For over an hour they kept up this swinging gait, and only slowed down
when at length the trail led them out of the thick forest into a great
open portion of the country. This was marshland, and it spread out
before them miles in extent. To the right were rugged wooded hills,
while far away to the left the cold steel glitter of the Bay of Fundy
could be distinctly seen.

For a few minutes they stopped to rest on this commanding elevation,
Dane's whole soul athrill at the wonderful panorama thus suddenly
presented to view. His eyes glowed, and he eagerly inhaled great
draughts of the invigorating tang wafted in from the far distant sea.

"My, that's fine!" he ejaculated, giving a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"That puts new life into one, eh, Pete?"

The Indian's mind, however, was not upon the marvellous things of
nature. He was gazing intently down toward the marshland where
something had attracted his attention.

"Plenty duck down dere," he replied. "Me get 'em bimeby."

Dane smiled, picked up his musket, and looked quizzically at his
companion.

"Can't you see anything but ducks, Pete? What do you think of all
that?" and he waved his hand to the left. "Isn't it great!"

"Umph!" the Indian grunted, "me see only duck; stummick say only
'duck.'"