"I'm not knowin' yet. They'll be some way showin'," promised Bob, "but we'll have t' think un out first."

"What was the matter with those Indians, anyway? I thought all the Indians were friendly to white men," Shad asked, as they turned down again to the canoe.

"They's Mingen Injuns," explained Bob. "I were forgettin' t' tell you, Shad. When we was t' th' post, Douglas Campbell tells me that last fall some Mingens comes t' th' last tilt o' th' Big Hill trail an'

tells he they'd not let any white trapper hunt above th' Big Hill trail. They's likely seen our tilt up th' river, an' laid for us. I'm sorry, now, I were bringin' you here an' not tellin' you, Shad."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Bob. I'd have come just the same,"

a.s.sured Shad. "In fact, I'd have been all the more ready to come, with the prospect of a sc.r.a.p with Indians in view. If I'd known, though, I'd have had my eyes open and my rifle ready, and dropped a bullet or two among them before we got caught in the current."

"Injuns were never givin' me trouble before, an' I weren't takin'

their threatenin' t' Douglas in earnest, so I forgets all about un till I sees th' Injuns at th' portage trail," Bob explained.

"'Twouldn't have done t' kill any of un, Shad. If you had, th' rest would have laid in th' bushes an' killed us, for they's no knowin' how many they is of un. Then they'd gone back an' laid for Ed an' d.i.c.k an'

Bill an' killed they before they'd be knowin' they was any trouble.

"Now 'tis more 'n likely th' Injuns is thinkin' we be th' only white men about, an' when we thinks up a way o' gettin' out o' here we'll give warnin' t' Ed an' th' others, an' being on th' lookout one of us can hold off a hull pa.s.sel o' Injuns, for we has Winchesters, an' all they has is muzzle-loadin' trade guns."

"But suppose we don't get off this island before the others come to look for us? What then?" asked Shad.

"If they misses us an' goes lookin' for us, they'll be knowin' we're missin' for some cause. Bill Campbell's been hearin' from his father what th' Mingens were sayin' last year, an' they'll suspicion 'tis th'

Mingens an' be watchin' for un."

"But I don't understand yet what objection the Mingens have to our trapping here. I supposed this was the country of your Nascaupee friends."

"'Tis this way," Bob explained. "Th' Nascaupees hunts t' th'

n'uth'ard, th' Bay Mountaineers t' th' east'ard, an' th' Mingens t'

th' s'uth'ard, an' all of un comes in hereabouts t' get deer's meat, mostly th' Mingens, when deer's scarce t' th' s'uth'ard, an' they thinks if white trappers is about th' deer'll be drove out."

"Well, Bob, let's boil the kettle and try to figure out a plan of escape," suggested Shad. "With the reaction from the morning's excitement, I'm developing a vast hunger."

"They's not a mouthful o' grub in th' bag, Shad," Bob announced sorrowfully, "only a bit o' tea with th' kettle an' our cups. I leaves un all in th' tilt, thinkin' we'd get back t' th' next tilt an' use th' grub that's there, an' I just leaves th' bit o' tea in th' bag."

"No grub!" exclaimed Shad. "Then we've got to try to make a landing down on that wall. We can't stay here and starve!"

"An' we can't make th' landin'. 'Twould be sure drownin' t' try."

"Then it is just a choice between drowning and starving? For my part, I'd rather drown and have it over with, than starve to death!"

"Th' Lard weren't showin' us here just t' have us die right off," said Bob quietly. "He were savin' us because He's wantin us t' live, an'

He'll be thinkin' if we tries t' make th' landin' knowin' we can't make un, that we're not wantin' t' live. If we takes time now t' plan un out, th' Lard'll show us how."

"I wish I had your faith, Bob, but I haven't, and I'm still in favour of making a try for the sh.o.r.e," insisted Shad. "However, let us make some tea and argue the matter out later."

"Aye, we'll boil th' kettle an' talk un over, whatever," agreed Bob, rising from the rock upon which they had seated themselves, and turning into the scant growth to collect dry sticks for a fire.

But instead of collecting the sticks he returned to the canoe, secured Shad's doublebarrelled shotgun, and a moment later Shad, who was dipping a kettle of water for their tea and had not noticed the movement, was startled by the report of the gun. Looking up, he saw Bob stoop, reach into a clump of bushes, and bring forth a rabbit.

