoling words meant nothing. he was still dazed by the overwhelming calamity that had befallen him, and had not begun to realize its extent. he remembered the lantern that was in the forward hatch and the match safe in his pocket, but the former was out of reach and the latter was on his right side. he could not get it with his left hand, and he was afraid to trust the holding of the canoes to nugget. so a light was out of the question at the present time. the painful suspense of the next few minutes made them seem like hours. the canoes whirled on and on with a dizzy swaying motion, but not the faintest ray of light broke the intensity of the darkness. ned cautiously thrust his paddle out to the left, and it struck something hard with a ringing noise. he did not repeat the experiment for fear of upsetting. all at once the roar of the water seemed to deepen, and the canoes settled into a swift, steady rush that made the air fairly sing about ned's ears. what followed was never very clear to him afterward. he remembered a dash of icy spray in his face, and then a terrible collision that landed him somewhere on his hands and knees. he was stunned and dizzy for a little while, and when finally he staggered to his feet his first thought was of nugget. he called him by name, and a hollow groan was the only reply. even that was better than silence, and with a trembling hand ned drew out his match box and struck a light. both canoes lay upset at his feet, and between them was nugget leaning on his elbows with a very dazed expression on his face. three more matches enabled ned to right the pioneer, procure his lantern, and light it. then, seeing that nugget was uninjured, he scrutinized his surroundings more closely. he understood at once what had happened. the underground stream made a sharp curve at this point, and the force of the current had thrown the canoes far out on a sandy beach. from above, the yellow flood came roaring and tossing through a passage some twenty feet wide, and nearly the same in height. below the angle it plunged on under the same conditions. the beach was about ten yards long, and sloped back half that distance to a slimy wall of rock. on the opposite side of the stream the wall fell sheer into the water, and overhead was a jagged roof that glittered and sparkled in the rays of the lantern. ned formed his own conclusions as to the nature of the place, and they were not entirely unfavorable, for the speed and impetuosity of the muddy stream had given him a good deal to think about. he dismissed his reflections until a more favorable time, and placing the lantern on the sand turned to nugget, who was in a pitiable state of fright. "are you hurt any, old fellow?" asked ned, "or only a little stunned?" "oh, i don't know, i don't know," moaned nugget. "what awful place are we in, ned? it seems like a dream. i hardly remember what happened. and where are clay and randy?" "i hope they are safe," replied ned evasively. "in fact, i really think they are, nugget. they landed some distance below us, and no doubt found a place to climb out before the flood caught them." "and what happened to us, ned? didn't the current drag us into a hole in the cliff?" "yes," said ned, "that's it exactly, and we are now in an underground cavern. don't be alarmed," he added quickly, noting the sudden pallor on his companion's face, "our situation is not so terrible after all. caverns of this sort are always found among limestone hills, and they usually have two outlets. this one is no exception to the rule, and i'll tell you why i think so. in the first place you must remember that the creek was nearly four feet high before that dam broke. the extra volume of water is what makes this terrific current through the cavern and the very fact that the water goes on through without damming up proves to me that it has an outlet. "when the creek is at its normal level i don't believe any water flows into the cavern at all, and even with a four foot raise i don't think much goes through. it was the first rush of the flood that carried us into the hole. and now do you see what i am driving at? as soon as the back water from honck's dam has spent itself--and it can't take very long--the stream in front of us will become shallow, and then all we need to do is to follow it down to the outlet. it probably cuts across some bend and re-enters the creek. and we have penetrated such a distance from the mouth that the outlet can't be far away. i can't swear to all this, nugget, but i am pretty well convinced that i am right. a very short time will settle the question one way or another." "i hope what you say will come true," replied nugget dolefully. "this is a horrible place to be in. it gives me the shivers to think of it. but if all the water runs out, won't we have to leave our canoes behind?" he added quickly. "we won't wait that long," said ned. "don't be downhearted. there is surely a way out of this cavern, and we'll find it. our situation might be far worse than it is. we have matches and a lantern, and there are crackers in my canoe." "are there?" exclaimed nugget eagerly. "i think i'll eat a few. you're an awfully good fellow, ned. i don't feel half as bad now." "it's a good sign to be hungry," replied ned laughingly. he brought some of the crackers, and both ate them as they sat side by side on the sand. chapter xxxiv despair in the course of an hour ned's prediction began to be verified. the roar of the flood ceased entirely, and the water receded from the beach until the stream looked as shallow and quiet as a meadow brook. ned waded clear across to the opposite wall without going over his knees. "the flood from the dam has spent itself. i'm afraid we'll have to wade through and pull the canoes after us. i can see shoals and ledges not far below. i'll lead the way with the lantern." this proposition was far from pleasing to nugget, but he uttered no remonstrance. he had implicit faith in ned by this time. the canoes were pulled into the water, and without delay the boys started down the gloomy channel. they pushed the canoes ahead of them, and in this way supported themselves and lessened the danger of slipping. for a while they made fair progress and encountered but few shoals. the stream was nowhere more than knee deep. under these favorable circumstances ned relaxed his caution, and the consequence was that his feet slipped on the smooth stone, and down he went into a pretty deep hole. the lantern fell from his hand was extinguished, and the canoe shot ahead of him. nugget's cry of alarm was the first thing that ned heard when he recovered his footing, and he found himself almost breast deep in water. he was shivering with cold--and with something else as well, for he realized the full meaning of the disaster, and for a moment he was sick and faint. "i'm all right, nugget," he shouted. "stay where you are. don't move a foot." then he waded cautiously forward until the channel was knee deep again, and shaking the water from his hands as well as he could, he drew out the precious match and struck a light. his canoe had lodged on a reef a few feet down stream, but the lantern was gone beyond recovery. the situation was serious. nugget's lantern was in randy's canoe, and worse than all, only four matches remained in the box. "it's a bad fix," thought ned; "but we must make the best of it. nugget," he added aloud, "push your canoe along the right side. i think the water is shallow there." nugget obeyed, and joined his companion without difficulty. "have you any matches?" asked ned. "not a single one." nugget went through his pockets to make sure, and turned a shade whiter when he saw ned's scanty stock, two of which were already exhausted. "this is terrible," he exclaimed huskily. "what can we do now?" "not very much," replied ned. "keep your spirits up, though; that's the important thing. here, take these, and burn one at a time." he handed the match box to nugget, and quickly drew the canoes side by side. he took a stout fishing line from his pocket and tied them together at bow and stern. then he rummaged the hatches in a vain search for something that would burn. even the paper that was around some of the bundles was damp from spray and leakage. "well, nugget, we must make the best of it," he said. "all we can do is to push on in the dark. is that the last match?" "one left," answered nugget dolefully, and heaved a long sigh. "don't use it, then. it may come in handy later on. the situation is not as bad as it looks. we can stick close together and push the canoes ahead of us. in that way we won't run any risk of striking the wall. of course we can't move very rapidly, but our getting out of the cavern is only a question of time." "i hope it won't take long," said nugget. "a day or two of this would drive me mad." just then the match he was holding burnt to the end and fell in the water. he restored the box to ned, and taking hold of the canoes at the stern ends, they moved slowly through the darkness. no words can adequately describe the suffering and thoughts of the two lads during the next hour. nugget could not repress an occasional complaint, and even the stout hearted ned felt at times as though he must cry out. the fate of clay and randy weighed almost as heavily upon him as his own misfortunes. he knew their chance of escape had been very slight, and he feared they had not been able to take advantage of it. little wonder then that he looked forward with almost equal dread and joy to reaching the end of the cavern. that ordeal, however, promised to be long delayed. it was a painfully laborious task to accomplish even a snail-like progress through the dark passage. what lay before them the boys could only imagine, and they constantly feared some calamity. it was impossible to keep the canoes straight. they veered to right and left, striking the rocky sides of the channel, which actually seemed to be growing narrower. every few moments they stuck fast on a shoal or submerged reef, and then ned had to feel his way to the front with his paddle, and dislodge them by main force. the water was of variable depth, and half a dozen times the boys suddenly plunged breast deep into a hole, but fortunately did not let go of the canoes. at the end of an hour the situation was unchanged. as yet not a ray of light was visible ahead. ned cheered his companion with hopeful words, and both struggled on and on, straining their eyes through the gloom to catch the first glimpse of light. they felt that their powers of endurance would soon be spent. they were intensely weary, and chilled to the bone by their dripping clothes. contact with the rocks had bruised their hands and feet, and every step was a torture. at last the canoes grounded on some yielding surface and refused to budge. ned staggered forward and found their prows imbedded in what he judged to be a bar of sand and gravel stretching across the channel. he walked on a few steps to ascertain its width, and was amazed and frightened by coming in contact with a solid wall of rock. "come here, quick, nugget!" he called hoarsely. nugget waded alongside the canoes, and was soon on the bar. "what is it?" he cried. "anything wrong?" for answer ned took the last match from the little metal box, and lighted it. as the little blaze flared up the boys looked curiously about them. one brief glimpse revealed the awful truth. the sandy bar was in reality the end of the passage. beyond it rose a smooth, slimy wall, and overhead was a low jagged roof dripping with moisture. the canoes lay in a quiet pool of water that was as dead and void of current as a mill pond. chapter xxxv nugget discovers a light the half-burned match fell from ned's trembling fingers, and went out on the sand. then there was silence for nearly a minute--a terrible, oppressive silence. it was broken by a sharp cry from nugget that echoed far through the cavern. he seized ned by one arm and clung to him, trembling from head to foot. "is there no hope?" he wailed pitifully. "must we stay in this awful place until we die? i can't stand it, ned, indeed i can't. oh! do something quick, won't you?" ned was at a loss to reply. his own heart was full of misery and despair. what word of comfort could he give his companion? would it be wise to give him any--to excite hopes that might never be realized? he put his arm about nugget, and this seemed to comfort the lad a little. "we will surely find a way to escape, ned?" he asked in a calmer tone. "don't you think so?" "it shan't be our fault if we don't," returned ned. "you must be brave, nugget--brave and patient. we are worn out and exhausted now, and must have rest before we can do anything more." "i was awfully tired a minute ago," said nugget, "but i feel now as though i could push on all day if i was sure of finding the way out of this cavern. do you think we will have to go all the way back--to the place we entered by, i mean?" "i hope that won't be necessary," replied ned. "the simple truth is that we have blundered into a side passage, that has no outlet. it can't be very long since we got off the right track, for i remember the current against my legs. we will go back after a while and find the turning." "in this pitch darkness?" exclaimed nugget. "we will feel our way along the wall," said ned, "and if the canoes are in the road we'll abandon them. we won't start now though. sit down and take a good rest. you will need it." nugget obediently climbed into his canoe, and ned did the same. for a long while they sat thus, side by side, without speaking. ned's courage was almost at the breaking point. in spite of his sanguine words he felt that the chance were terribly adverse. without a ray of light to guide them it would be a difficult matter to find the main channel of the stream again, and follow it to the outlet which must certainly exist. there was danger of falling into deep holes, of striking sharp rocks, or blundering into other side passages with which the cavern was doubtless honeycombed. oppressed with such sad reflections ned let the time go by unheeded, and at length, through very fatigue, he fell into a kind of doze. how long he remained thus he did not know, but he was suddenly roused to consciousness by a shrill cry from nugget: "look, ned, a light! a light!" ned first believed that his companion was either dreaming or in delirium, but when he glanced along the passage he saw a yellow flickering glare, and outlined against it a tall black figure. "it's a man with a torch," cried ned hoarsely. "and he's going away from us," exclaimed nugget, "call him, quick!" the boys made the cavern ring with loud shouts, and when a quick response came they were almost frantic with joy. the torch was motionless for an instant. then it came nearer and nearer, casting a ruddy light on the slimy walls of the passage, until the boys could see plainly the tall bearded man who carried it. "found at last!" exclaimed the stranger in a cheery voice as he waded out on the beach. "this will be good news for them other chaps." "are our friends safe?" cried ned eagerly. "did they escape the flood?" "yes," replied the man. "didn't even get wet or lose their canoes. come right along now, an' i'll take you to them. i wouldn't let them enter the cavern for fear of accidents. this ain't the time to explain things. all that will come later. my name is jonas packer, an' i'm the man what blowed that horn this morning when i seen you chaps down on the creek." in view of mr. packer's evident anxiety to get out of the cavern as soon as possible the boys repressed their desire to ask more questions. pain and fatigue were forgotten as they entered the water and pushed the canoes back along the passage. while their guide preceded them, holding the blazing torch over his head. five minutes later they reached the main channel, and turning a sharp angle found themselves in swiftly running water once more. "this is where you boys got astray, i reckon," said mr. packer. "it's good you sung out when you did, because i was going right on to the front end of the cavern. i didn't think about this side pocket at the time." "are we near the rear end?" inquired ned. "purty close," was the reassuring reply. "you'll know when you come to it." for half an hour longer the boys pushed on through the narrow winding passage, finding the stream as rugged and full of difficulties as it had been earlier in the day. with mr. packer's aid, however, they readily skirted the deep pools and pulled the canoes over the obstructing ledges and shallows. then, somewhat to their consternation, they saw a jagged wall of rock towering before them. this was undoubtedly the termination of the cavern, but where was the outlet? "hold this over your head and stay right here," said mr. packer, handing ned the torch. "i'll be with you in a minute." he waded toward the wall, pulling the canoes after him, until the water was above his waist. then, one at a time, he shot the canoes into a long, low crevice at the base of the cliff, and they vanished with a grating noise. he waded back to the boys and led them to a narrow strip of sand on the right of the passage. without a word he climbed nimbly up the rocks and entered a circular hole where the space was so contracted that ned and nugget had to bend almost double and hold their arms in front of them. they made several sharp turns, slipped down a slide of moist, sticky clay--and emerged suddenly into the warm, sultry air of the outer world. a glad cry fell from the boys' lips. a few yards distant lay the surface of the creek, and in the angle formed by the shore and a rocky hillside that fell sheer to the water, was a snowy tent, and a campfire behind it, and two slim figures standing in the flame light. the next instant the jolly rovers were united, and with joy too deep for words they clasped hands. mr. packer slipped quietly away, and jumping into a boat paddled after the two canoes which had emerged from under the cliff a moment before, and were now sliding swiftly down stream. chapter xxxvi home again it was some time before the boys could talk coherently. a dry change of clothes and the good supper their companions had prepared in readiness, made ned and nugget feel pretty much like themselves again, and sitting about the camp fire they told the thrilling story of their adventure. then clay and randy related their escape from the flood, telling how they had reached a break in the cliff--a steep, bushy slope--up which they dragged their canoes in time to avoid the sudden deluge. the missing links were supplied by jonas packer. "i seen you two fellows shoot into the cavern," he said, "and as soon as the flood went down a little, i took my boat and went across to the other chaps, who were pretty badly scared about that time. knowin' all about the cavern, i relieved their minds a little and persuaded them to paddle around the bend with me to the place where the cavern came out. then we all went inside and waited and waited for two or three hours, i reckon. you see i kinder expected you boys to come straight through without upsetting. "i was afraid then to wade up the channel for fear of more high water. but when evening come, an' no signs of you yet, the thing began to look serious. so i told those lads to h'ist the tent an' get supper ready--more to cheer them than anything else--an' then i lit the pine torch i'd brought along, and struck into the cavern, bent on going clear through if i could, and the rest of my story you fellows know. it was a narrow escape, i tell you." "it was the worst adventure i ever had," said ned. "the time we were in there seemed like days instead of hours. is the cavern very long?" "not more'n half a mile. it took you a good while to come through though. it was about eight o'clock in the evening when i found you. you see the cavern cuts straight under the hill, and enters the creek again below the bend. to go around by land it's a good mile and a half. "in low water both ends of the cavern are high and dry, and you can go all the way through on foot. indian cave is what they call it because the indians used to hide there more'n a hundred years ago." mr. packer related several interesting reminiscences of the cavern, until he saw that the boys were getting sleepy. then he left for home promising to rig up a paddle in place of the one nugget had lost, and also to bring him an old hat. a few moments later the jolly rovers were sleeping soundly in the tent, and the dying camp fire was gleaming on the muddy surface of the creek. tuesday was a clear, sunny day, but the boys decided to defer their departure until the next morning. ned and nugget felt the need of a little rest. after breakfast jonas packer returned, bringing quite a respectable paddle on which he had been working since daybreak, and a broad brimmed straw hat, which nugget regarded as a very poor substitute for his trim yachting cap. harvest work required the good natured farmer's immediate return. the boys parted from him with genuine regret, and only with the greatest difficulty could they induce him to accept pay for the paddle--the very least of the services he had rendered them. the greater part of the day was spent in furbishing up clothes and camp equipments and scrubbing the collected dirt and scum of three weeks from the decks and sides of the canoes. the boys realized that the cruise was about ended, and they hoped by the aid of the high water and an early start to reach home on the morrow. there was no longer any temptation to linger by the way, since the lower reaches of the creek with which they had been familiar for some years past, were only a few miles distant. the chief charm of canoeing is to explore strange waters. the jolly rovers were up bright and early on wednesday morning, and in default of bread or crackers they made some cakes out of flour and water, and relished them, too. it was a strange coincidence that the provisions should have lasted just until this time. with the exception of a little oatmeal the jars were quite empty. about half past seven the pioneer led the way down stream, proudly shaking the faded pennant to the breeze, and soon the mouth of indian cave was far behind. the creek was now barely a foot above its normal level, but this was quite sufficient to make a swift current, and the mile after mile, bend after bend fell behind the flashing paddles of the jolly rovers. at ten o'clock they reached the first familiar landmark--roop's dam--and the home coming began to seem a reality indeed. the susquehanna was six miles distant as the crow flies, but almost thrice six by the snaky curvatures of the channel down which they were making their way. midway on the breast of the dam was lodged a section of the red bridge, and it recalled vividly to the boys the circumstances under which they had last seen it. they found an easy portage for the canoes, and were off again without delay. while the sunny afternoon slowly lengthened they paddled on through a now familiar country, passing sporting hill--a famous place for bass--about four o'clock, and reaching oyster's dam--endeared by many boyish memories--just an hour later. another portage, and then away at full speed between wooded banks and green islands, to the nail works dam, where the air rang to the clatter of big hammers and pitchy black smoke was vomited skyward from huge stacks. a brief dash through foaming shallows and rapids, with the hamlet of fairview on one side and the wooded bluffs of bunker hill on the other, a swift glide into the shadows of the old red bridge--and then the jolly rovers were on the broad bosom of the susquehanna. they shouted and laughed and waved their caps in the air for very joy. a mile across the tide were the upper suburbs of the city, and diagonally down stream, three miles away, was the great yellow dome of the capitol, and beyond it, faint in the golden haze of sunset, the piers and spans of five mighty bridges, capped by clustered spires and roofs. soon the jolly rovers rounded the upper point of independence island and paddled on by the city shores until the porch of randy's boat house hove in view. ned was first to reach the float, and stepping out of his canoe he seized the pennant and waved it aloft. "the cruise of the jolly rovers is ended," he cried. "may we make another like it!" "and never a shorter one!" added randy. "it will be four weeks on friday morning since we started." they give three loud cheers together, and with eager hands carried the canoes into the boat house. then they climbed to the top of the bank, and marched homeward through the city with the proud step and mien of a conquering army. far more to be prized than spoils of victory were their healthy, bronzed faces. and so the wonderful cruise came to an end--in one way at least, though the memories of it will never be forgotten. apart from its keen enjoyments, and thrilling adventures, and the freshened vigor of health that it imparted, the boys learned more than one lesson that will prove of service in after life. from that time randy was less self willed, and better able to curb his temper, for his eyes had been opened to the serious consequences that may result from these faults. clay had learned to regard practical jokes and mocking words in a more serious light than they had ever appeared to him before, while nugget was more self reliant and less timid after the rugged experiences he had passed through. even ned--to whose constant cool headedness and knowledge of out door craft the success of the cruise was mainly due--had profited by lessons of patience and endurance. and he was happy--with that happiness which comes to one who has benefitted his fellow man--in the consciousness that he had helped bug batters to the commencement of a new and a better life. the boys are yet far from the cares and responsibilities of manhood, and they will probably make more than one cruise in the happy summer vacations to come, but it is doubtful if brighter memories will ever dim the cherished wealth of affection they feel for the faded pennant, the scarred and battered paddles, and the water soaked log book, which now hangs on the boathouse wall--mute mementoes of the time the jolly rovers paddled down the winding waters of the conodoguinet. the end internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/canoematesstoryo munriala transcriber's note: emphasised text is shown thus: _italics_ =bold= [illustration: sumner at home. (page )] canoemates a story of the florida reef and everglades by kirk munroe author of "the flamingo feather" "derrick sterling" "dorymates" "campmates" etc. illustrated [illustration] new york harper & brothers, franklin square copyright, , by harper & brothers. all rights reserved. contents. chapter page i. in the far south ii. three canoes, and the fate of one iii. sumner receives a second offer iv. teaching a thief a lesson v. the great florida reef vi. pineapples and sponges vii. mysterious disappearance of the canoes viii. life on the lonely island ix. the nocturnal visitor x. whose are they? and where did they come from? xi. sumner drifts away on a raft xii. picked up in the gulf stream xiii. a mystery of the reef xiv. worth and quorum are missing xv. worth and quorum in search of sumner xvi. a night in alligator light xvii. an entertainment on the key xviii. off for the everglades xix. the canoes are again lost, and again found xx. the psyche as a life-boat xxi. sumner's self-sacrifice xxii. good-bye to the transit xxiii. worth meets a panther xxiv. rattlesnakes and rifle-shots xxv. worth's lonely night-watch xxvi. the florida everglades xxvii. a prehistoric everglade mound xxviii. what became of quorum and the canoes xxix. a very serious predicament xxx. quorum as an ambassador xxxi. a closely guarded camp xxxii. crossing the 'glades without seeing them xxxiii. an adventurous deer-hunt xxxiv. hemmed in by a forest fire xxxv. the boys in a seminole camp xxxvi. one of the rarest animals in the world xxxvii. fishing for sharks xxxviii. little ko-wik-a sails out to sea xxxix. a black squall and the stranded steamer xl. the happy ending of the cruise illustrations. sumner at home _frontispiece._ "with the next send of the sea the canvas canoe was crushed beneath the ponderous bows" _facing p._ "he returned to the buoy, on which the recent fugitive was now sitting" " the "cupid" and "psyche" start on their cruise " torch-fishing for mullet " the canoes are gone " "'some one was trying to pull my gun away'" " "the latter was rolling on the ground at the foot of a cocoanut-tree" " a great discovery " quorum is happy " "two pairs of powerful arms dragged him into the boat" " "as he stepped ashore a pleasant-faced young man advanced to meet him" " quorum resigns himself to fate " quorum dances a break-down " "he found rust norris crouching in the lee of the little deck-house" " repairing the "punkin seed" " "a volley of rifle-shots flashed and roared from the forest" " "rough-looking characters, whom he at once recognized as south florida cowboys" " "his wrists were unbound, and the cloth that enveloped his head was snatched from it" " "directly afterwards a canoe appeared at the opening in the bushes" " "they were suddenly confronted by an indian armed with a rifle" " "the ordeal of fire lasted but a minute" " sumner and worth in the seminole camp " sumner rescues ko-wik-a " "the surprise and delight of the two gentlemen can better be imagined than described" " _canoemates._ _a story of the everglades._ chapter i. in the far south. "really, mother, it doesn't seem as though i could stand it any longer! life in this place isn't worth living, especially when it's a life of poverty, and what people call 'genteel poverty,' as ours is. our struggle is for bare existence, and there doesn't seem to be any future to it. if you'd only let me go to new york, i'm sure i could do something there that was worth the doing, but i can't do anything here, and i'd almost rather die than live here any longer!" with this sumner rankin flung himself into a chair, and his flushed face was as heavily clouded as though life held nothing of hope or happiness for him. "why, my dear boy," exclaimed his mother, standing beside him and smoothing his tumbled brown curls with her cool hands, "what is the matter? i never knew you to speak so bitterly before." mrs. rankin still looked so young and pretty that she might almost be taken for an elder sister of the handsome, seventeen-year-old boy over whom she now bent so tenderly. to the casual observer the rankins' home was a very pleasant one. it was a pretty, broad-verandaed cottage nestled in the shadows of a clump of towering cocoanut palms, on the far southern island of key west. it stood on the outskirts of the town, and so close to the beach that the warm waters of the mexican gulf rippling on the coral rocks behind it made a ceaseless melody for its inmates. jasmine-vines clambered over it, glossy-leaved myrtles, a hedge of night-blooming cereus and other sweet-scented tropical shrubs perfumed the air about it. through these, looking out from the shaded coolness of the verandas, the eye caught fascinating glimpses of blue waters with white sails constantly passing, and stately men-of-war swinging idly at their moorings. it looked an ideal home; but even in this tropical eden there was one very large serpent, besides several that were smaller though almost equally annoying. the big one was poverty, and it held the rankins in its dread embrace as though with no intention of relaxing it. mrs. rankin was the widow of a naval officer who had been stationed at key west a few years before. he had sent his wife and only child north to escape a dreadful summer of yellow-fever, while he had stayed and died at his post. shortly before his death commander rankin, believing that key west property was about to increase rapidly in value, had invested all that he had in the little jasmine-clad cottage, expecting to be able to sell it at a handsome profit when his term of service at that station should expire. thus it was all that remained to his family, and to this haven mrs. rankin, sad-eyed and wellnigh broken-hearted, had returned with her boy. the fever had caused real estate to become of so little value that there was no chance of selling the cottage; so they were forced to live in it, and the widow eked out her scanty pension by letting such rooms as she could spare to lodgers. during the pleasant winter season she rarely had difficulty in filling them, but through the long, hot summer months desirable lodgers were few and far between, and the poverty serpent enfolded them closely. one of the lesser serpents against which the rankins had to contend was the lack of congenial society; for, with the exception of a few government employés and those whose business compels them to live there, the population of key west is composed of spongers and wreckers, cuban and negro cigar-makers. another was the lack of good schools, and the worst of all was the lack of suitable business openings for sumner, or "summer," as his chinese nurse had called him when he was a baby, and as he had been called ever since on account of his bright face and sunny disposition. he would have loved dearly to go through the naval academy and follow the profession that had been his father's, but the rankins had no political influence, and without that there was no chance. he could not go into a cigar-factory, and though his boyish love of adventure had led him to take several trips on sponging vessels, it was not the business for a gentleman. born in china, the boy had, with his mother, followed his naval father to many of the principal ports of the world. both his father and mother had devoted all their spare time to his education, and thus he was well informed in many branches of which the average boy knows little or nothing. he loved the sea and everything connected with it. from his babyhood he had played with and sailed boats. now there was no better sailor in key west than he, nor one more at home among the reefs of those southern waters. he knew the secrets of boat-building from keel to truck, and from stem to stern, while his favorite employment was the whittling out of models, the drawing of sail plans, and the designing of yachts. but nobody wanted yachts in key west, nor did its sailors care to have improved models for their fishing-boats or sponge-vessels. so sumner was considered a dreamer, and people said he ought to be doing something besides whittling and idling about home. the boy thought so himself, but what to do and how to set about it were problems the attempted solution of which caused him many an unhappy hour. on the perfect winter day that he had come home in such a despairing frame of mind, his own life had just been presented in vivid contrast to that of another boy who seemed to have the very things that sumner most longed for. he had been down to the wharf to see the _olivette_, the west indian fast mail-steamer from tampa, come in. there he had been particularly attracted by a boy somewhat younger than himself, standing with a gentleman, whom sumner supposed to be his father, on the after-deck. as the steamer neared the wharf this boy amused himself by flinging silver coins into the water for the fun of seeing little negroes dive after them. "only think, mother!" exclaimed sumner in relating this incident, "he threw money away as i would so many pebbles, and didn't seem to value it any more. just imagine a boy having money to waste like that! and some of those little rascals who dived for it made more in a few minutes than i have to spend in months." "but, sumner," said mrs. rankin, gravely, "i hope your unhappiness does not arise from jealousy of another's prosperity?" "yes, it does, mother," replied the boy, honestly; "though it isn't only because he could throw money away; it is because he has the very thing that i would rather have than anything else in the world--the prettiest, daintiest, cedar sailing canoe that ever was built. i never saw one before, but i've read of them, and studied their plans until i know all about them. she is as different from my old canvas thing as a scow is from a yacht." "but you thought your canvas canoe very nearly perfect when you built her." "i know i did, but i have learned better since then, and now it seems as though i should never care to look at it again." yet this same despised canvas canoe, which sumner had built himself the year before without ever having seen one, had been considered both by himself and his friends a masterpiece of naval construction, and he had cruised in her ever since with great satisfaction. "you have yet to learn, dear, that it is ever so much harder to be satisfied with the things we have than to obtain those for which we long, no matter how far beyond our reach they may seem," said mrs. rankin, gently. "i suppose it is, mother, and i know it is horrid to come to you with my miserable complainings; but i wish i had never seen those canoes--for there were two of them just alike--and i wish wealthy people wouldn't come to key west with such things. they don't do us any good, and only make us feel our poverty the more keenly. why, there they are now! turning in here too! what can they want with us, i wonder? i won't see them at any rate. i've no more use for wealthy snobs than they have for me." so saying, sumner left the room by a rear door, and the steps of the approaching visitors sounded on the front veranda. chapter ii. three canoes, and the fate of one. as sumner's mother opened the door, she saw that the gentleman who, politely lifting his hat, asked if she were mrs. rankin, was too young to be the father of the boy by his side. "may i introduce myself as mr. tracy manton, of new york?" he said, when she had answered his question in the affirmative; "and my nephew, master worth manton? we have called to see if we can engage rooms here for a week or so. we will take our meals at the hotel; but we have two canoes that we propose fitting out here for a cruise up the reef, and we want to find a place close to the water where we can keep them in safety, and at the same time be near them. mr. merrill advised us to come here, and it looks as though this were exactly the place of which we are in search. so if you can accommodate us we shall esteem it a great favor." with the remembrance of sumner's last words, mrs. rankin hesitated a moment before replying; whereupon mr. manton added: "i trust you are not going to refuse us, for i have set my heart on coming here, and will gladly pay full hotel rates for the accommodation." "if my vacant rooms suit you i shall be pleased to let you have them at my regular rate, which is all they are worth," answered the widow, quietly, as she reflected on the poverty which would not allow even a mother's feelings to interfere with honorable bread-winning. "will you step in and look at them?" "we are in luck, my boy, and our little expedition has begun most prosperously," said mr. tracy manton an hour later, as he and his nephew sat in one of the two pretty back-rooms that they had engaged, surrounded by their belongings, and looking out on the sparkling waters of the gulf. on the grass of the palm-shaded back yard, and in plain sight from the windows, lay the two canoes that had so excited sumner's admiration and envy. they were indeed beauties as they lay there divested of their burlap wrappings, and that they were fresh from the builder's hands was shown by their unscratched varnish and gleaming metal fittings. they were fifteen feet long by thirty inches wide amidships, were provided with folding metal centre-boards, metal drop-rudders, foot-and-hand steering gear, water-tight compartments fore and aft, and were decked, with the exception of their roomy cockpits. these were surrounded by stout oak coamings three inches high, sharp-pointed, and flaring outward at the forward ends, but cut down so as to be flush with the deck aft. beside them lay the confused mass of paddles, sails, spars, canoe tents, rubber aprons, cushions, and cordage, that completed their equipment. they were simply perfect in every detail, and the most beautiful things sumner rankin had ever set his eyes upon. at least he thought so, as, returning from a long tramp on which he had tried to walk off his unhappiness, he found them lying in the yard. in spite of his surprise at seeing them there, and a return of his unwelcome feeling of envy, he could not help stopping to admire them and study their details. "hello!" exclaimed mr. manton, again looking from his window. "there's a chap down there staring his eyes out at our boats. i shouldn't wonder if he were our landlady's son--the one, you know, we were advised to engage as a guide. you wait here while i run down and find out." so worth waited and watched from the window to note the result of his uncle's negotiations. at a first glance one would have said that worth manton was an effeminate boy, with a pale face, blue eyes, and fair hair. if, however, the observer looked long enough to note the square chin, the occasional compression of the thin lips, and flash of the eyes, he might form a different opinion. he was the son of guy manton, the great wall street operator who had made a fortune out of western railroads, and he had all his life been accustomed to lavish luxury. he was rather delicate, and it was largely on his account that his parents had decided to spend a winter at st. augustine. the boy had taken but slight interest in the gayeties of the ponce de leon, nor had he gained any benefit from the chill rain-storms driven in from the ocean by the east winds of midwinter. the doctor had advised his going farther south; and when his uncle tracy proposed that they make a canoe trip up the great florida reef, which lies off the most southerly coast of the united states, worth had eagerly seconded the proposition, and had finally won the reluctant consent of his parents. he knew nothing of canoeing, nor did his uncle know much more; but the latter was a good yachtsman, and worth had had some experience of the same kind, so they felt confident they could manage. they intended to devote some time to studying their craft, and learning their possibilities in the waters about key west; so two canoes, completely equipped, were ordered from the builder by telegraph. worth's father promised to charter a yacht, sail down the coast in it, and meet them at cape florida about the first of april, and the two would-be canoemen started for key west full of pleasant anticipations. sumner rankin started at being asked if that were his name, for he had not heard mr. manton's step on the grass behind him, and answered rather curtly that it was. "well," said the young man, plunging into business at once, as was his habit, "i have been told that you are a first-class sailor, as well as a good reef pilot. my nephew and i are going to cruise up the reef, and i should like to engage your services as boatman and guide. i am willing to pay--" "it makes no difference what you are willing to pay," interrupted sumner, with flushed cheeks and flashing eyes. "my services as boatman are not for hire at any price." with this assertion of his pride, or, as he imagined, of his independence, the boy turned and walked into the house. "whew!" whistled mr. manton, gazing after the retreating form in amazement. "there's a bit of dynamite for you! pride and poverty mixed in equal parts do make a most powerful explosive. however, i haven't forgotten my own days of poverty, and can fully appreciate the boy's feelings. i'll try him on a different tack as soon as this little squall has blown over. he and his mother must be different from the majority of the people down here, for they are the first we have met who don't seem to want to make money out of us." mr. tracy manton had no idea of giving up his purpose of engaging sumner to accompany them on their trip, for he was the kind of a man who wins his way by sticking to whatever plan he has decided upon, in which respect his nephew worth strongly resembled him. so the next time he met the lad, which was in the afternoon of the following day, he held out his hand and said: "i beg your pardon for my unintentional rudeness of yesterday, and my forgetfulness of the fact that a gentleman is such, no matter where he is found. now, i want you to forgive me, forget my offence, and do me a favor. i can't make head or tail of our sails, and they don't seem to me right somehow. if you will come and look at them i shall be greatly obliged." by this time sumner was so heartily ashamed of his conduct of the day before that he was only too glad to accept this overture of friendship, and a few minutes later the two were busily discussing the sails of the _cupid_ and _psyche_, as the mantons' canoes were named. the spars were much heavier than they need be, while the sails were of the ill-shaped, unserviceable pattern generally furnished by canoe builders, and these defects were quickly detected by sumner's experienced eye. when he pointed them out to mr. manton, the latter readily comprehended them, but was at a loss how to make the improvements that were evidently demanded. in order to explain more thoroughly the idea that he wished to convey, sumner dragged out his own canvas canoe, stepped her masts, and hoisted her sails. they were of a most ingenious and effective lateen pattern, such as mr. manton had never before seen. "where did you get hold of that idea?" he asked, after studying them carefully a few moments. "it is a capital one." "i got it partly from an arab dhow that i once saw off madagascar, and partly from the feluccas at civita vecchia." "madagascar and the mediterranean!" repeated mr. manton, in astonishment. "if you have visited both of those places you must have travelled extensively." "yes," answered sumner, quietly, but with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "the son of a naval officer who attempts to follow his father about the world is apt to see a good bit of it before he gets through." mr. manton, who had known nothing of sumner's history, no longer wondered that he had been offended at being taken for a boatman whose services could be hired. he was, however, too wise to make further mention of the subject, and merely said, "then you have had a splendid chance to study sails." and again turning to the subject under consideration, he asked, "would you be willing to help us cut out some for our canoes after your models?" sumner answered that he would not only be willing but glad to lend every aid in his power towards properly equipping the two canoes for their trip. in the mean time the sun had set, and the sky was black with an approaching squall that caused them to watch with some uneasiness for worth's return. he had gone out in one of the canoes, an hour before, for a paddle, and had not since been seen. just as the storm broke he appeared around a point and headed towards the little landing-place near which they were standing. as his course lay directly in the teeth of the wind, his struggle was long and hard. they watched him anxiously, and more than once sumner offered to go to the boy's assistance; but his uncle said he wished worth to learn self-reliance more than anything else, and this was too good a lesson to be spoiled. finally the young paddler conquered, and, reaching the landing-place in safety, sprang ashore. he was either too exhausted or too careless to properly secure his canoe, and as he stepped from it a spiteful gust of wind struck it full on the side. in another moment it was beyond reach and drifting rapidly out to sea. both the mantons were confused by the suddenness of the mishap. before they could form any plan for the recovery of the runaway, sumner had shoved his own canvas canoe into the water, jumped aboard, and was dashing away in pursuit of the truant. he was almost within reach of his prize, and his tiny sail was almost indistinguishable amid the blackness of the squall, when the watchers on shore were horrified to see another and much larger sail come rushing down, dead before the wind, directly towards it. then the tiny canoe sail disappeared; and as the larger one seemed to sweep over the spot where it had been, the mantons gazed at each other with faces that betokened the dread they dared not put into words. chapter iii. sumner receives a second offer. for a few minutes sumner rankin's peril was most imminent. he was almost within reach of the drifting canoe, which he had been watching too closely to take note of any other object, when he became conscious of the clumsy, wood-laden schooner rushing down on him before the squall. she was manned by a crew of two negroes, and by the manner in which she yawed, heading one moment this way and the next another, he saw that they had but little control of her movements. in vain did he shout to them to lookout. his voice was lost in the shriek of the wind, and they did not hear him. he tried to cross their bows, and might have succeeded in so doing, but at that moment their main-sail gybed over with a crash, and the heavy craft, looking as large as a man-of-war in comparison with his cockle-shell, headed directly for him. with the next send of the sea the canvas canoe was crushed beneath the ponderous bows, and blotted from existence as though it had been a drifting leaf. [illustration: "with the next send of the sea the canvas canoe was crushed beneath the ponderous bows."] as sumner saw the black mass towering above him, and before it could descend, he rose to his feet, and taking a straight header, dived deep into the angry waters. when he again came to the surface he was swimming in the foaming wake of the schooner, and