stream, but he, too, seemed wrapped in deepest slumber. The canoe floated so slowly that it seemed scarcely moving, the Indian’s paddle dipped and dipped again without a sound. Foot by foot they worked their way along, skirting the bank where the shadows lay, sliding past like shadows themselves. The fire flared high, one of the burning logs broke and settled with a crash, the man beside it awoke. Both boys held their breath, while the canoe floated with the current; slowly, slowly it crawled into the thick pool of shade cast by a big maple that overhung the bank. The man, it was the Indian Kaniska, listened as though vaguely conscious that something was stirring, stooped to mend the fire, then stopped to listen again and to peer into the dark. Almost imperceptibly the canoe moved on, was swallowed up in denser shadow, slipped past a bend in the stream and left the camp out of sight.
The moment of danger had roused Hugh into full wakefulness now and, although he was unbelievably weary, he bent to his paddling with redoubled energy. The trees seemed to recede