"Well, I'll be jiggered!" exclaimed Shad, as Bob held his game aloft for inspection. "I didn't suppose there was hide or hair or feather on this wind-blasted, forsaken island of desolation!"

"I sees th' signs," said Bob, "an' then I looks about an' sees th'

rabbit. Where they's one they's like t' be quite a pa.s.sel of un. They likely crosses over last winter on th' ice an' th' break-up catches un here an' they can't get off."

"That's some relief to the situation. But we've only about a dozen sh.e.l.ls in the canoe," announced Shad, "and when they are gone we'll be as badly off as ever."

"We'll not be wastin' sh.e.l.ls, now, on rabbits," said Bob. "They's other ways t' catch un. I uses that sh.e.l.l t' get our dinner. I'll get th' rabbit ready now whilst you puts a fire on."

"Very well," agreed Shad, collecting wood for a fire, "and when we've eaten I hope we can think of some way of escape."

IX

THE INDIAN MAIDEN AT THE RIVER TILT

"Well," said Ed Matheson, as the boat rounded a bend in the river, "there's the river tilt, an' she looks good."

"That she do," agreed d.i.c.k Blake. "I hopes, now, Bob's there an' has a fire on. I'm wet t' th' last rag."

"So be I. This snow an' rain comin' mixed always 'pears t' make a wetter wet 'n just rain alone," observed Ed.

"Bob's there now," broke in Bill Campbell. "I sees smoke comin' from th' tilt pipe."

The voyageurs were returning from Eskimo Bay with their second cargo of winter supplies for the trails. Five weeks had elapsed since the morning Ungava Bob and Shad Trowbridge had watched them disappear around the river bend, and returning to camp had found Sishetakushin and Mookoomahn awaiting them at the edge of the forest.

Since early morning there had been a steady drizzle of snow and rain, accompanied by a raw, searching, easterly wind, a condition of weather that renders wilderness travel most disheartening and disagreeable.

This was, however, the first break in a long series of delightfully cool, transparent days, characteristic of Labrador during the month of September, when Nature pauses to take breath and a.s.semble her forces preparatory to casting upon the land the smothering snows and withering blasts of a sub-Arctic winter.

Despite the pleasant weather, the whole journey from Eskimo Bay had been one of tremendous effort. With but three, instead of five, as on the previous journey, to transport the boat and carry the loads over portages, the labour had been proportionately increased.

It was, then, with a feeling of intense satisfaction and relief that the voyageurs hailed the end of their journey, with its promised rest, when they finally ran their boat to the landing below the river tilt of the Big Hill trail.

"I'll be tellin' Bob an' Shad we're here now, an' have un help us up with th' outfit," said Ed Matheson cheerily, stepping ash.o.r.e and striding up the trail leading to the clearing a few yards above, in the centre of which stood the trail.

But at the edge of the clearing he stopped in open-mouthed amazement.

Before the open door of the tilt stood a tall, comely Indian maiden, perhaps seventeen years of age. She was clad in fringed buckskin garments, decorated in coloured designs. Her hair hung in two long black braids, while around her forehead she wore a band of dark-red cloth ornamented with intricate beadwork. From her shoulder hung a quiver of arrows, and resting against the tilt at her side was a long bow.

She stood motionless as a statue, striking, picturesque and graceful, and for a full minute the usually collected and loquacious Ed gazed at her in speechless surprise.

"Good evenin'," said he finally, regaining his composure and his power of speech at the same time. "I weren't expectin' t' find any one here but Ungava Bob an' Shad Toobridge. Be they in th' tilt?"

With Ed's words she took a step forward, and in evident excitement launched upon him a torrent of Indian sentences spoken so rapidly and with such vehemence that, though he boasted a smattering of the language, he was unable to comprehend in the least what she was saying. It was evident, however, she was addressing him upon some subject of import.

"There now," he interrupted finally, forgetting even his smattering of Indian and addressing her in English, "just 'bide there a bit, la.s.s, whilst I gets d.i.c.k Blake. He knows your lingo better'n me. I'll send he up."

And, hurrying down the trail, he called:

"d.i.c.k, come up here. They's a Injun la.s.s at th' tilt, firin' a lot o'