drifting down towards him from the windward was the beautiful cedar canoe which was the cause of all the trouble, and which he had passed in his effort to save his own from destruction. a few strokes took him to her, and with a feeling of devout thankfulness he clutched her gunwale. worth manton, or any other inexperienced canoeman, would have attempted to climb up over the bow or stern, and, sitting astride the slippery deck, to work his way into the cockpit. such an attempt would have been almost certain to roll the light craft over and fill her with water, in which case she would become wholly unmanageable. but sumner knew better than to do such a thing. he had practised capsizing so often in his crank canvas canoe that to get into this comparatively broad-beamed and stable craft was the easiest kind of a performance. seizing hold of the coaming directly amidship, he placed his left hand on the side of the cockpit nearest him, and reaching far over, grasped the other side with his right. then kicking in the water behind him until his body lay nearly flat on its surface, and bearing as much weight as possible on his right hand, he drew himself squarely across the cockpit, and in another moment was seated in it, without having shipped a drop of water over the coaming. there was no paddle in the canoe, and though she rode the waves like a cork, she was entirely at the mercy of the wind and tide. although the squall was passing, the darkness of night was rapidly shutting out all familiar objects, and sumner was on the point of resigning himself to a night of aimless drifting, with an interesting uncertainty as to when he should be picked up, when a distant shout, that sounded exceedingly like his own name, was borne to his ears. he sent back an answering cry, the shout was repeated, and a few minutes later the shadowy form of the _psyche_, with mr. manton wielding a double-bladed paddle, shot out of the darkness. "i never was so glad to find any one in my life!" exclaimed the new-comer. "we were afraid that clumsy schooner had run you down. i tell you what, boy, the last ten minutes have been the most anxious i ever passed, and i wouldn't go through with them again for all the canoes in the world. but what has become of your own boat?" "she has gone to the bottom, like many a good ship before her," replied sumner; "and it wasn't the fault of those lubbers on the schooner that i didn't go with her. have you an extra paddle with you?" "no; i neglected to bring one, and i shall have to take you in tow." they had already drifted down past the fort that commands the harbor from the south-west point of the island, and as they could not hope to make their way back against wind and tide, they were compelled to work in behind it, and make a landing on the south beach a mile or more from where they started. here mr. manton remained in charge of the canoes, while sumner ran home to announce his own safety, obtain a change of clothing and another paddle. he found his mother and worth in a terrible state of anxiety concerning him; but he made so light of his recent adventure that it was not until after the canoes were brought safely back, an hour later, that they learned the full extent of his recent peril. this incident seemed to cement a firm friendship between sumner and the mantons, and while the former stubbornly refused to accept the recompense for his lost canoe that mr. manton tried to force upon him, declaring that it was only his own carelessness in not keeping a sharper lookout, the latter made up his mind that, in spite of his pride, the boy must and should be rewarded in some way for what he had done. the following week was busily and happily spent in making new sails for the two canoes, rerigging them, and in teaching worth how to manage his. it struck sumner as a little curious that, even after the new sails were made, mr. manton was always too busy to go out on these practice trips with his nephew, and invariably asked him to take the _psyche_ and act as instructor in his place. of course he could not refuse to do this, nor did he have the slightest inclination to do so; for what boy who loved boats would not have jumped at the chance of sailing that dainty craft? how sumner did appreciate her speed and seaworthy qualities! he raced with every sponger and fisherman in the harbor, and caused their eyes to open with amazement at the ease with which he beat them. how fond he became of the canoe that bore him to so many victories! how, with all his heart, he did wish he were going in her on the cruise up the reef, for which such extensive preparations were being made! much as he wished this, however, he was very careful not to express the wish to any person except his mother, to whom he always confided all his hopes, fears, and plans. after his refusal of mr. manton's offer to accompany them as guide, he would not for anything have let that gentleman know how eagerly he longed to have the offer repeated in such form that his pride would allow him to accept it. still, as he had no canoe now, it would be impossible for him to go, and there was no use in thinking of it. so he tried to make the most of his present opportunities, and gain all the pleasure that they held. nor did he neglect worth, but instructed him so thoroughly in the art of canoe-handling, that at the end of a week the boy was as much at home in his canoe as he had ever been on a yacht. one day, as the two beautiful craft, with their perfect setting lateen-sails, were glancing in and out among the anchored sponge fleet on the north side of the island, like white-winged sea-birds, a young sponger, named rust norris, called out from one of the boats, "say, sumner, come here a minute, will yer?" as the latter sailed alongside and asked what he wanted, the sponger answered: "i want to try that fancy trick of yourn. let me take her a few minutes, will yer?" "no," replied sumner; "i can't, because she isn't mine to lend. besides, as you are not accustomed to this style of craft, you couldn't sail her, anyhow; and you'd upset before you had gone a length." "oh, i would, would i? well, i'll bet i can sail anything you can, or any other landlubber that thinks he knows it all because his daddy belonged to the navy." then, as sumner, with a flushed face, but disdaining any reply, sheered off and sailed away, he added, "i'd jest naturally hate myself if i was as mean as you be, sumner rankin, and i won't forget your disobligingness in a hurry, neither!" in the mean time mr. manton had studied sumner's character carefully, and the more he did so the more he was pleased with the boy. he found him to be proud and high-tempered, but also manly, straightforward, and honest to a fault, as well as prompt to act in emergencies, self-reliant, and a thorough sailor. in the course of several conversations with the boy's mother he learned much of sumner's past history and of his dreams for the future. to her he finally confided a plan, formed on the day that sumner saved worth's canoe at the expense of his own, and after some discussion won her assent to it. it was nothing more nor less than that sumner should take his place on the proposed cruise up the reef, and act the part of guide, companion, and friend to the younger canoeman. "i shall not for a second time be guilty of the mistake of trying to hire you to take this cruise," said mr. manton, smiling, as he unfolded this plan to sumner; "but i ask you to do it as a favor to both me and worth. indeed, it will be a great favor to me," he added, hastily, as he saw an expression of doubt on the lad's face; "for i really ought to be in new york at this very minute, attending to some important business, which i was only willing to neglect in case worth could not take this trip without me. now, however, i am confident that he will be safer with you than he would be with me alone, and if you will take my canoe and accompany him to cape florida, where i shall try to meet you about the first of april, you will place me under an obligation. will you do it?" chapter iv. teaching a thief a lesson. was there ever such a chance to do the very thing he most longed to do offered a boy before? sumner did not believe there ever had been, and with a quick glance at his mother's smiling face, in which he read her assent to the plan, he answered: "i don't know how to thank you, sir, for making me such a splendid offer, and not only will i gladly accept it, but i promise to do everything in my power to make worth have a good time, and see that no harm befalls him. but i wish you were going too. i hate to think of taking your place and depriving you of all the pleasure of the trip." "my dear boy," replied mr. manton, "you must not look at it in that way, for, as i said before, you will be doing me a real favor in taking my place. i am more of a yachtsman than a canoeman anyway, and i look forward with fully as much pleasure to cruising down the indian river from st. augustine in the yacht that my brother proposes to charter, and meeting you at cape florida, as i should to running up the reef in a canoe. there is one more thing, however. i must insist upon your sailing your own canoe, for i make it a rule never to lend my boats to any one, and you will have enough responsibility in looking after worth, without having the added one of caring for another person's canoe. so, from this moment, the _psyche_, and all that she contains, is yours." "oh, mr. manton!" "that will do. not another word," laughed the young man. "i am as obstinate as a mule when i have once made up my mind to a thing, and so there is nothing for you to do but take the canoe, and make the best use you can of her." sumner's protests against this generosity were but feeble ones, and were quickly disposed of by mr. manton, who simply refused to listen to them. he cut them short by saying, "now that this matter is settled, and everything is in readiness for a start, i propose that you get off in the morning, for i want to take to-morrow night's steamer for tampa." that night, after everybody had gone to bed and the house was still, sumner lay wide awake, thinking over the good-fortune that had befallen him. at length he could not resist the temptation of getting up, partly dressing himself, and slipping out for a look at his canoe, his very own! the most beautiful craft he had ever seen, and such a one as in his wildest dreams he had never hoped to possess. the two canoes had been drawn up on the grass not far from the water's edge, and covered with some bits of old canvas. although it was a moonlit night, the moon was occasionally obscured by drifting clouds, and when sumner left the house everything was in shadow from this cause. he moved very quietly, for he did not wish any one to know of the weakness that led him to look at something with which he was already familiar, merely because it had acquired the new interest of possession. to his amazement, when he reached the place where the canoes had been left, he could find but one of them. in vain did he lift the canvas that had covered them both, and look hurriedly about the little yard. one of them was certainly gone, and no trace of it remained. as the boy stood irresolute, wondering what he ought to do, he was startled by a slight splash in the water. at the same moment the cloud passed from the face of the moon, and by the light thus afforded sumner saw the figure of a man seated in the missing canoe, and cautiously paddling from the shore. without an instant's hesitation he slid the remaining canoe over the grass and into the water, sprang into it, seized a paddle, and started in pursuit. of course the paddler in the first canoe might be one of the mantons, but sumner did not believe it was either of them. he thought it more than likely that the stranger was some one who only desired to try the canoe, but it might be a thief. at any rate, the boy determined to discover who he was, and what he meant by his stealthy performance before they were many minutes older. the stranger did not realize that he was pursued until sumner had shoved off from shore, and was urging his own craft forward with vigorous strokes of his double-bladed paddle. when, by a glance over his shoulder, he discovered this, he redoubled his efforts to escape, and by his clumsy splashings proved himself a novice in the art of paddling. still he made fair headway, and it was not until they were several hundred yards from shore that sumner overtook him. here was anchored an immense mooring-buoy, with a round, slightly conical top, having in its centre a great iron ring. it did not rise more than a foot from the surface of the water, and in trying to watch sumner, the occupant of the leading canoe did not notice it until his light craft struck it a glancing blow, and very nearly upset. the next instant an effort to recover his equilibrium had precipitated the fellow into the water, and as sumner shot past him he was wildly clutching at the buoy, with desperate efforts to gain its upper surface. satisfied that he could not drown so long as he clung to the buoy, sumner first picked up the drifting canoe. with it in tow he returned to the buoy on which the recent fugitive was now sitting, clinging tightly to the iron ring, and presenting a comical picture of misery. "don't leave me here, sumner!" he cried, in an imploring tone, in which the boy at once recognized the voice of rust morris. "i didn't mean no harm. i only just wanted to try the trick, and i meant to put her back again where i found her. honest i did!" [illustration: "he returned to the buoy, on which the recent fugitive was now sitting."] "well, i don't know," replied sumner, who could not help laughing at the other's plight, in spite of his anger at him for taking the canoe without leave, and his suspicion that it would not have been returned so promptly as rust claimed it would. "you look quite as comfortable as you deserve to be; besides, you will have a nice quiet chance out here to learn the lesson that it is better to leave other people's property alone than to take it without permission. so, on the whole, i think i will leave you where you are for a while. i did think of having you arrested for stealing, but i guess this will do just as well." thus saying, the boy began to paddle towards shore, and at the same time rust changed his pleading tone to one of bitter invective, uttering loud threats of what he would make sumner suffer in the future. without paying any attention to these, the young canoeman continued on his way to the shore. from there he watched until he saw the dim form of a fishing-boat come silently drifting down the harbor with the tide. as she neared the spot where he knew the buoy with its unwilling occupant to be, he heard shouts, saw the boat alter her course, and stop for a minute. as she again proceeded, and he was satisfied that his prisoner had been rescued, sumner again went to bed, this time to sleep soundly until morning. when he related this adventure at breakfast-time, mr. manton said he had served the rascal right; but mrs. rankin was fearful lest some future mischief should come of it. at this sumner laughed, and said he thought the lesson would teach rust norris to let his things alone in the future, also that he was not afraid of anything the young sponger could do anyhow. the morning was spent in loading the canoes and in making final preparations for the start. by noon all was in readiness, and after a hasty lunch the two young canoemates stepped aboard their dainty craft. then, amid a waving of handkerchiefs and a chorus of hearty good-byes from the group of spectators assembled to see them off, they hoisted sail, and bore away on the first reach of what was to prove one of the most eventful and exciting cruises ever undertaken up the florida reef. [illustration: the "cupid" and "psyche" start on their cruise.] chapter v. the great florida reef. the great florida reef, up which our young canoemates had just started on their adventurous cruise, is about miles long. it extends from cape florida, on the atlantic coast, completely around the southern end of the peninsula, and far out into the gulf of mexico on the west. the island of key west lies some miles off the main-land, and about the same distance from the dry tortugas, which group of little coral islets forms the western extremity of the reef. between key west, on which is a city of the same name containing nearly , inhabitants, who live farther south than any one else in the united states, and cape florida, miles east and north, a multitude of little keys or islands, covered to the water's edge with a dense growth of mangroves and other tropical trees and shrubs, stretch in a continuous line. between these keys[a] and the main-land lies a vast shallow expanse of water known as the bay of florida. outside of them is the narrow and navigable hawk channel, running along their entire length, and bounded on its seaward side by the almost unbroken wall of the outer reef. this rarely rises above the surface, and on it the busy coral insects pursue their ceaseless toil of rock-building. beyond the reef, between it and the island of cuba, eighty miles away, pours the mighty flood of the gulf stream. [a] the word "key" is a corruption of the spanish _cayo_ or island. thus key west was originally "cayo hueso," or bone island, so called from the quantity of human bones found on it by the first white settlers. for nearly years these peaceful looking keys, with their bewildering net-work of channels, kept open by the rushing tide-currents, and coral reefs were the chosen resorts of pirates and wreckers, both of whom reaped rich rewards from the unfortunate vessels that fell into their hands. now the pirates have disappeared, and the business of the wreckers has been largely taken from them by the establishment of a range of light-houses along the outer reef, at intervals of twenty to thirty miles. the first of these is on loggerhead key, the outermost of the tortugas. then comes rebecca shoal, half-way between loggerhead and sand key light, which is just off key west. from here the lights in order up the reef are american shoal, sombrero, alligator, carysfort, and fowey rocks, off cape florida. with this chain of flashing beacons to warn mariners of the presence of the dreaded reef, the palmy days of wreckers and beach-combers have passed away, and they must content themselves with what they can make out of the occasional vessels that are still drawn in to the reef by the powerful currents ever setting towards it. consequently most of those who would otherwise be wreckers have turned their attention to sponging in the waters behind the keys, which form one of the great sponge-fields of the world, or to the raising of pineapples and cocoanuts on such of the islands as afford sufficient soil for this purpose. there are four ways by which one may sail up the reef. the first is outside in the gulf stream, or by "way of the gulf;" the second is between the reef and the keys, through the hawk channel; the third is through the narrow and intricate channels among the keys, or "inside," as the spongers say; and the fourth is the "bay way," or through the shoal waters behind the keys. of all these, the third, or inside way, was the one chosen by sumner as being the most protected from wind and seas, the most picturesque, the one affording the most frequent opportunities for landing, the most interesting, and in every way best adapted to canoes drawing but a few inches of water. as the _psyche_ and _cupid_ are running easily along the north shore of the key before a light southerly breeze, there is time to take a look at the "duffle" with which they are laden. in the first place, each has two lateen-sails, the long yards of which are hoisted on short masts rising but a few feet from the deck. these sails can be hoisted, lowered, or quickly reefed by the canoeman from where he sits. the two halves of the double-bladed paddles are held in metal clips on deck, on either side of the cockpit. also on deck, securely fastened, is a small folding anchor, the light but strong five-fathom cable of which runs through a ring at the bow, and back to a cleat just inside the forward end of the coaming. on the floor of each canoe is folded a small tent made of gay-striped awning-cloth, and provided with mosquito-nettings at the openings. above these are laid the pair of heavy mackinaw blankets and the rubber poncho that each carries. these, which will be shelter and bedding at night, answer for seats while sailing. under the deck, at one side of each cockpit, hangs a double-barrelled shot-gun; and on the other side are half a dozen tiny lockers, in which are stowed a few simple medicines, fishing tackle, matches, an alcohol lamp (flamme forcé), loaded shells for the guns, etc. in the after-stowage lockers are extra clothing and toilet articles. the _psyche_ carries the mess-chest, containing a limited supply of table-ware, sugar, coffee, tea, baking-powder, salt, pepper, etc., and a light axe, both of which are stowed at the forward end of the cockpit. the _cupid_ carries in the same place a two-gallon water-keg and a small, but well-furnished tool chest. the provisions, of which bacon, flour, oatmeal, sea-biscuit, a few cans of baked beans and brown bread, dried apples, syrup, cocoa, condensed milk, corn-meal, rice, and hominy form the staples, and the few necessary cooking utensils, which are made to fit within one another, are evenly divided between the two canoes and stowed under the forward hatches. by sumner's advice, many things that the mantons brought with them have been left behind, and everything taken along has been reduced to its smallest possible compass. besides the shot-gun that mr. manton had given him as part of the _psyche's_ outfit, sumner was armed with a revolver that had been his father's. late in the afternoon they passed the eastern point of the island of key west, and crossing a broad open space, in the shoal waters of which, but for sumner's intimate knowledge of the place, even their light canoes would have run aground a dozen times, they approached the cocoanut groves of boca chica, a large key on which they proposed to make their first camp. the western sky was in a glory of flame as they hauled their craft ashore, and from the tinted waters myriads of fish were leaping in all directions, as though intoxicated by the splendor of the scene. "we will catch some of those fine fellows a little later," said sumner, as they began to unload their canoes and carry the things to the spot they had already chosen for a camp. "but it will be dark," protested worth. "so much the better. it's ever so much easier to catch fish in the dark than by daylight." there was plenty of drift-wood on the beach, and in a few minutes the merry blaze of their camp-fire was leaping from a pile of it. while waiting for it to burn down to a bed of coals, each of them drove a couple of stout stakes, and pitched their canoe tents near a clump of tall palms, just back of the fire, looped up the side openings, and spread their blankets beneath them. "now let's fly round and get supper," cried sumner, "for i am as hungry as a kingfish. you put the coffee water on to boil, while i cut some slices of bacon, worth, and then i'll scramble some eggs, too, for we might as well eat them while they are fresh." with his back turned to the fire, the former did not notice what worth was doing, until a hissing sound, accompanied by a cry of dismay, caused him to look round. "i never saw such a miserable kettle as that!" exclaimed worth. "just look; it has fallen all to pieces." for a moment sumner could not imagine what had caused such a catastrophe. then he exclaimed: "i do believe you must have set the kettle on the coals before you put the water into it." "of course i did," answered worth, "so as to let it get hot. and the minute i began to pour water into it, it went all to pieces." "experience comes high," said sumner, "especially when it costs us the loss of our best kettle; but we've got to have it at any price, and i don't believe you'll ever set a kettle on the fire again without first putting water or some other liquid inside of it." "no, i don't believe i will," answered worth, ruefully, "if that is what happens." in spite of this mishap, the supper was successfully cooked, thanks to sumner's culinary knowledge, and by the time it was over and the dishes had been washed, he pronounced it dark enough to go fishing. first he cut a quantity of slivers from a piece of pitch-pine drift-wood, then, having emptied one of the canoes of its contents, he invited worth to enter it with him. "but we haven't a single fish-line ready," protested worth. "oh yes, we have," laughed sumner, lighting one end of the bundle of pine slivers, and giving it to worth to hold. "you just sit still and hold that. you'll find out what sort of a fish-line it is in a minute." then he paddled the canoe very gently a few rods off shore, at the same time bearing down on one gunwale until it was even with the surface of the water. "look out, here they come!" he shouted. [illustration: torch-fishing for mullet.] chapter vi. pineapples and sponges. the next instant worth uttered a startled cry and very nearly dropped his torch, as a mullet, leaping from the water, struck him on the side of the head, and fell flapping into the canoe. "never mind a little thing like that," cried sumner. "hold your torch a trifle lower. that's the kind!" now the mullet came thick and fast, attracted to the bright light like moths to a candle-flame. they leaped into the canoe and over it, they fell on its decks and flopped off into the water, they struck the two boys until they felt as though they were being pelted with wet snowballs; and at length one of them, hitting the torch, knocked it from worth's hand, so that it fell hissing into the water. the effect of this sudden extinguishing of the light was startling. in an instant the fish ceased to jump, and disappeared, while the recent noisy confusion was succeeded by an intense stillness, only broken by an occasional flap from one of the victims to curiosity that had fallen into the canoe. "well, that is the easiest way of fishing i ever heard of," remarked worth, as they stepped ashore, and turning the canoe over, spilled out fifty or more fine mullet. a dozen of them were cleaned, rubbed with salt, and put away for breakfast. then the tired canoemates turned in for their first night's sleep in camp. sumner's eyes were quickly closed, but worth found his surroundings so novel that for a long time he lay dreamily awake watching the play of moonlight on the rippling water, listening to the splash of jumping fish, the music of little waves on the shell-strewn beach, and the ceaseless rustle of the great palm leaves above him. at length his wakefulness merged into dreams, and when he next opened his eyes it was broad daylight, the sun had just risen, and sumner was building a fire. "hurrah, worth! tumble out of bed and tumble into the water," he called at that moment. "there's just time for a dip in the briny before this fire'll be ready for those fish." suiting his actions to his words, he began pulling off his clothes, and a minute later the two boys were diving into the cool water like a couple of frisky young porpoises. oatmeal and syrup, fresh mullet, bread-and-butter (which they had brought from home), and coffee, formed a breakfast that sumner declared fit for a railroad king. the sun was not more than an hour high before they were again under way, this time working hard at their paddles, as the breeze had not yet sprung up. having left their first camp behind them, they felt that their long cruise had indeed begun in earnest. for the next three days they threaded their way, under sail or paddle, among such numberless keys and through such a maze of narrow channels, that it seemed to worth as though they were entangled in a labyrinth from which they would never be able to extricate themselves. whenever a long sand-spit or reef shot out from the north side of one key, a similar obstruction was certain to be found on the south end of the next one. thus their course was a perpetual zigzag, and a fair wind on one stretch would be dead ahead on the next. now they slid through channels so narrow that the dense mangroves on either side brushed their decks, and then they would be confronted by a coral reef that seemed to extend unbrokenly in both directions as far as the eye could reach. worth would make up his mind that there was nothing to do but get out and drag the canoes over it, when suddenly the _psyche_, which was always in the lead, would dash directly at the obstacle, and skim through one of the narrow cuts with which all these reefs abound. for a long time it was a mystery to worth how sumner always kept in the channel without hesitating or stopping to take soundings. finally he discovered that it was by carefully noting the color of the water. he learned that white water meant shoals, that of a reddish tinge indicated sand-bars or reefs, black water showed rocks or grassy patches, and that the channels assumed varying shades of green, according to their depth. they camped with negro charcoal-burners on one key, and visited an extensive pineapple patch on another. having heard this fruit spoken of as growing on trees, worth was amazed to find it borne on plants with long prickly leaves that reached but little above his knees. the plants stood so close together, and their leaves were so interlaced, that he did not see how any one ever walked among them to cut the single fruit borne at the head of each one; and when he tried it, stepping high to avoid the bayonet-like leaves, his wonder that any human being could traverse the patch was redoubled. "i would just as soon try to walk through a field covered with cactus plants," he said. "so would i," laughed sumner, "if i had to walk as you do. in a pineapple patch you must never lift your feet, but always shuffle along. in that way you force the prickly leaves before you, and move with their grain instead of against it." although the crop would not be ready for cutting much before may, they found here and there a lusciously ripe yellow "pine," and after eating one of these, worth declared that he had never before known what a pineapple was. he did not wonder that they tasted so different here and in new york, when he learned that for shipment north they must be cut at least two weeks before they are ripe, while they are hard and comparatively juiceless. at the end of three days an outgoing tide, rushing like a mill-race, swept the canoes through the green expanse of "the grasses," that looked like a vast submerged meadow, and into the open waters of the bahia honda, or, as the reef-men say, the "bay o' hundy." here they first saw spongers at work, and devoted an entire day to studying their operations. worth had always supposed that sponges were dived for, but now he learned his mistake. he found that in those waters they are torn from the bottom and drawn to the surface by iron rakes with long curved teeth attached to slender handles from twenty to thirty feet in length. the sponging craft are small sloops or schooners, each of which tows from two to six boats behind it. when a sponge bed is discovered, two men go out in each of these boats. one of them sculls it gently along, while the other leans over the gunwale with a water-glass in his hands, and carefully examines the bottom as he is moved slowly over it. the water-glass is a common wooden bucket having a glass bottom. this is held over the side of the boat so that its bottom is a few inches below the surface of the water, or beyond the disturbing influence of ripples. with his head in this bucket, the sponger gazes intently down until he sees the round black object that he wants. then he calls out to the sculler to stop the boat, and with the long-handled rake that lies by his side secures the prize. it is black and slimy, and full of animal matter that quickly dies, and decomposes with a most disgusting odor. to this the spongers become so accustomed that they do not mind it in the least, and fail to understand why all strangers take such pains to sail to windward of their boats. when the deck of a sponge boat is piled high with this unsavory spoil of the sea, she is headed towards the nearest key on which her crew have established a crawl, [b] and her cargo is tossed into it. the crawl is a square pen of stakes built in the shallow water of some sheltered bay, and in it the sponges lie until their animal matter is so decomposed that it will readily separate from them. then they are stirred with poles or trodden by the feet of the spongers until they are free from it, when they are taken from the crawl, and spread on a beach to dry and whiten in the sun. when a full cargo has been obtained, they are strung in bunches, and taken to key west to be sold by the pound at auction. there they are trimmed, bleached again, pressed into bales, and finally shipped to new york. [b] crawl is a corruption of corral, meaning a yard or pen. sponges are of many grades, of which the sheep's wool is the finest, and the great loggerheads the most worthless. as spongers can only work in water that is smooth, or nearly so, half their time is spent in idleness; and though they receive large prices for what they catch, the average of their wages is low. one hot afternoon at the end of a week found our canoemates half-way up the reef, and approaching a key called lignum vitæ, which is for several reasons one of the most remarkable of all the keys. it is a large island lifted higher above the surface of the water than any of the other keys, and it contains in its centre a small fresh-water lake. it is covered with an almost impenetrable forest growth, and concealed by this are ancient stone walls, of which no one knows the origin or date. sumner had told worth so much concerning this key as to arouse his curiosity, and they both looked forward with interest to reaching it. all day they had seen it looming before them, and when they finally dropped sail close beside it, worth proposed that they take advantage of the remaining daylight to make a short exploration before unloading their canoes and pitching camp. to this sumner agreed, and as they could not drag the laden boats up over the rocky beach, they decided to anchor them out and wade ashore. so the _psyche's_ anchor was flung out into the channel, the _cupid_ was made fast to her, and a light line from its stern was carried ashore and tied to a tree. then, taking their guns with them, the boys plunged into the forest. when, an hour later, they returned from their exploration, bringing with them a brace of ducks and half a dozen doves that they had shot, they gazed about them in bewildered dismay. the canoes were not where they had left them, nor could any trace of them be discovered. [illustration: "the canoes are gone!"] chapter vii. mysterious disappearance of the canoes. "the canoes are gone!" cried worth. "it looks like it," replied sumner, in an equally dismayed tone. "are you sure this is where we left them?" "yes; sure. there is the stern line that we made fast to the _cupid_, or what is left of it." sure enough, there was a portion of the light line still fast to the tree, and as sumner pulled it in, both boys bent over to examine it. it had been broken, and not cut. from its length it must also have been broken close to the canoe. "oh, sumner, what shall we do?" asked worth, in a tone of such despair that the former at once realized the necessity of some immediate action to divert his comrade's thoughts. "do?" he cried. "there's plenty to do. first, we'll go down to that point and take a look to seaward; for, as the tide is running out, they are more likely to have gone in that direction than any other. it would be a comfort even to catch a glimpse of them. then, perhaps, they have only drifted away, and are stranded on some bar near by. besides looking for the canoes, we must build some kind of a shelter for the night, cook supper, and discuss our plans for the future. oh yes, we've plenty to do!" while he spoke, the boys were making their way to the point in question, and when they reached it, they eagerly scanned every foot of water in sight. diagonally to the right from where they stood stretched the long reach of lower metacumba, desolate and uninhabited as they knew. almost directly in front, but several miles away, rose the palm-crowned rocks of indian key, with its two or three old shed-like buildings in plain view. these had been used and abandoned years before by the builders of alligator light, the slender tower of which they could see rising from the distant waters above the outer reef. diagonally on the left was the tiny green form of tea table key, and dimly beyond it they could make out the coast of upper metacumba, which sumner said was inhabited. in all this far-reaching view, however, there were no signs of the missing canoes. "i'm glad of it!" said sumner, after his long searching gaze had failed to reveal them. "it would be rough to have them in sight but out of reach." already the sun was sinking behind the tree-tops of lower metacumba, fish were leaping in the placid waters, and a few pelican were soaring with steady poise above them. every now and then these would swoop swiftly down, with a heavy splash that generally sealed the fate of one or more mullet off which the great birds were making their evening meal. a flock of black cormorants, uttering harsh cries, flew overhead with a rushing sound, returning from a day's fishing to their roosts in the distant everglades. with these exceptions, and the faint boom of the surf on the outer reef, all was silence and desertion. besides the light-house tower there was no sign of human life, not even the distant glimmer of a sail. while the boys still looked longingly for some trace of their canoes, the sunset, and a red flash, followed at short intervals by two white ones, shot out from the vanishing form of alligator light. "come!" cried sumner, heedful of this warning. "night is almost here, and we have too much to do in every precious minute of twilight to be standing idle. i'll take the bucket and run to the pond for water, while you cut all the palmetto leaves you possibly can, and carry them to the place where we landed." "the bucket?" repeated worth, looking about him inquiringly. "where are you going to find it?" without answering, sumner sprang down the rocks to the water's edge, where he had noticed a stranded bamboo, and quickly cut out a short section of it with the hatchet that he had thrust into his belt before leaving the canoes. as he made the cuts just below two of the joints, his section was a hollow cylinder, open at one end, but having a tight bottom and capable of holding several quarts of water. with this he plunged into the forest in the direction of the pond, handing worth the hatchet as he passed, and bidding him be spry with his palmetto leaves. a few minutes later, as sumner emerged from the trees, carrying his full water-bucket, and breathless with his haste, he indistinctly saw the form of some animal at the very place where they had left their guns and birds. as the boy dashed forward, uttering a loud cry, the alarmed animal scuttled off into the bushes. "oh, you vil-li-an!" gasped sumner as he reached the place, "i'll settle with you to-morrow, see if i don't." four of the doves had disappeared, and the head was torn from one of the ducks. "what is it?" cried worth, in alarm, as he entered the clearing from the opposite side, staggering beneath an immense load of cabbage-palm leaves. "a rascally thieving 'coon," answered sumner, "and he has got away with the best part of our provisions, too; but i'll get even with him yet. now give me the hatchet, and then pick up all the drift-wood you can find, while i build a house." worth would gladly have helped erect the house, as sumner called it, for he was very curious as to what sort of a structure could be built of leaves, but he realized the necessity of doing as he was bidden, and at once set to work gathering wood. sumner, after carefully propping his water-bucket between two rocks, so as to insure the safety of its contents, began cutting a number of slender saplings, and turning them into poles. the stoutest of these he bound with withes to two trees that stood about six feet apart. he fastened it to their trunks as high as he could reach. then he bound one end of the longer poles to it, allowing them to slant to the ground behind. crosswise of these, and about a foot apart, he tied a number of still more slender poles, and over these laid the broad leaves. he would have tied these securely in place if he had had time. as he had not, for it was quite dark before he finished even this rude shelter, he was forced to leave them so, and hope that a wind would not arise during the night. for himself alone he would not have built any shelter, but would have found a comfortable resting-place under a tree. knowing, however, that worth had never in his life slept without a roof of some kind above him, he thought it best to provide one, and thereby relieve their situation of a portion of the terror with which the city-bred boy was inclined to regard it. it was curious and interesting to note how a sense of responsibility, and the care of one younger and much more helpless than himself, was developing sumner's character. already the selfishness to which he was inclined had very nearly disappeared, while almost every thought was for the comfort and happiness of his companion. worth, accustomed to being cared for and having every wish gratified, hardly appreciated this as yet; but the emergencies of their situation were teaching him valuable lessons of prompt obedience and self-reliance that he could have gained in no other way. as sumner finished his rude lean-to, and placed the guns within its shelter for protection from the heavy night dews, worth came up from the beach with his last load of drift-wood. it was now completely dark, and the notes of chuck-wills-widows were mingling with the "whoo, whoo, whoo ah-h!" of a great hoot owl in the forest behind them. "now for a fire and some supper," cried sumner, cheerily. "you've got some matches, haven't you?" "i don't believe i have," replied worth, anxiously feeling in his pockets. "i thought you must have some." "no, i haven't a sign of one!" exclaimed sumner, and an accent of hopelessness was for the first time allowed to enter his voice. "they are all aboard the canoes, and without a fire we are in a pretty pickle sure enough. i wonder how hungry we'll get before we make up our minds to eat raw duck? this is worse than losing the canoes. i declare i don't know what to do." "couldn't we somehow make a fire with a gun? seems to me i have read of something of that kind," suggested worth. "of course we can!" shouted sumner, springing to his feet. "what a gump i was not to think of it! if we collect a lot of dry stuff and shoot into it, there is bound to be a spark or two that we can capture and coax into a flame." so, with infinite pains, they felt around in the dark until they had collected a considerable pile of dry leaves, sticks, and other rubbish that they imagined would easily take fire. then, throwing a loaded shell into a barrel of his gun, and placing the muzzle close to the collected kindlings, sumner pulled the trigger. there was a blinding flash, a loud report that rolled far and wide through the heavy night air, and the heap of rubbish was blown into space. not a leaf remained to show where it had been, and not the faintest spark relieved the darkness that instantly shut in more dense than ever. "one cartridge spent in buying experience," remarked sumner, as soon as he discovered the attempt to be a failure. "now we'll try another. if you will kindly collect another pile of kindling, i'll prepare some fireworks on a different plan." thus saying, he spread his handkerchief on the ground, cut off the crimping of another shell with his pocket-knife, carefully extracted the shot and half the powder, and confined the remainder in the bottom of the shell with one of the wads. then he moistened the powder that he had taken out, and rubbed it thoroughly into the handkerchief, which he placed in the second pile of sticks and leaves that worth had by this time gathered. a shot taken at this with the lightly charged blank cartridge produced the desired effect. five minutes later the cheerful blaze of a crackling fire illumined the scene, and banished a cloud of anxiety from the minds of the young castaways. chapter viii. life on the lonely island. the influence of a brisk wood-fire on a dark night is remarkable. not only does it give freely of its heat and light, but gloom and despair are banished by its ruddy glow, while cheerfulness and hope spring forward as if by magic to occupy their vacant places. at least, this was the effect of the cheery blaze our canoemates had at length succeeded in coaxing into life, and though it had cost them two of their half-dozen cartridges, they felt that these had been well expended. their prospects had looked dismal enough when they had been compelled to contemplate an existence without a fire; but with it to aid them, they felt equal to almost any emergency, and they turned to the preparing of their ducks for supper with renewed energy. surely fire is well worthy of being classed with air and water as one of the things most necessary to human life and happiness. now that they had time to think of it, the boys were very hungry, for since an early breakfast they had eaten but a light lunch of crackers and jam. so they barely waited to assure themselves that their fire was going to burn, before the feathers from their ducks were flying in all directions. when the birds were plucked and cleaned, two sharpened sticks were thrust through their bodies. these were rested on one rock, with another above them to hold them in place, so that the ducks were lifted but a few inches above a great bed of glowing coals. then the hungry lads sat down to watch them, and never, to their impatient belief, had two fowls taken so long to roast before. they began testing their condition by sticking the points of their knives into them long before there was a chance of their being done. at length sumner declared that he was going to eat his even if it were still raw, and the half-cooked ducks were placed on two broad palm leaves that served at once as tables and plates. "my! but isn't this fowl tough!" exclaimed worth, as he struggled with his share of the feast. "sole-leather and rubber are nothing to it." "yes," replied sumner; "ten-ounce army duck would be easier eating than this fellow. i wish we could have stewed them with rice, a few bits of pork, a slice or two of onion, and a seasoning of pepper and salt. how do you think that would go?" "please don't mention such things," said worth, working at a drumstick with teeth and both hands. "ducks ought always to be parboiled before roasting," remarked sumner, wisely. "i believe this fellow would be like eggs," replied worth; "the more you boiled him the harder he would get." however, hunger and young teeth can accomplish wonders, so it was not very long before two little heaps of cleanly-picked bones marked all that was left of the ducks, and though they could easily have eaten more, the boys wisely decided to reserve the doves for breakfast. although the darkness rendered it a difficult task, sumner managed to cut a few armfuls more of palmetto leaves. these, shredded from their heavy stalks and spread thickly over the floor of the lean-to, made a couch decidedly more comfortable than a bed on the bare ground would have been. they could do nothing more that night, and lying there in the firelight they had the first opportunity since discovering the loss of their canoes to thoroughly discuss the situation. "what would our mothers say if they could see us now, and know the fix we are in?" queried worth, after a meditative silence. "i'm awfully glad they can't know anything about it," replied sumner. "but i wish some one could know, so that they could send a boat for us. i am sure that we don't want to stay on this island for the rest of our lives." "of course not, and i don't propose to, even if no boat comes here." "what do you propose to do?" inquired worth, leaning on his elbow, and gazing at his companion with eager interest. "well, in the first place, i propose to explore this key thoroughly to-morrow, and see if any traces of the canoes are to be found, as well as what it will afford in the way of food and lumber. then, if we don't find the canoes, and no boat comes along, i propose to build some kind of a raft, on which we can float over to indian key. while boats rarely pass this way, some are certain to pass within a short distance of it almost every day. so from there we would have little difficulty in getting taken off." "well," said worth, regarding his companion admiringly, "i'm sure i couldn't build a raft with only a hatchet, and i'm awfully glad that i'm not here all alone. what can possibly have become of our canoes, anyway?" "i'm sure i can't imagine," replied sumner, "unless some one stole them, and i don't know of any one on the reef mean enough to do that. besides, we haven't seen a sail all day, nor a sign of a human being. they couldn't have gone adrift, either--at least, i don't see how they could. so, on the whole, it's a conundrum that i give up. you'd better believe that i feel badly enough, though, over losing _psyche_. that worries me a great deal more than how we are going to get away from here, for i never expect to own another such beauty as she is. but there's no use crying over what can't be helped, so let's go to sleep, and prepare for a fresh start to-morrow. whenever you wake during the night you want to get up and throw a fresh stick on the fire, and i will do the same, for we can't afford to let it go out." "all right," said worth. "but, sumner, there aren't any wild beasts or snakes on this key, are there?" "i don't believe there are any snakes," was the reply, "while there certainly aren't any animals larger than 'coons, and they won't hurt any one. no, indeed, there is nothing to be afraid of here, and you may be as free from anxiety on that score as though you were in your own room in new york city. more so," he added, with a laugh; "for there you might have burglars, while here there is no chance of them. i only wish there was; for burglars in this part of the country would have to come in boats, and we might persuade them to take us off the key. now go to sleep, old man, and pleasant dreams to you." "good-night," answered worth, and closing his eyes, the boy made a resolute effort to sleep. somehow he found it harder to do so now than it had been on his first night of camping out. the loss of the canoes seemed to have removed an element of safety on which he had depended, and to have suddenly placed him at an infinite distance beyond civilization, with all its protections. it was so awful to be imprisoned on this lonely isle, in those far-away southern seas. he wondered what his father and mother and uncle tracy were doing, and if there was a dance at the ponce de leon that night, and what his school-fellows in new york would say if they knew of his situation. he wondered and thought of these and a thousand other things, until finally he, too, fell asleep, and the silence of the lonely little camp was unbroken save by the voice of the great hoot owl, who called at regular intervals, "whoo, whoo, whoo-ah!" it still wanted an hour or so of moonrise, when the waning firelight half disclosed a human figure that emerged from the woods behind the lean-to, and stealthily crouched in the black shadow beside it. for some moments it remained motionless, listening to the regular breathing of the boys. then it moved noiselessly forward on hands and knees. suddenly worth awoke, and sprang into a sitting posture. at the same time he uttered a startled cry, at the sound of which the creeping figure drew quickly back, and disappeared behind the trunk of a tree. "what is it?" asked sumner, who, awakened by worth's cry, was also sitting up. "i don't know," answered the boy, "but i am almost certain that some one was trying to pull my gun away." chapter ix. the nocturnal visitor. for a full minute the boys sat motionless, listening intently for any sound that should betray the presence of the intruder who, worth was positive, had visited their camp. once they both heard a slight rustling in the bushes behind them, and worth, putting his hand on sumner's arm, whispered, breathlessly, "there!