"Damn if I didn't pick out the old idiot's best girl!" he cried to his
companion; but the latter doubtfully shook his head.




CHAPTER EIGHT


When next day the band resumed the journey, it became evident that
May-may-gwán was to be punished for her demonstration of the night
before. Her place in the bow of old Moose Cow's canoe was taken by a
little girl, and she was left to follow as best she might on foot.

The travel ashore was exceedingly difficult. A dense forest growth of
cedar and tamarack pushed to the very edge of the water, and the rare
open beaches were composed of smooth rocks too small to afford secure
footing, and too large to be trodden under. The girl either slipped and
stumbled on insecure and ankle-twisting shale, or forced a way through
the awful tangle of a swamp. As the canoeing at this point was not at
all difficult, her utmost efforts could not keep her abreast of the
travellers.

Truth to tell May-may-gwán herself did not appear to consider that she
was hardly used. Indeed she let her hair down about her face, took off
the brilliant bits of color that had adorned her garments, and assumed
the regulation downcast attitude of a penitent. But Dick Herron was
indignant.

"Look here, Sam," said he, "this thing ain't right at all. She got into