ed
out into the big lake. Their steady strokes sent the canoe through the
water at fully four miles an hour, and by the time broad day had come
the forest-clad shore at Wabinosh House was only a hazy outline in the
distance. The white youth's unspoken fears were dispelled when the sun
rose, warm and glorious, over the shimmering lake, driving the chill
from the air, and seeming to bring with it the sweet scents of
the forests far away. Joyfully he labored at his paddle, the mere
exhilaration of the morning filling his arms with the strength of a
young giant. Wabi whistled and sang wild snatches of Indian song by
turns, Rod joined him with _Yankee Doodle_ and _The Star Spangled
Banner_, and even the silent Mukoki gave a whoop now and then to show
that he was as happy as they.

One thought filled the minds of all. They were fairly started on that
most thrilling of all trails, the trail of gold. In their possession
was the secret of a great fortune. Romance, adventure, discovery,
awaited them. The big, silent North, mysterious in its age-old
desolation, where even the winds seemed to whisper of strange things
that had happened countless years before, was just ahead of them. They
were about to bury themselves in its secrets, to wrest from it the
yellow treasure it guarded, and their blood tingled and leaped
excitedly at the thought. What would be revealed to them? What might
they not discover? What strange adventures were they destined to
encounter in that Unknown World, peopled only by the things of the
wild, that stretched trackless and unexplored before them? A hundred
thoughts like these fired the brains of the three adventurers, and
made their work a play, and every breath they drew one of joy.

The lake was alive with ducks. Huge flocks of big black ducks,
mallards, blue bills and whistlers rose about them, and now and then,
when an unusually large flock was seen floating upon the water ahead
of them, one of the three would take a pot-shot with his rifle. Rod
and Mukoki had each killed two, and Wabi three, when the old warrior
stopped the fun.

"No waste too much shooting on ducks," he advised. "Need shells--big
game."

Several times during the morning the three rested from their
exertions, and at noon they ceased paddling for more than an hour
while they ate the generous dinner that had been put up for them at
Wabinosh House. The farther side of the lake was now plainly visible,
and when the journey was resumed