--hear that?" "that's nothing," answered sumner. "probably that 'coon has come back to look for the rest of his supper." "but a 'coon wouldn't pull at a gun," insisted worth. "oh, you must have been dreaming," returned sumner. "your gun hasn't disappeared, has it?" [illustration: "some one was trying to pull my gun away."] "no, but i am sure i felt it move. i threw my arm across it before i went to sleep, and its moving woke me. i felt it move once after i was awake, as though some one were trying to pull it away very gently. then i sat up and called out, 'who's there?' but there wasn't any answer, and i didn't hear a sound. but, sumner, there's some one on this island besides ourselves, i know there is, and he'll kill us if he gets the chance. can't we get away somehow--can't we? i shall die of fright if we have to stay here any longer!" "yes, of course we can," answered sumner, soothingly, "and we'll set about it as soon as daylight comes. until then we'll keep a sharp lookout, though i can't believe there is a human being on the key besides ourselves. we surely would have seen some traces of him." as the boy finished speaking he went outside and threw some more wood on the fire. in another minute a bright blaze had driven back the shadows from a wide circle about the little hut, and rendered it impossible for any one to approach without discovery. then the canoemates sat with their precious guns in their hands, and talked in low tones until the moon rose above the trees behind them, flooding the whole scene with a light almost as bright as that of day. by this time worth's conversation began to grow unintelligible; his head sank lower and lower, until at length he slipped down from his sitting position fast asleep. then sumner thought he might as well lie down, and in another minute he, too, was in the land of dreams. worth was very restless, and occasionally talked in his sleep, which is probably the reason why the dark form still crouching in the shadows behind the camp did not again venture to approach it. it was broad daylight, and the sun was an hour high, when the boys next awoke, wondering whether their fright of the night before had been a reality or only a dream. under the fear-dispelling influence of the sunlight even worth was inclined to think it might have been the latter, while sumner was sure of it. after replenishing their fire, they went down to the beach in the hope of seeing a sail, and for their morning plunge in the clear water. there was nothing in sight; but while they were bathing, sumner discovered a fine bunch of oysters. these, roasted in their shells, together with the birds saved from the evening before, made quite a satisfactory breakfast. after eating it, and carefully banking their fire with earth, they set forth to explore the island. as they were most anxious to search for traces of the lost canoes, and had already penetrated the interior as far as the central pond of fresh-water, they decided to follow the coast-line as closely as possible. accordingly, with their loaded guns over their shoulders, they set out along the water's edge. their progress was slow, for in many places the mangroves were so thick that they found great difficulty in forcing a way through them. then, too, they found a quantity of planks, many of which they hauled up, as well as they could, beyond the reach of the tide for future use. while thus engaged, the meridian sun and their appetites indicated the hour of noon before they reached a small grove of cocoanut-trees on the north end of the island, beneath which they decided to rest. sumner climbed one of the tall, smooth trunks, and cutting off a great bunch of nuts, in all stages of ripeness, let it fall to the ground with a crash. as he was about to descend, his eye was arrested by something that instantly occupied his earnest attention. it was only the stem of another bunch of nuts; but it had been cut, and that so recently that drops of fresh sap were still oozing from it. from his elevated perch he could also see where other bunches had been cut from trees near by, and he slid to the ground in a very reflective frame of mind. he could not bear, however, to arouse worth's fears by communicating his suspicions until he had reduced them to a certainty. the nuts might have been taken by some passing sponger, though he did not believe they had been. so he said nothing of his discovery while they lunched off of cocoanuts, ripe and partially so, and took refreshing draughts of their milk. he did, however, keep a sharp lookout, and finally spied what resembled a dim trail leading through the bushes behind them towards the interior. finally, on the pretext that he might get a shot at some doves, and asking worth to remain where he was for a few minutes, sumner entered the bushes, determined to discover the mystery, if that trail would lead him to it. he had not gone more than a hundred yards when his foot was caught by a low vine, and he plunged head first into a thick ty-ti bush. he fell with a great crash, and made such a noise in extricating himself from the thorny embrace that he did not hear a quick rush and a rustling of the undergrowth but a short distance from him. what he did hear, though, a minute after he regained his footing, was a startled cry, and the roar of worth's gun. then came a succession of yells, mingled with cries of murder, and such shouts for help, coupled with his own name, that for a moment he was paralyzed with bewilderment and a sickening fear. then he bounded back down the dim trail, just in time to see worth throw down his gun and rush towards the struggling figure of a negro. the latter was rolling on the ground at the foot of a cocoanut-tree, and uttering the most piercing yells. [illustration: "the latter was rolling on the ground at the foot of a cocoanut-tree."] as worth became aware of sumner's presence, he turned with a white, frightened face, exclaiming: "oh, sumner, what shall i do? i've killed him, and he is dying before my very eyes! of course i didn't mean to, but he came on me so suddenly that i fired before i had time to think. the whole charge must have gone right through his body, judging from the agony he is in. what shall i do? oh, what shall i do?" "well, he isn't dead yet, at all events," said sumner. "perhaps, if he will keep still for a minute and stop his yelling, we can find out where he is hurt and do something for him." with this he attempted to catch hold of the struggling figure at his feet; but the negro rolled away from him, crying: "don't tech me, marse summer! don't yo' tech me! i's shot full o' holes, an' i's gwine ter die. oh lordy! oh lordy! sich pain as i's a-suff'rin'! an' i didn't kill nobody, nuther. i didn't nebber do no harm. an' now i's full ob holes. oh lordy! oh lordy!" "why, it's quorum!" exclaimed sumner, mentioning the name of one of the best cooks known to the key west sponging fleet. sumner had sailed with him, and knew him well. about a month before, the captain of the schooner on which he was employed had been found dead in his bunk. quorum was accused of poisoning him for the sake of a sum of money that the captain was known to have had, but which could not now be found. the cook had been arrested, and an attempt was made to lynch him for the alleged crime. he had, however, succeeded in escaping, and had disappeared from the island. that no active search was made for him was because the money was found concealed in the captain's bunk, and it was proved that heart-disease was the cause of his death. at length the negro, exhausted by his struggles, lay still, though groaning so heavily that worth imagined him to be dying, and sumner, bending over him, searched for the fatal wound. his face became more and more perplexed as the examination proceeded, until finally, in a vastly relieved tone, he exclaimed: "you good-for-nothing old rascal! what do you mean by frightening us so? there isn't a scratch anywhere about you. come, get up and explain yourself." "don't yo' trifle wif a ole man what's dyin', marse summer," said quorum, interrupting his groans and sitting up. "you are no more dying than i am," laughed sumner, who was only too glad to be able to laugh after his recent anxiety. "i don't know what worth, here, fired at, or what he hit; but it was certainly not you." "didn't i, really?" cried worth. "oh, i'm so glad! i don't know what possessed me to fire, anyhow; but when he came dashing out of the woods right towards me, my gun seemed to go off of its own accord." "yo' say i hain't hit nowheres, marse summer?" asked the negro, doubtfully; "an' not eben hurted?" "no," laughed sumner, "not even 'hurted.' you know, quorum, that i wouldn't hurt you for anything. i like your corn fritters and conch soup too much for that." "why for yo' a-huntin' de ole man, den?" "hunting you? we're not hunting you. what put such an idea into your head?" "kase ebberbody er huntin' him, an' er tryin' ter kill him for de murder what he nebber done." "of course you didn't do it. captain rube died of heart-disease. everybody knows that now." "what yo' say?" cried the negro, springing to his feet, his face radiant with joy. "he die ob he own sef, an' ebberybody know hit, an' dey hain't er huntin' ole quor'm any mo'? glory be to de lawd! glory be to de lawd! an' bress yo' honey face, marse summer, for de good news! de pore ole niggah been scare' 'mos' to def ebber sence he skip up de reef in a ole leaky skiff, what done got wrack on dis yer key. now he free man, he hole he head up an' go cookin' agin. bress de lawd! bress de lawd!" chapter x. whose are they? and where did they come from? "look here," said sumner, sternly, to the negro, after his excitement had somewhat subsided, "didn't you try to steal one of our guns last night?" "yes, honey, i's afeared i did," confessed the black man, humbly. "but i didn't know hit war you, marse summer, an' i did want er gun so powerful bad." "i'm glad that mystery is cleared up, at any rate," said worth, with a relieved air. "and i'm glad to find out that i was right about some one being in the camp, too. now i wonder if he doesn't know something about our canoes?" "do you, quorum, know anything about the canoes that we came here in?" asked sumner. "no, i don't know nuffin' 'bout no cooner. i's bin wonderin' what sort of er boat you'll come in, an' er lookin' fer him, but i don't see him nowhere." "i suppose you would have stolen it if you had found it?" "maybe so, maybe so. ole quor'm not 'sponsible fer what him do when he bein' hunted like er 'possum or er 'coon. yo' like 'possum when he roasted, marse summer?" "indeed i do when you roast him, quorum. why? have you got one?" "yes sah, cotch him in er trap dis berry mawnin'. i jist settin' hit agin when yo' come er trompin' troo de trees an' scare de pore ole niggah 'mos' to def. now, if yo' say so, we go roas' him, and hab berry fine suppah." "certainly i say so. you lead the way, and we'll follow you. i tell you what, worth, we've struck it rich in falling in with one of the best cooks on the reef." "i don't know how i shall like 'possum," replied worth, "for i have never eaten any; but i am sure it will make fully as good a meal as raw cocoanut. i do wish, though, that we had some bread, or at least some crackers, and a little butter." "and sugar and coffee and bacon, and a cooking outfit," laughed sumner. "i wouldn't mind spending a few days here if we had all those things." "wouldn't it be fine?" replied the boy, who had all his life revelled in luxuries that he hardly cared for, but would now have appreciated so highly the commonest of what are generally regarded as necessities. as they talked in this strain, they followed the negro through the narrow trail leading back from the cocoanut grove to his camp. it was but a short distance from the place where sumner had taken his header into the ty-ti bush. here quorum had built himself a snug palmetto hut in a place capitally concealed from observation, and had managed to surround himself with a number of rude comforts. a fire was smouldering in a rough stone fireplace, and from an adjoining limb hung the 'possum that they were to have for supper. "well," exclaimed sumner, looking about him, "i don't see but what you are living like an african king, quorum. have you had plenty to eat since you came here?" "yes, sah. plenty such as hit is--'possum, 'coon, turtle, fish, oyster, conch, cocoanut, banana, limes, lemons, an' paw-paw; but no terbakker. i tell yo', sah, dat a berry pore place what hab no terbakker." "so you want tobacco to make you happy, and worth wants bread and butter, and i want coffee. it seems that we all want something that we haven't got, and aren't likely to get in this world, doesn't it? but, quorum, what on earth are you throwing all that iron into the fire for? it won't burn." "no, him won't burn," answered the negro, chuckling at the idea, "but him good to bile de wattah." as neither of the boys had the least idea what he meant, they watched him curiously. the iron that he had thrown into the fire, which he now heaped with wood, consisted of a number of old bolts that he had obtained from some wreckage on the beach. while these were heating, he filled a small hollow place in the rocks with water, and when the bolts were red-hot he dropped them into it. in about two seconds the water was boiling. throwing a few handfuls of ashes into the boiling water, he soused the 'possum in it and held him there several minutes. after this he scraped the animal with a bit of iron hoop, and to the surprise of the boys, its hair came off almost without an effort. in a minute it was as bare as a suckling pig, which it greatly resembled. shortly afterwards it was cleaned, washed, and ready for roasting. just here sumner proposed that they return to their own camp, and do the roasting there, as from where they now were they had no chance of seeing any boats that might pass the island. as quorum no longer felt the necessity for hiding, he readily agreed to this, and carrying with them the few articles belonging to him that were worth removing, they started through the woods towards what the boys already called home. the afternoon was nearly spent when they entered the clearing and came in sight of their own little lean-to. sumner, who was some distance in the lead, was the first to reach it. the others saw him suddenly stop, gaze at the hut as though fascinated by something inside of it, and then, without a word, start on a run towards the beach. this curious action excited worth's wonder; but when he reached the hut he did exactly the same thing. when quorum, who came last, reached it, he gazed in open-eyed wonder, but did not move from the spot. a smile gradually overspread his face, and, with a long-drawn sigh of happy anticipation, he uttered the single word, "terbakker." "do you see it?" asked worth, breathlessly, as he joined sumner on the beach. "no; but perhaps it is behind the point. let's go and take a look." but when they reached the point there was no sign of the vessel that they fully expected to find there. more greatly puzzled than they had ever been before in all their lives, even at the mysterious disappearance of their canoes, the boys slowly retraced their steps towards the hut. it was completely filled with barrels, boxes, and various packages, most of which evidently contained provisions. "there is a sack of coffee," remarked sumner. "and a box of crackers. and, yes, here is butter!" cried worth, lifting the cover of a tin pail. "dat ar am sholy a box ob terbakker," put in quorum, pointing to the unmistakable box, from which his eyes had not wandered since they first lit upon it. "it certainly is," replied sumner, in a voice expressive of the most unbounded amazement. "and there, if my eyes do not deceive me, are cases of milk, canned fruit, baked beans, and brown bread." "hams and bacon," added worth. "kittles and pans," said quorum. "in fact," concluded sumner, "there is a bountiful supply of provisions for several months, and a complete house-keeping outfit into the bargain. there is no doubt as to what these things are. the only unanswered questions are, whom do they belong to, and how did they get here?" [illustration: a great discovery.] "perhaps whoever stole our canoes has left them here in part payment," suggested worth. "you might just as well say that elijah's ravens had brought them," laughed sumner. "marse summer, sah, 'scuse me, but do hit 'pear to yo' like hit would be stealin' to bang de kiver offen dat ar box, an' let de ole man hab jes one smell ob dat terbakker?" asked quorum, humbly. "no, quorum, under the circumstances i don't believe it would," replied the boy, who forthwith proceeded to attack the box in question with his hatchet. chapter xi. sumner drifts away on a raft. the display of layer upon layer of black plug tobacco such as quorum had been accustomed to using for longer than he could remember caused the negro's eyes to glisten as though they saw so many ingots of pure gold. for more than two weeks he had longed unavailingly for a fragment of the precious weed. now to have an unlimited quantity of it placed before him so very mysteriously and unexpectedly seemed to him the climax of everything most desirable and best worth living for. he sniffed at it eagerly, inhaling its fragrance with long, deep breaths. then, producing a stubby black pipe from some hidden recess of his tattered clothing, he asked, pleadingly, for "jes one lilly smoke." "after supper," said sumner. "get supper ready first, and then you shall smoke as much as you want to." at this quorum's countenance fell, and seating himself on the ground, he remarked, stubbornly: "no, sah. ole quor'm do no cookin' wifout him hab a smoke fust. no smoke, no cookin', no cookin', no suppah. why yo' no gib one plug ob terbakker fur dat 'possum, eh? him monstrous fine 'possum, but i willin' to sell him fur jes one lilly plug ob terbakker. yo' can't buy him so cheap nowhar else, specially on dis yer oncibilized niggly wity key." "but it is not my tobacco," laughed sumner, greatly amused at the old man's attitude and arguments. "who he b'long to, den?" demanded quorum, quickly. "i'm sure i don't know," answered the boy. "den he yourn. you fin' him. you keep him. hit all de same like er wrack. yo' catch him, nobody else want him, yo' keep him. jes one lilly smoke, marse summer--jes one; den de ole man go to cookin' de berry bestes yo' ebber seen. come, marse summer, jes one; dat's a honey-bug." there was no resisting this pleading appeal, and cutting off enough for a single pipeful from one of the plugs, sumner handed it to the negro, saying: "well, then, if you must have it, take that, and hurry up with supper the very minute you have finished your smoke. i never was so hungry in my life, while worth begins to look dangerously like a cannibal. come, worth, we must fly round, and build another palmetto shanty before dark. at this rate we'll have a town here before long." two hours of hard work found a second hut, much more pretentious than the first, nicely roofed in. by this time the sun was setting, and what was of infinitely more importance to the young canoemates, quorum announced that supper was ready. and what a feast he had prepared! had there ever been one half so good before? in the opinion, of the boys, there certainly had not. quorum had felt no scruples about helping himself to the provisions so liberally provided, and if the boys had noticed what he was doing, they had not possessed the moral courage to interfere. as a result, he had baked the 'possum stuffed with cracker-crumbs, bits of pork and onions cut up fine, and well seasoned with salt and pepper, in a dutch-oven. the oven had been set on a bed of coals, and a fire of light-wood knots built on its heavy iron lid. the 'possum had been surrounded with sweet-potatoes, and both were done to a brown crisp. then there was coffee, with sugar and condensed milk, toasted hardtack with butter, and bananas for dessert. "talk about eating!" said sumner. "or delmonico's!" added worth. as quorum sat and watched them, a broad grin of happiness overspread his features, while wreaths of blue smoke curled gently upward above his woolly head. his pipe was again full, and he now had possession of an entire plug of tobacco, for which he felt profoundly grateful to some unknown benefactor. among other things in the hut, which the boys now called the storehouse, they had discovered a bale of blankets. these they did not hesitate to appropriate to their own use, and as they lay stretched on them, under their new roof, blinking sleepily at the fire, their comfort and happiness seemed almost to have attained perfection. "except for our canoes," said sumner. "if we only had them, i, for one, should be perfectly happy; and to-morrow i am going to make preparations for finding them." "how?" asked worth; and for an hour or so they talked over their plans for the future. the intervals between their remarks became longer and longer, until finally, when worth asked, "whom do you suppose all those provisions belong to, anyway, sumner?" the latter answered: "give it up. i'm too sleepy to guess any more riddles to-night." the boys slept almost without moving until sunrise; but quorum was frequently aroused to repel the invasions of certain 'coons that, but for his watchfulness, would have made free with the contents of the storehouse. he also had to protect the fire against a heavy shower that came on towards morning; and on each of these occasions he rewarded himself with a few whiffs of smoke from his black pipe. the next morning the two boys, leaving quorum to devise traps for the capture of the 'coons and prepare dinner, started out to collect some of the planks they had seen the day before. with these sumner proposed to build a raft on which they could drift over to indian key with that afternoon's ebb-tide. once there, he anticipated no difficulty in hailing some passing craft that could be chartered to search for their canoes, and carry them back to key west in case the search proved fruitless. [illustration: quorum is happy.] as the channel from lignum vitæ, through which the strongest tide-currents flowed, led directly past indian key and close to it, this plan seemed feasible. by noon the boys had towed around to the cove in front of their camp two heavy squared timbers and a number of boards. these they lashed together in the form of a rude raft. they had no nails, and but a limited supply of line for lashing, so that the raft was by no means so strong as they could wish. neither was it very buoyant, the material of which it was built being yellow pine, already somewhat water-soaked and floating very low. to their dismay, when it was completed, the boys found that instead of supporting three persons, as they hoped it would, it was awash and unsafe with but two of them on board. "there's only one thing to be done," said sumner, when this state of affairs became evident, "and that is for me to go alone. when i get hold of a craft of some kind, i can bring her here after you two; and if i don't find one, it will be an easy matter for me to come back on a flood-tide." "but, sumner, it seems awful for you to go 'way off there alone on such a crazy raft at this. do you think it is absolutely necessary?" "yes," answered the other, whose mind was now intent only upon recovering his beautiful canoe, "i do think it is necessary for one of us to go. we can't stay here forever, living off of some unknown person's provisions. besides, supposing those canoes should be wrecked and discovered in that condition, and the report that we were lost should reach key west, how do you think our mothers would feel? yes, indeed, it is necessary that i should go, and i mean to start the minute the tide serves." neither worth nor quorum could move sumner from this determination, and it was with heavy hearts that they watched him, about four o'clock in the afternoon, step aboard the raft and shove out into the current, that had just begun to run ebb. he was provided with a long pole and a small box of provisions, the latter being placed in the middle of the raft. its movement was at first heavy and sluggish, but as soon as it felt the influence of the current, it was borne along with comparative speed. thus a few minutes served to take the solitary voyager beyond earshot of his companions. for some time he could see them waving their hats, but at length their forms faded from his sight, and he realized that he was beyond reach of their assistance in case his undertaking should fail. now that he could no longer note the speed with which he had left the island, his progress seemed irritatingly slow. the channel was very crooked, and his clumsy craft frequently grounded on the projecting sand-bars at its many turns. in each case valuable time was lost in pushing it off and getting it again started. from this cause his rate of progress was so slow that indian key was still some distance ahead when the sun sank from sight in the western waters. now, for the first time, sumner experienced a feeling of uneasiness, and a doubt as to the success of his venture. he strove to add to the speed of his raft by poling, but as the depth of water was generally too great for him to touch bottom, nothing could be accomplished in that way. now he began to notice the numbers of sea-monsters that were going out with the tide and using his channel as their pathway to deeper waters. on all sides were to be seen the triangular fins of huge sharks rising above the surface so close to him that he could have touched them with his pole. he also saw hundreds of sawfish, stingarees, devil-fish with vampire-like wings, the vast bulks of ungainly jew-fish, porpoises, and other evil-looking creatures of great size and phenomenal activity. he shuddered to think what would be his fate if a slip or a mis-step should precipitate him into the water among them. at length their forms were hidden from him by the darkness, and only their splashings and the gleaming trails of their progress through the phosphorescent water denoted their swarming presence. suddenly, while his attention was fixed upon these, he became aware that he was abreast of indian key and passing it. there was a shoal on the opposite side, and plunging his pole into it, he made a mighty effort to direct his raft towards land. all at once, without the slightest warning, the brittle pole snapped, and only by a violent effort did he save himself from plunging into the cruel waters. chapter xii. picked up in the gulf stream. the snapping of that pole marked the bitterest moment of sumner rankin's life. with it went his only hope of navigating his rude craft to the friendly shore of the key, past which he now seemed to be drifting with terrible rapidity. he could make out the dim forms of its trees, and of the deserted buildings, in one of which he had proposed to spend the night. he could even hear the rustle of its palm leaves in the light evening breeze, and the gentle plash of waters on its rocky coast. it was so near that he could easily have swum to it. he thought of making the attempt, but a single glance at the phosphorescent flashes beneath him convinced him of its hopelessness. no, it was safer to remain where he was, even though he should be carried out to sea through one of the numerous channels in the outer reef. supposing his raft should strand on the reef, what chance was there of its holding together until daylight, or even for a few minutes? he knew that if a sea should arise there was none. now indian key was lost to sight behind him, and he was alone, with only his own unhappy thoughts for company. he knew that those waters were seldom traversed by vessels of any description in the night-time, most of the reef sailors preferring to come to anchor at sunset. above him shone the stars, and far ahead gleamed the white and red flashes of alligator light. all else was darkness and utter desolation. the poor lad sat on the box containing his slender store of provisions, and buried his face in his hands. how thankful he was that his mother could not see him now! she was at least spared that sorrow. he wondered what she was doing. then his thoughts turned to those whom he had left but a few hours before. why had he not been content to stay with them, and await patiently the relief that must come to them sooner or later? perhaps even now the mysterious owner of those goods had arrived, and worth was sitting with a merry party beside the fire, while old quorum was preparing supper. no, they must have already eaten supper, and now quorum was blissfully smoking his pipe, while worth was comfortably stretched out on his bed of blankets. oh, what a fool he had been to let a false pride in his own strength and ability get the better of his prudence! he might have known that there were a hundred chances of being swept past the little rocky key to one of successfully landing on it. he had known it, but his obstinate pride in his own superior skill had not allowed him to acknowledge it, and now it was too late. at length, feeling faint from hunger, the poor boy roused himself, and ate a few mouthfuls of food from his provision chest. as he contrasted this meal and its surroundings with the merry supper of the evening before, the wretchedness of his situation was forced upon him more strongly than ever. by this time a breeze that caused little waves to break upon and occasionally wash completely over the raft had sprung up in the south-west, and by the changing position of alligator light, sumner became aware that he was drifting up the reef. the steadily increasing roar of its breakers informed him at the same time that he was approaching closer to it with each moment. finally he was abreast of the light, and a mile or so from it, while the sound of the breakers was all about him. he was on the line of the reef. in a few minutes more he would either have passed into the open sea beyond it, or his ill-built raft would strand and be broken to pieces on its cruel rocks. during the succeeding five minutes he almost held his breath. the strain of the suspense was awful, and the boy hardly knew which fate he dreaded the most. at the end of that time it was decided. the sound of the breakers certainly came from behind him. he had passed out through some channel, and was now on the open sea. at the same time the waves that washed over his raft were larger, so that before long he was thoroughly drenched by them, and sat shivering in the chill night wind. now the strong current of the gulf stream aided the wind to bear him up the reef, and after a few hours the brightness of alligator light was so sensibly diminished that he knew he must be several miles from it. once during the night he saw the light of a steamship passing at no great distance from him; but his frantic cries for help were either unheard or unheeded, for no attention was paid to them. then he began to pray for the daylight that seemed as though it would never come. how wearily the hours dragged and how cold he was! he was wet through, and chilled to the bone. when at length the welcome dawn began to tinge the eastern sky, it found the lad half-lying on the raft, clinging to the lashings of the little provision chest, and lost to consciousness in the sleep of utter exhaustion. in this condition he was discovered by the keen-eyed lookout of a west-bound steamer that was hugging the reef to escape as much as might be the force of the gulf stream. with reversed engines and slackening speed, the great ship passed within a hundred yards of him, but he knew nothing of it. nor did he awake until he heard a gruff, but pitying voice close beside him, saying, "poor fellow, he must be dead!" the next moment two pairs of powerful arms had dragged him into the boat that had been lowered for him, and as he sat up in its bottom rubbing his eyes, he seemed to have just awakened from a hideous nightmare. a few minutes later the boat with its crew had been hoisted to the deck, the steamer was again pursuing her way towards key west, and sumner, wrapped in hot blankets, was occupying a berth in a vacant stateroom, surrounded by the sympathizing faces of those who were anxious to anticipate his every want. he was sound asleep when, half an hour from that time, the steamer neared alligator light, and a small boat was seen pulling off from it so as to intercept her. at the sight of this boat the first officer immediately began to collect such late papers and magazines as the passengers were willing to contribute, and tying them into a package. this he lashed to a bit of wood, which he intended to toss overboard for the light-keeper to pick up. in this way the reef lights are kept supplied with new york papers only three or four days old. the same papers, passing through the mails, do not reach the scattered dwellers on the keys for ten days or two weeks from the date of their publication. as the steamer neared the boat from alligator light its occupant was seen to hold up a small package wrapped in canvas, which was at once understood to contain despatches that he wished to send to key west. so the end of a light line was flung to him, he skilfully made the package fast to it without delaying the ship a moment, and it was hauled aboard. among the letters that it contained was one directed to the editor of the only daily paper in key west, and this was delivered promptly on the steamer's arrival at that port. [illustration: "two pairs of powerful arms dragged him into the boat."] late that afternoon, when mrs. rankin was slowly regaining her composure after the shock of sumner's sudden and unlooked-for appearance at home, and was listening with breathless interest to an account of his recent adventures, a copy of the evening paper was left at the house. sumner was too busy assuring his mother that he was not suffering the slightest ill effect from his exposure of the night before, to look at it then. when, an hour later, he found time to do so, the leading item on the first page at once attracted his attention. it was headed, "a mystery of the reef," and after glancing hastily through it, the boy sprang to his feet, shouting: "hurrah, mother! the disappearance of the canoes is explained at last, and they are safe and sound, after all." chapter xiii. a mystery of the reef. as mrs. rankin came into the room, on hearing sumner's exclamation, he read aloud the article in the daily _equator_ that had so excited him, and which was as follows: "a mystery of the reef. "by the steamship _comal_, which arrived in this port to-day, we receive a curious bit of news from keeper spencer, of alligator light. on the evening of the th, as he was in the lantern of the tower preparing to light the lamp, he noticed two small craft of a most unusual description rapidly approaching from the direction of the keys. one appeared to be in tow of the other, but in neither could a human being be discovered. there were no signs of oars, sails, paddles, or steam, and yet the movement of the boats through the water was at the rate of about ten knots an hour. it was also very erratic, and though their general course was towards the reef, they approached it by a series of zigzags, now taking a sharp sheer to port, and directly another to starboard. as the keeper could not leave the tower at that moment, he directed assistant albury to take the light-house skiff, intercept the craft, if possible, and investigate their character. "with great difficulty, and after an exciting chase, mr. albury succeeded in getting alongside the leading boat of the two, and in making fast to it. it proved to be a decked canoe, of exquisite workmanship and fittings, completely equipped for cruising, bearing the name _psyche_ in silver letters on either bow. the second canoe, which was a counterpart of the first, was named _cupid_. both were in tow of an immense jew-fish, which had succeeded in entangling itself in the cable with which the _psyche_ had evidently been anchored. it is probable that one of the flukes of the anchor caught in the creature's gills, though just how it happened will never be known, as mr. albury, being unable to capture the monster, was obliged to cut the cable and let him go. nothing is known as to the fate of the owners of these canoes, and they are now at the light-house awaiting a claimant. "just as we go to press we learn that early this morning the _comal_ picked up a young man drifting in the gulf, not far from alligator light. we were unable to obtain his name in time for insertion in to-day's paper, but will give it, with full particulars concerning him, in to-morrow's issue. he may be able to throw some light on the mystery of the canoes." "i should rather think he could!" laughed sumner, as he finished reading. "but did you ever hear of such a thing, mother? the idea of a rascally jew-fish running off with our canoes! i never thought of such a thing as that happening. and how wonderfully it has all turned out! i should have looked everywhere for them rather than at alligator light. i should never have dared attempt to navigate the raft that far, either. to think, too, that i should have been picked up by the very steamer that brought the news! how dreadfully you would have felt on reading it, if i hadn't got here first! wouldn't you, mother dear?" "indeed i should, my boy; and i shall never be able to express my gratitude for your wonderful preservation." "but poor worth!" exclaimed sumner. "how i wish he knew all about it, and how awfully anxious he must be! i only hope he won't attempt to go to indian key to look for me before i can get back there. that's something i must see about at once, and i must take the very first boat that goes up the reef. just think how i should feel if anything were to happen to him, when mr. manton placed him in my care, too! if it wasn't for the way things have turned out, i should feel guilty at having left him there. i wouldn't have done it, though, if quorum hadn't been on hand to look after him. he surely will keep him out of harm's way until i can get back." "i hate to think of your going back there again," said mrs. rankin, with a sigh, "though of course it is your duty to do so. but you will be careful, and not run into any more such dreadful perils, won't you, dear?" "yes, mother; i promise not to run into a single peril that i can help, and if i meet one, i will try my best to get out of its way," laughed the boy, whose high spirits had quickly returned with the prospect of recovering his beloved canoe. "well," sighed mrs. rankin, "so long as you must go, i shouldn't be surprised if lieutenant carey would take you in the _transit_. i believe he intends to leave to-morrow morning for a trip up the reef, and to make some kind of a survey in the everglades. he has been staying here for a few days, and is up in his room now." "oh, mother!" cried the boy, springing to his feet, "the everglades! how i should love to go!" "now, sumner--" began mrs. rankin, in a tone of expostulation; but the boy had already left the room, and was on his way up-stairs. lieutenant carey was an old friend, who had served under commander rankin, and had known sumner ever since the boy was twelve years old. he had heard of his unexpected return, and only waited until the first interview between the young canoeman and his mother should be ended before going down to greet him. now he listened to sumner's story with the deepest interest, and when it was ended, he said: "of course i will take you up the reef as far as alligator, my boy, and shall be glad of your company. i only wish you would go with us as far as the main-land, and act as pilot through the keys. they are not charted, you know, and as i have never been through them, i was on the point of engaging a fellow named rust norris as pilot, but i'd much rather have you. what do you say? can't i enlist you in uncle sam's service for a week or so?" "i should like nothing better," answered sumner, "only, you see, i am bound just now to look after worth manton, and take him up the reef to cape florida, where we are due by the first of april." "perhaps we can persuade him to go along too. it won't be much out of your way, and you've lots of time to finish your trip between now and the first of april. i'll risk it anyhow, for i don't like the looks of that fellow norris, and am only too glad of an excuse for not engaging him." "then there is quorum, the cook," added sumner, reflectively. "i wonder what will become of him?" "a cook, do you say? what sort of a cook? a good one?" "one of the best on the reef," replied sumner. "then he is just the man i want to get hold of for our trip. i am only waiting now for a cook, and should start this evening if i had found one to suit me. if you will guarantee him, we'll get away at once, and make the old _transit_ hum up the reef in the hope of capturing him before he makes any other engagement." "there is not much chance for him to make an engagement where he is now," laughed sumner. "and, at any rate, i'm sure he wouldn't leave worth until i get back. i shall be only too glad to start to-night though, for poor worth must be terribly anxious, and the sooner i get to him the better." thus it was settled, and as soon as supper was over, after a loving, lingering farewell from his mother, who repeated over and over again her charges that he should shun all perilous adventures, the boy found himself once more afloat. mrs. rankin had promised to write a long letter to the mantons that very evening, assuring them of worth's safety up to the date of the day before, and being thus relieved from this duty, sumner set forth, with a light heart on his second cruise up the reef. the _transit_ was a comfortable, schooner-rigged sharpie, about sixty feet long, built by the government for the use of the coast survey in shallow southern waters. she had great breadth of beam, and was a stanch sea-boat, though she drew but eighteen inches of water, and lieutenant carey had no hesitation in putting her outside for a night run up the hawk channel. the especial duty now to be undertaken was an exploration of the everglades to ascertain their value as a permanent reservation for the florida seminoles. these indians, hemmed in on all sides by white settlers, were being gradually driven from one field and hunting-ground after another. in consequence they were becoming restive, and the necessity of doing something in the way of assuring them a permanent location had for some time been apparent. thus a survey of the 'glades was finally ordered, and lieutenant carey had been detailed for the duty, with permission to make up such a party to accompany him as he saw fit. his present command on the _transit_ consisted of ensign sloe, and six men forward. it was intended that three of these should be taken into the 'glades, while mr. sloe, with the other three, was to take the sharpie, from the point where the exploring party left her, around to cape florida, and there await their arrival. on the deck of the schooner and towing behind her were three novel craft, in which lieutenant carey intended to conduct his explorations of the swamps and grassy waterways of the interior. one of these was an open bass-wood canoe built in canada, shaped very much like a birch bark, and capable of carrying four men. the others were the odd-looking boats, with bottoms shaped like table-spoons, that are so popular as ducking-boats on the new jersey coast, and are known as barnegat cruisers. one of these was named _terrapin_ and the other _gopher_, while the open canoe bore the seminole name of _hul-la-lah_ (the wind). before a brisk southerly breeze, in spite of the boats dragging behind her, the _transit_ made rapid progress. ere it was time to turn in, key west light was low in the water astern, while that on american shoal shone steady and bright off the starboard bow. the wind held fresh all night, so that by morning both american shoal and sombrero had been passed, and the sharpie was off the western end of lower metacumba, with alligator light flashing out its last gleam in the light of the rising sun. chapter xiv. worth and quorum are missing. as sumner was anxious to reach lignum vitæ by the shortest possible route, the _transit_ was headed in through the channel between lower metacumba and long keys. both tide and wind being with her, the nimble-footed sharpie seemed to fly past the low reefs and sand-spits on either side. now she skimmed by the feeding-grounds of flocks of gray pelicans, whose wise expressions and bald heads gave them the appearance of groups of old men, and then passed an old sponge crawl, or the worm-eaten hull of some ancient wreck, both of which were covered with countless numbers of cormorants, gannets, and gulls. waiting, with outstretched necks and pinions half spread, until the schooner was within a stone's-throw, these would fly with discordant cries of anger, wheel in great circles, and return to the places from which they had been driven the moment the threatened danger had passed. even after the sharpie was well inside the bay, and the island they sought was in sight, they could not lay a direct course towards it on account of a reef several miles in length that presented an effectual barrier to anything larger than a canoe. but one narrow channel cut through it, and this was away to the northward, close under a tiny mangrove key. towards this then they steered, with sumner at the tiller, for he was the only one on board familiar with the intricate navigation of those waters. "you are certain that you are right, sumner?" inquired lieutenant carey, anxiously, as they seemed about to drive headlong on the bar, and an ominous wake of muddy water showed that they were dragging bottom. "certain," answered the boy, quietly. "all right, then; i've nothing to say." inch by inch the great centre-board rose in its trunk, and the slack of its pennant was taken in, as the water rapidly shoaled. now she dragged so heavily that it seemed as though she were about to stop. again the lieutenant looked at sumner, and then cast a significant glance at the man stationed by the fore-sheet. but the boy never hesitated nor betrayed the least nervousness. an instant later the tiller was jammed hard over, there was a sharp order of "trim in!" and, flying almost into the teeth of the wind, the light vessel shot through an opening so narrow that she scraped bottom on both sides, and in another moment was dashing through deep water on the opposite side of the bar. from here the run to lignum vitæ was a long and short leg beat, with numerous shoals to be avoided. in spite of being kept busy with these, sumner found time