s though this decision had terminated an interview, they turned with
one accord toward the dim group of their companions. As they approached,
they were acclaimed.

"Here he is," "Dick, come here," "Dick, sing us the song. Chante donc
'Oncle Naid,' Deeck."

And Dick, leaning carelessly against the breech of the field-guns, in a
rich, husky baritone crooned to the far north the soft syllables of the
far south.

"_Oh, there was an old darkey, and his name was Uncle Ned,
And he lived long ago, long ago!_"

CHAPTER THREE

In the selection of paddles early next morning Sam insisted that the
Indian rule be observed, measuring carefully that the length of each
implement should just equal the height of its wielder. He chose the
narrow maple blade, that it might not split when thrust against the
bottom to check speed in a rapid. Further the blades were stained a
brilliant orange.

Dick Herron had already picked one of a dozen birch-bark canoes laid
away under the bridge over the dry coulee. He knew a good canoe as you
would know a good horse. Fourteen feet it measured, of the heavy
winter-cut of bark, and with a bottom all of one piece, without cracks
or large knots.

The canoe and the paddles they laid at the water's edge. Then they went
together to the great warehouse, behind the grill of whose upper room
MacDonald was writing. Ordinarily the trappers were not allowed inside
the grill, but Dick and Sam were told to help themselves freely. The
stocking Dick left to his older companion, assuring himself merely of an
hundred rounds of ammunition for his new model Winchester rifle, the
44-40 repeater, then just entering the outskirts of its popularity.

In the obscurity of the wide, low room the old woodsman moved to and
fro, ducking his head to avoid things hanging, peering into corners,
asking an occasional question of MacDonald, who followed him silently
about. Two small steel traps, a narrow, small-meshed fish-net, a
fish-line and hooks, powder, ball, and caps for the old man's
muzzle-loader, a sack of salt were first laid aside. This represented
subsistence. Then matches, a flint-and-steel machine, two four-point
blankets. These meant warmth. Then ten pounds of plug tobacco and as
many of tea. These were necessary luxuries. And finally a small sack of
flour and a side of bacon. These were merely a temporary provision; when
they should be exhausted, the men would rely wholly on the forest.

Sam Bol