mplained of burning thirst and drank recklessly. After
two hours' tramp he was very tired and wanted to turn back. Yan sought
a dry island and then gathered sticks for a fire, but found all
the matches they had were soaking wet with wading through the bog.
Peetweet was much upset by this, not on account of fire now, but in
case they should be out all night.

"You wait and see what an Indian does," said Little Beaver. He sought
for a dried Balsam Fir, cut the rubbing-sticks, made a bow of a
slightly bent branch, and soon had a blazing fire, to Peter's utter
amazement, for he had never seen the trick of making a fire by
rubbing-sticks.

After drinking some tea and eating a little, Pete felt more
encouraged.

"We have travelled more than six miles now, I reckon," said the Chief;
"an hour longer and we shall be in sight of the forest if there is
one," and Yan led off across swamps more or less open and islands of
burned timber.

Pete began to be appalled by the distance they were putting between
them and their friends. "What if we should get lost? They never could
find us."

"We won't get lost," said Yan in some impatience; "and if we did, what
of it? We have only to keep on straight north or south for four or
five hours and we reach some kind of a settlement."

After an hour's tramp northeast they came to an island with a tall
tree that had branches right to the ground. Yan climbed up. A vast
extent of country lay all about him--open flat bogs and timber
islands, and on far ahead was a long, dark mass of solid
ever-green--surely the forest he sought. Between him and it he saw
water sparkling.

"Oh, Pete, you ought to be up here," he shouted joyfully; "it's worth
the climb to see this view."

"I'd rather see our own back-yard," grumbled Pete.

Yan came down, his face aglow with pleasure, and exclaimed: "It's
close to, now! I saw the Pine woods. Just off there."

"How far?"

"Oh, a couple of miles, at most."

"That's what you have been saying all along."

"Well, I saw it this time; and there is water out there. I saw that,
too."

He tramped on, and in half an hour they came to the water, a deep,
clear, slow stream, fringed with scrub willows, covered with
lily-pads, and following the middle of a broad, boggy flat. Yan had
looked for a pond, and was puzzled by the stream. Then it struck him.
"Caleb said there was only one big stream through this swamp. This
must be it. This is Beaver River."

The stream