to note and wonder at a great column of smoke that rose from the island. what could worth and quorum be about? it looked as though they had managed to set the forest on fire. filled with an uneasy apprehension, he jumped into a boat the moment the _transit's_ anchor was dropped in the well-remembered cove, and sculled himself ashore. to his amazement he heard the sound of many voices, and discovered a dozen or so of men hard at work apparently cutting down the forest and burning it. as he stepped ashore, and looked in vain for the familiar figures of his friends, a pleasant-faced young man advanced from where the laborers were at work to meet him. "can you tell me, sir, what has become of a boy named worth manton and an old colored man whom i left here the day before yesterday?" sumner inquired, anxiously. "if you mean the two whom i found camped here, and helping themselves to my provisions, i think i can," answered the young man, with a smile. "they went over to indian key last evening on the boat that brought me here yesterday. they were very anxious concerning the fate of a friend who left them the evening before, and went over there on a raft, i believe they said. can it be that you are the person they are seeking?" "yes, sir, i am." "then you are sumner rankin, and i am very happy to meet you. my name is haines. i have bought this key, and am clearing it, preparatory to having it planted with cocoanuts. the provisions and camp outfit that appeared here so mysteriously to you and your companions belong to me, and were left here by the mail-schooner on her way up the reef. i expected to arrive, with my men, about the same time, but was detained. i am very glad, however, that they came in time to relieve your distress. i am also much obliged to you for affording them a shelter from the rain, without which some of the things would have been injured. now will you pardon my curiosity if i ask how you happen to arrive here in a schooner from that direction when your friends said you had gone the other way, and were confident of finding you on indian key?" [illustration: as he stepped ashore a pleasant-faced young man advanced to meet him.] when sumner had given a brief outline of his recent adventure, mr. haines said: "you certainly have had a most remarkable experience, and i am glad your friends did not know of it, for young manton was worried enough about you as it was. however, you will soon rejoin them, and when you have recovered your canoes, if you feel so inclined, i should be pleased to have you return here as my guests for as long as you choose to stay." sumner thanked him, and said he should be happy to stop there on his return from the main-land. then, begging to be excused, as he was impatient to go in search of his comrades, he jumped into his boat and returned to the _transit_. lieutenant carey was perfectly willing to proceed at once to indian key, but the tide was still running flood, and the breeze, which was each moment becoming lighter, was dead ahead for a run out through the channel. under the circumstances, it would be useless to lift the anchor, and the impatient boy was forced to wait for the tide to turn. when it finally began to run ebb, the breeze had died out so entirely that there was not even the faintest ripple on the water, and another season of waiting was unavoidable. by the lieutenant's invitation mr. haines came off and dined with them. he proved a most charming companion, and laughed heartily at sumner's description of the amazement with which he, worth, and quorum had discovered the mysterious godsend of provisions. mr. haines declared that it was one of the best jokes he had ever known; though he was in doubt as to whether it was on him or on them. he appreciated sumner's impatience to be off, and when, late in the afternoon, a fair breeze sprang up, he made haste to take his leave that their departure might not be delayed. it was nearly sunset when the _transit_ approached indian key so closely that objects the size of a man could be distinguished on it. sumner was again at the helm, and he tried not to neglect his steering; but he could not keep his eyes from scanning anxiously every discernible foot of its surface. to his great disappointment not a soul appeared. "they may be on the other side, keeping a lookout for passing vessels," suggested lieutenant carey. hoping that this might be the case, but still heavy-hearted and anxious, sumner went ashore, accompanied by the lieutenant. for an hour they searched over every foot of the key, and through its deserted buildings, shouting as they went, but their search was in vain. nothing was seen of the lost ones, nor had they left a trace to show that they had ever been on the island. "it's no use," said sumner at length; "they evidently are not here, and must have gone on in the boat that brought them when they failed to find me. now, i don't know of anything to do but to go out to the light-house after the canoes, and then come back here and wait. if worth has gone on up the reef, he must pass here on his way back, while if he has gone the other way, he will hear of me at key west and come back here again. i'm awfully sorry that i can't go with you to the main-land, but i don't see how i possibly can under the circumstances." although the boy tried to speak cheerfully, and to take the brightest possible view of the disappearance of his young comrade, he was filled with anxiety, and it was with a heavy heart that he turned into his berth on board the schooner _transit_ that night. chapter xv. worth and quorum in search of sumner. on the evening that sumner left worth and quorum, and started on his adventurous voyage towards indian key, they watched him until distance and the approaching twilight hid him from their view. quorum was the first to turn away and begin preparations for supper, while worth still remained on the point straining his eyes towards the key, on which he fondly hoped that his friend was safely landed. at length it, too, disappeared in the gathering darkness, and he reluctantly turned his steps towards the camp. he was heavy-hearted, and had but little appetite for the bountiful supper that quorum had so skilfully prepared. noticing this, the old man tried to cheer him, saying: "don't yo' be so down in de mouf, marse worf. dey hain't no 'casion fur worriment. i know marse summer rankin fur a long time, an' i nebber know him in a fix yit what he don't slip outen, de same as er eel. i see him git in er plenty scrapes, but i don't see him git stuck. him all right, and yo' no need to go er frettin' an' er mo'nin'. he be back ter-morrer bright an' smilin'. now eat your suppah, honey, 'kase if yo' don't, ole quor'm t'ink he cookin' no good." in spite of the negro's consoling words, worth's sleep that night was broken, and he started at every sound. towards morning a crash and a smothered cry from the edge of the forest behind the camp caused him to start to his feet in alarm, and wake his companion. although no further sound was heard, the boy was not satisfied until quorum, taking a torch, discovered a thieving 'coon, caught and killed by the dead-fall that he had prepared for it. this was a simple figure = = trap, set under a bit of board that was weighted with a heavy rock. as soon as breakfast was over the next morning, worth returned to his outlook station on the point, and remained there, with his eyes fixed on indian key, for several hours. it was nearly noon when he was startled by a shout from quorum, who called out: "here him comin', honey! here him comin' in er big schooner!" running back to the cove, which was not visible from where he had been sitting, worth saw the schooner at which quorum was gazing so eagerly. she was not more than a mile from them, and was bearing rapidly down towards the island, though from a direction opposite to that in which indian key lay. still that did not dispel their hope that sumner might be on board and coming to their relief. they could see that the schooner's deck was crowded with men, most of whom, as she approached more closely, proved to be negroes. among them worth's keen eyes distinguished, besides the whites composing her crew, one young white man who for a few minutes he was certain must be sumner. as the schooner dropped anchor, and this person was sculled ashore in a small boat by one of the negroes, they saw, to their great disappointment, that he was a stranger. he seemed surprised at seeing them on the key, and still more so when a glance at their camp showed the use they had been making of the stores they had so unexpectedly found there two days before. "oh, sir," exclaimed worth, as the stranger landed, "have you seen anything of sumner rankin? i mean of a boy on a raft?" "no, i have not," was the answer. "but i see that some one, and i expect it is the boy before me, has been making a free use of my stores." "are they yours?" asked worth, flushing. "we didn't know whose they were or who left them here, and as we were almost starving, we ventured to take what we needed; but i shall be glad to pay for whatever we have used." with this the boy produced a roll of bills, and looked inquiringly at the stranger. "that's all right," laughed the other. "if you were starving, and had need of them, of course you acted rightly in taking them. i am only too glad that they were of use to you. i see, too, that you have sheltered them from the weather." "yes," replied worth, "and it rained so hard night before last, that if they had not been under cover some of them would have been spoiled." "then we are quits," said the stranger; "and you have already more than paid for what you can have used in so short a time. i have bought this key, and intended to get here as soon as those things, which i sent up on the mail-boat, but was unexpectedly delayed. my name is haines, and yours is--" "worth manton," answered the boy; "and i was cruising up the reef in a canoe with my friend sumner rankin. when we got here, some one stole our canoes, or they got lost in some way, and so we were obliged to stay. we found this old negro quorum here. yesterday sumner went over to indian key on a raft, to see if he could find the canoes, or get a vessel to take us off. we haven't seen anything of him since he left, and i am awfully afraid that something has happened to him." "oh, i guess not!" said the new-comer; "but if you like you can go over there on this schooner and look for him. the captain is in a great hurry to go on up the reef, as he is already two days late; but i guess he will drop you at the key, and stop there for you on his way back to key west, if you want him to. but what is it that smells so good?" here the speaker sniffed at an appetizing odor that was wafted to them from the direction of the little camp. "i expect it is quorum's 'coon that he is roasting for dinner," replied worth. "'coon? that is something i have never tasted; but i should be most happy to experiment with it if it is half as good as it smells. don't you want to invite me to dine with you?" "of course i do," laughed worth; "especially as most of the dinner will consist of your own provisions." a few minutes later they sat down to dinner together, and mr. haines declared it to be the best he had eaten since coming to that part of the country. he also praised the construction of the hut in which they ate, and thanked worth for having provided him with such comfortable quarters. while they were occupied with the meal, the black passengers of the schooner landed. among them quorum discovered friends who confirmed sumner's statement that he was no longer suspected of the death of the sponging captain. after dinner several hours were spent in landing the lumber and other freight with which the schooner was loaded. during this time mr. haines learned all the details of worth's experience in canoeing up the reef, to which he listened with the greatest interest. he advised the boy to remain patiently where he was until sumner's return, or at least until some word should be received from him. he was also anxious to engage the services of such a capital cook as quorum had proved himself by the preparation of the dinner they had just eaten. but the boy was so heart-sick with anxiety that he could not bear the thought of a further period of inaction, and quorum declared he could not think of deserting the lad whom sumner had left in his care. so when the schooner was again ready to sail, they went on board, taking with them their guns and a supply of provisions with which mr. haines kindly provided them. he also insisted upon their taking a couple of blankets, which, he said, they could return whenever they had no further use for them, and he begged them to come back to the island in case they should be disappointed in their search. thus they parted with an interchange of good wishes, and an hour later worth and quorum were set ashore on indian key. although they had seen no sign of sumner as they approached it, and the captain of the schooner had advised them to keep on with him up the reef, they could not make up their minds to do so until they had made a thorough examination of the key for traces of their lost comrade. nor were they inclined to leave those parts so long as there was the faintest hope of hearing from him. so they were hurriedly set ashore, and the schooner continued on her way, the captain promising to stop there for them on his return trip. of course their search over the key was fruitless, and it was with heavy hearts that they made themselves comfortable for the night in one of its old buildings. the next morning they wandered aimlessly over the narrow limits of the little island, or sat in the rickety porch of their house watching the column of smoke that, rising above lignum vitæ, marked the beginning of the cocoanut planter's operations. turning from this, they would gaze longingly out to sea without knowing what they hoped to discover. several schooners, bound both up and down the reef, passed during the morning, but none of them came within hailing distance of the key. at length worth called out excitedly that he saw a canoe approaching from the direction of alligator light. at that distance the sail that he was watching certainly looked small enough to belong to a canoe; but as it came closer it grew larger, until it resolved itself into that of a good-sized cat-boat. as it finally rounded to and came to anchor under the lee of the key, a man who was its sole occupant sculled ashore in a dingy containing several empty barrels. he was assistant keeper albury, of alligator light, who had come to the key for a supply of water from its old cistern, the one belonging to the light having sprung a leak, and being nearly empty. he was surprised to find strangers on the key, and inquired at once what had become of their boat. after listening to their story and eager questions, he said: "well, if that doesn't beat all! no, we haven't seen anything out at the light of any young fellow floating on a raft; but we have got two canoes out there that answer pretty well the description of them you say you lost. what did you say their names were?" "_cupid_ and _psyche_," replied worth. "then they are yours, for them's the very names. if you want to go out there with me after i fill my barrels, i've no doubt mr. spencer will give them up to you." this they decided to do. so, after helping the man fill his water-barrels, they set sail with him for the light-house, which they reached late that afternoon, after some hours of tedious drifting in a calm. chapter xvi. a night in alligator light. while taking worth and quorum out to the light, assistant keeper albury told them how the canoes had been towed out to sea by a jew-fish, and described the difficulty he had had in capturing them. although worth listened to all this with interest, his pleasure in having the mystery cleared up, and at the prospect of recovering the canoes, was sadly dampened by his increasing anxiety concerning sumner's fate. what can have become of him? was the question that he asked over and over again, but to which neither of the men could give an answer. they were cordially welcomed to the light by the keeper, who was always glad to have visitors to his lonely domain, and worth easily proved his ownership of the canoes by describing their contents. the light-house was a skeleton frame-work of iron, with its lower platform about twelve feet above water that surrounded it on all sides. on this platform lay the two canoes, side by side, looking as fresh and unharmed as when worth had last seen them at anchor off lignum vitæ. if sumner had only been there, how he would have rejoiced over them! as it was, he gave them but a hurried examination to assure himself that they were all right, and then followed the keeper up the flight of iron steps leading to the house. the portion of this in which the men lived was a huge iron cylinder, surrounded by a balcony, and divided into several rooms. above it rose a slender iron shaft, in which was a circular stairway leading to the lantern at its top. worth ascended this with the keeper to witness the lighting of the great lamp, and the movements of the revolving machinery by which the red and white flashes were produced. from this elevation a long line of keys was visible, while the one they had so recently left seemed quite close at hand. while gazing at it, worth saw a schooner come down the channel from the direction of lignum vitæ, and lower her sails, as if for the night, under its lee. "oh, mr. spencer!" he cried, "there's a schooner come to anchor close to indian key. perhaps her people are looking for us, and perhaps they have brought news of sumner. can't we take the canoes now and sail over there?" "bless you, no, lad! i wouldn't for anything have it on my conscience that i'd let you go sailing around these waters at night in those cockle-shells. there's no doubt but what she'll stay there till morning, and if the weather is good, you can make a start as soon after daylight as ever you like; but you'll have to content yourself here till then. i couldn't think of letting you go before." to this decision worth was forced to submit, and after the lamp was lighted he followed the keeper to the living-rooms below. here he found quorum hard at work at his favorite occupation of cooking. he was preparing a most savory fish chowder, and when they sat down to supper both the keepers declared that in all their experience they had never tasted its equal. the second assistant keeper was then absent on the two-weeks' vacation, to which each of them was entitled after two months of service in the light. they only regretted that quorum could not remain until his return, that he too might learn the possibilities of a fish chowder. worth was so charmed with his novel surroundings, and by the quaint bits of light-house experience related by the keepers, that until bed-time, he almost forgot his anxiety. when he had gone to bed in the scrupulously neat and clean guest-chamber, after charging the keepers to waken him at the earliest dawn, it returned in full force, and for a long time drove sleep from his eyes. as he lay listening to the keeper on watch making his half-hourly trips up to the lantern, and to the lapping of the waves about the iron piling of the foundation, he imagined all sorts of dreadful things as having happened to sumner, and even after he fell asleep his dreams were of the same character. from this unhappy dreaming he was awakened while it was still quite dark, though the keeper, who was standing beside his bed, assured him that day was breaking. at this, and remembering his cause for haste, the boy sprang out of bed and quickly dressed himself. in the outer room he found quorum already up and waiting for him, and he also found a steaming pot of coffee. fortified by a cup of this and a biscuit, he declared himself ready for the voyage back to indian key. as they stepped outside, the light was sufficiently strong for them to dimly discern the distant line of keys, and preparations were at once made to place the canoes in the water. worth's was the first swung from the platform davits and lowered, while he, descending a rope-ladder, one end of which touched the water, was ready to cast off the falls and step into her. then quorum was invited to do the same thing with the _psyche_; but the old negro drew back apprehensively, exclaiming: "no, sah, gen'l'men. de ole niggah am a big fool, but him no sich fool dat him t'ink hese'f er monkey, an' go climbin' down er rope wha' don' lead nowhar, 'cep' to er tickly egg-shell wha' done copsize de berry instink he tetch foot to um. no, sah, gen'l'men; ole quor'm too smart fo' dat." "well, then, sit in the canoe where she is, and we'll lower you down in her." to this plan the old man was finally induced to agree, and with great trepidation seated himself in the frail craft. the moment the men began to sway away on the falls, he would have jumped out if he could. as he was already swinging in mid-air, it was too late to do aught save remain where he was. clutching the sides of the cockpit tightly with both hands, he closed up his eyes and resigned himself to his fate. his face assumed an ashen tinge, and his lips moved as though he were praying. he gave a convulsive start as the canoe dropped into the water, but he did not open his eyes nor relax his clutch of the coamings. "come, quorum, get out your paddle. i'll show you how to use it," shouted worth, after he had cast off the falls. but he might as well have addressed the light-house for all the notice the old man took of him. finally, realizing that quorum was utterly helpless, and incapable of action, from fright, worth took the _psyche_ in tow, and paddling out from the light-house, bade the friendly keepers a cheery good-bye, and started on his laborious trip to indian key. although the sea was perfectly smooth, paddling two deeply laden canoes proved heavy work for one person, and worth would have doubtless become exhausted long before reaching his destination had not a light breeze sprung up at sunrise. aided by this, he made such good progress that in less than an hour he was rounding the point of indian key, behind which the _transit_ lay at anchor. sumner, who had just turned out, was gazing wistfully back at lignum vitæ, as though it still held the young comrade whose loss caused him to feel so depressed, when he started as though he had been shot, at the sound of his own name, uttered with a joyous shout but a short distance from him. [illustration: quorum resigns himself to fate.] he could hardly credit his senses, or believe that he saw, sailing merrily towards him, the long-lost canoes, bearing the very friends on whose account he had been so anxious but a moment before. at the same time worth was equally bewildered and overcome with joyful emotions. "hurrah! glory hallelujah!" shouted sumner, in the fulness of rejoicing. at this sound quorum started as though from a trance, and opened his eyes for the first time since leaving the light. whether he tumbled out of the canoe accidently or on purpose, no one, not even himself, ever found out; but the next instant he was in the water, puffing like a porpoise, and swimming towards the land. fortunately the distance was short, so that in a few minutes he reached the rocks and pulled himself out on them. there, scrambling to his feet, and with the water pouring from him, he shook his fist at the craft he had so unceremoniously deserted, exclaiming: "dat's de fustes an' de lastes time ole quor'm ebber go sailin' in er baby cradle! yes, sah, de fustes an' de lastes!" chapter xvii. an entertainment on the key. how quorum managed to tumble out of the _psyche_ without upsetting her is a mystery, but he did it somehow. seeing that he was easily making his way to the land, worth continued on his course to the _transit_, which he reached a minute later. the moment he stepped abroad, sumner threw his arms about the boy with what was intended for a joyful hug. worth returned it with interest. for a few seconds the two staggered about the deck in what looked decidedly like a wrestling match to the amused spectators of the scene, who had been attracted from below by sumner's shout. finally they tripped and rolled with a crash into the cockpit, where they scrambled to their feet, greeted by shouts of laughter from lieutenant carey and ensign sloe, while even the men forward were chuckling with ill-suppressed mirth. had sumner and worth been a few years older, they would probably have expressed their joy over this happy and unexpected meeting with a cordial hand-shake, and a few inquiries after each other's welfare during their separation. that would have been a man's way. happily, all boys are not men, nor are their ways men's ways. any genuine boy will understand that nothing short of a wrestling match would have served to express the joy with which these two young hearts were relieved of the load of anxiety that had weighed so heavily upon them during the past three days. "but how did you know the canoes were out at the light, worth?" inquired sumner, after the first boisterous greeting was over. "excuse me! let me introduce you to lieutenant carey and ensign sloe. and how did you get there? and how did you know that we were here?" exclaimed sumner, in a breath, as soon as he had regained his feet. "the keeper told us," answered worth, shaking hands with those to whom he had just been introduced. "and i didn't know you were here. how did you get here, and what became of the raft? did you ever see anything so absurd as quorum? i don't believe he has opened his eyes since we left the light, and i actually thought he was turning white, he was so scared. oh, sumner, i never was so happy in my life!" "nor i," answered sumner; "and if i ever leave you again, you young scamp, before delivering you safe and sound to your lawful guardians, you'll know it." "and you may be mighty sure i won't be left again," answered worth. "no, siree! from this time on, you'll think i'm your shadow, i'll stick to you so close." by this time quorum had been brought aboard, and sumner, shaking hands with him, gravely congratulated him upon having formed the habit of taking a plunge bath before breakfast. with a reproachful look at the lad, and without deigning to reply to his banter, quorum turned away and dived into the little forward galley. here he quickly made himself at home, and all the time he was drying by the galley stove he could be heard entertaining the colored cook of the _transit_ with a thrilling description of his recent voyage in "dat ar tickly nutshell. mo' like er wash-basin dan er 'spectible boat; an' ef i don't hole her down wif bofe han's till dey done achin', she flop ober like er flapjack. i tell yo', chile, hit's er sperience sich as i don't want no mo' ob in all my sailin'." around the breakfast-table in the tiny after-saloon sumner and worth were comparing experiences and discussing their plans for the future. "i tell you what it is, sumner," exclaimed worth, "i don't know about cruising any farther up this reef, where we are likely at any time to be seized and carried off to sea by some jew-fish or other marine monster. seems to me it's taking a big risk." "then why not come with us through the 'glades?" laughed lieutenant carey. "there aren't any jew-fish there. it will be almost the same as cruising on dry land all the way, and we'll bring you out at cape florida, the very point you are aiming for." "i think that would be fine," answered worth, who had no more idea of the nature of the everglades than he had of the moon. "what do you say, sumner?" "it's the very thing i should most love to do," replied sumner. "then you will go with us?" asked the lieutenant. "yes, sir, we will," answered both the boys. "good! that settles it. now do you suppose we can persuade your old darkey to go along as cook? i think you said he was a good one, sumner?" "indeed he is!" exclaimed worth; "the very best i ever knew. oh yes, we must have quorum along by all means." when the plan was laid before him, quorum shook his head doubtfully, and said: "i allus hear dem ebberglades is a ter'ble place. dey's full ob lions an' tigers, sayin' nuffin' ob wild injuns an' cannon-balls" (probably quorum meant cannibals). "but ef dem two chilluns boun' ter go, i spec' ole quor'm hab ter go 'long ter look after um, an' see dat dey's kep' outen danger. hit's er mighty owdacious undertaking fer de ole man; but dish yere er peart-looking wessel, an' maybe she take us troo all right." "but we are not going in this vessel," laughed sumner. "we couldn't take her through the 'glades." "how yo go, den?" asked the negro, looking up quickly. "not in them tickly li'l' cooners?" "yes, some of us will go in the canoes, but you will have a much larger boat; one that you can't possibly upset." "when i see him, den i tell yo' ef i er gwine." and this was the only promise that quorum could be induced to give. "very well," said lieutenant carey, when this was reported to him; "we will rig up the cruisers, and let quorum sail one of them in to lignum vitæ. one of the men shall take the other, you two will sail your own canoes, and i will sail mine, while mr. sloe shall follow with the _transit_. when mr. haines sees us coming he'll think he is looking at a regatta of the reef yacht club." this plan suited the boys perfectly, and the next two hours were spent in getting all the boats into the water, overhauling sails, spars, etc. when quorum saw the barnegat cruiser that was assigned to him, he declared, "hit done look like er punkin seed, an' i don't beliebe hit fit fer sailin' nohow." it was only with the greatest difficulty that he could be persuaded to try the strange-looking craft. when he finally did so, his eyes opened wide with astonishment at her speed and stiffness, and the ease with which she was handled. each of the cruisers carried a large sprit-sail, and was fitted with a pair of oars. they were provided with centre-boards, were fair sailers, easy to row, practically non-capsizable, and capable of carrying heavy loads without materially increasing their draught. quorum was a good sailor, and as soon as he became somewhat accustomed to his craft he began to handle her in a way that showed an appreciation of her qualities. when he shot ahead, after a little brush with the other cruiser, the _melon seed_--as he termed her--his black face fairly beamed with delight. "your man is as tickled with that boat as a child with a new toy," remarked lieutenant carey to sumner, "and i guess there is no doubt now but what he will go with us." the lieutenant's open paddling canoe was fitted with a leg-of-mutton sail, but no centre-board. thus the sail was only available for running before the wind, which on this occasion happened to be fair. the three canoes and the two cruisers, starting on their race to lignum vitæ, formed a very pretty sight. as they were followed by the _transit_, and by the schooner that had carried worth and quorum to indian key, which came along on her return trip just then, it is no wonder that mr. haines regarded the approaching fleet with astonishment. the race was won by sumner in the _psyche_, with quorum in his _punkin seed_, and wildly excited, close behind. the other three were well bunched, and the two schooners were worked under foresails only, to keep from running them down. all hands were made heartily welcome by the proprietor of lignum vitæ, who was made happy by the information that they proposed to stay there that night. on hearing this he immediately began to plan a grand dinner to which everybody was invited, and an entertainment for the evening. he and lieutenant carey spent the afternoon in arranging for the entertainment, the four cooks, with quorum at their head, spent it in preparing a most elaborate dinner, and the others spent it fishing and sailing match races between the various small boats. as the hours flew busily and happily by, sumner and worth wondered how they could ever have felt wretched and forlorn in such a pleasant place. the dinner, which was served shortly before sunset, was a veritable feast. on its bill of fare appeared oysters, green-turtle soup, fish chowder, turtle steaks, baked kingfish, stewed ducks, roasted 'possum, a variety of canned vegetables, an immense plum duff, canned fruits, crackers, cheese, and coffee; while the whole was seasoned with the sauce of hearty appetites and capital digestions. it was a substantial meal, as well as a merry one, and it gave worth manton a new insight into the possibilities of life on the florida keys. by hard work mr. haines had succeeded in raising the frame of the little one-story house that he intended to occupy, and in getting the floor laid. this was to be the scene of the entertainment, and an hour or so after dinner all hands were collected here. several large bonfires shed a cheerful light on the circle of expectant faces, and cast wavering shadows over the platform. the first number on the programme was an overture by the lignum vitæ band, which consisted of mr. haines's banjo, lieutenant carey's guitar, ensign sloe's violin, and a flute played by one of the _transit's_ men. then worth danced a clog, and was received with immense applause. he was followed by sumner, who performed a number of sleight-of-hand tricks that drew forth exclamations of astonishment from the negroes. a mouth-organ quartet by four of the negro hands, was followed by mr. haines's banjo solo. this was of such an inspiring character that all the negroes patted time to it, and finally quorum sprang upon the platform and, with his beloved pipe still held tightly between his teeth, began to shuffle a breakdown in such a comical manner that it was received with tumultuous applause and roars of laughter. solo and chorus singing followed, and the entertainment wound up with the singing of "annie laurie" by a quartet of sailors. both sumner and worth were certain that they had never passed a more enjoyable evening, and were almost sorry that they had promised to leave there and start for the everglades on the following morning. [illustration: quorum dances a break-down.] chapter xviii. off for the everglades. both sumner and worth were by this time quite used to being turned out of bed while it was still dark, and told that it was morning and time to make a start. so, when the familiar summons was heard, a few hours after their evening of fun, they obeyed them, though not without some sleepy grumblings and protests. the stars were still shining when they went on deck for a look at the weather, and they shivered with the chill of the damp night air. there were faint evidences of daylight, however, and the welcome fragrance of coffee was issuing from the galley. they felt better after drinking a cup of it, but did not consider themselves fairly awake until the sails were hoisted, the anchor lifted, and the _transit_ began to move slowly out from under lignum vitæ. just as they were getting fairly under way, a sleepy hail of "good-bye, and good-luck to you!" came from the edge of the forest on the key where the night shadows still lingered. then, with answering shouts of "good-bye, mr. haines! good-bye to lignum vitæ!" they were off. the reason for such an early start was that, with four boats in tow, even the _transit_ could not be expected to make very good speed, and mr. carey was anxious to cover the sixty-mile run to cape sable before dark. for the first three hours sumner was kept constantly at the helm, directing the course of the schooner through a multiplicity of tortuous channels, between coral reefs, oyster-bars, and a score of low-lying mangrove keys. all this time lieutenant carey stood beside him, keeping track of the courses steered and noting on his chart the position of the channels, together with the names of the keys, so far as sumner was able to give them. the knowledge that the lad displayed of these uncharted waters, and the skill with which he handled the schooner, so excited the lieutenant's admiration that he finally said: "i declare, sumner, i don't believe there is a better pilot in the whole key west sponging fleet than you! how on earth do you remember it all?" "i don't know," laughed sumner, "i expect it comes natural, as the man said when asked what made him so lazy." "well," said the lieutenant, "i am mighty glad to have you along instead of that fellow bust norris, though he did intimate that your ignorance of the reef would get us into trouble. he was greatly cut up when i told him that, as you were going with me, i should not require his services, and tried to say some mean things about you; but i shut him up very quickly. he doesn't seem to be a friend of yours, though." "i don't know why he shouldn't be," replied sumner, "i am sure i feel friendly enough towards him. i suppose it must be because i wouldn't let him try my canoe the other day, and left him on the buoy that night. i only meant that as a joke though, and was just about to start out for him, when i saw a fisherman pick him up." here sumner related the incident referred to, and the lieutenant said, as mr. manton had, that the fellow was rightly served. then the subject was dropped, and they thought of it no more. as they were now in open water, with all traces of land rapidly fading in the distance behind them, sumner laid a course for sandy key, the only one they would see before reaching cape sable, resigned the tiller, and invited worth to try his hand at trolling. the _transit_ being well provided with fishing tackle they soon had two long trolling lines towing astern. worth said he was going in for big fish, and so attached to the end of his line a bright leaden squid terminating in a heavy, finely-tempered hook. sumner, believing that there would be as much sport and more profit in trying for those that were smaller, but more plentiful, used a much lighter hook, baited with a bit of white rag. worth would not believe that any fish could be so foolish as to bite at such a bait. his incredulity quickly vanished, however, as sumner began to pull in, almost as fast as he could throw his line overboard, numbers of crevallé, or "jack," beautiful fellows tinted with amber, silver, and blue, and spanish mackerel, one of the finest fish in southern waters. seeing that sumner was having all the fun, while he could not get a bite, worth began to haul in his line with a view to putting on a smaller hook, and baiting it with a bit of rag. suddenly there was a swish through the water, a bar of silver gleamed for an instant in the air, a hundred feet astern, and worth's line began to whiz through his hands with lightning-like rapidity. with a howl of pain, he dropped it as though it had been a red-hot coal, and began dancing about the cockpit, wringing his hands and blowing his fingers. "snub him, worth, quick! or he'll have your line," cried sumner, springing to his friend's assistance. "it's a barracuda, and a big one!" he got a turn around the rudder-post just in time to save the line, and then began a fight that set the young fisherman's blood to tingling with excitement. in spite of his smarting fingers, worth insisted upon pulling in his own fish; while the barracuda seemed equally intent upon pulling his captor overboard. such leaping and splashing, such vicious tugs and wild rushes ahead, astern, and off to one side, as that barracuda made, were far beyond anything in the way of fishing that worth had ever experienced. for ten minutes the fight was maintained with equal vigor on both sides. every inch of slack was carefully taken in. with the stout rudder-post to aid him, worth was slowly but surely gaining the victory, and the great, steely-blue fish was drawn closer and closer to the schooner. at length he was within fifty feet, and worth's flushed face was lighting with triumph, when, all at once there came a rush of some vast, white object astern. a huge pair of open jaws, lined with glistening rows of teeth, closed with a vicious snap, and a moment later worth, whose face was a picture of bewildered amazement, pulled in the head of his fish minus its body. "was it a whale, do you think?" he asked, soberly, turning to sumner. "no," replied the other, laughing at his companion's crestfallen appearance, "but it was the biggest kind of a shark, and he would have snapped you in two as easily as he did that barracuda, if you had been at that end of the line." by noon they had left sandy key astern, and before sunset they had passed the stately cocoanut groves on cape sable and palm point, and were rounding northwest cape. just at dusk they headed into a creek, not more than twenty feet wide, and directly afterwards came to anchor in the deep, roomy basin to which it was the entrance. the basin was already occupied by a small sloop, and as sumner's knowledge of those waters did not extend beyond that point, lieutenant cary anticipated being able to gain some information from her crew. with this in view he anchored but a short distance from her, and after everything was made snug for the night, he hailed her with: "hello on board the sloop!" "hello yourself! what schooner is that?" "the government schooner _transit_, and i should be very glad to see any of you on board." "where are you bound?" "into the 'glades. will you come over after a while, or shall i go aboard the sloop? i want to have a talk with you." "i reckon we'll come over." "those fellows don't seem inclined to be very sociable," remarked the lieutenant to ensign sloe, as they went down into the cabin to supper. at the same time sumner was saying to worth, "i wonder who that fellow is? his voice sounded very familiar." when they again came on deck after supper, the night was so dark that they could not see the sloop, though they supposed her to be lying close to them. "hello aboard the sloop!" again hailed lieutenant carey. there was no answer, nor did several hails serve to bring a reply of any kind. "let's take my canoe and go for a look at those fellows, sumner," said the lieutenant. "they have quite excited my curiosity." in a few minutes the canoe was afloat, and its occupants were paddling in the direction of where the sloop was thought to lie. for half an hour they paddled back and forth, and in circles, being guided in their movements by the bright riding light of the _transit_. once they struck a floating oar that seemed to be attached to a cable; but they could discover no trace of the sloop, nor did their repeated hailings bring forth a single answer. at length, greatly perplexed by such unaccountable behavior on the part of the sloop's crew, and nearly devoured by the clouds of mosquitoes that swarmed above the lagoon, they returned to the schooner, and thankfully sought the shelter of her wire-screened cabin. chapter xix. the canoes are again lost, and again found. in that snug harbor there was so little chance of danger that no watch was kept, and all hands turning in, after a pleasant evening spent in smoking and discussing plans, slept soundly until morning. although the sun had gone down in a blaze of ominous glory the evening before, and the breeze had died out in an absolute calm, no one was fully prepared for the wonderful change of scene disclosed by the morning. while their land-locked harbor was still as placid as a mill-pond where they were anchored, it was blackened and roughened by the gusts of fierce squalls but a short distance from them. the continuous roar of breakers outside denoted a furious sea, the cause of which was shown by the lashing tree-tops and the howlings of a gale overhead. the sky was hidden behind masses of whirling clouds, while after the tropical weather to which they had become accustomed, the air seemed very cold, though the mercury had not fallen below °. the gale was a typical norther, that, sweeping down from texas prairies, had gathered strength in its unchecked progress across the gulf, and was now hurling itself with furious energy against the low florida coast. "whew! what a day!" cried sumner, as he emerged from the warm cabin and stood shivering in the cockpit. "i tell you what, old man, i'm glad we are in this snug haven, instead of outside." "so am i," said worth, who had followed sumner, and to whom these remarks were addressed. "i'm afraid canoes would stand a pretty sorry chance out there just now." "canoes! well, i should say so! they'd be--great scott! where _are_ the canoes and the cruisers?" sumner had just taken his first glance astern, and as he uttered this exclamation he sprang to the little after-deck, and stared about him. the three canoes and the two cruisers had been left for the night attached to a single stout line which was made fast to the _transit's_ rudder-post. now they were gone, and not a sign of them was to be seen as far as the eye could reach. "if that doesn't beat anything i ever heard of!" exclaimed sumner, in bewilderment. "i should think a jew-fish big enough to take them all might just as well have taken the schooner, too," said worth. "yes, i expect she will be stolen from under us the next thing we know," replied sumner, "and i expect if we ever get our canoes again we'd better put them into a burglar-proof safe and hire a man with a dog to watch them nights. i never heard of anybody losing canoes as easily as we do. where do you suppose they can have gone to, sir?" this question was addressed to lieutenant carey, who, together with ensign sloe, had been attracted to the deck by sumner's first dismayed exclamation. "i've no more idea than you have," replied the lieutenant, gravely. "the jew-fish is not to blame this time, at any rate, for there was no anchor down that he could get hold of, and this rope has evidently been cut." here the speaker displayed the end of the rope that had hung over the stern, and pointed to the clean cut by which it had been severed. "it is evident that some human agency has been at work," he continued, "and i am inclined to connect it with the strange behavior of the fellows on that sloop; though what their object in stealing our boats was, i can't imagine. it is a very serious matter to us, however, and one that calls for prompt investigation. as this wind must have sprung up early in the night, it is hardly probable that the boats can have been taken out to sea, and if they were not they must be somewhere in this lagoon, perhaps concealed in the mangroves, or in one of the sloughs that empty into it. it is lucky that we have the canvas boat left, for i should hate to try and navigate the _transit_ in these unknown waters with such a gale blowing." the canvas boat, of which the lieutenant spoke, was a folding affair that was stowed under the cockpit floor, and was a part of the schooner's regular outfit. although it was very light, it could easily accommodate three persons, and was a capital thing to fall back on in an emergency like the present. mr. carey ordered it to be got out and put in shape at once. after breakfast he and sumner, with one of the crew to row, stepped into it and started on their search. they skirted the shore as closely as possible, both to escape the force of the wind, and that they might the more carefully examine the dense mangrove thickets that, with occasional stretches of white beach, formed the coast-line. the mangrove, which here attains the size of oaks, is one of the most curious of trees, and in one particular closely resembles the banyan. its small yellow blossom, which is eagerly sought by honey-bees, forms a long brown seed about the size and shape of a cigar. this, falling off, readily takes root in mud-flats, beneath shallow salt or brackish water, and shoots up a straight slender stem having numerous branches. some of these branches bend downward to the water, sending their tips into the mud, where they in turn take root. at length the tree is thus surrounded by a circle of woody arches that soon become strong enough to support the weight of a man. as the tree increases in height, the upper branches send down long straight shoots that also take root and form independent trunks. mangroves grow with marvellous rapidity, and quickly cover large areas, where their thickly interlaced, arching roots hold all manner of drift and sea-weed, until finally a soil is formed in which the seeds of coarse grasses and other vegetation sprout and flourish. thus, in the course of time, an island of dry land appears and is lifted above the water. in this way the coral reefs of the florida coast are gradually transformed into verdant keys, the mangrove taking up and continuing the work of island building just below the surface of the water, where the coral insect leaves off. the mangrove is covered with a thick foliage of small glossy leaves, that is such a favorite haunt for mosquitoes, that wherever mangroves grow, mosquitoes are found in countless millions. skirting this wonderful mangrove forest, and occasionally penetrating shallow bayous in which herons, cranes, ibises, pelicans, and curlews swam and waded, the occupants of the canvas boat searched for several hours in vain. finally, as they were on the opposite side of the broad lagoon from their starting-point, and exposed to the full force of the wind, sumner called out that he saw something that looked like masts on the edge of a distant clump of mangroves. it was no easy task to navigate successfully through the heavy sea running at this point; but when they had accomplished it, they were rewarded by seeing the entire missing fleet piled up in the greatest confusion among the mangroves, which at this place extended far out into the water. before they reached them both the lieutenant and sumner were obliged to jump overboard in water above