Norman, "but I wonder how this country looks
when winter comes."

"You know how this river'll look," answered Roy. "It'll be a great,
smooth roadway and a lot of people waitin' now to get back to
civilization will make it a path for snowshoes and dog sleds."

"Some trip up here from Fort McMurray," suggested Norman.

"You said it," exclaimed Roy. "But the colonel won't have to make it on
foot this winter--not with the old _Gitchie Manitou_, and this ice road
to guide us."

He looked with longing at the crates of the airship, the two smaller ones
of which took up one side of their own scow, while the others were lashed
diagonally on top of the crate in the forward boat. The two boats had
kept their relative positions throughout the night.

Just as the sun began to gild the water in their wake, Paul stuck his
nose out of the blankets. All had slept in their clothes during the
night, Colonel Howell having promised them a chance at their pajamas on
the following evening. There was no dressing to be done and when Paul
joined his companions all made preparation to souse their faces over the
edge of the boat.

"One minute," exclaimed Norman. He dug among his baggage and in a short
time reappeared with the aluminum basin.

"Non! Non!" came from the statuelike figure of old Moosetooth. Then he
pointed to the abrupt cut bank of the river a few hundred yards ahead and
called something in the Cree language to La Biche. The latter nodded his
head and in turn called aloud in the Indian tongue.

Instantly from between the pipes and crates on the forward boat a dozen
half-breeds crawled sleepily forth. One of these, with a coil of rope,
sprang into the bow of the forward scow, and another similarly equipped
took his place in the rear of La Biche, as if ready to spring on the
second scow when opportunity presented. Both boats were headed for the
cut bank.

The commotion aroused Colonel Howell, and while he gave a nod of
approval, the scows drifted in under the sweep of the steersmen's oars
where the deep water ate into the tree-covered shore.

As La Biche's boat touched the bank and the second scow ran forward, the
two half-breeds scrambled onto the roots of the trees and before the
scows could bump away into the stream once more, they had been skillfully
snubbed around the trunks of the nearest trees, a third Indian springing
from the forward boat onto Moosetooth's craft and making fast a line
thrown him from the shore. Th