“’Twere a close call,” assented Dick, as he puffed at his pipe meditatively.

“How far did un go under th’ ice?” asked Bill, who had been much interested in the narrative.

“Handy t’ two mile.”

For several days after this the men worked very hard from early dawn until the evening darkness drove them into camp.  The current was swift and the rapids great surging torrents of angry water that seemed bent upon driving them back.  One after another the Horseshoe, the Ninipi, and finally, after much toil, the Mouni Rapids were met and conquered.

The weather was stormy and disagreeable.  Nearly every day the air was filled with driving snow or beating cold rain that kept them wet to the skin and would have sapped the courage and broken the spirit of less determined men.  But they did not mind it.  It was the sort of thing they had been accustomed to all their life.

With each morning, Bob, full of the wilderness spirit, took up the work with as much enthusiasm as on the day he left Wolf Bight.  At night when he was very tired and just a bit homesick, he would try to picture to himself the little cabin that now seemed far, far away, and he would say to himself,

“If I could spend th’ night there now, an’ be back here in th’ mornin’, ‘twould be fine.  But when I does go back, the goin’ home’ll be fine, an’ pay for all th’ bein’ away.  An’ the Lard lets me, I’ll have th’ fur t’ send Emily t’ th’ doctors an’ make she well.”

One day the clouds grew tired of sending forth snow and rain, and the wind forgot to blow, and the waters became weary of their rushing.  The morning broke clear and beautiful, and the sun, in a blaze of red and orange grandeur, displayed the world in all its rugged primeval beauty.  The travellers had reached Lake Wonakapow, a widening of the river, where the waters were smooth and no current opposed their progress.  For the first time in many days the sails were hoisted, and, released from the hard work, the men sat back to enjoy the rest, while a fair breeze sent them up the lake.

“‘Tis fine t’ have a spell from th’ trackin’,” remarked Ed as he lighted his pipe.

“Aye, ‘tis that,” assented Dick, “an’ we been makin’ rare good time wi’ this bad weather.  We’re three days ahead o’ my reckonin’.”

How beautiful it was!  The water, deep and dark, leading far away, every rugged hill capped with snow, and the white peaks sparkling in the sunshine.  A loon laughed at them as they passed, and an invisible wolf on a mountainside sent forth its long weird cry of defiance.

They sailed quietly on for an hour or two.  Finally Ed pointed out to Bob a small log shack standing a few yards back from the shore, saying: 

“An’ there’s my tilt.  Here I leaves un.”

Bill Campbell was at the tiller, and the boat was headed to a strip of sandy beach near the tilt.  Presently they landed.  Ed’s things were separated from the others and taken ashore, and all hands helped him carry them up to the tilt.