bank, and the sky brilliant
with stars. After a little the day's progress became a myth, to be
accepted only by the exercise of faith. The forest was a great treadmill
in which men toiled all day, only to be surrounded at night by the same
grandeurs and littlenesses they had that morning left. In the face of
this apparent futility time blew vast. Years were as nothing measured by
the task of breaking through the enchanted web that enmeshed them.

And yet all knew by experience, though no one of them could rise to a
realisation of the fact, that some day their canoe would round the bend
and they would find themselves somewhere. Then they could say to
themselves that they had arrived, and could tell themselves that between
here and their starting-point lay so many hundred miles. Yet in their
secret hearts they would not believe it. They would know that in reality
it lay but just around the corner. Only between were dream-days of the
shifting forest heavy with toil.

This is the enchantment the North lays on her children, so that when
the toil oppresses them and death seems to win, they may not care
greatly to struggle, knowing that the struggle is vain.

In the country of the Kabinikagam they visited thus many hunting
districts. The travel neither hastened nor lagged. From time to time it
was necessary to kill, and then the meat must be cared for. Berries and
wild rice were to be gathered. July drew near its end.

Sam Bolton, knowing now the men with whom he had to deal, found no
difficulty in the exercise of his simple diplomacy. The Ojibway
defaulter was not to be heard of, but every nook searched without result
narrowed the remaining possibilities. Everything went well enough until
late one afternoon.

The portage happened to lead above a narrow gorge over a rapids. To
accomplish it the travellers had first to scale a steep little hill,
then to skirt a huge rounded rock that overhung the gorge. The roughness
of the surface and the adhesive power of their moccasins alone held them
to the slant. These were well sufficient. Unfortunately, however, Dick,
without noticing it, had stepped into a little pool of water on
disembarking. Buckskin while dry is very adhesive; when wet very
slippery. As he followed Sam out on the curving cheek of the rock his
foot slid, he lost his equilibrium, was on the edge of falling,
overbalanced by the top-heavy pack he was carrying. Luckily Sam himself
was portaging the canoe. Dick, with