that had received damage
from the water, and preparing the encampment; while ever and anon they
paused a moment, to watch the various boats as they flew before the
gale, and one by one doubled the friendly promontory.

If there is one thing that provokes a voyageur more than another, it is
being wind-bound on the shores of a large lake. Rain or sleet, heat or
cold, icicles forming on the oars, or a broiling sun glaring in a
cloudless sky, the stings of sandflies, or the sharp probes of a million
mosquitoes, he will bear with comparative indifference; but being
detained by high wind for two, three, or four days together--lying
inactively on shore, when everything else, it may be, is favourable: the
sun bright, the sky blue, the air invigorating, and all but the wind
propitious--is more than his philosophy can carry him through with
equanimity. He grumbles at it; sometimes makes believe to laugh at it;
very often, we are sorry to say, swears at it; does his best to sleep
through it; but whatever he does, he does with a bad grace, because he's
in a bad humour, and can't stand it.

For the next three days this was the fate of our friends. Part of the
time it rained, when the whole party slept as much as was possible, and
then _endeavoured_ to sleep _more_ than was possible, under the shelter
afforded by the spreading branches of the trees. Part of the time was
fair, with occasional gleams of sunshine, when the men turned out to eat
and smoke and gamble round the fires; and the two friends sauntered down
to a sheltered place on the shore, sunned themselves in a warm nook
among the rocks, while they gazed ruefully at the foaming billows, told
endless stories of what they had done in time past, and equally endless
_prospective_ adventures that they earnestly hoped should befall them in
time to come.

While they were thus engaged, Redfeather, the Indian who had cut the
ropes so opportunely during the storm, walked down to the shore, and
sitting down on a rock not far distant, fell apparently into a reverie.

"I like that fellow," said Harry, pointing to the Indian.

"So do I. He's a sharp, active man. Had it not been for him we should
have had to swim for it."

"Indeed, had it not been for him I should have had to sink for it," said
Harry, with a smile, "for I can't swim."

"Ah, true, I forgot that. I wonder what the redskin, as the guide calls
him, is thinking about," added Charley, in a musing tone.

"Of home,