itely became unendurable to him.

Ungava Bob, on the contrary, had been accustomed to wilderness
solitude all his life. This, and a naturally even disposition, coupled
with a philosophical temperament, rendered him capable of overlooking
Shad's slurs, and when finally Shad ceased to speak to him, or when
spoken to by Bob ceased to acknowledge that he heard, Bob permitted
the slight to pass unnoticed.

At length, one day, when Shad had nursed his supposed grievance to a
point where he could no longer endure it, he blurted out brutally:

"See here, I've stood this devilish cowardice of yours as long as I'm
going to. Do you see where the sun is! It's noon. Now I'll give you
until that sun drops half-way to the horizon to decide whether or not
you're going across with me. If you say 'No,' I'm going without you,
that's all, and you can stay here and eat rabbit, and rot, if you
choose."

"Now, Shad," Bob placated, "I knows how you feels, an' it's your
judgment ag'in mine. But I'm havin' experience with places like that,
an' I knows we can't make th' crossin' an' land. Now don't try un,
Shad."

"Don't 'Shad' me--My God, Bob! Look there!" he suddenly broke off.

Shooting past them, half standing in their birch canoe, paddling with
the desperation of men facing doom, one with his sound paddle, the
other with his broken one, were the Indians that Manikawan had sent
adrift.

They were very near the island--so near that every outline of their
drawn, terrorstricken faces was visible--but too far away to reach the
gravelly point upon which Bob and Shad had found refuge. Indeed, they
seemed not to see it, or to see anything but the horrible spectral
phantom of the evil spirit that they believed had them in its control.

On--on--on-they sped, ever faster--faster toward the pounding
rapids--impotently, though still desperately, wielding their paddles.
Bob and Shad stood spellbound and horror-stricken. The Indians were
nearing the first white foam! In a moment their canoe would strike it!
It was in the foam! It rose for an instant upon a white crest, the
Indians' paddles still working--then was swallowed up in the swirling
tumult of waves and whirlpools, never to reappear.

Ungava Bob and Shad Trowbridge stood for a moment in awe-stricken
horror. Then they sat down upon the rock on which Shad had sunk when
overcome with shock on the day of their escape upon the island.

"Bob," said Shad, at last, "that was the most terrible t