der to find
than mice--we staggered out, limp and sore, silently got into our canoes
and drifted away. Nobody spoke for quite a while. Nobody had anything to
say. Then Charlie murmured reflectively, as if thinking aloud:

"Little helpless fellows--not more than a day or two old----"

And Del added--also talking to himself:

"Too young to swim, of course--wholly at our mercy." Then, a moment
later, "It's a good thing we took that strap to tie their hind legs."

Eddie said nothing at all, and I was afraid to. Still, I was glad that
my vision of the little creatures pleading for their lives hadn't been
realized, or that other one of Del and Charlie paddling for dear life
up the Liverpool, with those little mooses bleating and scampering up
and down the canoe.

What really became of those calves remains a mystery. Nature teaches her
wild children many useful things. Their first indrawn breath is laden
with knowledge. Perhaps those wise little animals laughed at us from
some snug hiding. Perhaps they could swim, after all, and followed their
mother across the island, and so away. Whatever they did, I am glad,
even if the museum people have me arrested for it.

Chapter Twenty-three

_When the utmost bound of the trail is found--_
_The last and loneliest lair--_
_The hordes of the forest shall gather round_
_To bid you a welcome there._

Chapter Twenty-three

I do not know what lies above the Tobeatic lakes, but the strip of
country between is the true wilderness. It is a succession of swamps and
spruce thickets--ideal country for a moose farm or a mosquito hatchery,
or for general exploration, but no sort of a place for a Sunday-school
picnic. Neither is it a good place to fish. The little brook between the
lakes runs along like a chain pump and contains about as many trout.
There are one or two pretty good pools, but the effort to reach them is
too costly.

We made camp in as dry a place as we could find, but we couldn't find a
place as big as the tent that didn't have a spring or a water hole. In
fact, the ground was a mass of roots, great and small, with water
everywhere between. A spring actually bubbled up between our beds, and
when one went outside at night it was a mercy if he did not go plunging
into some sort of a cold, wet surprise, with disastrous and profane
results. Being the worst camp and the worst country and the poorest
fishing we had found, we remained there two days.