sire to return to the Big Hill trail and the Grand
River country.

"It is not good to dwell on the great river of the evil spirits" (the
Grand River), said the Indian. "Be contented in the wigwam of your
brothers."

Bob parleyed and plead with them, and when he finally insisted that
they take him back to the place where they had found him, he was met
with the objection that it was "many sleeps towards the rising sun,"
that the deer had left the land as he had seen for himself, and if
they turned back their kettle would have no flesh and their stomachs
would be empty.

"We are going," said Sishetakushin, "where the deer shall be found
like the trees of the forest, and there our brother shall feast and be
happy."

So Bob's last hope of reaching home vanished.

Manikawan's kindness towards him grew, and she was most attentive to
his comfort. She gave him the first helping of "nab-wi"--stew--from
the kettle, and kept his clothing in good repair. His old moccasins
she replaced with new ones fancifully decorated with beads, and his
much-worn duffel socks with warm ones made of rabbit skins. Everything
that the wilderness provided he had from her hand. But still he was
not happy. There was an always present longing for the loved ones in
the little cabin at Wolf Bight. He never could get out of his mind his
mother's sad face on the morning he left her, dear patient little
Emily on her couch, and his father, who needed his help so much,
working alone about the house or on the trail. And sometimes he
wondered if Bessie ever thought of him, and if she would be sorry when
she heard he was lost.

"Manikawan an' all th' Injuns be wonderful kind, but 'tis not like
bein' home," he would often say sadly to himself when he lay very
lonely at night upon his bed of boughs and skins.

At first Manikawan's attentions were rather agreeable to Bob, but he
was not accustomed to being waited upon, and in a little while they
began to annoy him and make him feel ill at ease, and finally to
escape from them he rarely ever remained in the wigwam during daylight
hours.

"I'm wishin' she'd not be troublin' wi' me so--I'm not wantin' un," he
declared almost petulantly at times when the girl did something for
him that he preferred to do himself.

Mornings he would wander down through the valley attending to his
deadfalls and snares, and afternoons tramp over the hills in the hope
of seeing caribou.

One afternoon two weeks after the arriv