ey didn't attempt to hurt you."

"No; they were civil enough their way, and kept on jabbering at me, and
saying something about Si wash, si wash. I'd had si wash enough, but
they never offered to lend me a towel, and I had to get dry in the sun."

"Esau," I said, as he was finishing dressing, "you ought to be thankful
that you have had such an escape."

"Ought I? Well, I suppose I ought, lad; and I am thankful, though I
take it so easy, for my poor mother would have broke her heart if I'd
been drowned. She thinks a deal of me."

"Of course," I said.

"I say, what did old Gunson say?"

"Don't ask me; don't talk about it," I said, for I felt half choking, I
was so overset by the whole scene.

"Why, Mayne Gordon," said Esau softly, as he laid his hand on my
shoulder, "don't go on like that. I ain't nothing to you, and--"

"Esau," I cried angrily, "will you hold your tongue? Hush! don't say
another word. Here's Mr Gunson."

"Yes," said Esau, in rather an ill-used tone, "it always is `Here's Mr
Gunson!'"

"Breakfast's waiting, my lads," he said. "Make haste; I don't want to
keep the Indians long."

"Keep the Indians?" I said. "Ah, you mean we ought to pay them
something for saving him."

"Yes, for one thing; but that is not all. They will easily be
satisfied."

"I sha'n't give them anything," said Esau sourly. "One of 'em tried to
pull the hair off my head."

"Nonsense! It must have been to get you into the boat. Here we are."

He signed to us to go into our room in the shanty, and I felt puzzled at
his quiet calm way of speaking now, just as if there had been nothing
the matter that morning. But it was not so with Esau. The shock and
its accompanying fright had had a peculiar effect upon his temper.

As we entered the room there was the bright fire with the boiling water;
and the landlady had been busy for us, and broiled some bacon, the smell
of which was very welcome at that time in the morning; but as Esau was
about to take his place he looked sharply round.

"Where's my box?" he said. And as he spoke I saw that mine and the
others were gone.

"In the canoe," said Gunson, quietly.

"What's it in the canoe for?" cried Esau. "Those Indian chaps will run
away with it."

"If they do," said Gunson, who was busy making the tea, "they'll take
your companion's and mine too."

"What's the good o' that to me?" cried Esau angrily. "That won't bring
mine back. Here, I want my box."

"