their waists, to prevent the canvas boat from swamping in the breakers. the picture presented by their stranded fleet looked like one of utter ruin. sumner trembled for the fate of his precious canoe, and the lieutenant wondered if his expedition had thus been brought to an untimely end. there was a small beach but a short distance away, to which the sailor took the canvas boat, and then returned to help them clear the wrecks. one by one the several craft, all of them full of water, were extricated from the tangled mass, and dragged to the beach for examination. the three canoes were found to be badly scratched, and damaged so far as looks went; but still sound and seaworthy. this was undoubtedly owing to their lightness, and the exceeding care with which canoes are built. in their construction the question of expense is not considered; consequently, being built of the best material, by the most skilful workmen, they are stronger than ordinary craft many times their size. their sails were muddied and torn, and some of their slender spars were broken; but as most of their cargoes had been transferred to the _transit_ before leaving lignum vitæ, this was the extent of their injury. sumner was jubilant when a careful examination of every part of them revealed this fact; but mr. carey, who was devoting his attention to the cruisers, looked very grave. both of them were badly stove, and it was evident that only extensive repairs could render them again fit for service. "who could have done this thing, and why was it done?" he repeated over and over again in deep perplexity; while sumner, equally at fault, tried to recall whose voice it was that had seemed so familiar when they had exchanged hails with the sloop. after emptying the canoes, and hauling the cruisers high up on the beach, where they were to be left for the present, the party set forth on their return trip. the lieutenant went in his own canoe, sumner in his, while the sailor in the canvas boat towed the _cupid_. as they neared the schooner they saw her people pointing eagerly towards a bit of beach near the head of the creek through which they had entered the lagoon the evening before. looking in that direction, they saw a white man beckoning to them and shouting, though they could not distinguish his words. readily understanding that he was in distress of some kind, the lieutenant and sumner headed their canoes in his direction. as they neared him, they saw that he was hatless, and clad only in a shirt and trousers that were torn and water-soaked. the first words they could distinguish were: "our boat is going to pieces outside, and rust norris is in her with a broken arm." "rust norris!" that was the name sumner had been racking his memory for, and his was the voice that had come to them from the sloop on the preceding evening. chapter xx. the _psyche_ as a life-boat. "just where does the sloop lie?" asked sumner, as the bow of his canoe ran on to the beach where the man stood. the latter explained the position of the stranded vessel so clearly that the boy, who was familiar with the locality, comprehended it in a moment. "she's about a mile from the mouth of the creek, and a quarter off shore," said the man. "when the tide went down i partly swum and partly waded to the beach. i don't know how i ever got ashore alive, but the thought of poor rust out there kinder nerved me on, and so i made it at last. i wouldn't do it again, though, for all the money in key west. now i've been here so long waiting for help, and the tide's rising again so fast, that i'm afraid it's all day with poor rust. if he ain't swept off the wrack by this time he soon will be, and i don't know as there is anything can be done for him. it wouldn't be possible for the schooner to get anywhere near the wrack, she's dragged in so fur over the reefs, and the small boat isn't built that could live in them seas." "yes, she is," said sumner, quietly, but with a very pale face; "this boat that i am sitting in can live out there, and she's got to do it, too." so saying, he set his double-bladed paddle into the sand, and with a vigorous shove sent the light craft gliding backward into deep water. the man stared at him in speechless amazement, while the lieutenant called out: "don't try it, sumner! you must be crazy to think of such a thing! you'll only be throwing away your own life for nothing! come back, and we'll think of some other plan." "there isn't time to think of another plan," sumner called back over his shoulder. "i must go, and i know i can do it. if you will have some of the men out there on the beach, ready to help us land, we'll make it easy enough. good-bye!" impelled by vigorous strokes of sumner's paddle, the _psyche_ was already gliding down the smooth waters of the sheltered creek, and it was too late to restrain the impetuous young canoeman from carrying out his project. realizing this, and also that sumner's plan, hazardous as it seemed, was the only feasible one, lieutenant carey, with a heavy heart, set about doing his own share of the work in hand. he took the stranger off to the schooner, and after swallowing a cup of hot coffee, of which he stood greatly in need, the man declared himself ready to guide a party to the beach opposite the place where the sloop lay. dinner was ready and waiting on board the _transit_, but nobody thought of stopping to eat a mouthful after learning the news of what was taking place. the sole anxiety was to reach the beach as quickly as possible. the instant the stranger said he was ready, all hands, except those ordered to remain by the schooner, began to tumble into the available canoes, eager to be set ashore. poor worth was sadly distressed when he heard of the terrible task undertaken by his friend, but he tried to cheer himself and the others by declaring that if any boat could live outside it was the canoe _psyche_, and if any living sailor could carry her through the seas, whose angry roar filled the air, it was sumner rankin. in the mean time the brave young fellow who was the object of all this anxiety had reached the mouth of the creek. there, in a sheltered spot, he paused for a few minutes to take breath and make his final preparations for a plunge into the roaring breakers outside. he set taut the foot steering gear, took double reefs in both his sails, saw that the halyards were clear and ready for instant service, adjusted the rubber apron so that the least possible water should enter the cockpit, and then, with a firm grasp of his paddle, he shoved off. in another minute he was breasting the huge, combing breakers of the outer bar, and working with desperate energy to force his frail craft through or over them. the roar of waters was deafening, while the fierce gusts rendered breathing difficult. at one moment the sharp bow of the canoe would point vaguely towards the sky, while the next would see it directed into a watery abyss, and plunging downward as though never to rise again. at such moments the rudder would be lifted from the water, and only the most skilful use of the paddle prevented the canoe from broaching to and being rolled over and over, to be finally dashed in fragments on the beach. again and again the wave crests broke on her deck, sweeping her fore and aft with a blinding mass of hissing water. still the boy's strength held out, still his paddle was wielded with regular strokes, and finally he came off victorious in this first bout of his fierce, single-handed struggle. the line of breakers was passed, and riding over the comparatively regular seas beyond, he began working dead to windward for an offing. not until he was a good half-mile off shore, and very nearly exhausted by his tremendous efforts, did he push back the rubber apron, drop his centre-board, and then, steadying the canoe with his paddle, seize a favorable opportunity for hoisting the tiny after-sail that should keep her momentarily headed into the wind. then, quickly unjointing his paddle and thrusting its parts into the cockpit, he grasped the halyard, and with a single pull set the double-reefed main-sail. now was a most critical moment, for as he pulled in on the main-sheet, and the sail began to feel the full force of the wind, the little craft heeled over gunwale under. only by promptly scrambling to the weather-deck, and sitting with his feet braced under the lee coaming, while his whole body was thrown out far over the side, did he prevent her from capsizing. then she gathered headway and dashed forward. with one hand on the deck tiller, and holding the main-sheet in the other, the boy peered anxiously ahead. yes, there was the wreck! oh, so far away! with clouds of white spray dashing high above it. could he ever reach it through those tumultuous seas? lifting him high in the air, where he was exposed to the full force of the wind at one moment, they towered above the deep trough into which he sank at the next, and left his bits of sails shaking as if in a calm. with full confidence in himself and his boat, he believed he could reach it--and he did. he had no time to look at the anxious watchers on the beach, but they noted his every movement with painful eagerness. they almost held their breath as some huge wave tossed him high aloft, and again as he was completely hidden from them behind its foam-capped crest. at length they saw him reach a point abreast the wreck, round sharply to under its lee, and seize his paddle. in another minute he was on board, with the first half of his task accomplished. he found rust norris crouching in the lee of the little deck-house, nearly exhausted with pain, hours of cold drenching, and the terror of his position. the wreck was trembling so violently with each shock of the seas that it seemed as though she must break up beneath their feet. rust's left arm was supported in a rude sling made from a strip of his shirt knotted about his neck. he did not speak as the boy bent over him, but an expression of glad surprise and renewed hope lighted his haggard face. [illustration: "he found rust norris crouching in the lee of the little deck-house."] "come, rust," shouted sumner; "with one big effort you'll be all right. they are waiting for you on the beach, and the canoe will carry you that far easy enough, if you can only manage to get into her. you will have to sit low down and steer with your feet while you hold the sheet in your hand. all you'll have to do is to run her in dead before the wind, head on for the beach." with infinite difficulty the wounded man was finally seated in the narrow cockpit of the frail craft. a moment later it was shoved off from the trembling wreck, and was racing with fearful speed towards the beach. it seemed to leap from the top of one huge wave to the next without sinking into the intervening hollow. not until it was dragged safely ashore by those who rushed into the breakers to meet the flying craft did rust norris realize that he was her sole occupant. chapter xxi. sumner's self-sacrifice. if rust norris had not been rendered so nearly helpless by his broken arm, sumner would have endeavored to make the _psyche_ bear them both safely to land, if not by carrying them, at least by supporting them while they swam alongside. on his way to the wrecked sloop he had thought that perhaps this might be done, but as soon as he discovered rust's real condition he knew that he might as well leave him there to drown as to attempt to burden the light craft with their double weight. at that moment the lad made up his mind that rust should have the canoe to himself, and that he would take whatever chance of escape still remained. thus he had resolutely shoved the canoe off, with its single occupant, while he stayed behind, clinging to the leeward mast-stay, and watching with eager eyes the perilous passage to the beach of the man for whom he had risked so much. the act was a bit of that coolly-planned self-sacrificing heroism that stamps true bravery, and distinguishes it from recklessness. in his exhausted and partially dazed condition, rust did not realize the sacrifice made by his young deliverer until the canoe had been snatched from the breakers by a dozen willing hands, and drawn high on the beach beyond their cruel grasp. then, on looking for the boy and seeing that he had remained behind, he uttered a great cry, and sank down limp and helpless on the wet sand. those on shore had seen from the first that only one was coming in the canoe, while one was left behind, but they had not known which was approaching them until the _psyche_ was dragged from the breakers. worth was in an agony of despair at his friend's peril. "let me go to him!" he cried. "i would rather drown than stand here without trying to save him!" "no; let me go! let me go!" cried the others; and they made frantic attempts to again launch the canoe through the breakers; but they might as well have tried to launch it through a stone wall. again and again was it hurled back, while those who strove to launch it were torn from their footing and flung upon the beach. then there was a shout of "here he comes! he is in the water!" and then they strained their eyes in vain for another glimpse of their well-loved young comrade. sumner had indeed taken the plunge, but not voluntarily. he had determined to remain by the sloop until she broke up and he was compelled to swim, or until the falling tide should render the passage of that seething maelstrom less terrible. thus thinking, he was about to seek the poor shelter in which he had found rust, when a great wave, rushing over the wreck, swept him from it, and buried him beneath tons of its mighty volume. as he came gasping to the surface he was again almost immediately overwhelmed and borne under. still, he had drawn a breath of air, and had noted the direction of the beach. he knew that, sooner or later, alive or dead, the waves would cast him ashore. so, without trying to swim forward, he devoted all his energies to reaching the surface, and breathing as often as possible. it seemed as though he were merely rising and sinking, without moving forward an inch, and it required all his self-control to keep from exhausting himself by violent struggles to make a perceptible headway. he retained his presence of mind, however, and after a half-hour of battle the very waves seemed to acknowledge his victory, and tossed him up within sight of the watchers, who had given up all hope except that of finding his lifeless body. they uttered a glad shout; but it was checked as he was again buried from their sight. again he appeared, and this time much nearer. then lieutenant carey rushed into the water. behind him worth, quorum, and the others formed a line, tightly grasping each other's hands, and at length the swimmer was within their reach. with cries of exultant joy, they bore him up the beach and laid him on the sand; but their rejoicing was quickly succeeded by consternation. he lay with closed eyes, cold, and apparently lifeless. "hurry to the schooner, worth, and tell them to have hot water, hot blankets, and a roaring fire ready by the time we get there," demanded the lieutenant. "we will bring him as quickly as possible." for hours they worked over the senseless form of the brave lad. so nearly had the sea accomplished its cruel purpose that, but for the lessons learned by the workers years before at annapolis, sumner rankin's life would have been given in exchange for that of rust norris. at length a faint color tinged his cheeks, a faint breath came from between his lips, and they knew that their efforts had not been in vain. an hour later he was sleeping quietly, and it was certain that nature would complete the work of restoration. then the same skill that had snatched life from apparent death was directed to the setting and proper bandaging of rust's broken arm. the norther continued to blow all that night and the following day, and during this period of enforced idleness sumner was not allowed to leave his berth. his every want was anticipated, and those who surrounded him vied with each other in their tender care of the lad who had so well won their regard and admiration. as for rust norris, his whole nature seemed to have undergone such a change that his former intimates would hardly have recognized him. he sat and watched constantly beside the boy to whom he owed so much, and could hardly be persuaded to leave him for the briefest intervals. during that second day of storm he made a full confession of how and why he had attempted to thwart the objects of lieutenant carey's expedition. his enmity had been particularly directed towards sumner, and when the latter instead of himself had been chosen to pilot the _transit_ up the reef, he had formed a plan of revenge that he immediately proceeded to carry out. this was to visit the everglade indians, and inform them that the expedition was for the purpose of spying out their lands and preparing for their removal to a far-away country of cold and snow, where they would certainly die. to accomplish this he had joined a bahama smuggler, and with a cask of rum as a cargo, they had sailed in the small sloop owned by the latter for cape sable. here they met a party of indians who had come down from the 'glades on a deer-hunt, and after plying them with rum, roused them to anger by their lying tale concerning the coming expedition. the indians had departed to spread the report to the rest of their band, and to devise plans for frustrating the supposed purpose of the expedition. their departure had taken place on the day of the _transit's_ arrival on the coast, and but for the signs of the approaching norther, rust norris and his companion would have left the lagoon in which they were so snugly anchored that afternoon. noting these signs they decided to remain where they were until it should blow over. they had no idea when the _transit_ would reach the cape, nor did they suppose that sumner was aware of the passage into the lagoon. it was therefore with surprise and consternation that they found those whom they had attempted to injure anchored close beside them. they at once determined to take advantage of the darkness to run out of the lagoon before the storm broke, and seek another shelter among the mangrove keys a short distance farther inland. they slipped their cable, not daring to lift the anchor for fear the sound might be heard on board the schooner, and drifted down to the mouth of the creek with the last of the ebb-tide. here, while waiting for a breeze, rust conceived the idea of effectually crippling the expedition by stealing their boats, and went back up the creek for that purpose. he cut them loose from the schooner and attempted to tow them silently down to where the sloop lay, but as the tide had turned and was flooding strongly up the creek, he found it impossible to do so. so he turned them adrift in the belief that they would be driven to the farther side of the lagoon, and dashed to pieces by the storm that was about to break. at any rate, the expedition would be so long delayed in recovering their boats that the news of their coming would be spread over the length and breadth of the everglades before they could enter them. so much time had thus been wasted that before the sloop could be taken to the proposed place of safety the storm burst in all its fury. they were forced to seek refuge in another place that was partially exposed, but where with two anchors they could probably have ridden out the gale. with but one, they were dragged from their moorings soon after daylight, and driven on the reef where the sloop now lay. rust's arm had been broken by the gybing of the main boom, and, left alone, exposed to the fury of those raging seas, he had given up all hope long before sumner came to his rescue. "and to think," said rust, in conclusion, "that the fellow to whom i was doing all this meanness should have come after me and offered to throw away his own life to save mine! i tell you, gentlemen, it makes me feel meaner 'n a toad-fish!" chapter xxii. good-bye to the _transit_ that night the norther broke, and by the following morning the weather was of that absolutely perfect character that makes the winter the most delightful season of the year in southern florida. the sun shone with unclouded splendor, fish leaped from the clear waters, gay-plumaged birds flitted among the mangroves, and made the air vocal with their happy songs. all nature was full of life and rejoicing. [illustration: repairing the "punkin seed".] although lieutenant carey was much disturbed by learning that false reports had been spread among the indians concerning the nature of his expedition, and realized that its difficulties would be greatly increased thereby, he had no thought of abandoning it. therefore, by the earliest daylight, preparations were made for repairing the damaged cruisers, and putting them in condition for a new start. the stanch little _psyche_ had been brought down the beach the day before. there was a good supply of tools aboard the schooner, and sumner, who had fully recovered his strength, was found to be so expert a shipwright that he was intrusted with planning and directing the repairs to the cruisers, while the lieutenant, with several men, went to examine into the condition of the wrecked sloop, and see what could be done with her. they found her injuries so much less than was expected, that within three days she had been hauled off the reef and rendered sufficiently seaworthy for the voyage back to key west. in this time also sumner finished his job on the cruisers, and they were again in thorough order for the work required of them. rust norris was able to render them one service, by guiding them to some cisterns from which they obtained the supply of fresh-water, without which they would not have dared proceed on their cruise. his companion, who was a good hunter and well acquainted with the game resorts of that vicinity, provided them with plenty of fresh venison. he also won worth's regard by giving him a turkey call, or whistle, made from one of the wing-bones of a wild turkey, and taking him off before daylight one morning on a turkey hunt. from this the boy returned fully as proud as the fine gobbler he had shot had been a short time before. so elated was he by this success that he declared himself to be the hunter of the expedition from that time forth, and promised to provide it with all necessary meat. by the close of the third day after the storm everything was in readiness for a new start. that evening was spent in writing letters to be sent back by the sloop, and daylight of the following morning saw both vessels standing out of the lagoon. once outside, the sloop bore away to the westward, its occupants waving their hats and shouting good wishes to those whom but a few days before they had tried their best to injure. "i declare!" said sumner to worth, "i don't know of anything that makes a fellow feel better than to succeed in turning an enemy into a friend. now i shall always like rust norris, and he will always like me, while if no difficulty had arisen between us we might have been on speaking terms all our lives without caring particularly for each other." "but, sumner!" exclaimed worth, in a grieved tone, "aren't you ever going to care particularly for me, because we have never been enemies?" "care for you, old man! after all we have gone through with together, and after all the anxiety we have had on account of each other? why, worth, if i cared any more for you than i do, i'd pack you up in cotton and send you home by express, for fear you might get hurt." "then please don't," laughed the boy, "for i want to see the everglades, and do some more hunting before i am sent home." although worth was so impatient to see the 'glades, and though the _transit_ was headed directly for them, he was obliged to content himself with seeing other things for some days to come. for a whole week the little schooner threaded her way through the most bewildering maze of islands, reefs, and channels known to this continent. there were thousands of keys of all sizes and shapes, and all covered with the mangroves that had built them. as for the oyster-bars, sand-bars, and reefs, they were so numerous that, in finding her way through them, the _transit_ was headed to every point, half-point, and quarter-point of the compass during each hour of her sailing time. the number of times that she ran aground were innumerable, as were those that she was compelled to turn back from some blind channel and seek a new one. through all this bewildering maze of keys and channels great tide rivers of crystal water continually ebbed and flowed. in them uncounted millions of fish, from huge silvery tarpon, vampire-like devil-fish, and ravenous sharks, down to tiny fellows, striped, spotted, or mottled with every hue of the rainbow, rushed and sported, chased and being chased, devouring and being devoured, but always affording a fascinating kaleidoscope of darting forms and flashing colors. nor was the bird-life of these ten thousand islands less interesting. it seemed as though the numbers of the great wader and soarer families collected here were almost as many as the fish on which they feasted. whole regiments of stately flamingoes, clad in their pink hunting-coats, stood solemnly on the mud-flats. squadrons of snow-white pelicans sailed in company with fleets of their more soberly plumaged comrades. great snowy herons, little white herons, great blue herons, little blue herons, green herons, and yellow-legged herons mingled with cranes and curlews on the oyster-bars. ducks of infinite variety, together with multitudes of coots and cormorants, floated serenely on the placid waters. overhead, clouds of snowy ibises, outlined in pink by edgings of roseate spoon-bills, rose and fell and glinted in the bright sunlight. gannets, gulls, and ospreys hovered above the fishing-grounds. bald-headed eagles watched them from the tops of tall mangroves, ready at a moment's notice to pounce down and rob them of their prey. far overhead, black specks against the brilliant blue of the sky, sailed, on motionless pinions, stately men-of-war hawks or frigate-birds--most graceful of all the soarers. all these, and many more, the mere naming of which would fill a chapter, flocked to these teeming fishing-grounds, and afforded a never-ending source of wonder and amusement to our young canoemates and their companions. still, with all these, besides the unending difficulties of the navigation to occupy their minds, the end of a week found the boys heartily tired of mangrove keys and blind channels, and anxious for a change of scene. it was, therefore, with a feeling of decided relief that a dark, unbroken line, stretching north and south as far as the eye could reach, was finally sighted and pronounced to be the pine woods of the main-land. approaching it with infinite difficulty on account of the rapidly shoaling water, they at length discovered a large stream, the water of which was brackish. it was evidently one of the numerous waterways draining the vast reservoirs of the 'glades into the sea. here the exploring party was to leave the _transit_ and take to the smaller craft, in which they proposed to penetrate the interior. again an evening was devoted to writing letters to be sent back by the schooner, and again all hands were ordered to turn out by daylight. lieutenant carey had decided to send one of the cruisers back, and to take but one besides the three canoes into the 'glades. the recent difficulties of navigation had shown him that a full crew would be needed to carry the schooner back to deep water, and he also imagined that the fewer boats the explorers had to force through the 'glades the easier they would get along. the indians, too, would be less suspicious of a small party than of a large one. thus he decided to limit the party to himself and the two boys in the canoes, with quorum and one other man in the cruiser, or five in all. with a breakfast by lamplight, and the final preparations hurried as much as possible, the sun was just rising when the little fleet shoved off from the _transit_, and with flashing paddles entered the mouth of the dark-looking river, the waters of which, in all probability, the keels of white men's boats were now to furrow for the first time. "good-bye, mr. sloe! you want to hurry round to cape florida, or we'll be there first!" "good-bye, quorum! look out for that woolly scalp of yours!" came from the schooner. "good-bye! good-luck! good-bye!" and then the canoes rounded a wooded point, and were lost to sight of those who watched their first plunge into the trackless wilderness. chapter xxiii. worth meets a panther. to find themselves once more in their canoes, and to be gliding over unknown waters, with new scenes unfolding at every turn, was so exhilarating to the boys that they started up the river at racing speed, shouting and laughing as they went. they were about to disappear from the sight of the others around a bend of the stream when they were checked by a shout from lieutenant carey. as he joined them he said: "we must keep together, boys, and regulate our speed by that of the cruiser, for, in case of unforeseen difficulties or dangers, it won't do for us to be separated. i wouldn't make any more noise than is necessary either. there is no knowing what the indians, whose country we are entering, may take it into their heads to do. while i do not anticipate any serious trouble from them, i would rather avoid them as much as possible, and by proceeding quietly we may escape their notice--at least for the present." for the first mile or two the river-banks were hidden beneath a dense growth of mangroves, though above these they could catch occasional glimpses of the tops of pines and tall palmettoes. the mangroves grew smaller and thinner, until finally they disappeared entirely, and on tasting the water over which they floated our voyagers found it to be fresh and sweet. "there is no danger of our suffering from thirst on this trip whatever may happen," said sumner. they were close to one of the banks as he spoke, and from it there suddenly came a rushing sound, followed by the floundering splash of some huge body in the water, so close at hand that their canoes were violently rocked by the waves that immediately followed. the suddenness of the whole proceeding drew a startled cry from worth. "what could it have been?" he asked in a low tone, and with a very white face. "was it a hippopotamus, do you think?" he had seen the "hippos" splash into their tank in central park. "not exactly," laughed sumner, who, after a slight start, had quickly regained his composure. "it was a big alligator, and he went so close under my canoe that i could have touched him with the paddle." "suppose he had upset us?" "there wasn't any danger of that; he was more scared than we were, but he knew enough to dive clear of us." "but if he should take it into his head to attack us?" "he won't, though. mr. alligator is a great coward. if he is disturbed while taking a sun-bath on shore, he makes a blind rush for the water in spite of all obstacles, but it is only because he is too frightened to do anything else. once safely in the water, he is glad enough to sink quietly to the bottom without seeking the further acquaintance of his enemies. that has always been my experience with them, but then i have only known them where they were hunted a good deal. the fellows where we are going may be bolder, but i have never heard of alligators being anything but awful cowards." partly reassured by this, worth regarded the next alligator that he saw with greater composure, and before the day was over he hardly minded them at all. he certainly had an opportunity of becoming familiar with them, for they fairly swarmed in the river. nearly every sand-spit showed from one to a dozen of them, of all sizes, lying motionless in the warm sunlight. worth declared that some of them were twenty feet long; but sumner laughed at him, and said that twelve or thirteen feet at most would be nearer the mark. in this statement he was supported by lieutenant carey, who said that even a fifteen-foot alligator would be a monster, and he doubted if one of that length had ever been seen. most of the scaly brutes, after finding themselves safely in the water, would rise to the surface for one more look at the cause of their fright. in thus rising, they only displayed the tops of their heads, and as the canoes approached these would imperceptibly sink until only four black spots, indicating the eyes and nostrils, were visible. then these, too, would disappear without leaving the faintest ripple to mark the place where they had been. often a quick spurt would take the canoes to the spot in time for the boys to look down through the clear water and see the great black body lying motionless on the bottom, or darting swiftly away towards some safer hiding-place. sometimes they saw tiny fellows, brightly marked with yellow, and but recently hatched, sunning themselves on broad lily-pads. these were never found in company with their elders, which, lieutenant carey said, was because their papas were too fond of eating them. when sumner spoke of alligators' eggs and nests, worth asked, innocently, if the mother alligators sat on their eggs like hens. at the mental picture thus presented sumner laughed so heartily that he could hardly wield his paddle, but lieutenant carey explained that an alligator's nest is built of sticks, leaves, and grass, very like a musk-rat's house. "in the middle of this," he said, "are laid from twenty to forty thick-shelled, pure white eggs, about the size of the largest goose-eggs. these are left to be hatched by the heat of the sun and of the decomposing mass surrounding them. when they break their shells, the little fellows immediately scramble for the nearest water, where they are left to care for themselves without a suggestion of parental guidance or advice. in fact, they are wise enough from the very first to keep out of the way of their elders, whose only love for them seems to be that of an epicure for a dainty dish." "aren't there crocodiles, too, in florida?" asked sumner. "yes. professor hornaday mentions genuine crocodiles as being found in biscayne bay, on the east coast, where i hope we shall get a look at them. they are described as differing from alligators in the head, that of the crocodile being narrower and longer. the snout is sharper than that of an alligator, and at the end of the lower jaw are two long canine teeth or tusks that project through holes in the upper lip." "him big fighter, too," remarked quorum from the cruiser. "him heap mo' wicked dan de 'gator. de injun call him 'allapatta hajo,' an' say hit mean mad 'gator." as the party advanced up the stream the current became so much stronger that the boys began to feel the effects of their steady paddling against it, and were no longer inclined to shoot ahead of the others. the foliage of the banks changed with each mile, and by noon the pines had given place to clumps of palmetto, bay, water-oak, wild fig, mastic, and other timber. here and there were grassy glades, in more than one of which they caught tantalizing glimpses of vanishing white-tailed deer. the water began to assume an amber tint, and was so brilliantly clear that in looking down through it they could see great masses of coral rocks that often overshadowed the yawning mouths of dark chasms. above these, whole meadows of the most beautiful grasses--red, green, purple, and yellow--streamed and waved with the ceaseless motion of the current. schools of bright-hued fish darted through and over these, and turtles, plumping into the water from stranded logs or sunny sand-spits, could be seen scuttling away to their hiding-places among them. the noontide heat of the sun was intense as the signal for a halt was given. the boats were turned in towards a bank where a grass-plot, shaded by a clump of rustling palmettoes, offered a tempting resting-place. as they landed, worth was certain that he saw a flock of turkeys disappear in a small hammock back of the clearing. with his new-born hunting instinct strong within him, he seized his gun and crossed the glade, in the hope of getting a shot. he had practised constantly on the call given him by his instructor, and now felt competent to deceive even the most experienced gobbler. advancing cautiously within cover of the hammock, and seating himself on a log that was completely concealed by a screen of bushes, he began to call, "keouk, keouk, keouk." for ten minutes or so he repeated the sounds at short intervals without getting a reply. suddenly, a slight rustle in the bushes behind him caused worth to turn his head. within a yard of him glared a pair of cruel green eyes. with a yell of terror the boy dropped his gun, sprang to his feet, burst from the bushes, and fled wildly towards camp. reaching it in safety, but hatless and breathless, he declared that a tiger had been crouched, and just about to spring at him. "perhaps it was a 'coon," suggested sumner. "'coon, indeed?" cried worth, hotly. "if you had seen the size of its eyes, you would have thought it was an elephant!" "what has become of your gun?" inquired the lieutenant. "i haven't the slightest idea," replied the boy; "and i don't care. i wouldn't face those eyes again for a thousand guns." finally, however, he was persuaded to return with lieutenant carey and sumner, both well armed, and point out the scene of his fright. they found his hat, the gun, and the log on which he had been sitting. then in the soft earth close behind it they also found a double set of huge panther tracks--one made while cautiously approaching the supposed turkey, and the other while bounding away in affright at worth's yell. "i don't wonder that you were both frightened," said the lieutenant, with a smile; "but now that your skill as a turkey-caller is established, i wouldn't go out on a hunting expedition alone again if i were you." "indeed i won't, sir. i'd rather never see another turkey than risk being stared at by such a pair of eyes as that panther carries round with him." chapter xxiv. rattlesnakes and rifle-shots. while they were returning through the grassy glade, the lieutenant, who was a few steps in advance, suddenly stopped and sprang back. the boys barely caught a glimpse of a flat, wicked-looking head, from which a forked tongue was viciously thrusting, and heard a sound like the whir-r-r-r of an immense locust, when lieutenant carey fired, and the head disappeared in the tall grass. "it was a snake, wasn't it?" asked worth. "worse than that," replied the lieutenant. "it was a diamond-back rattler, the most venomous snake known to this country, and with another step i should have been on him. i'd rather face your panther unarmed than to have stepped on that fellow." "what would you have done if you had met it without a gun in your hand?" asked sumner, curiously. "run," answered the lieutenant, laconically, as he grasped the lifeless body of the snake by the tail, with a view to dragging it into camp. "but if he had caught and bitten you?" "he wouldn't have caught me, because, in the first place, he would have been content to be let alone, and wouldn't have chased me. in the second place, the rattlesnake is such a sluggish reptile that i could run faster than he, and could easily have kept out of his way." "well, then, what would you do if you were bitten?" "if it were on an arm or a leg, i should tie my handkerchief above the wound, and twist it with a bit of stick as tightly as possible, so as to impede the circulation. then i should enlarge the wound with my knife, and, if i could reach it with my mouth, i should suck it for five minutes, frequently spitting out the blood. after that i should get to camp as quickly as possible, put a freshly-chewed tobacco plaster on the wound every ten minutes for the next hour, and at the same time drink a tumblerful of whiskey or other alcoholic liquor. if i could do all that, and the fangs had not struck an artery, i should feel reasonably sure of recovery." "suppose they had struck an artery, what would you do?" "reconcile myself to death as quickly as possible, for i should probably be dead inside of three minutes," was the grim reply. worth shuddered as he gazed at the scaly body that, marked with black and yellow diamonds, trailed for more than five feet behind the lieutenant, and remarked that the sooner they got away from the haunts of panthers and rattlesnakes, and back among the good-natured alligators, the better he should like it. "i shouldn't think indians would care to live in such a rattlesnaky country," he added. "they don't mind them," laughed the lieutenant. "their keen eyesight generally enables them to discover a snake as soon as he sees them. then, too, they have an infallible antidote for snake bite, the secret of which they refuse to divulge to white men." "how many rattles has this fellow?" asked sumner. "only seven," answered lieutenant carey, counting them. "then he was a young fellow. i thought from his size that he must be pretty old, and would have twelve or thirteen rattles and a button at least." "the number of rattles does not indicate a snake's age," said the lieutenant, smiling. "they get broken off, as do long finger-nails. i have seen very large snakes with fewer rattles than others that were smaller and evidently younger." while they were eating lunch quorum skinned the snake, rubbed the beautiful skin thoroughly with fine salt, and rolled it into a compact bundle, in which condition it would keep for a long time. after lunch and the hour's rest that followed it the little fleet was again got under way, and proceeded up the swift river. about the middle of the afternoon they entered the broad belt of cypress timber that borders the everglades on the west. here the serried ranks of tall trees, stretching away as far as the eye could reach, held out their long moss-draped arms until they met overhead, and formed a dim archway for the passage of the rushing current. the water flowed with strange gurglings against the gray trunks, and the whole scene was one of such weird solitude, that on entering it the explorers shivered as with a chill. through the semi-twilight fluffy night herons flitted like gray shadows, and the harsh scream of an occasional water-fowl, startled by the dip of paddles, echoed through the gloomy forest like a cry of human distress. the atmosphere of the place was so depressing that no one spoke, but each bent to his paddle or oars with redoubled energy, the quicker to escape into the sunshine that they knew must lie somewhere beyond it. quorum, who had been sitting in the stern of the cruiser while the sailor rowed, was finally made so nervous by his uncanny surroundings that he begged his companion to change places with him. he wished to row that his thoughts might be occupied with the hard work. the sailor complied, though laughing at the negro's fears as he did so. while quorum was working with desperate energy to catch up with the other boats, there came an incident of so startling a nature that in relating it afterwards he said: "i tell yo, sah, de ole niggah so skeer dat him come de neares' in he life to tu'nin' plumb white!" it was a volley of rifle-shots that flashed and roared from the forest on the right bank of the river like thunder from a clear sky. a second volley followed almost immediately, and then succeeded such a din of yells, whoops, and howlings as would have dismayed the stoutest heart. for an instant each one of the explorers imagined himself to be the sole survivor of a wholesale massacre, and the surprise of the volleys was fully equalled by that of seeing his companions still alive. [illustration: "a volley of rifle-shots flashed and roared from the forest."] while the echoes of the first volley were still reverberating through the dim arches of the forest, quorum whirled the cruiser around as on a pivot, and despite his companion's remonstrances, started her down the river with a rush. the canoemen sat for a couple of seconds with uplifted paddles as though paralyzed, and in that space of time the powerful current did for them what quorum had done for the cruiser. there seemed nothing to do but to fly from those crashing rifles and demoniac yells. so fly they did, paddling furiously, and casting fearful glances over their shoulders to note if they were pursued. it must be stated, however, that the lieutenant tried repeatedly to rally the fugitives, and when he found this to be impossible, he held his own canoe in check until certain that no immediate pursuit was being undertaken. it was nearly sunset when he overtook the others at a place beyond the lower edge of the cypress belt, where they had halted to wait for him. he found them still badly demoralized, and ready to continue their flight at the first intimation of further danger. "well, boys," he cried, cheerily, as his canoe swept down beside them, "i suppose we might as well call this the end of our day's work, and go into camp." "camp?" almost gasped worth. "you don't mean, sir, that you propose to go into camp while the whole country is simply swarming with savage indians?" "i certainly do," replied the lieutenant. "we shall be safer in camp, where we can work together, than on the river, where we must necessarily be separated, especially in the dark. moreover, i don't believe we shall be molested here. the mere fact that they have not pursued us so far is, to my mind, an indication that they don't intend to. indeed, boys, in thinking over this matter, i am inclined to believe that the indians, or whoever fired those shots, for i didn't see a human being, only intended to frighten us, in the hope that we would give up our undertaking. i believe that the cartridges they fired were blanks. certainly some of us would have been hit if they had been loaded. i cannot remember seeing a bullet strike the water or anywhere else; can you?" no; none of them had noticed anything of the kind. "that they have not pursued us is another indication that they do not desire our lives," continued the lieutenant. "besides all this, the seminoles are fully aware of the consequences to themselves in case they should kill a white man, and i have no idea that they desire a war or anything like it. thus i say that they only meant to frighten us, and i must acknowledge that they succeeded. i, for one, was never more startled and scared in my life. now i propose that we camp here, without lighting a fire to betray our presence, or let them know that we have stopped running, until towards morning. then i intend to try the passage of that cypress swamp again." chapter xxv. worth's lonely night-watch. lieutenant carey's remarks were received by his companions with considerable incredulity. none of them had ever been under fire before, and it was hard to realize that the deafening volleys that had roared at them from the cypress forest had not been fired with deadly intent. to be sure, neither they, nor even their boats, had been hit; but that might as easily be attributed to poor marksmanship as to good intention on the part of the indians. of course, they did not doubt for an instant that those who had fired from that well-concealed ambush were indians. who else occupied that country, or who else would have done such a thing? had not rust norris given the indians false information concerning the objects of the expedition, and roused them to anger against it? even if this first attack had only been intended for a scare, would a second prove equally harmless? what possible chance had their little band of making its way through the trackless leagues between there and the eastern coast, if the four hundred or so of seminoles occupying the country had determined to prevent them? none at all, of course. on the other hand, as lieutenant carey very justly urged, the indians could not afford to go to war with the whites. besides, did the way ahead of them present any greater difficulties than that they had so recently traversed? what could they do with their frail boats, even if they should return to the open waters of the gulf? could they hope to reach key west in them? then, too, how humiliating it would be to give up their undertaking merely because they had been frightened, and without having caught a glimpse of their enemies! lieutenant carey declared his purpose of going on alone if the others refused to accompany him, and sumner said that, as the son of a naval officer, he was bound to follow the lieutenant. worth said: "of course, if you go, sumner, i must go with you; but i'm awfully frightened all the same." the sailor said that he had no thought of disobeying the lieutenant's orders, and only deserted him as he did in the cypress swamp because quorum was at the oars, and carried him off against his will. quorum said: "ef marse summer an' marse worf gwine fight dem injuns, ob co'se de ole man gwine erlong to pertec' 'em. dem chillun can't be 'lowed ter go prospeckin' in de wilderness wifout quor'm ter look affer 'em, an' holp do de fightin' as well as de cookin'." all this discussion took place after the canoes had been hauled from the water and concealed in a clump of bushes, and while coffee was being prepared over the alcohol lamps, which gave out great heat with little light. they gathered closely about their little stoves and talked in low tones, while the night shadows settled down and shut out the surrounding landscape. after eating a hearty meal, which showed their appetites to be in nowise impaired by their recent fright, and providing a supply of coffee for the morning, they rolled up in their blankets