canvas, and rubber cement, and
shellac, and tacks, and cord, and wire. We'll make it through, even if
we do have some little breaks."

"I don't think we'll have any," replied Alex in a reassuring way.
"Moise, don't you think your load settles your canoe just a little
deeper than she ought to go?"

"_Non! Non!_" said Moise, in reply, casting a judicial look at the low
freeboard of the _Mary Ann_. "She'll go, those boat."

"She'll be getting lighter all the time," ventured Jesse. "John gets
awfully hungry, and he'll eat a lot!"

They all laughed heartily at this reference to John's well-known
appetite. All were in good spirits when the real progress down the
tangled creek began.

"_En roulant, ma boule, roulant!_" began Moise, as he shoved out his
boat--the words of the old Canadian _voyageurs'_ boat song, known for
generations on all the waterways of the North.

"Better wait until we get into the lake," smiled Alex. "I don't think
we can 'roll the ball,' as you call it, very much in among these
bushes."

They moved on down now, pushing and pulling their boat when they could
not paddle or pole it. Sometimes they had to force their way through
an _embarras_, as the _voyageurs_ call a pile of driftwood. The boys,
however, only enjoyed this sort of work. They were wet, but happy,
when, after some time passed in this slow progress, at last they saw
the open waters of the lake fully before them.

"_En voyage, messieurs_," cried Moise. "We begin!"

V

CROSSING THE HEIGHT OF LAND

Before our young trail-makers now lay the expanse of one of those
little mountain lakes which sometimes are forgotten by the map-makers.
The ground immediately about the edge of the lake was low, flat, and
overgrown. Only a gentle ripple crossed the surface of the lake, for
almost no air at all was stirring. Out of a near-by cove a flock of
young wild geese, scarcely able to fly, started off, honking in
excitement; and here and there a wild duck broke the surface into a
series of ripples; or again a fish sprang into the air, as it went
about its own breakfast operations for the day. It was an inspiring
scene for all, and for the time the Young Alaskans paused, taking in
its beauty.

"_Il fait beau, ce matin_," said Moise, in the French which made half
or more of his speech. "She'll been fine morning this day, what?"

"Couldn't be better," assented Alex, who stood knee-deep at the edge
of the lake, and who now calmly removed hi