Any port in
a storm, you know."

Hippy came in wet and dripping after caring for the ponies, with
Hindenburg tucked safely under his coat.

"Reminds me of France," he exclaimed jovially. "Say, children, may my
Hindenburg sleep in your quarters to-night? It will be warmer and more
comfortable for him than in mine."

"No!" shouted the Overland girls.

"He may sleep in the attic," suggested Emma. "Otherwise, on the roof.
Hippy, why do you keep that animal around? What is he good for except to
eat and sleep?"

"Don't you malign my bull pup. He is a watch dog, the best ever, and--"
Hippy's remaining words were lost in the shout of laughter that
interrupted him.

"Oh, Hippy, you are a scream," exclaimed Grace. "You know very well that
the only thing Hindenburg has watched since we started, is the food, and
always he has watched for us to throw some of it to him. Yes, he is a
wonderful watch dog."

All were now crowded into the lean-to, except Willy, who, after cooking
the bear-meat, said "Bye," and went away.

Good-nights were said early that evening and all hands turned in after
Mrs. Shafto had fed what was left of the supper to Henry. The bear had
come in immediately after getting the odor of one of his relatives being
cooked over the Overland Riders' campfire.

Rain roared on the bark roofs of the lean-tos all night long, but the
girls, dry and cosy, slept the night through without once awakening,
with Henry on guard out there sitting under a tree in a disconsolate
attitude, now and then wearily licking the water from his coat.
Hindenburg, more favored, slept cuddled between Lieutenant Wingate's
feet.

The present camp, it was understood between the Overlanders and Tom
Gray, was to be a permanent camp for some time to come, and it was here
that some of the most exciting scenes of their journey through the Great
North Woods were to be witnessed by them.

CHAPTER XVII

IN THE INDIAN TEPEE

The rain had ceased, when Grace, the first of her party to awaken,
looked out as she lay on her browse bed. The river was shining in the
morning sun, glassy, save here and there where its waters rippled over a
shallow of gravel.

"Turn out!" she shouted. "This is too wonderful to miss. Oh, look!"

A canoe, with an Indian crouching in its stern wielding a paddle, was
skimming across the stream, not a sound or splash of paddle, nor hardly
a ripple from it to be heard or seen.

"It's Willy Horse. Hurry, girls! D