and lay down for a few hours' sleep on the bare ground. that is, all but worth lay down. he, wrapping his blanket about him, and sitting with his gun across his knees, prepared to keep the first hour's watch. he was given this first hour because he was the youngest, and he was to wake sumner when it had expired. sumner was to rouse quorum, he the sailor, and he the lieutenant, who was to stand the last watch and decide upon the time for starting. to be sitting there alone, surrounded by the unseen terrors of a southern wilderness, was a novel and weird experience for worth. he could hear the eddying and gurgling of the river, with frequent splashes that marked the nocturnal activity of its animal life. innumerable insects filled the air about him with shrill sounds, and deep-voiced frogs kept up a ceaseless din from the adjacent swamps. frequent vibratory bellowings, exactly like those of an enraged bull, and certain flounderings in the water, attested the wakefulness of his newly-made alligator acquaintances. the forest rang with the tiresomely irritating notes of the chuck-wills-widows and the solemn warnings of the great hoot owls. every now and then he was startled by the agonized cries of some unfortunate bird seized and dragged from its resting-place by a 'coon or other predatory animal. these, loud and shrill at first, gradually became weaker, until hushed into a lifeless silence. his blood chilled at the distant howl of wolves, or the human-like cry of a panther, and it required all the boy's strength of mind to refrain from arousing his comrades long before the expiration of that interminable hour. only a frequent reaching out of the hand and touching sumner, who lay close beside him, gave him courage to maintain his solitary vigil. his mind was so actively occupied by what he heard, and by listening for what he dreaded still more to hear--the dip of paddles or other sounds indicating the approach of human enemies, that he had not the slightest inclination to sleep. he never was more wide awake in his life, with all his senses more keenly alert, than during that hour. he wondered if, with all those uncanny sounds ringing in his ears, he should dare even to close his eyes when his turn for sleeping came. he kept track of the time by occasionally striking a match, and looking at his watch beneath the sheltering folds of his blanket. when the time came to waken sumner, he hated to do so; but realizing that his own strength for the ensuing day depended upon his sleeping that night, he finally laid his hand gently on his comrade's forehead. from long training in being aroused at unseemly hours, sumner sat up, wide awake, in an instant. the boys exchanged a few whispered words, and then worth lay down. he closed his eyes, determined to try and sleep, though without the least idea of being able to do so. when he next opened them lieutenant carey was bending over him, and saying that it was three o'clock in the morning. it seemed impossible that he could have been asleep for hours, and as the boy sat up rubbing his eyes, he was certain that the lieutenant must have made some mistake. in spite of the darkness, which was still as intense as ever, the boats had been almost noiselessly got into the water, and quorum had heated the coffee made the night before. a cup of this, hot and strong, roused the boy into a full wakefulness, and fifteen minutes later he was seated in his canoe, prepared once more to undertake the passage of the dreaded cypress belt. the lieutenant led the way, sumner and worth, keeping as close together as possible, followed, and the cruiser, with muffled oars, brought up the rear. if the cypress forest into which they almost immediately plunged had seemed weird and gloomy by daylight, how infinitely more so was it in the pitchy darkness by which it was now enshrouded! still, the black walls of tree-trunks rising on each side could be distinguished from the surface of the river, and thus the voyagers were enabled to keep in the channel. the air was motionless, and heavy with dampness and the rank odors of decaying vegetation. the rush of waters, the plash of their paddles, and the unaccountable night sounds of the drenched forest, rang out with startling distinctness. they proceeded with the utmost caution, and uttered no word; but it seemed as though their progress must be apparent to any ear within a mile of them. for two hours they worked steadily and without a pause. they felt that they must have passed the scene of their previous evening's adventure. they were certain of this when at length the cypresses began to grow smaller; and their branches no longer meeting overhead, a faint light began to show itself in the lane of sky thus disclosed. now they knew that they must be approaching the confines of the belt, and that the open 'glades must be close at hand. they breathed more freely than they had for hours, and with each foot of progress their spirits became lightened. the stream which they were following began to branch off in various directions, and the strength of its current was sensibly diminished. by the time the light was sufficient for them to discern clearly surrounding objects, the cypress belt was behind them, and the limitless expanse of the open 'glades stretched away in their front. on the very edge of the cypress forest was a tiny hammock surmounting a slight elevation of solid ground. as the little fleet was passing this, its several crews were beginning to exchange a few words of conversation for the first time since leaving their camp. suddenly their voices were hushed by something almost as startling as the rifle-shots of the previous evening. this time it was the sound of a loud voice, evidently that of a white man, not more than a few rods from them, calling: "come, you fellows, wake up! here it is daylight, and no fire started yet." the startled canoemen looked at each other wonderingly, and sumner was about to utter a shout that would betray their presence when a warning sign from lieutenant carey restrained him. beckoning them to follow him quietly, the lieutenant led the way past the hammock from which the voice had issued, and into a thick clump of tall sawgrass, by which they were effectually concealed. bidding them remain there until his return, and on no account betray their presence by sound or movement, he left them, and cautiously guided his canoe back to the hammock. stepping lightly from it as it touched the land, he made his way quietly through the trees and bushes composing the hammock until, without being seen or heard, he could command a view of an open space in its centre. about the smouldering ashes of a camp-fire ten rough-looking characters, whom he at once recognized as south florida cowboys, were sitting up, yawning and rubbing their eyes into wakefulness, or lay still stretched on the ground enveloped in the blankets that formed their beds. as there was but little danger of their discovering him, the lieutenant waited where he was, to learn something of their character from their conversation, before either showing himself or retiring without disclosing his presence. [illustration: "rough-looking characters, whom he at once recognized as south florida cowboys."] chapter xxvi. the florida everglades. presently a man who was rebuilding the fire straightened up, and addressing one of the others, said: "we're going to get out o' here to-day, ain't we, bill?" "yes, you bet we are," was the answer. "we hain't got nothing more to stay yere in the swamps for, onless you think they might make another try for it, which i don't they will." "not much they won't, after the way they skedaddled when we-uns began to yell. hi! how they did cut down-stream! i'll bet they hain't stopped yit. they must ha' reckoned the hull seminole nation was layin' fur 'em. ho! ho! ho! ha! ha! ha! hit was the slickest job i ever did see!" "you don't reckin they'll hanker arter wisitin' the 'glades agin in a hurry, then?" asked another voice. "hanker fur the 'glades? not muchy, they won't. why, they won't tetch foot to the main-land of the state of fluridy again, not if they can holp it. leastways, not so long as they's a injun left in hit. hit's been a hard trip and a mean job for us fellers, but hit'll pay. the report thet ar leftenant'll make when he gits home'll do mo' to'd gittin' the seminoles moved outen the kentry than ennything that's happened sence the fluridy wah. now mosey round lively, boys. let's have a b'ilin' o' coffee, an' light outen hyar." lieutenant carey had heard all that he cared to, and, without betraying his presence to the cowboys, he softly retraced his steps to where the canoe lay, and a minute later rejoined his party. only telling them that the sooner they put a respectable distance between themselves and that place the better, he led the way into the main stream, that still flowed with considerable force through the grass beds, and turned in the direction of its source. not until they had gone a good two miles did he pause, and then there were several reasons for calling a halt. one reason was that they were far enough beyond the reach of the cowboys to defy discovery, and he wished to tell his companions what he had overheard. another was that the sun was rising, and it was time for breakfast; and a third was that their watery highway having come to an end, it was necessary to decide upon their future course. a small stove was carried in the cruiser, and as there was now nothing but water, with grass growing in it, about them, it was brought into service. the canoes gathered closely around the larger craft, and while quorum prepared breakfast, the lieutenant related his recent adventure. in conclusion he said: "so you see, boys, our indians turned out to be white men, and the shooting was only intended to scare us, after all." "but i don't understand how they knew we were coming, or what they wanted to frighten us for, anyway," said sumner, wearing a very puzzled expression. "neither did i at first," replied lieutenant carey; "but i remember now that a gentleman in key west said the florida cattlemen would be greatly put out on learning of my proposed expedition. he said that they were using every means, foul and fair, to have the indians removed from the state, and that they would be bitterly opposed to having the everglades set apart as a permanent reservation. he advised me to look out for them, and i laughed at him. now i realize that some one must have sent the news to them, and they got up this party to head us off in such a way that the blame would be placed upon the indians. yes, it is clear enough now; but it was a bit of a puzzle at first." "well," said worth, "it is a great relief to know that they were not indians, and that we are safely past them, with no danger of their following us." "it certainly is," replied the lieutenant. "though it will be a greater one to me really to meet indians, as we must sooner or later, and have them treat us decently, or rather leave us alone." here quorum interrupted the conversation with the announcement of, "breakfus, sah." the amount of cooking that he had managed to accomplish with that one-lidded stove was wonderful. besides coffee, he had prepared a great smoking pot of oatmeal, and a dish of crisply fried bacon to be eaten with their hardtack; while these things were disappearing, he prepared and fried a panful of flapjacks that were as light and delicate as though cooked by a ten-thousand-dollar _chef_ on the most modern of ranges. out-of-door camp cookery deserves to rank as one of the exact sciences, and quorum as one of its masters. the old negro found perfect happiness in watching the relish with which his deftly prepared food was eaten, and his whole body expressed a smiling satisfaction at the words of praise lavished upon his skill. while quorum was eating his own breakfast and the sailor was washing and stowing the dishes, the others stood up to take observations. the main stream came to an end where they were, and from it a dozen narrow channels, filled with flags and lily-pads, or "bonnets," as they are called in florida, radiated in as many directions. as far as the eye could reach, and infinitely farther, in front of them and on both sides, stretched a vast plain of coarse brown grass, rising to a height of several feet, and growing in a foot or two of limpid water. innumerable channels of deeper water, marked by the vivid green of their peculiar vegetation, crossed and recrossed each other in every direction, and formed a bewildering net-work. the limitless brown level was dotted here and there with heavily timbered islands of all sizes, from a few rods to many acres in extent. near at hand these were of a bright green, in the middle distance they were of a rich purple hue, and on the far horizon a misty blue. the highest of these islands, as well as the largest one visible, rose on the very limit of their vision, in the north-east, and as it formed a conspicuous landmark, they decided to lay a course for it. accordingly, in single file, with the _hu-la-lah_ leading and "de _punkin seed_" bringing up the rear, the little fleet entered the narrow path that seemed to lead in that direction, and the journey was resumed. the clearness of the water in the everglades is accounted for by the fact that it flows above a bottom of coralline rock, and is always in motion. in it stagnation is unknown; and though it is everywhere crowded with plant life, it is as sweet and pure as that of a spring. another curious fact about the everglades which is generally unknown is that within their limits but few mosquitoes are found. during the summer months, when all residents on the coast of southern florida, even the light-keepers away out on the reef, miles from land, are driven nearly crazy by these pests, the seminoles, who retire to the everglades to escape them, are rarely annoyed. the chief insect pests of the 'glades are the midges, or stinging gnats, that swarm for an hour or so at sunset and sunrise. against these the indians protect themselves by smudges and by nettings of cheese-cloth. from the difficulties of navigation experienced during this their first day in the 'glades, our explorers realized that in striving to journey across their width they had undertaken a most arduous task. the channels that they attempted to follow seemed to lead in every direction but the right one. they were generally so narrow and choked with bonnets that paddling or rowing was impossible, and the boats must be forced ahead by poling. every now and then, too, the shallow waters sank to an unknown depth that no pole could fathom. in such a case, if one attempted to pull his canoe along by grasping the tough grass stalks on either side of him, he was rewarded by a painful cut that often penetrated to the bone. it did not require many sad experiences of this kind to teach the boys that sawgrass is not to be handled with impunity. it has a triangular blade, provided with minutely serrated edges that, green or dry, cut like razors. while it ordinarily attains a height of but four or five feet, the great everglade lake, okeechobee, is surrounded by a barrier of "big sawgrass" that is wellnigh impenetrable to man or beast. even the scaly-hided alligators shun it. this big sawgrass attains the thickness of a cornstalk, with a height of ten or twelve feet, is closely matted, and its cutting edges are possessed of the keenness of oriental scimitars. sometimes the narrow channels along which our canoemates poled with such difficulty opened into broad clear spaces, where sailing was possible for a mile or so. full as often the channels ended abruptly in the grass, when the only thing to do was to get overboard in water waist-deep, and push the boats through it. the sun poured down with an intolerable glare, but its heat was tempered by the strong, fresh breeze that blows every day and all day over the 'glades with the utmost regularity. as they slowly drew near the island for which they were steering, it gradually assumed a conical shape and the symmetrical proportions of a pyramid. late in the afternoon, while they were still about a mile from it, a dense volume of smoke suddenly arose from its extreme summit. this as suddenly disappeared, and then reappeared again at intervals of a second. "i wonder if it can be a volcano?" queried worth, as they gazed curiously at this phenomenon. chapter xxvii. a prehistoric everglade mound. the whole party had come to a halt on first seeing the mysterious smoke, and now, with their boats grouped close together, they watched it curiously. its several puffs did not last more than a minute, and then it was seen no more. nobody but worth mentioned volcanoes, and his suggestion caused a general smile. quorum uttered the single word, "injuns," and lieutenant carey agreed with him. he said: "such a smoke as that must result from human agency, and as i do not believe there is a white man besides ourselves within the limits of the 'glades, it is probably the work of indians, and is doubtless a signal of some kind, referring to our presence. i hope it is, for one of the objects of my mission being to reassure the everglade indians of the kindly intentions of the government towards them, i shall be glad to meet them as quickly as possible. let us go on, then, and have our first interview with them by daylight." half an hour later the canoes reached the island, close to which was a wide channel of open water that apparently extended wholly around it. so dense was its encircling growth of custard-apple and cocoa-plum bushes, that not until they had cut a passage through these could they reach the dry land behind them. anxious to discover the occupants of the island before darkness should set in, the lieutenant, taking sumner and the sailor with him, and leaving worth and quorum to guard the boats, set out for the mound, which, rising to a height of fifty or sixty feet, seemed to occupy the centre of the island. besides being desirous of meeting with indians, lieutenant carey was most curious concerning the formation of this strange mound. until he had seen the smoke rising from its summit, he had believed it to be merely a growth of tall forest trees surrounded by lesser trees and bushes that grew smaller as they neared the water. this is a common feature of that level southern country, where the outer lines of vegetation are stunted by the constant high winds. behind their protection, the inner circles of trees rise higher and higher until they attain a maximum size, and present an appearance of hills and mounds that proves most deceptive to strangers. the character of the smoke rising from the summit of this one had proved it to be something more than one of these ordinary tree mounds. consequently the explorers were not surprised, after making their toilsome way through a forest of trees bound together with luxuriant vines, and brilliant with the blossoms of flowering air-plants, to find a veritable hill of earth rising before them. the forest encircled it, but ended at its base, and its sides were clothed only with a low growth of shrubs. they had hardly begun the ascent when they ran across a narrow but well-worn path leading to the summit. on reaching the top they were disappointed to find it as lonely and unoccupied as the forest through which they had just passed. what they did find was a small cleared space from which even the grass had been worn away, and in the centre of which stood a sort of an altar of rough stones. it was about six feet square by four high, and was built of the ordinary coralline rock of the 'glades. from this, or near it, the smoke must have ascended; but they looked in vain for ashes or other traces of a recent fire. the appearance of the altar showed that fires had been built on it; but there was nothing to indicate that one had burned there within an hour, and the mystery of the smoke became greater than ever. if they had only been familiar with the seminole method of making signal smokes, they would not have been so puzzled. a bright blaze of dry grass is smothered for an instant by a thick branch of green leaves. this is lifted and dropped again as often as the operator wishes to make a puff of smoke. then the grass is allowed to burn out, and the wind, quickly dispersing the light ashes, removes every trace of the fire. while disappointed and puzzled at finding no remnants of the fire that they were certain had recently burned there, nor of those who had lighted it, the explorers were enchanted with the beauty of the scene outspread on all sides of them. to the west the sun was sinking in wonderful glory behind the distant belt of cypress forest. everywhere else the brown 'glades, dotted with blue islands, seamed with the green threads of interlacing channels, and flashing with bits of open water, stretched beyond the limits of their vision. over them hung a tremulous golden haze in which all objects were magnified and glorified. the all-pervading silence was only broken by the occasional rush on heavy pinions of flocks of snow-white ibises home-returning from their distant fishing-grounds. "no wonder the seminoles love this country, and dread the very thought of leaving it," said sumner, at length breaking the silence in which they had gazed on the exquisite scene. "yes, no wonder," replied the lieutenant; "for in all my travels i don't know that i have ever seen anything more beautiful. but the most interesting of it all to me," he continued, "is this mound. it is evidently a structure of human erection, and must be contemporaneous with the famous earth pyramids of mexico. perhaps it was raised by the same wonderful prehistoric race. i have examined many of the well-known shell mounds of florida, including those of cedar keys, and from there at various places down the west coast. i have also seen the great turtle mound on the atlantic side, and those on the st. john's river; but all of them were evidently feast mounds, and showed in themselves the reason for their existence. i have heard of the earth mounds and ancient canals of the upper caloosahatchie and fish-eating creek, but i have never heard it even intimated that similar structures might be looked for in the everglades. consequently i regard this one in the light of an important discovery. it is certainly sufficiently so to warrant us in spending to-morrow on this island investigating the mound as thoroughly as our means will allow." "doesn't that altar look as though the mound had been used as a place for offering sacrifices?" asked sumner. "no; that altar, as you call it, is evidently of recent construction, and was probably built by the indians now inhabiting this country as a place from which to make signal smokes, or possibly as a sepulchre. we will try to find out which to-morrow. these mounds were undoubtedly erected as places easy of defence, and perhaps this one may yield us some ancient weapons, as the 'kitchen middens,' or feast mounds, of cedar keys have so abundantly. i have seen quantities of celts and other stone implements taken from them, while the most exquisite quartz spear-head i ever saw was taken from a caloosahatchie mound, which from descriptions must be very similar to this one. oh yes, we certainly must spend another day on this island. now we'd better be going, for it will soon be dark, and--" here the lieutenant was interrupted by two shots fired in quick succession from the direction in which they had left worth and quorum. "i am afraid that means trouble of some kind," said lieutenant carey, anxiously, after he had fired two answering shots. hurrying down the pathway, which they found led to the water on the opposite side of the island from that on which they had landed, they plunged into the forest, and were surprised to notice how dark it had already grown. its intricacies were so bewildering and its difficulties so numerous that it was nearly an hour after they heard the shots before they came within sound of a voice answering their repeated calls. at length they reached the place where they had left the boats, and here they found worth alone, and so panic-stricken that it was with difficulty he could answer their eager questions. "why had he fired those shots?" "where was quorum?" "where were the boats?" "i fired them to call you back," answered the boy, "and i don't know where quorum is nor where the boats are. they were here when i left, and when i came back they were gone. this was all i found here." with this worth pointed to a bag of hardtack that lay on the ground at his feet. "and i'm afraid poor quorum has been killed, for i know he never would have left us. i thought perhaps you were killed too, and that i was left here all alone, and i've been getting more and more frightened, until i think i should have gone crazy if you had not come when you did." "you poor boy!" said the lieutenant, soothingly, "i don't wonder that you were frightened. i should have been myself. but how did you happen to leave quorum? and what was he doing when you left him?" "he was sitting in the cruiser, and i only left him for a minute, because i heard such a big turkey gobbler right here in the woods close to us. i thought it would be such a pleasant surprise for you to have me get him for supper, and i was sure there weren't any panthers or rattlesnakes here. so i just crept into the bushes to get a shot at him, and he kept going farther and farther off, and i kept following him. i didn't see him at all, and after a while i didn't hear him any more either, so i thought i'd better come back. when i got here, i couldn't find quorum or the boats, so i fired my gun as a signal." "and you haven't seen nor heard anything of quorum since?" inquired lieutenant carey, looking puzzled and anxious. "no, i haven't heard a sound nor seen a sign of a living thing," answered worth. "there can't be any doubt of this being the right place," said the lieutenant, reflectively, "for there is where we cut our way through the bushes." "and here is the bag of biscuit," added worth. "i am not a bit surprised at the disappearance of the canoes," said sumner. "i am getting used to that. but to have quorum and the cruiser go too is certainly very strange." "and leaves us in a most awkward predicament," added the lieutenant. "if quorum had only gone with one boat, we might expect to see him back at any moment; but to have them all go looks very suspicious. i greatly fear the poor fellow has been the victim of some foul play. however, it is too dark now to do anything but light a fire and prepare to pass the night where we are as well as we can under the circumstances." chapter xxviii. what became of quorum and the canoes. when worth and quorum were left alone they sat for some time discussing the mystery of the smoke, and whether or not they had better begin unloading the boats and preparing camp. worth advised against this. he hoped the others would discover a better camping-place than that. he also thought that perhaps they might return with news that would necessitate their leaving the island and in a hurry. as he complained of being very hungry, quorum got out the biscuit-bag, and they each took a hardtack from it. it was while they were eating these that the sound of a loud "gobble, gobble, gobble," came from the bushes, apparently but a few rods from where they sat. worth's hunting instinct was at once aroused, and slipping a couple of shells into his gun, he whispered: "you sit still, quorum, and i'll have that fellow in a minute. my! but he must be a big one!" then he stepped noiselessly to the shore, and silently disappeared among the trees. quorum sat with his back to the water, watching the spot where his young companion had entered the forest, and listening eagerly for the expected shot. all at once a slight jar of the boat caused him to start; but before he could turn his head it was enveloped in a thick fold of cloth that effectually prevented his seeing or calling out. in a few seconds two active forms had bound his hands and feet, and slid him into the bottom of the boat, where he lay blinded, helpless, and nearly smothered. one of his captors picked up the biscuit-bag from which the prisoner had just been eating, and tossed it ashore with a low laugh. in the mean time two others had been unfastening the canoes, and dragging them cautiously backward through the opening cut in the bushes to the channel, where lay the craft in which they had come. it was a large and well-shaped cypress dugout, capable of holding a dozen men. in less than three minutes from the time of quorum's capture it was being poled rapidly but silently along through the twilight shadows, with the stolen boats in tow. at a point about half a mile from the island these were skilfully concealed in a clump of tall grasses, and quorum was bundled into the dugout. a choking sound from beneath the cloth that enveloped his head caused one of the strange canoemen to loosen it somewhat, so as to facilitate the prisoner's breathing. then, propelled by four pairs of lusty young arms, the dugout shot away up one of the watery lanes leading directly into the heart of the 'glades. an hour later it was run ashore on one of the numerous islands whose purple outlines had so charmed the observers from the top of the mound. here it was greeted by the barking of dogs and the sound of many voices. the thongs that bound quorum's legs were cut, he was lifted to his feet, and, led by two of his captors, he was made to walk for some distance. at length he was halted, his wrists were unbound, and the cloth that enveloped his head was snatched from it. the bewildered negro was instantly confronted by such a glare of firelight that for a minute his eyes refused to perform their duty. as he stood clumsily rubbing them, he heard a titter of laughter and the subdued sound of talking. as his eyes gradually became accustomed to the light, he saw, first, a fire directly in front of him, then, several palmetto huts, and at length a dozen or more indian men, besides women and children, grouped in front of the huts, and all staring at him. [illustration: "his wrists were unbound, and the cloth that enveloped his head was snatched from it."] until that moment he had not known who had made him prisoner, nor why he had been carried off; and even now the second part of the question remained as great a mystery as ever. there was no doubt, however, that, for some purpose or other, he had been captured by a scouting party of seminoles, and though quorum had met individuals of this tribe while cruising on the reef, he had never visited one of their camps nor been in their power. he therefore gazed about him with considerable trepidation, and wondered what was going to be done with him. as he did not recognize any of the dusky faces gathered in the firelight, he was amazed when one of the men, addressing him in broken english, said: "how, quor'm! how! injun heap glad you come. you hongry? eat sofkee. good, plenty." at the same time the speaker pointed to a smoking kettle of something that a squaw had just lifted from the fire and set close to the negro. a great wooden spoon was thrust into it, and its odor was most appetizing. having fasted since early morning, quorum was very hungry. not only this, but under the circumstances he would have eaten almost anything his entertainers chose to set before him rather than run the risk of offending them. therefore, without waiting for a second invitation, he squatted beside the kettle of sofkee, and began sampling its contents with the huge spoon. to his surprise, he had never in his life tasted a more delicious stew. after the first mouthful, he had no hesitation in eating such a meal as made even the indians, among whom a large eater is considered worthy of respect, regard him with envious admiration. it is no wonder that quorum found this indian food palatable, for the seminole squaws are notable cooks, and sofkee is the tribal dish. it is a stew of venison, turtle, or some other meat, potatoes, corn, beans, peppers, and almost anything else that is at hand. it is thickened with coontie starch, and a kettleful of it is always to be found over one of the village fires, at the disposal of every hungry comer. the one drawback to its perfect enjoyment, according to a white man's fastidious taste, is that, besides the sofkee, the wooden spoon with which it is eaten is equally at the disposal of all comers, and is in almost constant use. this fact was not known to quorum at the time of his introduction to sofkee. if it had been, it would hardly have lessened his relish of the meal, for quorum was too wise to be fastidious. he was so refreshed by his supper, as well as emboldened by the fact that no one seemed inclined to harm him, that something of his natural aggressiveness returned. after laying the sofkee spoon down, he turned to the indian who had already spoken to him, and said: "why fo' yo' call me quor'm? i 'ain't hab no 'quaintance wif you." for answer the indian only said, "tobac, you got um, quor'm?" "yes, sah. tobac? i got er plenty ob him back yonder in de boat wha' yo' tuk me frum. why fo' yo' treat a 'spectable colored gen'l'man dish yer way, anyhow? wha' yo' mean by playin' sich tricks on him, an' on de white mans wha' trabblin' in he comp'ny?" while speaking the negro had mechanically produced his black pipe, and instead of answering his questions, the indian said: "tobac. you no got um. me got um, plenty. you take um, smoke um, bimeby talk heap." with this he handed a plug of tobacco to the negro, who understood the action, if he had not fully comprehended the words that accompanied it. as he cut off a pipeful and carefully crumbled it in his fingers, he began to think that his position was not such a very unpleasant one, after all. he only wished he could imagine his fellow explorers as being half so comfortable as he was at that moment. realizing from the indian's last remark that there would be no talk until after the smoke, he assumed as comfortable a position as possible, and gazed curiously about him. the little village, or camp, of half a dozen huts, was nearly hidden in the black shadows of the forest trees that surrounded it on all sides. its huts were built of poles, supporting roofs of palmetto thatch, and were open at the sides. each was provided with a raised floor of split poles, thickly covered with skins, and every hut contained one or more cheese-cloth sleeping canopies. each hut had also several rifles and other hunting gear hanging in it, while canoe-masts, sails, paddles, and push poles leaned against its walls. the men, who lay smoking on the furs inside the huts, or stretched in comfortable attitudes on the ground outside, were tall, clean-limbed, athletic-looking fellows clad in turbans of bright colors, gay calico shirts, and moccasins of deerskin; the women wore immense necklaces of beads, calico jackets, and long skirts, but were barefooted and bareheaded; and the children were clad precisely like their elders, with the exception of the turbans, which are denied to the boys and young men until they reach the age of warriors. besides the indians, quorum saw that the camp was occupied by numbers of fowls, dogs, and small black pigs, that roamed through it at will. everybody and everything in it, animals as well as humans, looked contented and well fed. at length quorum's smoke was finished, and he knocked the ashes from his pipe. as if this were a signal, the indian men laid aside their pipes, and it was evident that the time for talking had arrived. chapter xxix. a very serious predicament. the four explorers left on the mound island were very far from spending so pleasant an evening as that enjoyed by quorum in the seminole village. they were full of anxiety both as to his fate and their own. in some respects their position was not so bad as if they had been cast away on a desert island in the ocean, while in others it was worse. in the latter case they might hope to sight and signal some passing vessel, but here there was no chance for anything of that kind. at the best, they would not see anything except indian canoes, and, under the circumstances, they could have little hope of obtaining aid from these. their revolvers were still loaded, and they had between them half a dozen cartridges for their guns, but thus far they had discovered no traces of game on the island. they would not lack for fresh-water, but with only a single bag of biscuit, the food question was likely to become a serious one within a short time. they had no knowledge of any white settlements within less than a hundred miles of where they were. these could only be reached by wading and swimming through the trackless 'glades and bewildering cypress swamps. undoubtedly some of the 'glade islands were occupied by indians, but they might explore as many of these as their strength would permit them to reach without finding one thus inhabited. their situation was certainly a most perplexing one, and as they sat around a fire, eating a scanty supper of hardtack and discussing their prospects, these appeared gloomy in the extreme. still, the lieutenant well knew that he must, if possible, keep up the spirits of his little party, and that the worst thing they could do was to take a hopeless view of the situation. so he said: "well, boys, though we seem to be in a nasty predicament, it might be a great deal worse, and we have still many things to be thankful for. i once drifted for a week in an open boat in the middle of the south pacific. there were seven of us, and only one man of the party had the faith and courage to continue cheerful and hopeful through it all. on the very day that we swallowed our last drop of water, and while the rest of us were lying despairingly in the bottom of the boat, he sat up on watch, and finally discovered the trading schooner that picked us up." "i," said sumner, "do not feel nearly so badly now as i did when drifting out to sea in the dark on that wretched raft a couple of weeks ago. i expected every minute to be washed off and be snapped up by sharks; but, after all, the loneliness was the worst part of it." "right you are, mr. sumner," said the sailor. "a man can stand a heap of suffering along with others, that would throw him on his beam ends in no time if he was compelled to navigate by himself. i mind one time that i was lost in a fog, in a dory, on the grand banks. as we had grub and water in the boat, i didn't worry much, till my dorymate fell overboard and got drownded. the weight of his 'ilers and rubber boots sunk him like a shot. after that i wellnigh went crazy with the loneliness. i couldn't seem to eat or drink; and though i was picked up the very next day, that one night of loneliness seemed like a year of torment. oh yes, sir, men can save themselves in company, when they won't lift a hand if left alone." "i don't think i was ever in a worse fix than this one," remarked worth, dolefully. "probably not, my boy," said the lieutenant, cheerily. "you are young yet, and have just made a start on your career of adventure. all things must have a beginning, you know. the next time you find yourself in an unpleasant situation, you will take great satisfaction in looking back and describing this one as having been much worse. no adventure worth the telling can be had without a certain degree of mental or physical suffering, and the more of this that is endured the greater the satisfaction in looking back on it. now that we can do nothing before daylight, i propose that we make ourselves as comfortable as possible, and sleep as soundly as possible. by so doing we shall be able to face our situation with renewed strength and courage in the morning. to-morrow we will explore the island, discover its resources, and perhaps find traces of quorum and the boats. failing in this, i propose that we construct as good a raft as we can with the means at hand. with it to carry our guns, besides affording us some support, we will make our way back to the place where those cowboys were camped this morning. from there we can follow their trail until we overtake them, or reach some settlement." cheered by having a definite plan of operations thus outlined, all hands set to work to gather such materials for bedding as they could find in the darkness, and an hour later the little camp was buried in profound slumber. to their breakfast of hardtack the following morning sumner added a hatful of cocoa-plums that he had gathered while the others still slept. soon after sunrise they divided into two parties--the lieutenant and worth forming one, and sumner and the sailor the other--and set out in opposite directions to make their way around the island. "i don't want any one to fire a gun except in case of absolute necessity," said lieutenant carey. "and if a shot is heard from either party, the others will at once hasten in that direction." "can't we even shoot my gobbler if we meet him?" queried worth. "no, i think not," replied the lieutenant, with a smile; "that is, unless he shows fight, for i expect your gobbler would turn out to be a turkey without feathers, and standing about six feet high. i mean," he added, as worth's puzzled face showed that he did not understand, "that the call by which you were led away from quorum was, in all likelihood, uttered by an indian for that very purpose." so difficult was their progress through the luxuriant and densely-matted undergrowth of that everglade isle that, though it was not more than a couple of miles in circumference, it was nearly noon before the two parties again met. they had discovered nothing except that the island was uninhabited, and they were its sole occupants. nor had they seen anything that would give a clew to the fate that had overtaken poor quorum. "while i don't for a moment suppose that the fellow has deserted," said the lieutenant, "i wish, with all my heart, that we knew what had become of him." "indeed, he has not deserted," replied sumner, warmly. "i'll answer for quorum as i would for myself. wherever he is, he will come back to us if he gets half a chance." "yes, i believe he will; and i only hope he may get the chance. now let us go to the top of the mound for one more comprehensive look at our surroundings, and then we will begin our preparations for leaving the island." from the summit of the mound the same tranquil scene on which lieutenant carey and sumner had gazed with such pleasure the evening before, only more widely extended, greeted their eyes. it was as devoid of human life now as then, and its present beauties failed to interest them. "i said that we would probably spend to-day here," remarked the lieutenant. "but i must confess that my present interest in this mound lies in getting away from it as quickly as possible. i have no longer the least desire to investigate its mysteries, and so let us descend to our more important work." returning to their landing-place, and eating a most unsatisfactory lunch of hardtack, they began to search for materials from which to build their raft. these were hard to find, and still harder to prepare for the required purpose. there was plenty of timber, but it was green, and they had no weapons with which to attack it except their sheath-knives. neither had they any nails nor ropes, and their lashings must be made of vines. after a whole afternoon of diligent labor, a nondescript affair of different lengths and jagged ends lay on the ground at the water's edge ready for launching. with infinite difficulty and pains they got it into the water, only to have the mortification of seeing it immediately sink. "well, boys," said the lieutenant, in a voice that trembled in spite of his effort to make it sound cheerful, "that raft is a decided failure. unless we can find some wood better suited to our purpose, i am afraid we must give up the idea altogether, and try to reach the cypress belt without any such aid." "if we only had a few sticks of the timber that is so plenty along the reef!" said sumner, thinking of his own previous efforts in the raft line. "we might as well wish for our canoes, and done with it," said worth, despondently. just then they thought they heard a far-away shout in the forest behind them. instinctively grasping their guns, they stood in listening attitudes. it was repeated, this time more distinctly, and they looked at each other wonderingly. at the third shout sumner exclaimed, joyously: "it's quorum! i know it is!" he would have plunged into the forest to meet the new-comer, but the lieutenant restrained him, saying: "wait a minute. let us be sure that this is not another trap." a few moments later there was no longer any mistaking the voice, and their answering shouts guided quorum, his honest face beaming with joy and excitement, to the place where they were awaiting him. chapter xxx. quorum as an ambassador. it was quorum, sure enough, not only alive and well, but seemingly in the best of spirits. where had he been? where were the boats? how did he get back? and where had he come from? these are only samples of the dozens of questions with which he was plied while shaking hands with his friends, including the lieutenant, who was as heartily rejoiced as the boys at again seeing the faithful fellow. at one of the questions thus asked him, quorum's face fell, and he answered: "whar de boats is, honey, i don't know, fer i hain't seen no likeness ob dem sence las' night 'bout dis time. whar i is bin, an' what i is 'sperienced, is er long story; but hit's got ter be tole right now, kase dat's what i hyar fer. what we do nex' depen' on de way you all take hit when i is done tellin'." then they sat down, and forgetful of their hunger, their recent disappointment with the raft, and even of their unhappy predicament, the others listened with absorbed interest to quorum's story. he described the way in which he had been carried off, and his reception in the indian camp. "they were indians, then?" interrupted the lieutenant. "yes, sah, shuah 'nough injuns, an' a powerful sight ob dem--man, squaw, an' pickaninny, an' dey gib ole quor'm one ob de fines' suppahs he ebber eat." "i wish we had one like it here at this minute!" said sumner, thus reminded of his hunger. "den we all smoke de peace-pipe, so dey don't hab no fear ob me declarin' er war on 'em," continued quorum. "them injuns has got tobacco, then?" queried the sailor, whose smoking outfit had disappeared with the boats. "ob co'se dey is, er plenty," answered quorum. "an' den me an' de big chiefs sot down fer what yo' might call a considerashun ob de fac's. dey say as what dey can't noways 'low dis hyer experdishun to pass troo de 'glades, 'cep' on condishuns." told in more intelligible language than that used by quorum, the substance of his talk with the indians was as follows: they had learned from a white man that the objects of lieutenant carey's expedition were to spy out their land, discover their numbers and the value of their property, and make preparations for their removal from that part of the country. "i hope you told them differently, and explained our real objects," said the lieutenant. "yes, sah; i done tell 'em to de full ob my knowingness ob yo' plans. but seein' as i hain't know nuffin' tall 'bout 'em, maybe i don't make hit berry cl'ar ter dem igerant sabages; but i done hit as well as i know how." the indians had declared that they should resist any such attempt at an investigation of their resources and mode of life, and that the party must turn back from where it now was. if it would do so, its boats should be restored, and it would be allowed to depart in peace. the difficulties in the way of accepting this proposition had at once been seen by quorum. he had explained that as their small boats were not fitted to cruise in the open waters of the gulf, and as their big boat was already on its way to the east coast, where they were to meet it, to turn back would be a great hardship. the indians had listened gravely to their interpreter's translation of all that he had to say on the subject, and assented to the force of his arguments. then they proposed another plan. it was that if the whites would give up their arms and trust entirely to them, they would convey the party and their boats safely across the 'glades to within a short distance of the east coast. there they should again receive their guns, and should be allowed to depart in peace, provided they would promise not to return. "seems to me that is quite a liberal proposition," said the lieutenant, after quorum had succeeded in making it clearly understood. "all we want is to cross the 'glades and see the indians. i would willingly have paid them to guide us, and now they offer to do so of their own accord. i can't conceive how you persuaded them to make such an offer, quorum. you must be a born diplomat." "yes, sah," replied the negro, grinning from ear to ear, "i 'specs i is." at the same time he had no more idea of what the lieutenant meant than if he had talked in greek. "how does that plan strike you, boys?" asked lieutenant carey, turning to sumner and worth. "it strikes me as almost too good to be true," answered the former. "and i'm afraid there's some trick behind it all; but then i don't see what we can do except say yes to almost any offer they may choose to make." "that is so," said the lieutenant. "without our boats, and with no means for making a raft, we are about as helpless as we well can be." "it seems to me a splendid plan," said worth, who saw visions of peaceful nights, and days pleasantly spent in hunting and in visiting indian camps. although the sailor's opinion had not been asked, he could not help remarking: "i'm agin trusting an' injin, sir. injins and malays and all them sort of niggers