b explained.

"In th' first tilt above th' river?" Ed repeated. "We were in th'
tilt, now, Dick, when we comes through, an' there weren't any rifle
there. Rope an' tent an' other outfit, but no rifle."

"No, there weren't none there," corroborated Dick and Bill.

"Now, 'tis strange," said Bob. "I left un there, didn't I, Shad?"

"Yes, you certainly left it there, on the rear bunk," Shad affirmed
positively.

This puzzled them long, and they were never to learn the truth, for
Manikawan, on her return journey for the ropes, had replaced the rifle
exactly as she had found it, and none but herself ever knew the part
she had played in the river tragedy.

While Manikawan rested in the tilt, and Bill Campbell set out to hunt
ptarmigans for supper, Dick Blake and Ed Matheson in Manikawan's
canoe, and Bob and Shad in Shad's canoe, left upon a reconnoitering
expedition to the tilt from which the two latter were returning on the
day of the Indian attack.

They had no fear now of an Indian surprise, since Ed Matheson had
observed the retreat of the savages to the southern shore, and they
proceeded boldly to their destination.

As anticipated, the tilt had been rifled of its contents, chiefly
flour and pork. The tilt itself, however, had not been burned, and was
otherwise undisturbed.

"They was thinkin', now, t' have un an' t' use un theirselves when
they comes here t' hunt, th' winter," declared Ed. "They thinks Bob
an' Shad's done for. Unless they gets scairt out by th' ha'nts in th'
water--"

"The what?" asked Shad.

"Th' ghosts or spirits they thinks is there. They's wonderful easy
scairt, Injuns is. Oh, I knows th' Injuns; I been havin' trouble with
un before."

"When was you havin' trouble with Injuns, now?" asked Dick
sceptically.

"More'n once," said Ed. "There were th' time, now, I comes t' my tilt
an' finds a hull passel o' Mountaineers--they wan't friendly in them
days, th' Bay Mountaineers wan 't--so many they eats up a hull barrel
o' my flour t' one meal--"

"Now, Ed," broke in Dick, in evident disgust, "you been tellin' that
yarn so many times you believes un yourself. Now, don't tell un
ag'in."

"'Tis gospel truth--" Ed began.

"'Tis no kind o' truth."

"Well, an' you don't want t' hear un, I won't tell un," said Ed, with
an air of injured innocence.

"'What was it, Ed, that happened you?" asked Shad, laughing, for he
had learned to know the peculiarities of these two friends.

"Dick's not