he Klondike disasters by the
Mounted Police, and indicated the course of the safe channel at the
lower end of the chute.

Francois, pipe in mouth, calmly swung his sinewy body against the
steering-oar. The bow of the boat crawled around to the left, far off
from the island, toward the shore, where was a toboggan-like pitch of
very fast but safe water for a distance of some hundreds of yards.

As they entered the head of this chute, the bowman still crouching
with his pole poised, it seemed to Rob that he heard shouts and cries
from the island, where, indeed, all those left behind were gathered in
a body, waiting for the first boat in the annual brigade to go
through--something of an event, as they regarded it.

But Rob's eyes were on ahead. He saw the boat hold its course straight
as an arrow toward the great target on the farther bank. With
astonishing speed it coasted down the last incline of the Grand
Rapids. Then, under the skilful handling of steersman and oarsmen, the
boat swung to the right, around a sort of promontory which extended
around the right-hand bank. Rob looked around at Uncle Dick, who was
curiously regarding him. But neither spoke, for both of them knew the
etiquette of the wilderness--not to show excitement or uneasiness in
any unusual or dangerous circumstances.

Francois, who had narrowly regarded his young charge, now smiled at
him.

"Dot leetle boy, she is good man," he said to Uncle Dick. "He'll is
not got some scares."

Rob did not tell him whether or not this was the exact truth, but only
smiled in turn.

"Well, here we are," said he. "But what good does it do us? There's
the foot of the island up there, three or four hundred yards away at
least. And how can we get a boat up against these rapids, I'd like to
know? Right here is where both the big chutes join. It would take a
steamboat to get up there."

Francois, who understood a little English, did not vouchsafe any
explanation, but only smiled, and Uncle Dick gravely motioned silence
as well. Rob could see the eyes of Francois fixed out midstream, and,
following his gaze, he presently saw some dark object bobbing about
out there, going slowly down-stream.

"Look, Uncle Dick!" he cried. "What's that? It looks like a seal."

The latter shook his head. "No seals in here," said he. "That must be
a log."

"So it is," said Rob. "But look at it--it's stopped now."

No one explained to him what all this meant. Francois sprang to his