are notoriously deceitful." "hi! wha' yo' say dere 'bout niggahs, yo' sailorman?" exclaimed quorum, in high dudgeon. "yo' call 'em notorious, eh?" "not black ones," answered the sailor, apologetically--"not black ones, quorum; but them as is red and yellow." "dat's all right, sah, an' i 'cept yo' 'pology. at de same time i is bankin' on de squar'ness ob dem injuns who i bin councillin' wif." "you believe it will be safe to trust them, then?" asked the lieutenant. "yes, sah; yo' kin trus' 'em same like a black man." "very well," said lieutenant carey; "as i don't see how, in the present state of affairs, we can do anything else, i will take your word for their honesty, and accept their conditions; only i will not promise never to come into the 'glades again. i will only promise not to turn directly back from the east coast after they have left us." "dat's wha' dey mean, sah. i is berry 'tic'lar on dat pint ob de controbersy." "then we will consider it as settled, and would like to leave here for a place where there is something to eat as quickly as possible. where are your indian friends?" "out dere, sah, in de cooners. dey say when yo' ready, den i holler like er squinch-owl, an' brung down all yo' uns' guns an' resolvers de fustes' t'ing." "very well, squinch away then, and here are my pistols. it is certainly humiliating to be disarmed to please a lot of indians; but hunger and necessity are such powerful persuaders that it is best to submit to them with as good grace as possible." so quorum "squinched" in a manner that no self-respecting owl would have recognized; but which answered the purpose so well that an answer was immediately heard from the water, over which the evening shadows were now fast falling. directly afterwards a canoe, containing the indian who had acted as interpreter during quorum's council with the chiefs, appeared at the opening in the bushes. without stepping ashore, this indian, whose name was ul-we (the tall one), exchanged a few words with quorum, whereby he learned that the seminole conditions were accepted by the white men. he then bade the negro place the guns and pistols in the canoe and enter it himself. then he shoved off, and another canoe, containing two indians, made its appearance. the lieutenant bade sumner and worth step into it first; but the moment they had done so, it too was shoved off, and another canoe, also containing two indians, appeared in its place. this received the lieutenant and the sailor. by the time it was poled into the channel the foremost canoe had disappeared in the darkness, nor was it again seen. during their journey both the lieutenant and sumner tried to enter into conversation with the indians in their respective canoes, but after a few futile attempts they gave it up. to all their questions they received the same answer, which was "un-cah" (yes), and not another word could the indians be persuaded to utter. [illustration: "directly afterwards a canoe appeared at the opening in the bushes."] the lieutenant consoled himself with the thought that he would be able to talk to the chiefs through the interpreter; while the boys looked forward with eager anticipations to seeing the indian village that quorum had described. as for the sailor, indians and their villages were matters of indifference to him. what he looked forward to was a good supper and a pipe of tobacco. thus, all of them awaited with impatience their journey's end, and wished it were light enough for them to see whither they were being taken. chapter xxxi. a closely guarded camp. the darkness, which comes so quickly after sunset in that far southern country, with almost no intervening twilight, effectually prevented our explorers from seeing where they were going. they only knew from the stars that their general direction was east, or directly into the heart of the everglades. they were even unable to study the countenances, dress, or general appearance of the young indians who, standing in the bow and stern of each canoe, drove it forward with unerring judgment and at a considerable speed by means of long push poles. these poles were quite slender; but each terminated at its lower end in an enlargement, formed by fastening a short bit of wood to either side that prevented it from sinking deeply into the sand or grass roots against which it was set. the canoes in which our voyagers were now travelling were as different from their own dainty craft as one boat can be from another. nor did they bear the least resemblance to the bark canoes of northern indians, there being no southern bark similar to that of the northern birch, or suitable for canoe-building. they were simply dugouts, from twenty to twenty-five feet long by about three feet broad, hollowed with great skill from huge cypress logs. their lines were fine, and, as our friends afterwards discovered, they are capital sailing craft in any wind, except dead ahead. when a seminole decides to build one of these canoes, he first selects and fells his tree, cutting off a section of the required length, and free from knots or cracks. the upper surface of this is hewn smooth, with a slight sheer rise fore and aft. on this smooth surface a plan of the canoe is carefully outlined with charcoal, and then the outside is laboriously worked into shape with hatchets. the hollowing out of the inside is accomplished by fire and hatchets, and, considering the limited supply of tools at the builders' disposal, the result is a triumph of marine architecture. hatchets and knives are the only tools used in the making of the masts, spars, paddles, push poles, and spear handles that are needed for the equipment of each canoe. the ingenious builders also cut and sew their own sails, which they make of unbleached muslin bought from the trader on biscayne bay. although they use no keels, centre-boards, nor lee-boards, they manage by holding their paddles firmly against the side of the canoe and deep in the water to sail close-hauled, and to keep her up to the wind in a manner that is truly surprising. the indians take great pride in their canoes and value them highly, for, as they are without horses, roads, or any considerable area of dry land, these are their sole means of transportation and communication between the different parts of the vast territory over which they roam. after travelling several miles, this first voyage of our explorers in indian canoes ended at a heavily wooded islet, between the trees of which they could see the welcome glow of a camp-fire. to their great delight, as they reached the shore, they found their own canoes and the cruiser safely moored to it. in spite of their joy at again seeing these, they were too hungry and too impatient to visit the indian village to do more just then than assure themselves that their own boats were all right. then they hurried towards the fire. there was a roomy palmetto hut standing near it; but to their surprise the firelight disclosed only a single human figure, which, as they drew near, proved to be that of quorum. he was hard at work cooking supper, and only acknowledged their presence with a grin, and the announcement that it would be ready in a few minutes. turning to the hut, they saw that it had been recently erected, and that it contained their own rolls of bedding, besides the little bags of toilet articles belonging to lieutenant carey and the boys, which quorum had thoughtfully taken from the canoes and placed ready for their use. "i never realized the luxury of brushes and combs before!" exclaimed worth, as he occupied the time before supper with making what was probably the most elaborate toilet ever seen in the everglades. meanwhile the lieutenant was questioning quorum as to the location of the indian village, and was disappointed to find the negro as ignorant on the subject as himself. quorum thought it must be on some other island, as this certainly was not the place to which he had been taken the night before. he said that on arriving there he had found the canoes and cruiser, the hut built, and the fire lighted. the young indian who had brought him had helped carry the things up to the hut, and also given him some venison and vegetables in exchange for a small quantity of coffee and sugar. he had remained there until shortly before the arrival of the others, and quorum had not noticed when he disappeared. before leaving, he had told quorum that, by the chief's orders, the white men would remain on that island until the following evening. "oh, we will, will we?" said lieutenant carey, whose pride chafed against receiving orders from an indian, even if he was a chief. "with our own boats at hand, i don't see what is to hinder us from leaving when we please. i wish that chief would hurry up and put in an appearance. i want to have a few words with him." he now for the first time realized that the young indians who had brought them there had not followed them to the camp, and he stepped down to the water's edge to see what they were doing. to his dismay he found that they had not only disappeared, but had taken the canoes and cruiser with them. greatly provoked at this, he returned to the camp in a very unpleasant frame of mind, mentally abusing the indians, and regretting that, by accepting their conditions, he had so completely placed himself in their power. his good-nature was somewhat restored by the supper, which was most bountiful and well cooked, and by the soothing pipe smoke that followed it; for among other things, quorum had not neglected to bring up a plentiful supply of tobacco. after supper, as he and the boys lay outstretched on their blankets within the hut, the open side of which faced the fire, the lieutenant acknowledged that their present position was a vast improvement on that of the night before. the boys agreed with him, though at the same time they were even more disappointed than he at not finding themselves in an indian village. that was one of the things they had most counted on seeing in the everglades. having finally decided to make the best of their situation, and to obtain the greatest possible amount of comfort and pleasure from it, they turned in, and slept soundly until morning. they were so thoroughly tired with their various hardships and labors of the two preceding days and nights that they slept late, and the sun had already been up for several hours before they answered the negro's call to breakfast. he said that though he had been down to the shore several times after water, he had seen no signs of either canoes or indians. thus to all appearances they were not only the sole occupants of the island, but of the 'glades as well. as they had nothing else to do, the lieutenant proposed to the boys that they should explore this new island, and make such discoveries of other islands and the intervening 'glades as could be seen from its shores. they readily agreed to this, and the three set forth. they had not gone more than a hundred yards from camp when they were suddenly confronted by a young indian, armed with a rifle, which he pointed at them, at the same time making other signs to them to go back. at first they were greatly startled by his unexpected appearance. then the lieutenant undertook to remonstrate with him, and to explain that they only wanted to walk harmlessly about and view the landscape, but all in vain. the stolid-faced young savage either could not or would not understand. he only shook his head without uttering a word, but continued to make signs for them to go back. "this is one of the strangest and most irritating things that i ever heard of!" exclaimed lieutenant carey, after finding his efforts to communicate with the indian unavailing. "if we only had our guns, i'd make that fellow let us pass or know the reason why. as we haven't any, and he has one, the argument is too one-sided, and we might as well retire from it as gracefully as possible. let us try another direction, and find out if that is also guarded." they tried in two other places, only to be repulsed by other determined young guards who, mute as statues, were equally stolid and impervious to argument. [illustration: "they were suddenly confronted by an indian armed with a rifle."] there was nothing to do but to return to the hut and make the best of the situation. from there no signs of an indian was to be seen; but let one of the inmates of the camp stroll beyond its limits in any direction, and the woods seemed to swarm with them, though the guards probably did not number more than half a dozen in all. the day was passed in eating, sleeping, and in discussing their peculiar situation. they were evidently prisoners, though to all appearances as free as air; but, as lieutenant carey said, there was no chance of their escaping from the island anyhow, so why they should be denied the privilege of walking about it he could not understand. quorum was equally in the dark with the rest, and said that nothing of the kind had been intimated by the chiefs during their talk with him. it was finally decided that instead of being on a small island as they had supposed, they must be at one end of a large one that contained a village at the other, which, for some unknown reason, the indians did not choose they should visit. with this solution of the problem they were forced to content themselves, and they waited with impatience the coming of night, when, according to what ul-we had told quorum, their journey was to be resumed. chapter xxxii. crossing the 'glades without seeing them. they had an early supper, so as to be all ready for a start whenever their jailers should see fit to make one. by sunset their blankets were rolled up, and they were impatiently awaiting some signal; but none came until darkness had fully set in. then once more from the direction of the water came the now familiar cry of a screech-owl. it was answered from several points about the camp, which showed their indian guards to be still on duty. as quorum had been allowed to go freely to the shore for water during the day, the lieutenant now told him to go down again and discover the meaning of the signal. he returned a minute later with the news that ul-we was waiting for him and the cooking utensils, and that the canoes for the other passengers would arrive with the setting of the new moon, which hung low in the western sky. so quorum left them, as on the previous night. as the silver crescent of halissee, the night timepiece of the everglades, sank from sight, the others went to the shore, carrying their blankets with them. there they found two canoes, apparently manned by the same silent crews of the evening before, awaiting them. as they shoved off and plunged once more into the trackless 'glades, the lieutenant turned for a look at the island. he could distinguish its black outlines from end to end, and it was a very small one. this overthrew the only theory they had formed concerning their close imprisonment, and left him more than ever puzzled as to its object. hour after hour the long poles were steadily wielded by the silent indians, who seemed not to know fatigue nor to require rest. all through the night the heavy dugouts pursued their steady way, crashing through the crisp bonnets, and bending down the long grasses, that flew up with a "swish" behind them. it was a marvel to the passengers that the channels, followed as unerringly by the dusky canoemen as though it had been daylight, always led into one another. their own experience had been that, even with sunlight to guide them, half the channels they had attempted to follow proved blind leads. but with the indians it was never so. through the night lieutenant carey pondered his situation, and studied their course by the stars. these told him that it was a little to the north of east, the very one he would have chosen, and in this respect the situation was satisfactory. but what information was he gaining concerning the everglades, their resources, and present population? about as little as was possible for one who was actually passing through them. could he obtain any more? evidently not, under the circumstances. long and deeply as he pondered the subject, he could not think of a single feasible plan for altering the existing state of affairs. he was compelled to acknowledge himself completely outwitted by the simple-minded sons of the forest into whose power he had so curiously fallen. "if i could only get at them, and talk to them, and explain matters to them!" he said aloud; and the sailor answered: "it wouldn't do no good, sir. there's none in the world so obstinate as injins and malays. once they gets an idea inside their skulls, all the white talk you could give 'em wouldn't drive it out. fighting is the only argument they can understand; and, if you say the word, i'll have these two heathen pitched overboard in no time." "no," said the lieutenant, "it wouldn't do any good, and my orders are to treat such indians as i may meet with all possible friendliness. i only wish i could meet with some besides these two young automatons, but there does not seem to be any prospect of it." at the same time sumner and worth, crouched snugly among their blankets in the bottom of the other canoe, were also talking of their strange situation. "do you suppose any other two fellows ever had such queer times on a canoe trip as we are having?" asked worth. "indeed i do not," replied sumner. "and this is the very queerest part of it. here we are still on a canoe cruise, without our own canoes, without knowing where we are going, and without having anything to do with the management of the craft we are cruising in. it will be a queer experience to tell about when you get back to new york, won't it?" "yes, indeed, it will, though new york seems so very far away that it is hard to realize that i shall ever get there again. if we could only see an indian village, though! it seems too bad to be going right through an indian country and yet see nothing of its people." "oh, well, we are not through with the 'glades yet, and you may still have a chance to see plenty of indians." in spite of sumner's hopefulness, worth's wish did not seem any nearer being gratified four days from that time than it did then. each night's journey was a repetition of the first, except that they grew shorter with the growing moon. the indians refused to travel except in darkness, and never came for their passengers until after the moon had set. each day was spent in a comfortable camp, to which they were so closely confined that they could learn nothing of their surroundings. these camps were always located on small islands, and were always reached before daylight. quorum always arrived at the camping-place some time in advance of the others, and he always found the canoes and the cruiser awaiting him. from them he was allowed to take whatever he thought the party would need, but after that first night the boats invariably disappeared before the others reached them. sumner said this was a trick the canoes had learned early on the cruise, and they had probably taught it to the other boat. who caused their disappearance or where they went to, none of them knew; and but for quorum the owners of the several craft would have heard nothing of their whereabouts or welfare. during this strange journey, as they were unable to do any hunting or foraging for themselves, quorum was obliged to exchange so many of their stores for fresh meat, fruit, and vegetables, that he finally announced them to be nearly exhausted. at length, one very dark night, the passengers, who were half dozing in the bottoms of the canoes, became conscious of a change. the darkness all at once grew more intense, until they could barely distinguish the forms of the indians in the bow and stern of their respective boats. a rank odor of decaying vegetation filled the air, while the swish of grass and bonnets was no longer heard. they seemed to be moving more swiftly and easily than usual. finally, when they landed, it did not seem as though they were on an island; and as they made their way towards the light of the camp-fire, about which quorum was already busy, they suddenly realized that it was reflected from a background of pine-trees. "hurrah, boys!" shouted lieutenant carey; "there is a sign that our trip is nearly ended. pine-trees don't grow in the 'glades, and therefore we must be somewhere near the coast. i can't say that i am sorry, for the trip has been a most disappointing one to me. it has been a decidedly unique and remarkable one, though--has it not? i wonder how many people will believe us when we say that we have crossed the entire width of the everglades without learning anything about them, and almost without seeing them? when we add that we have passed dozens of indian villages, and yet have not seen an indian village; have been surrounded by indians, but cannot describe their appearance; have come all the way by water, and brought our own boats with us, and yet have not set eyes on our own boats since the day we entered the 'glades--i am afraid that we shall be regarded much as the old woman regarded her sailor son when he told her that he had seen fish with wings and able to fly. in fact, i am afraid they will doubt our veracity. how i am going to get up any kind of a report to send to washington, i am sure i don't know. by-the-way, quorum, were our canoes here when you landed?" "no, sah, dey wasn't; an' i is troubled in my min' frum worryin' about dem. i is ask dat feller ul-we, but he don't say nuffin.' 'pears like he done los' he tongue, like de res' ob de injuns. de wust ob hit is, sah, dat de grub jes about gin out, an' i is got er mighty pore 'pology fer a breakfus." so excited were our explorers over their new surroundings, and over this report that their boats were again missing, that instead of turning in for a nap, as usual, they sat round the fire and waited impatiently for daylight. sumner was the most uneasy of the party, and every few minutes he would get up and walk away from the firelight, the better to see if the day were not breaking. on one of these occasions he was gone so much longer than usual that the others were beginning to wonder what had become of him. all at once they heard him shouting from the direction of the place at which they had landed: "hello! in the camp! come down here, quick! i've got something to show you." chapter xxxiii. an adventurous deer-hunt. in answer to sumner's call, the others sprang up and hurried in the direction of his voice. as they got beyond the circle of firelight they saw that the day was breaking, though in the forest its light was dim and uncertain. it was much stronger ahead of them, and within a minute they stood at the water's edge, where objects near at hand were plainly discernible. although they more than suspected that the 'glades had been left behind, they were hardly prepared for the sight that greeted their eyes. instead of a limitless expanse of grass and water dotted with islands, they saw a broad river flowing dark and silently towards the coming dawn through a dense growth of tall forest trees. but for the direction of its current, it was a counterpart of the one, now so far behind, by which they had entered the 'glades from the gulf. of more immediate importance even than the river were the objects to which sumner triumphantly directed their attention. these were the long-unseen canoes and the cruiser, with masts, sails, and paddles in their places, and looking but little the worse for their journey than when their owners had stepped from them nearly a week before. sumner had discovered them, snugly moored to the bank, a short distance below the landing-place, and had towed them up to where the others now saw them. in the bottom of the _hu-la-lah_ lay their guns and pistols, carefully oiled and in perfect order. everything was in place, and they could not find that a single article of their outfit was missing. "i declare!" said the lieutenant, "those indians are decent fellows, after all, and though i am provoked with them for their obstinacy in not granting us a single interview, as well as for the way they compelled us to journey through their country, i can't help admiring the manner in which they have fulfilled their share of our contract. they have shown the utmost fairness and honesty in all their dealings with us, and i don't know that i blame them for the way in which they have acted. they have been treated so abominably by the government ever since florida came into our possession that they certainly have ample cause to be suspicious of all white men." quorum was sent down to watch the canoes and see that they did not again disappear, while the others ate the scanty breakfast that he had prepared. at it they drank the last of their coffee, and quorum reported that there was nothing left of their provisions save some corn-meal and a few biscuit. as they talked of this state of affairs, sumner said that he had started up a deer when he went after the canoes, and worth was confident that this must be a good place in which to find his favorite game--wild turkeys. "it looks as though we would have to stop here long enough to do a little hunting before proceeding any farther," said the lieutenant. to this proposition the boys, eager to use their recovered guns, readily agreed. so, after making sure that their camp was no longer guarded, and that they were at liberty to go where they pleased, it was decided to devote the morning to hunting, with the hope of replenishing their larder. quorum and the sailor were left to guard camp and the boats, while the others entered the piny woods, going directly back from the river. the lieutenant carried a rifle and the boys their shot-guns, while each had his pockets well filled with loaded shells. the pine forest was filled with a dense undergrowth of saw-palmetto, and the ground beneath these was covered with rough masses of broken coralline rock. it was also slippery with a thick coating of brown pine-needles. under these circumstances, therefore, it was almost impossible to proceed silently, and whatever game they might have seen received ample warning of their approach in time to make good its escape. when they at length came to a grassy savanna, on the opposite side of which was a small hammock of green, shrubby trees, the lieutenant proposed that the boys remain concealed where they were while he made a long circuit around it. he would thus approach from its leeward side, and any game that he might scare up would be almost certain to come in their direction. after stationing them a few hundred feet apart, so that they could cover a greater territory, and warning them to keep perfectly quiet, he left them. the sky was clouded, and a high wind soughed mournfully through the tops of the pines. every now and then the boys were startled by the crash of a falling branch, while the grating of the interlocking limbs above them sounded like distressed moanings. it was all so dismal and lonesome that finally worth could stand it no longer, and made his way to where sumner was sitting. "have you noticed how full the air is of smoke?" he said, as he approached his companion. "my eyes are smarting from it." "yes," replied sumner, "it has given me a choking sensation for some time. i expect the woods are on fire somewhere." "really!" said worth, looking about him, apprehensively. "then don't you think we ought to be getting back towards the river?" "no, not yet. the fire must be a long way off still, and it would never do for us to leave without lieutenant carey. he would think we were lost, and be terribly anxious. there he is now! did you hear that?" yes, worth heard the distant rifle-shot that announced the lieutenant's whereabouts. instantly his freshly aroused hunting instinct banished all thoughts of the fire, and he hurried back to his post. he had not more than reached it before there came a crashing among the palmettoes, and ere the startled boy realized its cause, two deer, bounding over the undergrowth with superb leaps, dashed past him and disappeared. "why didn't you fire?" cried sumner, hurrying up a moment later. "it was a splendid shot! i would give anything for such a chance!" "i never thought of it," answered worth, ruefully. "besides, they went so quickly that i didn't have time." "they ought to have stood still for a minute or two, that's a fact," said sumner, who was rather inclined to laugh at his less experienced companion. just then there came another crashing of the palmettoes, and a third deer bounded into sight for an instant, only to disappear immediately as the others had done. "why didn't you fire?" laughed worth. "it was a splendid shot!" "because this is your station," replied sumner, anxious to conceal beneath this weak excuse the fact that he had been fully as startled and unnerved as his companion. "i do believe, though," he added, "that this last fellow was wounded, and perhaps we may get him yet." the discovery of fresh blood on the palmetto leaves through which the flying animal had passed confirmed this belief, and without a thought of the possible consequences the boys set off in hot pursuit of the wounded deer. they easily followed the trail of the blood-smeared leaves, and in the ardor of their pursuit they might have gone a mile, or they might have gone ten for all they knew, when suddenly, without warning, they came face to face with the deer. he was a full-grown buck, with branching antlers still in the velvet, and by his swaying from side to side he was evidently exhausted. the sight of his enemies seemed to infuse him with renewed strength, and the next instant he charged fiercely towards them. worth, attempting to run, tripped and fell in his path. sumner, with better luck, sprang aside, and sent a charge of buckshot into the furious animal at such short range that the muzzle of his gun nearly touched it. it fell in a heap on top of worth, gave one or two convulsive kicks, and was dead. its warm life-blood spurted over the prostrate boy, and when sumner dragged him from beneath the quivering carcass he was smeared with it from head to foot. "are you hurt, old man?" inquired sumner, anxiously, as his companion leaned heavily on him, trembling from exhaustion and his recent fright. "i don't know that i am," replied worth, with a feeble attempt at a smile. "i expect i am only bruised and scratched. but, oh, sumner, what an awfully ferocious thing a deer is! seems to me they are as bad as panthers. what wouldn't i give for a drink of water! i can hardly speak, i am so choked with smoke." with this, sumner suddenly became aware that the smoke, which they had not noticed in the excitement of their chase, had so increased in density that breathing was becoming difficult. thoroughly alarmed, he looked about him. in all directions the woods were full of it, and even at a short distance the trees showed indistinctly through its blue haze. now, for the first time, the boys were conscious of a dull roar with which the air was filled. their long chase must have led them directly towards the fire. "we must get back to camp as quickly as possible!" exclaimed sumner, realizing at once the danger of their situation. "come on, worth, we haven't a moment to lose!" "but what shall we do with our deer?" asked the blood-covered boy, who could not bear the thought of relinquishing their hard-won prize. "never mind the deer, but come along!" replied sumner. "if i am not mistaken, we shall have our hands full taking care of ourselves. that fire is coming down on us faster than we can run, and we haven't any too much start of it as it is." chapter xxxiv. hemmed in by a forest fire. which way were they to fly? the terrible roar of the burning forest seemed to come from all directions, and the smoke seemed hardly less dense on one side than on another. but there had been no fire where they came from, and they must retrace their steps along the blood-marked trail that they had followed, of course. although the body of the deer lay near the spot where it had ended, they were at first too bewildered to discover it, and lost several precious minutes in searching among the palmetto leaves for its crimson signs. at length they found them, and started back on a run. it was exhausting work trying to run through the thick scrub, over its loglike roots, and among the rough rock masses strewn in the wildest confusion between them, and their speed was quickly reduced to a walk. sumner went ahead, and, with arms uplifted to protect his face from the sawlike edges of the stout leaf stems, forced a way through them, with worth close behind him. they had not gone far when sumner suddenly stopped and, with a despairing gesture, pointed ahead. the flames were in front of them, and could be distinctly seen licking the brown tree-trunks, and stretching their writhing arms high aloft towards the green tops. "we are going right into the fire!" the boy exclaimed, hoarsely. "the deer must have seen it, and been curving away from it when we overtook him!" so they turned back, and rushed blindly, without trying to follow the trail, in the opposite direction. before they had gone half a mile worth's strength became exhausted, and he sank down on a palmetto root gasping for breath. "i can't go any farther, sumner! oh, i can't!" he cried, piteously. "but you must! you can't stay here to be burned to death! we are almost certain to find a slough with water in it, or a stream!" and grasping his comrade by the arm, sumner pulled him again to his feet. as he did so, the hammers of worth's gun became caught in something, and the next instant both barrels were discharged with a startling explosion. "that's a good idea!" exclaimed sumner. "let's fire all our cartridges as fast as we can. perhaps they are out looking for us, and will hear the shots." so saying, he fired both barrels of his own gun into the air, and quickly reloading, fired again. worth followed suit; but just as sumner was ready to fire for the third time he was startled by a sharp crackling sound close beside him. he turned quickly. there was a bright blaze within ten feet of him. the first accidental discharge of worth's gun, as it lay pointed directly into a mass of dry grass and dead palmetto leaves, had set this on fire. worth instinctively sprang towards it with the intention of trying to stamp it out, but, with a joyful cry, sumner restrained him. "it's the very thing!" he shouted. "a back fire! why didn't i think of it before? we must set a line of it as quick as we can!" worth did not understand, and hesitated; but seeing sumner, with a bunch of lighted leaves in his hand, rush from one clump of palmetto to another, touching his blazing torch to their dry, tinderlike stalks, he realized that his companion knew what he was about, and began to follow his example. within five minutes a wall of flame a hundred yards in length was roaring and leaping in front of them, fanned into such fury by the high wind that they were obliged to retreat from its blistering breath. they could not retreat far, however, for during their delay the main fire had gained fearfully upon them, and its awful roar seemed one of rage that they should have attempted to escape from it. mingled with this was the crash of falling trees and the screams of wild animals that now began to rush frantically past the boys. a herd of flying deer nearly trampled them underfoot; and directly afterwards they were confronted with the gleaming eyes of a panther. with an angry snarl he too dashed forward. great snakes writhed and hissed along the ground, and worth clutched sumner's arm in terror. seizing his gun, the latter began shooting at the snakes; nor did he stop until his last cartridge was expended. it was horrible to stand there helplessly awaiting the result of that life-and-death race between those mighty columns of flame; but they knew not what else to do. now they could no longer see in which direction to fly. the swirling smoke-clouds were closing in on them from all sides, and only by holding their faces close to the earth could they catch occasional breaths of fresh air. sumner's plan was to remain where they were until the last moment, and then rush out over the smouldering embers of the fire they had set. the main body of this was now rapidly retreating from them. at the same time a fringe of flame from it was working backward towards them. though they made feeble efforts to beat this out, their strength was too nearly exhausted for them to make much headway against it. the heat was now so intense that their skin was blistering, and their brains seemed almost ready to burst. worth had flung away his gun, just after loading it, when he began to set the back fires, and now the sound of a double report from that direction showed that the flames had found it. the noise of these reports was followed by a loud cry, and out of the smoke-clouds a strange, wild figure came leaping. it was a human figure. as the boys recognized it, they echoed its cry. then by their frantic shouts they guided it to where they were crouching and making ready for their desperate rush into the hot ashes and still blazing remains of the back fire. the figure that sprang to their side, and, seizing worth's arm, uttered the single word "come!" was that of ul-we, the young seminole, though the boys, having never seen him, did not, of course, recognize him. with thankful hearts and implicit faith they followed him as he dashed back into the thickest of the smoke-clouds that still hung low over the newly burnt space before them. they choked and gasped, and their feet became blistered with the heat that penetrated through the soles of their boots. worth would have fallen but for the strong hand that upheld him, and dragged him resistlessly forward. the ordeal of fire lasted but a minute, when they emerged in a grassy glade at one end of the burnt space, and ran to a clump of water-loving shrubs that marked a slough beyond it. the vanguard of the main fire raced close after them, flashing through the brittle grass as though it were gunpowder; and as they dashed into the bushes, and their feet sank into the mud and water of the slough, its hot breath was mingled with theirs. in the very centre of the thicket ul-we threw himself down in water that just covered his body, and held his head a little above its surface. the boys followed his example, and experienced an instant relief from the cool water. in this position they could breathe easily, for the smoke-clouds seemed unable to touch the surface of the water, but rolled two or three inches above it. here they lay for what seemed an eternity while the fire-fiends raged and roared on all sides of them, and in the air above. the heat waves scorched and withered the green thicket, the water of the little slough grew warm and almost hot, the air that they breathed was stifling, and for a time it almost seemed as though they had escaped a roasting only to be boiled alive like lobsters. after a while, that appeared to the poor boys a long, weary time, the fiercest of the flames swept by, and their roar no longer filled the surrounding space. there were rifts in the smoke-clouds, and perceptible intervals of fresh air between them. finally the boys could sit up, and at length stand, but not until then were they certain that the danger had passed. then sumner grasped the young indian's right hand in both of his, and tears stood in the boy's eyes as he said: "i don't know as you can understand me; i don't know who you are, and i don't care. i only know that you have saved us from a horrible death, and that from this moment i am your friend for life." as for poor worth, the tears fairly streamed down his smoke-begrimed, blood-stained cheeks, as, in faltering words, he also tried to express his gratitude. [illustration: "the ordeal of fire lasted but a minute."] the indian seemed to understand, for he smiled and said: "me ul-we. quor'm know um. you summer. you worf. me heap glad find um. 'fraid not. hunt um; hunt um long time, no find um. bimeby hear gun, plenty. hunt um, no find um. bimeby hear one gun, bang! bang! quick. then come, find um. _hindleste._ if me no find um, fire catch um pretty quick, burn up, go big sleep _holewagus_! ul-we feel bad, quor'm feel bad, all body feel bad. now all body heap hap, dance, sing, eat heap, feel plenty glad." all of which may be translated thus: "i am very glad to have found you, for i was afraid i shouldn't. i hunted and hunted a long time, but couldn't find you. at last i heard guns fired many times, and hunted in that direction, still without finding you. finally i heard both barrels of a gun fired at once, not far from where i was, and then i found you. it is good. if i had not found you just when i did, the fire would have caught you and burned you to death, which would have been terrible. i should have felt very badly. so would quorum and all your friends. now everybody will rejoice." ul-we had been ordered to watch the camp of the white men by the river until they left it, but to remain unseen by them. he had noted the departure of the hunting party, and had also been aware of the approach of the forest fire while it was still at a great distance. when, some hours later, the lieutenant came back full of anxiety concerning the boys, and immediately started off again to hunt for them, ul-we also started in another direction, with the happy result already described. they remained in the slough two hours longer, before the surrounding country was sufficiently cooled off for them to travel over it. then they set out under ul-we's guidance, though where he would take them to the boys had not the faintest idea. chapter xxxv. the boys in a seminole camp. although ul-we started out from the slough that had proved such a haven of safety in one direction, he quickly found cause to change it for another. this cause was the lameness of the boys, for their blistered feet felt as though parboiled, and each step was so painful that it seemed as if they could not take another. they were also faint for want of food, and exhausted by their recent terrible experience. the young indian was also suffering greatly. the moccasins had been burned from his feet, and the act of walking caused him the keenest pain; but no trace of limp or hesitation betrayed it, nor did he utter a murmur of complaint. he had intended leading them directly to their own camp; but that was miles away, and seeing that they would be unable to reach it in their present condition, he changed his course towards a much nearer place of refuge. he soon found that to get worth even that far he must support and almost carry him. as for sumner, he clinched his teeth, and mentally vowing that he would hold out as long as the barefooted indian, he strode manfully along behind the others with his gun, which he had retained through all their struggles, on his shoulder. in this way, after an hour of weary marching, they entered a live-oak hammock, into which even the fierce forest fire had not been able to penetrate. here they were soon greeted by a barking of dogs that announced the presence of some sort of a camp. it was that of the seminole party which had been detailed to conduct our explorers across the everglades, and act as guards about their halting-places. there were about twenty men in this party, and as they had brought their women and children with them, and had erected at this place a number of palmetto huts, the camp presented the aspect of a regular village. poor worth had just strength enough to turn to sumner, with a feeble smile, and say, "at last we are going to see one," when he sank down, unable to walk another step. a shout from ul-we brought the inmates of the camp flocking to the spot. both the boys were tenderly lifted in strong arms and borne to one of the huts, where they were laid on couches of skins and blankets. they were indeed spectacles calculated to move even an indian's heart to pity. their clothing was in rags, while their faces, necks, and hands were torn by the saw-palmettoes through which they had forced their way. worth was found to have received several cuts from the sharp hoofs of the wounded deer, and he was blood-stained from head to foot. besides this, they were begrimed with smoke and soot until their original color had entirely disappeared. they were water-soaked and plastered with mud and ashes. certainly two more forlorn and thoroughly wretched-looking objects had never been seen there, or elsewhere, than were our canoemates at that moment. but no people know better how to deal with just such cases than the indians into whose hands the boys had so fortunately fallen, and within an hour their condition was materially changed for the better. their soaked and ragged clothing had been removed, they had been bathed in hot water and briskly rubbed from head to foot. a salve of bear's grease had been applied to their cuts and to their blistered feet, which latter were also bound with strips of cotton-cloth. each was clad in a clean calico shirt of gaudy colors and fanciful ornamentation. each had a gay handkerchief bound about his head, and a pair of loose moccasins drawn over his bandaged feet. each was also provided with a red blanket which, belted about the waist and hanging to the ground, took the place of trousers. thus arrayed, and sitting on bear-skin couches, with a steaming sofkee kettle and its great wooden spoon between them, it is doubtful if their own parents would have recognized them. for all that they were very comfortable, and by the way that sofkee was disappearing, it was evident that their appetites at least had suffered no injury. they at once recognized sofkee from quorum's description. they also knew the history of the wooden spoon; but just now they were too hungry to remember it, or to care if they did. at length, when they had almost reached the limit of their capacity in the eating line, and began to find time for conversation, worth remarked, meditatively: "i believe, after all, that i like fishing better than hunting. there isn't so much excitement about it, but, on the whole, i think it is more satisfactory." "fishing for what?" laughed sumner. "for bits of meat, with a wooden spoon, in a seminole sofkee kettle, and looking so much like an indian that your own father would refuse to recognize you?" "if i thought i looked as much like an indian as you do i would never claim to be a white boy again," retorted worth. "i only wish that i could hold a mirror up in front of you," replied sumner; and then each was so struck by the comical appearance of the other that they laughed until out of breath; while the stolid-faced seminole boys, stealthily staring at them from outside the hut, exchanged looks of pitying amazement. after this, sumner still further excited the wonder of the young indians by performing several clever sleight-of-hand tricks, while worth regretted his inability to dance a clog for their benefit. then calling ul-we into the hut, sumner presented him with his shot-gun, greatly to the "tall one's" satisfaction. worth was distressed that he had nothing to give the brave young fellow; but brightened at sumner's suggestion that perhaps ul-we would go with them to cape florida, where mr. manton would be certain to present him with some suitable reward for his recent service. when ul-we was made to comprehend what was wanted of him, he explained that it would be impossible to go with them then, but that he would meet them at cape florida on any date that they might fix. so sumner fixed the date as the first night of the next new moon, and worth added a request that he should bring with him all the occupants of the present camp, which he promised to do, if possible. although the boys had no idea of where they were, they felt confident that somehow or other they would be able to keep the appointment thus made, and also that the mantons' yacht would be on hand about the same time. they tried to find out from ul-we how far they were from cape florida at the present moment; but he, having received orders not to afford any member of lieutenant carey's party the slightest information regarding the country through which they were passing, pretended not to understand the boys' questions, and only answered, vaguely, "un-cah" to all of them. by this time the day was nearly spent, and it was sunset when the boys' own clothes were returned to them, dried, cleaned, and with their rents neatly mended by the skilful needles of the seminole squaws. then ul-we said he was ready to take them to their own camp, and though they would gladly have stayed longer in this interesting village, the boys realized that they ought to relieve lieutenant carey's anxiety as soon as possible. so they expressed their willingness to accompany ul-we, but hoped that the walk would not be a long one. "no walk," replied ul-we, smiling. "go injun boat. heap quick." accompanied by half the camp, and shouting back, "heep-a-non-est-cha," which they had learned meant good-bye, to the rest, they followed their guide a short distance to the head of a narrow ditch that had evidently been dug by the indians. here they entered ul-we's canoe, and after a few minutes of poling they realized, in spite of the darkness, that they were once more on the edge of the everglades. after skirting the forest line for some time, they turned sharply into a stream that entered it, and again the boys found themselves borne rapidly along on a swift current through a cypress belt. an hour later they saw the glow of a camp-fire through the trees, and their canoe was directed towards it. stepping out as the canoe slid silently up to the bank, the boys, wishing to surprise their friends, stole softly in the direction of the circle of