“Now there are but seven. Go back and catchum other piece.”
Isaac looked stupidly about the canoe and the ground, puffing leisurely on his pipe. At last: “No seeum,” he said stolidly.
“Go look,” commanded David. Then he pointed to the others. “You go look too. Catchum bundle or you catchum licking.”
Isaac shook his head. “Seven pieces,” he declared. “All there, master.”
“No, there were eight when we started,” replied the boy firmly. “You find the other one or you’ll go to jail, Isaac. All three go to jail. Quog quash! Hurry! ”
Isaac looked cunningly from David to the others, considering. But something in the boy’s face told him he had best produce the missing bundle, and with a grunt he turned back, followed by his companions. Five minutes later they returned, one of the paddlers bearing the bundle. No explanation was offered, nor did David expect any. The package, containing tobacco and cloth, was placed in the canoe and the journey began again. The river was full and the current swift, especially where the banks were close together as was frequently the case between the carry and the lake, and the Indians made
