things! If the water
wasn't so blamed dirty here, and I wasn't afraid of swallowing enough
creatures to start an aquarium, I'd just lie down and refuse to make
another effort to get up."

Then he waded out, the look on his face causing Frank to double up with
merriment, while even the wretched Barney smiled.

Barney would have waded out, but Frank said:

"Don't attempt to land without those guns, old man. They're somewhere on
the bottom, and we want them."

So Barney was forced to plunge under the surface and feel around till he
had fished up the rifles and the shotgun.

Frank had taken care of his bow and arrows, the latter being in a quiver
at his back, and the paddles had not floated away.

After a time, everything was recovered, the canoe was drawn out and
tipped bottom upward, and the trio moved toward the cabin, Frank
leading, and the professor staggering along behind.

Reaching the cabin, Frank rapped loudly on the door.

No answer.

Once more he knocked, and then, as there was no reply, he pushed the
door open, and entered.

The cabin was not occupied by any living being, but a glance showed the
trio that some one had been there not many hours before, for the embers
of a fire still glowed dimly on the open hearth of flat stones.

There were two rooms, the door between them being open, so the little
party could look into the second.

The first room seemed to be the principal room of the hut, while the
other was a bedroom. They could see the bed through the open doorway.

There were chairs, a table, a couch, and other things, for the most part
rude, home-made stuff, and still every piece showed that the person who
constructed it had skill and taste.

Around the walls were hung various tin pans and dishes, all polished
bright and clean.

What surprised them the most was the wire screens in the windows, a
screen door that swung inward, and a mosquito-bar canopy over the bed
and the couch.

"By Jove!" cried Frank; "the person who lives here is prepared to
protect himself against mosquitoes and black flies."

"It would be impossible to live here in the summer," gravely declared
Professor Scotch, forgetting his own misery for the moment. "The pests
would drive a man crazy."

"Oh, I don't know about that," returned Frank. "If a man knew how to
defend himself against them he might get along all right. They can't be
worse than the mosquitoes of Alaska in the warm months. Up there the
Indians get a