firelight. on its edge they paused. at one side of the fire sat lieutenant carey, looking worn and haggard; quorum stood near him, gazing into the flames with an expression of the deepest dejection, while the sailor, looking very solemn, was toasting a bit of fresh meat on the end of a stick. "no," they heard the lieutenant say, "i can't conceive any hope that they have escaped, for the only traces that i found of them led directly towards the fire. how i can ever muster up courage to face mrs. rankin or meet the mantons with the news of this tragedy, i don't know." "hit's a ter'ble t'ing, sah. ole quor'm know him couldn' do hit." "then it's lucky you won't have to try!" exclaimed sumner, joyously, stepping into sight, closely followed by worth. "oh, you precious young rascals! you villains, you!" cried the lieutenant, springing to his feet, and seizing the boys by the shoulders, as though about to shake them. "how dared you give us such a fright? where have you been?" "out deer-hunting, sir," answered sumner, demurely. quorum was dancing about them, uttering uncouth and inarticulate expressions of joy; while the sailor, having dropped his meat into the fire, where it burned unheeded, gazed at them in speechless amazement. they told their story in disjointed sentences, from which their hearers only gathered a vague idea that they had killed a deer in the burning forest, been rescued from the flames by an indian, and borne in his arms to a seminole village in the everglades, from which, by some unseen means, they had just come. [illustration: sumner and worth in the seminole camp.] "i'll bring him up, and he can tell you all about it himself," concluded sumner, turning towards the landing-place, to which the lieutenant insisted on accompanying him, apparently not willing to trust him again out of sight. but neither ul-we nor his canoe was there. he had taken advantage of the momentary confusion to disappear, and the lieutenant said he was thankful their canoes had not disappeared at the same time. when they returned to the fire, they found quorum hard at work cooking venison steaks. "then you did get a deer, sir, after all?" queried sumner. "no, i only wounded one, and he escaped. this fellow was one of a herd that, terrified by the fire, came crashing right into camp, and was shot by the sailor." "that's the way i shall hunt hereafter," exclaimed worth--"stay quietly and safely in camp, and let the game come to me!" chapter xxxvi. one of the rarest animals in the world. after their day of excitement, terror, and anxiety the explorers passed a happy evening around their camp-fire, and lieutenant carey gained a clearer idea of the boys' adventures and escapes. he admitted that the kindness shown them in the seminole camp gave him a new insight into the indian character, and wished that he might have had a chance to thank and reward ul-we for his brave rescue of the young canoemates. he also regretted that he, too, could not have visited that indian camp, and hoped that the appointment made by the boys with ul-we might be kept. in spite of their recent hearty meal of sofkee, a preparation of which they spoke in the highest terms, the boys were able to do ample justice to quorum's venison steaks, greatly to the satisfaction of the old negro. he would have felt deeply grieved if they had allowed any amount of feasting in an indian camp to interfere with their enjoyment of a meal that he had cooked, no matter how short an interval might have elapsed between the two. although the boys felt rather stiff and lame the next morning, it did not prevent their being ready bright and early to continue their journey. it was a great pleasure to be once more afloat in their own canoes, and this was increased by the fact that they now had a swift current with them. it was a glorious march day, and all nature seemed to share their high spirits as they glided smoothly down the beautiful river. the water swarmed with fish and alligators, and the adjacent forest was alive with birds. among the innumerable fish that darted beneath them, they soon recognized several salt-water varieties, which assured them that the ocean could not be far off. as the three canoes were moving quietly along abreast of each other and close together, the _psyche_ suddenly glided over a huge black object that for an instant seemed inclined to rise and lift it bodily into the air. as it was dropped back, there was a tremendous floundering, and all three of the light craft were rocked so violently that only the skill of their navigators saved them from capsizing. "was it a waterquake?" inquired worth, with a very pale face, as soon as his fright would allow him to speak. "yes; and there it goes," laughed the lieutenant, pointing to a great dim form that could just be seen moving swiftly off through the clear water. "it must have been a whale," said sumner. "no," answered lieutenant carey; "but it was the next thing to it. it was a manatee or sea-cow. i have seen them in the lower indian river, but did not know they were found down here. i wish you boys might have a good look at him, though, for the manatee is one of the rarest animals in the world. it is warm-blooded and amphibious, lives on water-grasses and other aquatic plants, grows to be twelve or fifteen feet long, weighs nearly a ton, and is one of the most timid and harmless of creatures. it is the only living representative of its family on this continent, all the other members being extinct. the indians hunt it for its meat, which is said to be very good eating, and for its bones, which are as fine-grained and as hard as ivory. in general appearance it is not unlike a seal. it can strike a powerful blow with its great flat tail, but is otherwise unarmed and incapable of injuring an enemy. several have been caught in nets and shipped north for exhibition, but none of them has lived more than a few weeks in captivity." "what made that fellow go for us if he isn't a fighter?" asked worth. "he didn't," laughed the lieutenant. "he was probably asleep, and is wondering why we went for him. i can assure you that he was vastly more scared than we were." "he must have been frightened almost to death, then," said sumner. soon after this they saw a landing-place on the left bank. stopping to examine it, they discovered a trail leading through a fringe of bushes, behind which was an indian field covering an old shell mound, and in a high state of cultivation. in it were growing sweet-potatoes, melons, squashes, sugar-cane, and beans--a supply of which they would gladly have purchased had the proprietors been present. as they were not, and necessity knows no law, our canoemen helped themselves to what they needed, and when they left, the load of the cruiser was materially increased. at length they heard the dull boom of surf, and realized that only a narrow strip of land separated them from the ocean. late in the afternoon they reached the mouth of the river, and the boys uttered joyous shouts as they looked out over its bar and saw a limitless expanse of blue waters, unbroken by islands, glistening in the light of the setting sun. with light hearts they went into camp on the inner side of the sandy point separating the quiet waters on which they had been floating from the long swells of the open sea. they intended running out of the river and down the coast in the morning, for from their surroundings, as well as from the general course they had taken through the 'glades, the lieutenant was satisfied that they must be considerably to the north of cape florida. the boys determined to sleep in their canoes that night, and rigged up the little-used striped canoe tents for that purpose. while they were doing this, and the lieutenant was pitching his own tent on shore, and the others were collecting drift-wood on the beach, there came a hail from across the river. "hello there! bring a boat over here, can't ye?" it was the first white man they had seen since leaving the _transit_, and going over in the cruiser, sumner brought him back. he proved to be a barefooted boy, a year younger than worth, and yet he was the mail-carrier over the most southerly land route, and one of the most lonesome, in the united states. it is the seventy-mile stretch between lake worth and biscayne bay, and every week this boy or his younger brother walked the whole distance and back along the beach, with a mail-sack on his back. he had to cross the mouths of two rivers, for which purpose he kept an old skiff at each one. it sometimes happened, as in the present case, that some other beach traveller would appropriate his boat, and leave it on the wrong side. then, unless fortunate enough to find some one to set him across, he would be obliged to brave the sharks and other sea-monsters, with which these rivers swarm, and swim over after his own boat. along his route were three houses of refuge, situated twenty miles apart, and belonging to the life-saving service. each of them contained a single keeper, and these were the only persons seen by the lonely mail-boy while on his toilsome tramps. the boy was greatly interested in the canoes, which he declared were the neatest little tricks he ever did see, but he scouted the idea of sleeping in them. "why," said he, "some of them sharks or porpusses what uses round here nights will run inter ye an' upsot ye quicker'n wink." he was amazed that they should cruise in such tiny craft, and begged them not to think of attempting to run down the coast in them. on the whole he regarded our young canoemates as being particularly daring and reckless fellows, and they regarded him in much the same way, though he made light of his lonely beach tramps, on which he often met bears, panthers, or other wild animals. he told them that they were about twenty-five miles north of cape florida; that there was a "station" on the beach six miles north of them; that turtle were beginning to lay eggs, and bears to frequent the beach in search of them; that sharks grew larger in those very waters than anywhere else on the coast; and that an easterly wind would blow in the morning, which would prevent their crossing the bar. having delivered himself of this information, and saying that he must make the station that night, the boy slung his mail-sack over his shoulders, and started off at a brisk pace up the soft shelving beach. after what he had told them about sharks, sumner and worth concluded not to sleep in their canoes that night. they might have done so with perfect safety, however, for no shark was ever known to overturn a boat for the sake of getting at a human being inside of it. the next morning the mail-boy's prediction in regard to the east wind was verified. it was blowing briskly at sunrise, and already a big sea was rolling in, combing and booming on the bar. their boats would not live in it a moment, and consequently they must stay where they were until the wind changed. after breakfast the lieutenant sat in his tent writing, the sailor was repairing a torn sail, quorum was taking a nap, and the boys were left to their own devices for amusement. an hour or so later lieutenant carey, the sailor, and quorum were startled by loud calls for help from the beach, and hurried in that direction to see what new scrape the "young rascals," as the lieutenant called them, had got into now. chapter xxxvii. fishing for sharks. in strolling along the outer beach, picking up curious sponges and bits of coral, the attention of the boys was also attracted to the shadowy forms of great fish that they could distinguish every now and then darting along the green base of the combers just before they broke. "do you think they can be sharks?" asked worth. "yes," replied sumner; "i am almost sure they are." "my! but i wish we could catch one! i have never seen a shark out of water." "i shouldn't wonder if we could. i've got a shark-hook in the _psyche_, and our manila cables, knotted together, will make just the kind of line we want." fifteen minutes later the hook and line had been prepared. for bait, they took one of a number of fish that quorum had caught that morning. the shark-hook was a huge affair, over a foot long and made of steel a quarter of an inch thick. to it was attached by a swivel several feet of chain terminating in a ring to which the line was made fast. sumner had caught many sharks off key west wharves, but they had been comparatively small, and with the monsters of the reef he had hitherto had no dealings. consequently, he was almost as ignorant of their strength as was worth. therefore, without reflecting on the folly of the act, and fearing that the line might be jerked from his hands, he made its inner end fast about his waist. then whirling the heavy hook above his head, he cast it far out in the breakers. within a minute it was tossed back to the beach, and had to be thrown again. this operation was repeated so many times without any result that the boys were beginning to tire of it, when all at once there came a jerk on the line that nearly threw sumner off his feet. "hurrah!" he cried. "we've got him at last! catch hold, worth, and help me haul him in." but it was soon evident that instead of their catching the shark, he had caught them. in spite of all their efforts, and no matter how deeply they dug their feet into the sand, the boys found themselves being dragged slowly but surely towards the water. at first they did not realize their danger; but when they were within a few yards of the creamy froth churned up by the breakers, it flashed over them, and they began to utter those shouts for help that attracted the attention of their companions in the camp. although worth could have let go of the line at any minute, the thought of doing such a thing never entered his head. even when the water was about his feet and the wet sand was slipping rapidly from beneath them, the plucky little chap held on and struggled with all his might to avert the fate that threatened his friend. they were nearly hopeless before the three men reached them, and, rushing into the water, seized the line with such a powerful grasp that its seaward motion was instantly arrested. not only that, but they walked away with it so easily that a minute later the shark was landed high and dry on the beach, where the sailor despatched it with an axe. it was a white shark of moderate size, being not more than seven or eight feet long. for all that, it was a monster as compared with those sumner had been in the habit of catching, and he gazed with a curious sensation at its wicked eyes, and the row upon row of curved gleaming teeth with which the gaping mouth was provided. "it was a close call for you, my boy," said the lieutenant, gravely, "and has taught you a lesson that i am sure you will never forget. you may thank your lucky stars that the hook was taken by this little fellow instead of by one of his grandfathers or uncles. now that we have started in this business, i am going to try and show you what might have happened." under his direction a hole some five feet deep was dug, a heavy timber, selected from those with which the beach was strewn, was thrust into it, and the sand was repacked solidly about it. to this, instead of to sumner's body, the end of the line was attached, and the fishing for sharks was resumed. while the post was being set, lieutenant carey brought his rifle from the camp. several sharks, some smaller and some larger than the first, were caught; but not until the hook was seized by one that dragged the entire party clinging to it slowly down the beach did the lieutenant express himself as satisfied. "hold on to it!" he cried. "brace yourselves! snub him all you can!" the strain on the line was tremendous, and it hummed like a harpstring. but for the post to aid them, they must have let go. at length, even the enormous strength at the other end of the line began to be exhausted. foot by foot the slack was gathered in and held at the post. then a great ugly-looking head could be seen in the edge of the breakers, and the next minute a rifle-ball crashed into it. in the flurry that followed the line snapped, and the boys uttered a cry of dismay. but the bullet had done its work, and a few minutes later the huge carcass was rolling like a log in the surf. the sailor managed to get a bight of the line over its tail, and by their united efforts the great fish was drawn partly from the water; but beyond there they could not move it. it was nearly fifteen feet long, and sumner shuddered as he realized how easily and quickly such a monster as that could have dragged him out to sea. "it seems to me," said worth, "that some kinds of fishing are as dangerous as deer-hunting, and just as exciting." while they were still looking at the big shark their attention was attracted to a loud barking in the beach scrub behind them, and by a man's voice shouting: "wus-le! wus-le! you, sir! come here!" it was evident that wus-le was a dog, and that he was engaged in some absorbing occupation that forbade him to pay any attention to the calls of his unseen master. going to the place from which the barking came, the shark-fishers were in time to witness a most interesting performance. a small brindled bull-terrier was tearing in a circle round and round a coiled rattlesnake. the former was barking furiously, and the sound so enraged the snake that the angry whir-r-r-r of its rattles was almost continuous. at the same time it was dazed by the rapidity of the dog's motions. at length it sprang forward, struck viciously, and missed its mark. at the same moment the dog dashed in, seized the snake by the back, gave one furious shake, and jumped away. the snake was evidently injured, for it re-coiled slowly. once more, enraged beyond endurance, it struck at its agile adversary, and then the dog had him. in an instant the snake's back was broken, and a minute later it lay motionless and dead. as soon as he was certain of his victory, the dog paid no more attention to his late enemy, but with panting breath and lolling tongue that betrayed the energy of his recent exertions, he ran to meet his master, who appeared at that moment from the direction of the river. he was a powerfully built man, dressed partly as a hunter and partly as a sailor. he carried a rifle, and introduced himself as the keeper of the house of refuge a few miles up the coast. he upbraided the dog as though it were a human being for tackling a rattlesnake, and then remarked apologetically to the spectators of the recent fight: "i have to scold him on general principles, but it don't do any good. he is bound to fight and kill snakes till they kill him, which i am always expecting they will. they haven't done it yet, though, and he has killed more than twenty rattlers, besides more of other kinds than i can count. he's a good dog, wus-le is, and he's a terror to snakes." the man said he had learned of the lieutenant and his companions being in the river from the mail-carrier, and, feeling lonely, had come to invite them to go to the station and stay with him until the wind changed. as he assured them that this was not likely to happen for several days, and as they were ahead of the time set for their arrival at cape florida, lieutenant carey accepted the invitation. on their way up the river their guide pointed out a grove of cocoanut palms, marking the site of a fort erected during the seminole war, the name of which was at one time familiar to all americans. it was the scene of the treacherous seizure of the famous chief osceola, who was lured into it under the pretence of considering a treaty. from there he was hurried to fort moultrie, in charleston harbor, where he soon afterwards died of a broken heart. they found the station to be a low, roomy structure, surrounded by broad piazzas, built in the most solid manner so as to withstand hurricanes. it stood on top of the beach ridge, and commanded a glorious view of the ocean, as well as of the low-lying back country. at one end was a small separate house containing a great cistern, in which a supply of water was collected during the rainy season of summer, to last through the long winter drought. at the opposite end stood a building in which was kept a metallic life-boat and a quantity of canned provisions for the use of sailors who might be wrecked on that lonely coast. here the exploring party remained for nearly a week, while the wind still held steadily to the east, and they all declared it to be the happiest and most interesting week of their cruise. they hunted, fished, and sailed on the inland waters behind the beach ridge to their hearts' content. quorum was kept constantly busy cooking on the station kitchen stove the venison, fish, turtle, ducks, quail, 'possum, and other food supplies with which the surrounding country abounded. worth felt that his reputation as a hunter was fully restored when he shot a wild-cat that wus-le had treed, and sumner was more than proud over the killing of a black bear, which the same enterprising dog discovered one night digging for turtle eggs on the beach but a short distance from the station. the lieutenant worked at the report of his expedition, while the sailor and the keeper labored at the frame of a light-draught, sea-going boat, which the latter wished to build for his own use, and for which sumner furnished the plans and model. at length the wind, which in that country always boxes the compass, worked around to the westward, and as it was the end of march, the canoes were again loaded, and the pleasant life at the station came to an end. chapter xxxviii. little ko-wik-a sails out to sea. there was a long swell heaving in over the bar at the mouth of the river, but no breakers; and the little fleet, crossing it easily, laid a course down the coast. a stretch of twenty miles lay before them ere they would find another opening into which they could run for shelter, and they were therefore desirous of making the run before night. on most waters this would not have been difficult; but just here was a strong head current, that of the gulf stream, running fully three miles an hour, and they knew that to overcome this, and also to make twenty miles during the day, would tax the sailing powers of their small craft to the utmost. nor could they all sail. the _hu-la-lah_ had no centre-board, and with the wind somewhat forward of abeam, the use of her sail would only have driven her off shore. the lieutenant was therefore obliged to rely upon his paddle and keep close to the coast. the cruiser, being a slow sailer close-hauled, kept him company, but the _psyche_ and _cupid_ drew gradually ahead, and were soon out of hailing distance. it was so delightful to find themselves again sailing, and their canoes were doing so splendidly, that the boys hated to stop. and why should they? there was nothing to fear. they knew where they were going, the others were in company, and a halting-place for the night had been agreed upon. they would stop when they reached it, and that would be soon enough. until noon the breeze was very light, but after that it freshened and soon came off the land in angry little gusts that suggested the propriety of reefing. with a single reef in each of their sails, they ran until late in the afternoon, when they sighted a cut leading into the great land-locked sheet of biscayne bay. they were to enter this bay and cruise down behind its outer keys to cape florida, but it had been decided that they should camp on the upper side of the cut for that night. the wind had increased in strength until now even double-reefed sails could hardly be carried on the canoes. the whole sky was covered with dark clouds, while a bank of inky blackness was rising in the west. it was evident that a wind-squall of unusual violence would shortly burst upon them, and almost at the same moment both the canoemates lowered their sails, jointed their paddles, and headed straight in for land. as he lowered his sail and cast a glance astern in search of the other boats, sumner noticed a large steamer coming down the coast. he wondered if she were not too close in for safety, but the immediate demands of his situation quickly drove all thoughts of her from his mind. in the teeth of the spiteful gusts, and facing the ominous blackness, they worked their way in until they could see the very place that the station-keeper had described to them as being a suitable camping-ground. five minutes more would take them to its shelter. just then sumner shouted to worth, and drew his attention to a strange craft that he had been watching for several minutes. it was coming out of the cut, running dead before the wind, but yawing and gybing in a manner that indicated either utter recklessness or absolute ignorance on the part of its crew. the two canoes were so close together that worth could hear sumner plainly as he shouted: "it's an indian canoe, and apparently unmanageable. i'm going to up sail and run down for a look at it. do you paddle in to shore, and be out of harm's way before that squall bursts." "oh, sumner, don't run any risks!" shouted worth. "all right, i'll be careful. but you'll make things a great deal easier for me if you will start at once for shore. that's a good fellow." so worth did as his friend desired, and sumner, hoisting his double-reefed main-sail, bore down on the strange canoe, which would otherwise have passed him at quite a distance. it was going at a tremendous pace, and as the two craft neared each other, sumner saw to his consternation that the sole occupant of the dugout was a child who stretched out its little arms imploringly towards him. he saw this as the runaway canoe, under full sail, shot across his bow. a tumult of thought flashed through the boy's mind like lightning. he was near enough to land to reach it in safety. that child, if left alone, was rushing to certain destruction. he might be able to rescue it, and he might not. the chances were that he would lose his own life in the attempt. very well; could he lose it in a better cause? what would his father have done under similar circumstances? that last question was sufficient. there was no longer any room for argument. even during his moment of hesitation the boy had been loosening the reef-line of his main-sail, and simultaneously with his decision a quick pull at the halyard exposed its full surface to the wind. over heeled the canoe, with sumner leaning far out on the weather side. then her head paid off, and under the influence of the first blast of the squall she sprang away like a frightened animal, in the direction taken by the runaway. that same afternoon a fleet of indian canoes, containing ul-we and his companions, had crossed biscayne bay from the main-land. instead of descending the river on which they had left our explorers, they had skirted the edge of the 'glades to another that flowed into the bay, the secret of which they did not choose to have lieutenant carey learn. although it still lacked a day of new moon, they decided to take advantage of the fair wind, cross the bay, and spend the intervening time in catching and smoking a supply of fish at a point several miles above cape florida. in the canoe with ul-we was his six-year-old brother, the little ko-wik-a, who was sometimes allowed to hold the sheet while they were sailing, and who considered himself fully competent to manage the boat alone. however, being very wise in some things, he did not say this nor express in words his longing for a chance to prove his skill. he simply waited for an opportunity that was not long in coming. after the indians had pitched their camp, ul-we, taking ko-wik-a with him, went up to the cut to set a net into which fish would run with the flood-tide. reaching the place, he went into the mangroves to cut some poles, leaving his little brother in the canoe. this was ko-wik-a's chance, and he was quick to seize it. he would now show ul-we that if he was little, he could sail a boat. the big brother had hardly disappeared when the little one shoved the canoe out from the mangroves and grasped the sheet in his chubby hands. the sail was already hoisted. he did not try to steer, but the wind and swiftly ebbing tide did that for him. a minute later and he was running out of the cut at racing speed, wholly jubilant over the complete success of his experiment. when he got ready to turn round and go back, he became a little frightened to find out that something more than wishing to do so was necessary. when his craft shot out from the cut, and, leaving the land behind, headed out into an infinitely larger body of water than the little fellow had ever before seen, he became thoroughly demoralized, and began to call loudly for ul-we. poor ul-we had just discovered that both his little brother, whom he loved better than anyone or anything in the world, and his canoe had disappeared, and was rushing frantically towards the outer beach. his instinct told him what had happened, and his one hope was to reach the end of the cut in time to swim off and intercept the runaway. when he did get there it was only in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of his own well-known sail far out at sea, with another much whiter and smaller one behind it. then a cruel squall burst over the ocean. in a cloud of rain and mist, borne forward by the fierce wind, the two sails disappeared and the whole landscape was blotted from view. from a place of safety on the opposite side of the cut, though unseen by ul-we, worth manton strained his eyes for a last glimpse of the _psyche's_ fluttering signal flag, and the others, rapidly nearing him, wondered at his gesture of despair as it was blotted out. the squall was long and fierce, and by the time it had passed, the darkness of night had shut in and the stars were shining. chapter xxxix. a black squall and the stranded steamer. although the _psyche_ was flying at racing speed dead before the wind, which freshened with each moment, and was rolling frightfully under her press of canvas, she was no match in running for the long dugout of which she was in pursuit. had the latter been properly trimmed and steered, the light cedar canoe could never have caught it. as it was, sumner saw that he was gaining, but so slowly that he could not hope to overtake it before being carried miles out to sea. in that weather and with night coming on, this was by no means a cheerful prospect. still he had no thought of turning back. he had entered upon this race with a full knowledge of its possible consequences, and he would either save the helpless little figure that had appealed to him so imploringly, or perish with it. so the clutch on his deck tiller tightened, and the taut main-sheet held in the other hand was not slackened a single inch, until the hissing rush of the black squall was in his ears. then the canoe was sharply luffed, the sheet was dropped, the halyard cast off, and the white sail fell to the deck like a broken wing. as it was gathered in and made fast with a turn of the sheet, the squall burst on the stanch little craft and heeled it far over. it offered too little resistance to be capsized, and a minute later, steadied by the double-bladed paddle, it was once more got before the wind and was scudding under bare poles. while doing all this, sumner had been too busy to look after the object of his pursuit. now he could not see it, and he almost choked with the thought that his brave effort had been made in vain, after all. no, there it was, close at hand, but no longer showing a sail or flying from him. heeling over before the blast, its long boom had been thrust into the water, and in an instant the slender craft had been upset. now, full of water, it floated on one side like a log. at first, sumner failed to see its tiny occupant, and the thought that he had been drowned almost within reach was a bitter one. but no. hurrah! there he is! with head just above the water, and chubby hands clutching at the slippery sides of his craft, the plucky little chap was still fighting for life. as the _psyche_ swept alongside, steered to a nicety, sumner reached out, and, nearly overturning his canoe by the effort, caught the little fellow by an arm. the water was pouring in over the cockpit coaming, and had the child been a pound heavier, the next instant would have seen two helplessly drifting canoes instead of one. as it was, he was hauled in and safely deposited in the inch or more of water that swashed above the cockpit floor. with infinite self-possession the child smiled up into the face of his rescuer and lisped: "how, sumner!" then the boy recognized the little ko-wik-a, whose acquaintance he had made in ul-we's camp, and as a relief to his own overstrained nerves, called him a little imp, and abused him roundly for getting them into such a scrape. at the same time tears stood in his eyes, and he could have hugged the child cuddling between his knees and smiling so confidingly in his face. [illustration: sumner rescues ko-wik-a.] though the rescue of ko-wik-a had been so happily accomplished, they were still in a sad plight--driving out to sea in an egg-shell, with no chance of battling back against the tempest, and the darkness of night enshrouding them. with each moment the storm-lashed waves were mounting higher. all sumner's skill was required to prevent the canoe from broaching to and turning over. how much longer would his strength hold out? already he felt it failing. he would soon become exhausted, and then-- hark! what was that? the note of a steam-whistle? yes, and another, and still others, struggling back hoarsely against the wind. then a light twinkled through the darkness, and directly other lights were outlining a huge black shape right in their track. sumner remembered the steamer he had seen just before parting from worth. could this be she? what was she doing there, apparently at anchor? driving under her stern, a few minutes' hard paddling brought the canoe into the quiet calm of the towering lee. then sumner shouted again and again, but the voice of the ship calling for aid in her own distress drowned his cries. after a while the whistle notes ceased, and he shouted again. this time he was heard, and an answering hail came from the deck high above him, "who is it, and where are you?" sumner answered, and in a few minutes a port low down in the ship's side was flung open, and a flood of light poured from it. two ropes were lowered, and sumner getting the bights under the bow and stern of his canoe, it, with its occupants, was lifted to the level of the open port. strong arms first received the little ko-wik-a, and then helped the young canoeman aboard the steamer. "where is your vessel?" demanded the captain, who was among those assembled to witness this unexpected arrival. "there," answered sumner, pointing to the _psyche_. "you don't mean to say that you are navigating the ocean in that cockle-shell?" "yes, i do; though i don't expect i should have navigated it much longer if i hadn't fallen in with you just as i did. how do you happen to be at anchor here, and what were you whistling for?" "we are not at anchor. we are aground, and i was blowing the whistle in the hope of attracting some vessel or vessels, into which we could lighter our cargo. now i suppose i shall have to throw it overboard." "what for?" asked sumner. "with this offshore wind there won't be any heavy sea, and unless you have stove a hole in her bottom she ought to float with the flood-tide." "flood-tide! isn't it the top of the flood now?" exclaimed the captain. "no; it's the very last of the ebb, and the flood will give you a couple of feet more water." "are you certain of that?" "certain." "then you are a trump!" cried the captain. "and i'm away out of my reckoning, somehow. your coming just as you have has undoubtedly saved my cargo, for i should have begun heaving it overboard by this time. you see, i was hugging the coast to escape the force of the gulf as much as possible, but was keeping a sharp lookout for the red buoy that marks the end of the reef. i can't imagine how we missed it, unless it has gone; but we did, and when fowey was lighted, i saw that we were too close in shore. i didn't know that we were inside of the reef; but we struck within five minutes after i altered her course, and that was nearly half an hour ago. we don't seem to have hit very hard, and she lies easy without making any water; but she's here to stay, unless, as you say, the flood-tide will lift her off. you are certain that this is the last of the ebb?" "as certain as that i am standing here," answered sumner, who had a very distinct recollection of how the current had rushed out through the cut. "then let us go up into my room and have some supper. there you can tell me how you happened to be out here in such weather with a pickaninny aboard while we wait for the tide." how safe and comfortable the great ship seemed, after that wild race to sea in a canoe! how the captain and mates and passengers marvelled at sumner's adventures, and what a pet they all made of little ko-wik-a. as for that self-possessed young indian, he accepted all the attentions lavished upon him in the most matter-of-fact manner, and with the utmost composure. he expressed no surprise at anything he saw; but his keen little eyes studied all the details of his novel surroundings, and he stored away scraps of startling information with which to astonish his young everglade comrades for many a day. the squall passed and the sea smoothed out its wrinkles soon after the crew of the _psyche_ came aboard, and shortly before midnight the rising tide lifted the great ship gently off the reef. she was backed to a safe distance from it, and there anchored to await the coming of daylight. knowing what anxiety his friends and ko-wik-a's friends must be suffering on their account, sumner determined to return to them at the earliest possible moment. the first signs of dawn, therefore, found the _psyche_, with her crew and passenger, once more afloat. a hearty cheer followed the brave little craft as she glided away from the great ship, and in less than an hour she was paddled gently up to where the other canoes and the cruiser lay on the beach. it had been a sad night to the inmates of that lonely camp, and most of its long hours had been spent in a fruitless watching for the return of the well-loved lad, whom most of them had such slight hopes of ever again seeing. only worth had faith, and declared that while he did not know how sumner would manage it, he was confident that he would turn up again all right somehow. towards morning their anxiety found relief in a troubled sleep, and as sumner walked into the camp there was none to greet him or note his coming. "hello, in the camp!" he shouted. "here it is almost sunrise and no breakfast ready yet!" no surprise could be more complete or more joyful than that. worth was the first to spring to his feet. "he's come back safe and sound!" he shouted. "oh, sumner, i knew you would! i was sure of it, and told them so!" "the next time i let you away from my side it will only be at the end of a long rope, you young rascal, you!" said the lieutenant, after the extravagant joy of the first greeting had somewhat subsided. after an unusually late and happy breakfast, they sailed through the cut and into the beautiful bay to which it led. they soon discovered the camp to which ko-wik-a belonged, and the canoe that had rescued him had the honor of bearing him to it. he was received with a wondering joy that was none the less real for its lack of extravagant manifestation. as ul-we took the child from sumner's arms, he turned his face away to hide the emotion that would be unbecoming in an indian and a warrior. it was there, however, and the look of intense gratitude that he gave the boy was more expressive than any words that he could have uttered. then the indians broke their camp, and they and the whites sailed away together to the appointed rendezvous on cape florida. chapter xl. the happy ending of the cruise. on their entire cruise our young canoemates had not enjoyed a day's run so much as they did this one in company with the indians who had crossed the everglades with them, but of whom they had seen so little. the wind was so fair that the boats without centre-boards could sail as well as those with, and the run was a series of match races, of which the _psyche_ and _cupid_ were winners in nearly every case. as ul-we's canoe had been lost the night before, the lieutenant invited both him and the little ko-wik-a to a sail in the _hu-la-lah_, and even the self-contained young indian was compelled to express his admiration of the graceful craft. when he ventured to ask what such a canoe would cost, and the price was named, his face indicated his despair at ever being able to accumulate such a sum, and he murmured: "heap money! injun no get um." at cape florida, while the camps were being pitched but a short distance from each other, the boys went with ul-we to set another fish-trap, such as he had been about to prepare when ko-wik-a ran away with his canoe the day before. the little fellow went with them, but he no longer showed any inclination to go sailing on his own hook. after ul-we had fixed his trap they went over to a submerged bank that extends southward several miles from the cape. here, while the boys waded in the shoal water collecting sea porcupines, urchins, tiny squids, bits of live coral, and numberless other marine curiosities, ul-we was busy gathering and throwing into his canoe a quantity of big greenish shells that looked like so many rocks. when they were ready to go back, and sumner saw this novel cargo, he exclaimed: "good! now we will have some conch soup for dinner!" "how do you know?" asked worth. "because here are the conchs, and ul-we has enough for all of us." "those things!" cried worth, in a tone of disgust. "you surely don't mean that they are good to eat?" "yes, i do," laughed sumner, picking up one of the shells and showing worth the white meat with which its exquisitely pink interior was filled. "i mean that these fellows can be made into the very best soup i know of." "seems to me i have seen that kind of a shell before," said worth, "but i never knew that any one ever ate their contents." "of course you have seen the shells. you will find them in half the farm-houses of the country, where, with the point of the small end cut off, they are used as dinner horns. as for the eating part, you wait till quorum gives you a chance to test it this evening. if you don't find it fully as good as sofkee, then i shall be mistaken." the boys had been greatly disappointed at not finding either the mantons' yacht nor the _transit_ awaiting them at the cape. several times in the course of the afternoon they climbed to the top of an abandoned light-house tower near their camp, in the hope of sighting a sail bound in that direction. as they did so just before sunset, they saw several far over towards the main-land, but they were too distant for their character to be distinguished. never had they seen anything so exquisitely beautiful or so royally gorgeous as that southern sunset, and they lingered at the top of the tower until the last of its marvellous flame tints had burned out, and the delicate crescent of the new moon was sinking into the 'glades behind the distant pine-trees of the main-land. at supper time worth was introduced to conch soup, and he agreed with sumner that it was fully equal to sofkee. after supper the boys strolled over to the indian camp, to which lieutenant carey was attracted soon afterwards by their shouts of laughter. he did not recognize the boys until they spoke to him, for they had persuaded ul-we to array them as he had after the forest fire, and they were now in full indian costume. in the mean time the distant sails that they had sighted from the top of the old tower had been running across the bay before a brisk breeze, and two vessels had quietly come to anchor just inside the cape. the glow of the camp-fires could be seen from these, and from one of them a boat containing several persons pulled in to the beach. a minute later two gentlemen, whose footsteps were unheard in the sand, stood on the edge of the circle of firelight, and one of them said to the other, in a low and disappointed tone: "it's only an indian camp after all, tracy." "so it is," replied the other, regretfully. "still, they may be able to give us some news. let's go in and inquire." at that moment the attention of the indians was equally divided between sumner, who was apparently accumulating a fortune by taking half-dollars from little ko-wik-a's mouth and ears, and worth, who was attempting to dance what he called a clog with indian variations, to the music of lieutenant carey's whistle. suddenly little ko-wik-a, who was nervously excited over sumner's wonderful performance, uttered a startled cry and sprang to one side, staring into the darkness. all the others looked in the same direction, and probably the dignified mr. manton was never more surprised in his life than when a young indian bounded to his side, flung his arms about his neck, and called him "dear father!" his brother was equally amazed when another young indian sprang to where he was standing, seized his hand, and called him "mr. tracy!" when they discovered, by their voices and by what they were incoherently saying, that these young indians were not indians at all, but the very boys of whom they were in search, tanned to the color of mahogany, and dressed in borrowed finery, the surprise and delight of the two gentlemen can better be imagined than described. "is it possible," cried mr. manton, holding worth off at arm's-length so that the firelight shone full upon him, "that this can be the pale-faced chap with a cough who left me in st. augustine a couple of months ago? why, son, you've grown an inch taller and, i should say, six in breadth!" then, turning to the other boy, and scanning his features closely, he added: "and is this sumner rankin, the son of my old schoolmate rankin, whom i lost sight of after he went into the navy? my boy, for your father's sake, and for the sake of what you have done for worth this winter, i want you hereafter to regard me as a father, and continue to act as this boy's elder brother. ever since tracy told me of you i have been almost as impatient to meet you as to rejoin worth, for as schoolmates your father and i were as dear to each other as own brothers." while this joyful meeting was taking place, a boat from the _transit_ had come ashore, and ensign sloe was reporting to lieutenant carey. then the whole party had to sit down where they were, and, surrounded by the grave-faced indians, tell and listen to as much of the past two months' experience as could be crowded into as many hours. the mantons were charmed with lieutenant carey, and he with them, while towards ul-we their gratitude was unbounded. old quorum, too, was introduced, and warmly thanked for his fidelity to the young canoemates. [illustration: the surprise and delight of the two gentlemen can be better imagined than described.] before the schooners sailed for key west, which they did the next day, lieutenant carey presented ul-we with the _hu-la-lah_, and worth gave him the handsomest rifle in his father's collection, besides promising to send little ko-wik-a a light canoe for his very own. mr. manton and uncle tracy between them not only purchased from the indians, at fabulous prices, the costumes in which they found the boys, but everything else they could think of that would aid in reproducing their present appearance and surroundings for the benefit of their northern friends. the properties they thus acquired included bear, wolf, panther, and deer skins, and even a sofkee kettle with its great wooden spoon. besides this, they and the lieutenant so loaded the indian canoes with provisions, tobacco, cartridges for their rifles and shot-guns, and other useful things, that this occasion formed a theme for conversation about every camp-fire throughout the length and breadth of the everglades for many a long day. should lieutenant carey and his party ever care to penetrate those wilds again, they will be certain of a hearty welcome, and of being allowed to go where they please. then the two yachts set sail for their run down the reef to key west, where another joyful greeting awaited the young canoemates. before the mantons left there, it was arranged that mrs. rankin should dispose of her key west home as soon as possible, and sail for new york, where mr. manton said he had a cosey little house waiting for just such tenants as herself and sumner. "be sure and come as quickly as you can," he said, "for i want my new boy to design and build me a yacht this summer for next winter's cruising." "i shall need one too," added uncle tracy, "and i think i know of several more that will be wanted." "don't forget to bring the _psyche_ with you, sumner!" shouted worth, the last thing. "as if i would!" answered sumner. "whatever boats i may own, i will never part with that dear canoe so long as i live." that evening, as the boy and his mother sat discussing their pleasant prospects for the future, sumner said: "well, mother, i have learned one thing from the past two months' experience, and that is that wealthy people can be just as kind and considerate, and may be as dearly loved, as poor ones. i didn't believe it at one time, but now i know it." * * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious spelling and punctuation errors have been corrected. archaic, dialect and alternative spelling has been retained. blank pages facing illustrations have been removed. emphasised text is shown thus: _italics_ =bold=