I shall never get over
being thankful that I put on a pair of sensible shoes, night before
last, to walk to the Heights of Abraham."

After he had rested and was beginning to grow stiff, Prime sat up.

"We can't go much farther before dark; shall we camp here?" he asked.

The young woman shook her head. "We can't see anything from here; it is
so shut in. Can't we go on a little farther?"

"Sure," Prime assented, scrambling up and stooping to rub the stiffness
out of his calves, and at this the aimless march was renewed, to end
definitely a few minutes later at the intake of a stream flowing
silently out of the lake to the southeastward; a stream narrow and not
too swift, but sufficiently deep to bar their way.

Twilight was stealing softly through the shadowy aisles of the forest
when they prepared to camp at the lake-shore edge of the wood. Prime
made the camp-fire, and, since the lake water was a little roiled at
the outlet mouth, he took one of the empty fruit-tins and crossed the
neck of land to the river. Working his way around a thicket of
undergrowth, he came upon the stream at a point where the little river,
as if gathering itself for its long journey to the sea, spread away in a
quiet and almost currentless reach.

Climbing down the bank to fill the tin, he found a startling surprise
lying in wait for him. Just below the overhanging bank a large
birch-bark canoe, well filled with dunnage, was drawn out upon a tiny
beach. His first impulse was to rush back to his companion with the good
news that their rescue was at hand; the next was possibly a hand-down
from some far-away Indian-dodging ancestor: perhaps it would be well
first to find out into whose hands they were going to fall.

The canoe itself told him nothing, and neither did the lading, which
included a good store of eatables. There was an air of isolation about
the birch-bark which gave him the feeling that it had been beached for
some time, and the dry paddles lying inside confirmed the impression.
He listened, momently expecting to hear sounds betraying the presence of
the owners, but the silence of the sombre forest was unbroken save by
the lapping of the little wavelets on the near-by lake shore.

Realizing that Miss Millington would be waiting for her bread-mixing
water, Prime filled the tin and recrossed the small peninsula.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were lost," said the bread-maker. "Did
you have to go far?"

"No, not very far