I looked at the strong features and powerful
frames of the red-men around me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A CATASTROPHE, A LETTER, AND A SURPRISE.

Autumn at length gradually drew to a close, and we began to make
preparations for the long winter that lay before us.

Our saw-mill, having been repaired and improved, had worked so well that
we had cut a considerable quantity of planks, as well for the boats
which we intended to build as for the houses. It was fortunate that
this had been accomplished before the occurrence of an event which put
an effectual stop to that branch of our industries. It happened thus:

One afternoon the fine weather which we had been enjoying so long gave
place to boisterous winds and deluges of rain, confining us all to the
fort and making us feel slightly miserable.

"But we mustn't grumble, Max," said Lumley to me, as we looked out of
our small windows. "We must take the evil with the good as it comes,
and be thankful."

"Please, I wasn't grumbling," said I, sharply.

"No? I thought you were."

"No, I was not. It must have been internal grumbling by yourself that
you heard," I retorted, sauntering back to the fire, which by that time
we had begun to light daily.

"I daresay you're right, Max; it has often struck me as a curious fact
that, when one is cross or grumpy, he is apt to think all the rest of
the world is also cross or grumpy. By the way, that reminds me--though
I don't see why it should remind me, seeing that the two things have no
connection--that Coppet came to me last night saying he had discovered a
slight leak in the dam. We'd better look to it now, as the rain seems
to have moderated a little."

We went out forthwith, and found Coppet already on the spot, gazing at a
small rill of water which bubbled up from behind a mass of rock that
jutted out from the cliff and formed a support for the beams of our dam.

"Something wrong there, Coppet," said Lumley, inspecting the place
carefully.

"Oui, monsieur--it is true."

"Can you guess where it comes through?" I asked.

"Vraiment, monsieur, I know not, but surely the dam it is quite strong."

"Strong!--of course it is, unnecessarily strong," said I, looking up at
its edge, over which the water, rendered muddy by the rains, flowed in a
considerable volume. "What think you, Lumley?"

I asked my friend's opinion somewhat anxiously, because I observed that
he seemed to examine the place with unusually grave look