ar, salt, powder,
ball, shot, clothes, lines, an inch-auger, nails, knives, awls, needles,
files, another axe, some tin plates, and a frying pan were selected and
added to Hendrik's account.

"If I was you, I'd take a windy-sash; you'll find it mighty convenient
in cold weather." The store keeper led them into an outhouse where was a
pile of six-lighted window-frames all complete. So the awkward thing was
added to their load.

"Can't I sell you a fine rifle?" and he took down a new, elegant small
bore of the latest pattern. "Only twenty-five dollars." Rolf shook his
head; "part down, and I'll take the rest in fur next spring." Rolf was
sorely tempted; however, he had an early instilled horror of debt. He
steadfastly said: "No." But many times he regretted it afterward! The
small balance remaining was settled in cash.

As they were arranging and selecting, they heard a most hideous
yelping outdoors, and a minute later Skookum limped in, crying as if
half-killed. Quonab was out in a moment.

"Did you kick my dog?"

The brutal loafer changed countenance as he caught the red man's eye.
"Naw! never touched him; hurted himself on that rake."

It was obviously a lie, but better to let it pass, and Quonab came in
again.

Then the rough stranger appeared at the door and growled: "Say, Warren!
ain't you going to let me have that rifle? I guess my word's as good as
the next man's."

"No," said Warren; "I told you, no!"

"Then you can go to blazes, and you'll never see a cent's worth of fur
from the stuff I got last year."

"I don't expect to," was the reply; "I've learned what your word's
worth." And the stranger slouched away.

"Who vas he?" asked Hendrik.

"I only know that his name is Jack Hoag; he's a little bit of a trapper
and a big bit of a bum; stuck me last year. He doesn't come out this
way; they say he goes out by the west side of the mountains."

New light on their course was secured from Warren, and above all, the
important information that the mouth of Jesup's River was marked by an
eagle's nest in a dead pine. "Up to that point keep the main stream, and
don't forget next spring I'm buying fur."

The drive across Five-mile portage was slow. It took over two hours to
cover it, but late that day they reached the Schroon.

Here the Dutchman said "Good-bye: Coom again some noder time." Skookum
saluted the farmer with a final growl, then Rolf and Quonab were left
alone in the wilderness.

It was afte