seemed to enjoy it. He would stand in the stern of the canoe,
right foot back, left forward with leg against the thwart, with set
pole holding it steady in the rushing, roaring water while he
looked the way over, choosing out his course. Then he would move
the canoe forward again, twisting its nose now this way, now that,
in the most marvellous fashion, and when he drove it into the rush
of water pouring round a big rock the pole would bend and tremble
with the weight and strain he put upon it. Sometimes I could
hardly breathe while watching him. After taking one canoe some
distance above the bend he went back for the second, and all the
remainder of the afternoon Job climbed hills of water in the
canoes.

That evening our camp was again on top of a high bank thirty feet
or more above the river. Joe and Gilbert put up the tents, while
down at our camp fire at the shore George made the bannocks and Job
skinned, dressed, and cooked the porcupine. When it grew so dark
that I could not see to write I went to help cook bannocks. It
seemed good to be near the fire too, for it was growing cold.
George and Job chatted merrily in Indian, Job evidently, as fond of
fun as George. The fun suddenly came to an end, however, when
Gilbert came down to say that the tube of my bed-pump was missing.
It was too true. The thing was not to be found anywhere. It had
been dropped when the stuff was handed down the bank in the
morning.

It seemed a quite serious matter to me, knowing as I did from past
experience that I cannot sleep on the ground long without growing
very tired, when I lose my nerve and am afraid to do anything. I
did not like to think of the possibility of either growing