Each canoe contained, besides its two occupants, a variety of household
goods, and a dog or two coiled and motionless, his sharp nose resting
between his outstretched forepaws. The tame crow occupied an ingenious
cage of twisted osiers.

Haukemah greeted the two white men cordially, and stopped paddling to
light his pipe. One by one the other canoes joined them. A faint haze of
tobacco rose from the drifting group.

"My brothers have made a long sun," observed old Haukemah. "We, too,
have hastened. Now we have met, and it is well. Down past the white rock
it became the fortune of Two-fingers to slay a caribou that stood by the
little water[3]. Also had we whitefish the evening before. Past the
Island of the Three Trees were signs of moose." He was telling them the
news, as one who passed the time of day.

[Footnote 3: A spring.]

"We have killed but neenee-sheeb, the duck," replied Dick, holding up
one of the victims by the neck, "nor have we seen the trail of game."

"Ah hah," replied Haukemah, politely.

He picked up his paddle. It was the signal to start.

"Drop in astern," said Dick to his companion in English, "it's the
light of the evening, and I'm going to troll for a pickerel."

One by one the canoes fell into line. Now, late in the day, the travel